Page 159 of Collide
Everything stills.
The bass throbs in my chest. His thumb lingers. My lips part. His touch is warm—gentle. I can’t help but lean into it, every part of him drawing me closer.
“Elena?”
That voice.
It slices through the haze like cold steel.
My stomach sinks.
I jolt back. Broderick’s hand drops.
I turn my head and spot Alex just a few feet away, half-lit by the strobe lights—bravado wrapped in disarming calm. A navy blazer, shirt unbuttoned just enough to catch the light. He doesn’t need to try. The room rearranges itself around him anyway.
Fuck.
“There you are,Darling.” The sweetness in his voice doesn’t match the edge in his eyes as they move from me to Broderick and back again. Steady. Measuring. A grin playing at his mouth like he’s already won. Broderick straightens, jaw tight, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.
I silently pray they’ve put their measuring tapes away for the night.
My fingers twitch around my glass. My purse digs into my ribs.
I can’t do this again. Not another one of their silent wars. It was already two too many.
“Yeah, here,” I mutter. “Let’s head back.”
I grab my drink, clutching the strap of my purse like a lifeline. I nudge Alex to follow as I pass, shoulders stiff, eyes forward, slicing through the crowd back to the roped-off comfort of our section.
If you look upawkwardin the dictionary, my face would be the definition. Probably next toself-inflicted.
The three of us rejoin the group without a word. Broderick drifts back to the wall, same spot as before, nursing his drink and studying anything that isn’t me.
Alex and I sink into a low loveseat.
“What was that about?” he asks, light on the surface, but there’s an edge threaded through it.
“I owed Broderick a drink,” I say, brushing it off. I sip the old fashioned—smooth, warm, a little too much like Broderick—and set it on the table.
“How was your birthday dinner?” I ask, trying to divert the topic from Broderick.
“Good. Would’ve been better if you were there.” His eyes are full of sincerity, and it makes my heart melt.
I feel terrible for missing his birthday dinner.
“Well, I’m here. How can I make it up to you?” I lean in, batting my lashes at him, my shoulder brushing his.
He chuckles. It’s low and dark like he knows I can’t make good on that right now. Sliding his hand along my leg and lifting it into his lap, his fingers trail from my heel to the hem of my dress.
“You look…breathtaking tonight.”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the sexy ones.” He winks.
His hand catches my jaw. He pulls me in and kisses me—deep and hungry like he’s staking a claim.
Fuck.
