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Dancing in the Dark by T.L. Martin (16)

“I need someone who sees the fire in my eyes

and wants to play with it.”

—Unknown

 

 

My cheek is pressed against the cold surface of the desk, but my insides are on fire. I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off, just that I have to. I can’t risk Raife turning me away before I get answers, and I have no reason to believe he’ll keep me around if he doesn’t buy into my desire for him. After inhaling deeply, I wiggle against Raife’s hold, trying to stand, but he keeps me in place.

“You’re wrong,” I finally say, avoiding Adam’s gaze. “It’s not him I want. It’s you.”

“Oh, love,” Raife says on a breathy laugh. He releases me and steps back, then grins and clasps his hands together like an excited teenager. “Guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

My arms fall forward, and I grip the edge of the desk, but I don’t straighten. God, I don’t trust my body not to betray me while Adam is to my left, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. To see his shirt strain against his broad shoulders when he raises a hand and flicks open the top buttons hinting at his sculpted chest. To swallow down his clean, masculine scent each time I inhale.

I’m screwed.

“Stand up and look at me.” Adam’s voice is quiet but commanding. The kind of tone you want to obey.

I swallow hard, then push off the desk and stand. My gaze is on the floor for a long moment, the thump of my heart ringing in my ears, before I lift my chin and look right at Adam. His blue irises are darker than usual, like an ashy black. It’s so dark that if I look close enough, I can almost see my soul reflected in them—secretive. Immoral. Sinful.

I suck in a breath, curl my arms around my waist, and turn my cheek. Raife meets my gaze, a wicked tilt to his lips, and my pulse slows a fraction. I don’t know why it’s so much easier to look at him.

Warm fingers brush the curve of my jaw, and my head is angled back to the man before me. A man who holds every skipping beat of my heart, every uneven breath, in the palm of his hand.

I try to turn my head again, but Adam’s grip on my jaw drops to my neck, and I stop. “I want Rai—”

“So you said.” His eyes flash, but his tone remains calm. One large hand is curled all the way around my neck, overlapping the scarf. His touch sears my throat, despite the delicate hold he has on me. He leans in, and the stubble of his jaw skims my cheek. “But I have a deal to keep”—he steps into me; I step back—“and the clock is ticking.” Another step toward me, another step back.

“You’re going to lose,” I breathe, just before my shoulders hit the cold, hard wall.

He raises his left arm and presses his palm against the wall, simultaneously caging me in and blocking Raife from my view. Then he dips his head just enough to look at me fully. Something flickers in his eyes as he traces every inch of my face, and I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me or hurt me.

A slow tremor runs through me. Jesus, that should not turn me on.

“I should tell you, little mouse,” he murmurs. The hand around my neck disappears before he brushes the hair out of my face, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. “I never lose.”

Shit.

I snap my knees shut, but not before his hard, warm thigh wedges between my legs, rubbing against my G-string. A spark zips straight to my core at the delicious friction. I bite my bottom lip hard, barely containing the moan rumbling up my throat.

Raife’s chuckle sneaks its way to my ears, and I hear the squeak of a chair as he sits.

Without thinking, I bend my elbows and push my palms against Adam’s chest, trying to escape before he unravels me. But my arms are forced downward as he moves forward and closes the small gap between us. I gasp when my feet leave the floor and the only thing keeping me up is Adam’s strong thigh, my full weight pressing down on him. I squirm, but that only makes me moan as his warmth vibrates against my clit.

When my hips buck against his, every curved dip of his abdomen tenses beneath my palms.

My inhale catches in my throat at the unexpected reaction.

I freeze, my breaths heavy, and take in the shudder that ripples through him as I slowly manage to slide my hands up between our crushed bodies, until my fingers are wrapped around his neck.

Then I angle my chin to look directly at Adam.

His heavy gaze is on mine, his eyelids lowered. His jaw is clenched, chest rising and falling. He doesn’t move when I inch my fingers higher and brush them through the thick strands of his hair, messing them up in the process. The tension is stifling, and my chest aches with every rapid thump of my heart. I drag my nails back down, along the back of his neck.

A swallow passes through his throat, and a gust of air pours from my lips.

His eyes flick down, tracking the motion.

His mouth is so close. His skin so warm. I don’t even realize I’m leaning in, toward his lips, until his tight grip is on my jaw, my neck thrown back, halting me from getting any closer. My pulse races. With my eyes now forced toward the ceiling, I’m barely able to lower my gaze enough to see him.

He pushes me back an inch until my scalp touches the wall, then drags his grip down my throat, past my scarf, his eyes following every movement. When his hand dips lower, barely skimming the curve of my breasts and lingering just below my belly button, goose bumps erupt from the pit of my stomach to my core.

A faint “Tick tock” sounds behind him.

For a moment, Adam doesn’t move.

Turmoil flares behind his eyes. A tendon in his neck bulges. And his gaze drifts back up to mine. It darkens when he catches me staring so intently at him.

Blood rushes through me like a giant wave.

“I don’t want you.” The broken whisper spills from my lips in one last, useless plea, and it’s the same moment I spread my legs further, inviting him in.

His shoulders tighten beneath my grip. I watch as he grinds his jaw back and forth. What I would give to see inside his mind right now, to sense his next move. But for a few painful seconds, he gives me nothing but an icy gaze.

Then his strong hand is beneath my G-string, and an electric heat stirs to life right on my clit.

Oh, god.

My forehead drops to his shoulder as pleasure rolls through me, but his free hand clutches my hair and forces my eyes back to his.

“I said,” he rasps, his long fingers sliding all the way inside me, “look at me.”

And so I do. With every agonizingly slow pump, every teasing dip, every delicious rub of his thumb on my clit, I look at him. Adam Matthews. My lips part, and I let my pants fill the small gap between our mouths. His eyes go a shade darker, his own breaths shortening as he expertly works his fingers faster, harder.

Fuck.

It feels good. Ripples of pleasure shock me with each slick movement, and I’m already so close. I can taste it in the air between our bodies—my wetness, his heat, our breath.

“Thirty seconds.” My broken moans drown out Raife’s voice.

I grind against Adam’s fingers, chasing it, but the strong grip on my hair slips to my ass, stilling me. I narrow my eyes and growl, and I swear I see his lips twitch. Keeping my hips locked, unmoving, between the wall and his body, he wraps my legs around him so I’m completely opened up, then drives his fingers all the way inside.

I gasp, my jaw falling open, and my skin flushes as hot tingles erupt inside my core. “Oh, god . . .”

He works his hand harder, chasing something I didn’t even know was there, and my insides tighten as an orgasm rips through me so violently my entire body shakes. Pleasure surges up my core then ripples between my thighs, leaving me breathless as it goes on and on. I bite down on my lip as the last moan bubbles up my throat, and my legs clench around him.

“Five seconds.”

A final spasm spreads from my inner thighs to my toes. My eyes are closed, my muscles mush, as Adam slides me down his hard body.

He keeps me upright with one strong arm, and I watch in a daze as he glances over his shoulder at Raife.

Raife shrugs and reaches for the papers at the end of his desk.

“I’ll have it done by the end of the night.”

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