“No, I wanna know why.”

I roll my eyes. “Your mother tried to play matchmaker.”

“What?” he growls, seething with hatred. “I’m gonna fucking—”

“Chris!” I interrupt. “Stop. Don’t you finish that sentence. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re drunk and a danger to everyone around you.”

“You let her introduce you to him?” he yells. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve come to me first.”

“Why? So you could persuade me not to go?” I fold my arms. “Just because that’s in your best interest doesn’t mean it’s in mine.”

I turn around and start walking again. If he doesn't come with me to his room, then I’ll leave him here. No way is he not going to follow me now that he knows.

“You don’t know what he does to girls!” I hear his footsteps behind me, so I guess I was right. He even follows me into his own dressing room, still yelling at me. “Things … fuck, I don’t even want to talk about them, but I can tell you it’s sick.” He grabs my arm again and twists me around. “Em, you gotta believe me, you do not want to be anywhere near this guy.” He kicks the door closed.

I frown, cocking my head. “Look …”

“You can’t go talk to that guy, Em,” he interjects.

Now I’m really getting pissed off. “I can do whatever the hell I want, Chris. Talk to him, date him, heck, even kiss him or fuck him.”

Chris suddenly rams his fist into one of the lockers, scaring the living shit out of me. “No!”

“You’re just acting like a jealous asshole,” I spit.

He comes toward me, so I take steps back until I hit the table. When I can’t back up any more, I reach for the first thing I can find and hold it out in front of me. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He raises his brow. “Come near you? What, you afraid of me now, too?”

“You’re fucking drunk and you just smashed that locker! Are you crazy? Yes, I’m scared.”

The look in his eyes softens to the point of his eyes drifting off to the floor. His shoulders slump and he lets out a big sigh.

“I’m sorry …” Licking his lips, he takes another step, but I’m still not trusting it. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.” He holds out his hand. “I won’t hurt you.”

“How am I supposed to believe that after what you just did? Smashing lockers? Threatening to hit people?” I fight the tears. “You embarrassed yourself big time there. Do you know how people were looking? This is going to be a nightmare to fix.”

He parts his lips, but then shuts them again, mulling as he gazes at the floor. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit is right.”

He looks up at me again, still holding out his hand. “I’m sorry. About everything. But please give me that wrench.”

Only now do I look at the item in my hand and realize it’s a possible weapon. What am I doing? I wasn’t going to hit him with that, was I? God no, I’m not violent. I’m not this kind of person.

With trembling hands, I hand it to him, swallowing away the nerves. I don’t even know why I thought of defending myself with it anyway. Am I that afraid of him getting close to me again?

“Thank you.” He places the wrench on the table behind me and then places both his hands on the side of the table. “I mean it. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re an asshat; you know that, right?” I say.

He laughs a little. “Yeah … I hear that a lot.”

“And completely wasted.”

He shrugs. “Ah, well … it happens.”

“It doesn’t just happen. Tell me why?”

He laughs in a drunken haze. “So you can lecture me?”

“No because I care about you.” This makes his eyes light up like fire. “As a person,” I add, which immediately extinguishes the flames.

I don’t know why I said it. It just felt like I had to. I don’t want to send signals I’m not even sure I should be sending. Maybe I’m just afraid of the consequences … of being clear. Once you make a choice, you can’t go back, right? So I’m not making any choice … I’m just hovering safely in the middle.

But I hate that it’s hurting him.

“Chris …” I sigh. “You can’t go drink like that. You’ll ruin your career. You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know,” he says. “I knew it when I drank the first drop.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because …” He gazes up at the ceiling for a second. “I just needed it to numb the pain.”

His gaze lowers to meet mine, and my heart skips a beat. Pain? What kind of pain? Because he lost the race or because he thought he’d lost me?

My hand instinctively reaches for his face, the desire to comfort him too strong to ignore. “What do you mean?”

The tortured look he gives me is nothing short of heartbreaking. “I can’t bear losing.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, smiling at him. “I know it must suck not to always win a race, but it’s okay, you’ll be so much better next time.”

“That’s not what I mean …” He places his hand over mine. “Sure, it’s part of the reason why I turned to liquor, but it’s not the only reason.”

I bite my lip as he places his hand back on the edge of the table and leans in, his forehead touching mine. “Nights spent with nightmares does something to a person.”

“Oh …” I swallow, trying to ignore the sadness I’m feeling because of his troubles.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can’t even fucking drive a bike.” He shakes his head, and I can feel his grip tightening on the table as he’s almost lifting it up from the floor.

“And now this … you, with that guy.”

“You have to let it go, Chris.”

“No, I won’t,” he growls, frowning. “I’m not letting you near that dude again.”

“It’s not your choice.” I lean back, but it only makes him lean in more. “I can do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

“Watch me.” Something about the way he says it, the roughness in his voice, warms me to my core.

“I think you’re just jealous,” I say.

His lip twitches. “Fuck yes, I am.”

I suck in a breath, my pussy thumping from those words. I don’t know why my body responds to his voice the way it does, but it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t be doing. God, why is it so hard to resist?

His gaze grows more intense with every passing second. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me to watch you prance around in front of me, shouting orders, pretending you don’t like me, when all I’ve wanted was you?”

Oh, god. It’s happening, again. No matter how much I want to say no, it’s becoming impossible with him all up on me, in my face, breathing down my neck … just thinking about it gets me hot and bothered.

“Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about putting my hand over your mouth, turning you around, and just banging you against this table until you scream my fucking name?” he murmurs. “I come home with a fucking hard-on, and my cock is still stiff by the time I go to bed. All I think about is you, and the worst part is that I can’t even do anything about it anymore,” he growls, grabbing my arm, pinning me to the table. “I used to be able to fuck around, forget about you, and do whatever the hell I damn well pleased. But now? Now all I can think about is how I can bend you over, and it’s making me want to drown myself in alcohol.”

His words sting and I’m not sure whether I want to smash my lips on his or smash his skull in for saying that last bit.

“I’m sorry you can’t fuck around anymore because of me,” I hiss. “But you know damn well it isn’t good for you and your reputation.”

“Fuck, Em! I don’t fucking miss it. Not since I have you back in my life.” He runs his hand up my arm, creating goosebumps everywhere. “I didn’t want to do it in the first place, but when you want someone you can’t have, you turn to other people to relieve your stress.”

“You mean to give you what you need. So is that all you want? Sex?”

“No, yes, fuck yes,” he mutters, still half-drunk. “But more. Everything.”

“So that whole part of wanting me as your PR lady was just a trick to get near me?”

“No … yes …” He shakes his head and grunts. “I need help in the media department.” He looks up at me with puppy eyes that make my heart wrench with guilt. “But I also need you. Even though you don’t want me, I still want you. Every fucking day. And it’s eating me up.” He lets out an exasperated breath.