Page 66 of Secret Obsession
I hadn’t even buckled my seat belt. Was the alarm dinging the whole way over?
He leads me out onto the street, and music catches my attention. It’s only then that I register where we are. Certainly not on the quiet residential street his home is on. We’re downtown. Parked near Prime, which seems to be busy even for a Sunday.
“Dancing,” Miles says with a frown. “Greyson said I had to bring you.”
I smile. No doubt Violet led that charge. I stride forward, and Miles catches up to me fast. His hand grips my hip, then slides down and cups my ass. I jump, but he just chuckles.
“Bet that’s still bruised,” he muses. “And it’s going to be worse tomorrow morning.”
My gaze cuts toward him.
He leaves his hand on my ass and smirks. I… let him. Fuck it. We head into the nightclub without even pausing to show our IDs to the bouncer. He and Miles do this weird head nod exchange. And then we’re going to the VIP section, past another bouncer.
Violet and Greyson are at a booth. Violet shoots up when she sees me and rushes forward. She’s tipsy, I think, because her smile is wider and looser than I would’ve expected. Since I basically ditched them for an hour…
“You’re here!” She pushes at my jacket, sliding it off my shoulders.
Miles peels the rest of it away. I look at him over my shoulder, and his gaze crashes into mine. I don’t know what he’s thinking or why he agreed to bring me here. Or what he has planned for later. But I do know that his eyes are captivating, and with another few drinks I could be convinced to do something stupid.
With him.
The enemy of my heart.
“Dancing,” Violet interrupts. “It’s just what the doctor ordered.” She practically drags me back downstairs, into the throng of people.
It’s a Sunday night—it shouldn’t be busy. But this is Crown Point, and half of the population when school is in session is college students. Kids who don’t give a fuck what day of the week it is. Sure, it isn’t as full as a Friday or Saturday night. But it seems like there’s a new DJ who’s playing different stuff than usual.
Whatever. It has a beat.
“I need a drink,” I say in her ear.
She nods and shoots off a text. “Aspen will grab you one. They went to the bar.”
We dance until Aspen and Thalia re-emerge. I hug both of them, the guilt of abandoning them when they tried to cheer me up hitting hard. But they all wave me off, and Aspen pushes a drink in my hand and a shot into my other one.
We cheers and do the shots. Tequila, unsurprisingly. People gravitate toward that for shots for some reason. The guys join us—Miles and Steele and Greyson. I eye Miles, although he doesn’t immediately latch on to me like the other two do with their girls. I grab Thalia’s hand and spin her until we’re both giggling. We’ve each got drinks in our hands, not that it really matters. I don’t even care when it sloshes over the rim and drips down my hand.
Miles keeps eyeing me from across our circle of friends.
The back of my neck is hot, and I lift my hair up with my free hand. It doesn’t have far to go, with it being so fucking short nowadays. My throat is dry, and I fight to hold Miles’ gaze. It’s like a challenge.
Another sip—but only ice touches my lips.
Damn.
“Next round’s on me,” Thalia calls, her drink also done. “I already said.”
I nod. With my dance partner gone, I find myself drifting across our little circle toward Miles. I should want to stay as far away from him as possible. After all, he’s hurt me more than once. This morning, forcing himself into me.Ontome. I can’t forget the violation.
And I won’t.
But there’s something else.
The way he pays attention. The way his eyes feel like lasers burning into me.
The way he danced with me a few nights ago…
My arms loop around his shoulders. His hands find my waist, then drift lower. And suddenly the song changes, and I falter. It’s probably wishful thinking that he’s just as clueless about this as I am. About what to do. Or what the point even is.
