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“Thanks for the ride,” he ground out, trying to get out. He clicked open the door, then pushed himself through, the door slamming behind him. He stalked his way over to his car, and I unstrapped myself from the seat.
“Thanks for helping him,” I said to Callum on my way out too, stopping long enough to do that. The man had done so much, and really, he hadn’t had to at all. He just kept doing favors for me, for me and my brother and taking care of us.
Shifting around, Callum’s smile was small. “Of course. I hope things work out for your friend.”
I hoped so too.
After telling Callum I’d drive my brother’s car home, the wheels of Callum’s sedan pulled away, and I raced to catch up to Dorian. “Dorian!”
He was already in his car, the engine running. He was attempting to get the fuck out of here and quick. I waved my arms, but he didn’t see me until I got behind his car.
The wheels of his Audi burned to stop, and the next thing I knew, he was out of the car.
And pressing me against it.
He literally picked me up from behind his ride, pinning me to the back passenger’s side. His breath expelled, harsh and heated over my face and mouth.
“Don’t be stupid,” he growled, and I assumed referring to the fact that I got behind his car. He was angry, his eyes wild. He started to move away, but I wouldn’t let him, cutting him off.
“I know you have to go, but—”
“Then let me.” Our chests collided, the large boy looming over me. His eyes darkened. “And if you stand in my way again, I’ll go right through you. I swear to fucking God, little fighter.”
I blinked, not expecting this. My mouth opening and closing, I didn’t understand. “Dorian, what—”
“Don’t.” He put a finger in my face, actually shaking in front of me. He winced. “Just fucking don’t.”
Don’t what… exactly? My lips parted. “I understand you’re upset about everything today.”
“You do, huh?” His voice cracked, strained like it was laced with emotion. He got in my face. “How much do you know and how much do you think I’d be a fucking idiot?”
I twitched.
“Too convenient,” he gritted, and out of nowhere, his hand encased my neck. He squeezed, my breath catching. “Too fucking convenient, Sloane.”
I gasped. “What?”
He looked like he wanted to punch me, like he was straddling a line between doing that and squeezing harder.
He chose to squeeze, and the air stopped, my hands to my neck. I had no idea why he was so upset and why that rage, that anger, seemed to somehow be channeled at me. I gagged. “Dorian…”
“Don’t say my fucking name. Don’t—” His voice cracked again when he physically forced his face to mine.
He didn’t do it to kiss me.
His warm mouth hovered over my face, nose pressed to nose, mouth above mouth. I gasped.
He squeezed harder.
I couldn’t breathe, let alone think.
“What did I do?” I breathed out, but he blinked down.
“Get out of my sight,” he gritted, letting go, and I finally got to draw in air. I coughed, the harsh press of his fingers still felt in my neck. His gaze bored down on me. “Too convenient, and I’m not fucking stupid.” He shook his head. “Anyway, thanks for getting me out of jail.” He frowned. “Even if you’re the reason I got put in there.”
What…
He thought…
