Chapter 5
“I was freaking out,” Adam admitted. He threw me a wicked smile. “I’ve never been so hard in my life from an almost kiss. I wanted to fuck you every time I saw you after that.”
I shoved him playfully and blushed. Adam was often deliberately crude because he knew it made me equal parts embarrassed and turned on. I’d always hated when people used the f-word to describe sex, thinking it emotionless and casual. But after Adam and I became a couple, I’d discovered that when you were in love with someone and you knew they loved you back, there was a wide spectrum of sex. At one end, there was the tender, sweet, slow sex that I would call “making love,” and at the other end of it there was the rough, wild, can’t-get-enough-of-you sex that was definitely the f-word. Adam was more than proficient in both kinds.
I thought about what he’d said and frowned. “You did a good job of hiding it.”
He sighed. “I don’t know about that.” He looked back at the diary and frowned. “What ever happened to that Christian guy, by the way?”
“I let him down gently when he called to reschedule our date.”
“I would say “poor guy,” but I had to endure five years of wanting you and not having you.”
“That was entirely your own fault.” I picked up the diary I wanted and opened it up to the specific entry I was looking for: It was a night I would not likely ever forget, “Nine months before Joss showed up . . . It’s a perfect example of it being entirely your own fault.”
Sunday, October 23rd
That’s it. I give up. I’m humiliated. Confused and humiliated. And hurt. God . . . Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe it . . .
I was supposed to be spending my Saturday evening with Jenna and a few girls from uni sipping cocktails and talking about anything else but our degrees. Instead, I was in a taxi heading to Adam’s duplex apartment in Fountainbridge. I could have walked there, but I felt a sense of urgency to get there and make sure he was okay.
And I really needed to thank him for having my back, as he always had.
The last week had not been a particularly good one. That was putting it mildly.
I’d been betrayed. Again. But this time it was worse than ever. For the last five months I’d been dating Rich Stirling. For the last five months I’d thought I was dating a nice guy who worked in Glasgow for a recruitment agency. Then I discovered that he was, in actuality, a corporate spy for a competitor of Braden’s in Edinburgh. This property developer was so desperate to outbid Braden on a piece of coveted land down by Commercial Quay that they’d enlisted Rich to get close to me, to get close to Braden, to unearth Braden’s bid, and have his company offer more money for the land.
I wasn’t in love with Rich, but I’d let the sleazeball into my life and into my bed—and I’d given him a piece of me. I don’t think I’d ever felt so completely stupid in my entire life. All of my friends and family kept telling me I was too nice, that I didn’t have good intuition when it came to people, that I let arseholes into my life. I was finally starting to believe they were right.
I knew I could close down, refuse to let people close; be smarter, more selective . . . but that wasn’t me, and that was somehow letting Rich win. So I refused to change and there was a tiny sense of victory in that.
It still stung like a mother, though, that I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t take some kind of retribution. So when Braden turned up at my flat—this gorgeous property on Dublin Street that he’d renovated and then gifted to me—to tell me he and Adam had bumped into Rich out on the town the night before, I’d held my breath, knowing exactly what was coming.
Sure enough, Braden had had to haul Adam off of Rich and take him home to calm him down and ice his knuckles. Apparently, Adam had let the whole world know how he felt about anyone betraying me and Braden. He didn’t like it. And when he didn’t like it, he’d acquaint your face with his dislike.
As soon as Braden left, I buzzed around my flat in a tizzy, wondering what I should do. Should I call Adam and thank him? Should I go to his place and thank him in person? Should I berate him for using violence to make a point? No, that last one definitely wouldn’t wash with him. He wasn’t a violent person. In fact, although he could be intimidating and had warned off a number of bullies when I was younger, this was the first time I knew of that he’d actually gotten physical with someone on my behalf. I’d half expected him to go after Rich. Adam had exploded and stormed out of my mum and Clark’s house when Braden relayed the news to them all. Braden had told them after he told me, but my throat was still tight with tears as I had to hear it a second time.
After Braden’s departure, I finally made the decision to cancel my night out with the girls. I took a long shower, blow-dried my hair straight, and threw on a long skirt with a low waistband, my Uggs, and a wooly turtleneck with a cropped hem. I wanted to be casual, but whenever I knew I’d be seeing Adam, I liked to remind him in some way that I was a woman with a woman’s figure–not that it seemed to make any real impact. Despite evidence that he checked me out sometimes, Adam had been carefully platonic in our interactions since our lips brushed at The Voodoo Rooms three years earlier. I had dated three guys in an effort to get over him. It never worked. The guys just paled in comparison to him and the relationships fizzled out.
With a mind to the cold weather, I’d thrown on a short wool jacket over my top, along with a scarf, and I’d flagged down a taxi outside my flat. It was only as the cab was pulling up to Adam’s place that I thought maybe I should have called to warn him I was coming over. It was a Saturday night.
He might have company.
My stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought. The last time I’d visited Adam unannounced had been four months prior, and I’d walked in on him with a girl called Vicky. Not only was I horrified once more to play witness to one of his sexual interludes, but I’d been shocked to realize that he and my brother shared women. Not at the same time, thank God. I knew Braden had gone out with Vicky too. In an effort to soothe my severely bruised romantic notions, Adam had explained ex post facto that Braden and Vicky had been really casual and when Vicky had said she fancied Adam, Braden had mentioned it to Adam and—la, la, la, la, la, la, la! I didn’t hear the rest of the explanation because I had indeed stuck my fingers childishly in my ears and tuned him out completely.
Sex was not casual to me. Not only was I annoyed that my brother, who had once been a secret romantic, had turned into serial monogamist who showed no signs of settling down, I was even more annoyed at Adam for encouraging it. I couldn’t even describe how angry I was at Vicky.
After asking the cab driver to wait a second, I pulled out my phone and called up to Adam.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted me, his rich voice filled with concern. He was clearly still worried about how I was coping with Rich’s treachery.
“Hullo,” I replied quietly, letting the warmth of hearing his voice fill my chest. “I’m downstairs. Are you okay for me to come up?”
“Of course. I’ll buzz you in.”
I hung up, paid the taxi driver, and hopped out, my heart racing as I hurried to the entrance. Adam let me in.
My palms began to sweat as the lift took me up to his floor. It was strange but my reaction to being alone with Adam had only gotten worse over the last few years. Every time was like a first date, and yet I knew him better than I knew practically anyone.
When the doors opened, my eyes met Adam’s. He was standing in his doorway across the hall, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. He wore a plain white T-shirt and a pair of old jeans; his feet were bare, his hair mussed, and he needed a shave.
He was so bloody hot it was a wonder I didn’t start hyperventilating on the spot.
I crossed the hallway to him and held out the bottle of wine I’d brought. He took it with a quizzical smile and I sighed. “It was either a bottle of wine or a slap on the wrist.” I eyed his bruised knuckles pointedly.
Adam’s lips twitched. “Wine will do.”
I followed him into the duplex, my eyes drinking in the well-designed flat. A large staircase greeted you at the front entrance, leading up to two spacious bedrooms, a bathroom, and an office. Beyond the staircase on the ground floor was just wide open space—a massive sitting area with floor-to-ceiling glass windows covering one wall, and at the very end of the room you’d find a stylish kitchen with an island, breakfast bar, and a dining table and chairs.
It was a luxurious property—and one he could more than afford. Not only did Braden pay him extremely well, Adam had invested in his own rental properties these last two years and it supplemented his income nicely.
I took another look around the large space, smirking. Unlike my flat, Adam’s was completely clutter-free. Everything in it was carefully chosen and had a proper place. In fact, if I didn’t know first-hand that he was the straightest straight guy ever (well, with the exception of Braden), Adam’s duplex might have convinced me otherwise.
“I think I’ll crack this open . . . I feel a lecture coming on.” His voice was teasing as he wandered to the kitchen area.
As I shrugged out of my jacket and took off my scarf, I tilted my head and watched his delicious arse walk away from me. The man had the most perfect bottom in the history of all bottoms. I wandered toward the kitchen and watched as he pulled two glasses out of a cupboard and began to pour wine into them. Adam turned just as I reached him and I saw his eyes flicker over the bare skin between the hem of my top and the waistband of my skirt before quickly shifting away. I gave myself a secret smug smile. Good wardrobe choice.
“Here,” he said somewhat gruffly, handing me a glass.
Our eyes met as we each took a sip of wine. I lowered my glass and told him solemnly, “I came here to thank you.”
Adam shook his hand. “Ellie, you don’t need to thank me.” His face darkened. “It was my pleasure, believe me.”
“Braden said he had a hard time pulling you off of Rich.”
“He fucked with you, Els. I mean he really fucked with you.”
“Literally,” I murmured and Adam stiffened.
“Don’t—” he warned me. “I’m this close to finishing the scumbag off.”
I felt a small thrill go through me at the sincerity in his voice. I loved that Adam cared this much. He might not be willing to see me as anything but Braden’s wee sister, but it was a nice consolation to know he had some feelings for me. “I should be reprimanding you.” I reached for his free hand, using his wounds as an excuse to touch him, and brought it closer to me for inspection. His knuckles weren’t just bruised, they were swollen, and the middle one had a small, gash in it that was scabbing up.
I inhaled deeply. “How many times did you hit him?”
Adam moved closer, staring at his hand in mine. “I hit the wall next to his head as a warning shot. He didn’t heed the warning, said some shit he really shouldn’t have, and I think I got in four really good hits before Braden pulled me off.”
I lifted my gaze to his face, no longer feeling the thrill. “Did you leave him conscious?”
“Barely.” Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Do you care?”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
His expression softened and he gently tugged his hand free from mine. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, according to sources I was nowhere near New Town or Rich last night. We’ve got a dozen witnesses who will all claim that I was at Bar Khol last night at the time of the said attack.”
I nodded in acknowledgment, but worried my top lip with my teeth.
“Els, how are you really?” Adam asked softly, tentatively.
Instead of answering right away, I turned around and slowly made my way toward his comfy sofa, listening to him follow behind me. I settled myself comfortably and Adam sat down close to me, relaxing his arm along the back of the couch. Finally, I met his gaze and shrugged. “I’m an idiot.”
Adam’s eyebrows puckered and his mouth got tight. “You’re not an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot,” I insisted. “I’m stupid and naïve and . . . humiliated.”
He slid closer to me, his fingers touching my wrist gently in comfort. “You have nothing to be humiliated about. He’s a prick who played you. He’s the idiot. He’s the stupid fuck who’s going to look back and realize that for five months he was the luckiest bastard on this planet to be with you. He’ll regret this, baby.”
Baby.
For a moment I forgot how to breathe. Adam had never called me “baby” before. There was something intimate about the endearment. I liked it. I liked it a helluva lot.
I smiled at him. “You always know the exact right thing to say.”
“Because I only ever tell the truth. You’re one of a kind, Els. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
I gazed into his eyes and felt his words like a caress across my body. As I stared, his gaze flickered over me again, surreptitiously checking me out before he took another sip of wine. It occurred to me that perhaps all Adam needed was a push.
Yes, I was Braden’s wee sister, but I was also Ellie, the girl he apparently thought the world of and admitted he thought was beautiful. Blame it on the wine or the fact that he’d stood up for me once again, I wanted him and had decided impulsively that I was tired of hiding the fact.
I let Adam make me feel better as we finished off our glasses of wine. An hour had passed before I knew it, and I had kicked off my Uggs and curled up on his sofa, sitting close to him. His arm still rested along the back of the sofa and every time I laughed, I touched his bicep or squeezed his knee. I was an affectionate person, tactile and open, but it was more than that, and Adam knew it. I could see it in his eyes as we chatted and I hoped my plan was working.
You would think hurt and betrayal would make me shy away from opening myself up, but I just didn’t have it in me to close myself off. It wasn’t who I was, and I definitely didn’t want to be that way with Adam.
As the hour drifted into two, I became more determined than ever that things were going to change between me and Adam. I was sick of dating guys I couldn’t seem to fall in love with, and even sicker of being duped by them.
Adam was in the middle of telling me about the Skype chat he’d had with his mum a week prior, and his parents’ plans to return to the UK for a few weeks in April, when I stretched my arms up, pretending to need to crack my back. The movement pulled the hemline of my top up, baring my flat stomach, and it also pushed my breasts out. When I brought my head back down and relaxed, Adam had stopped talking and I could see a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Ellie, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked hoarsely, his voice quiet.
Although my face burned with the possibility of rejection I shrugged nonchalantly. “Stretching.”
His gaze drifted down my body and I watched his own tense. “You know what I’m talking about. The touching, the flirting, the stretching . . .”
With my heart pounding, I shifted closer to him on the couch until my knees touched his outer thigh. I licked my lips, nervous but completely turned on just by the mere thought of him touching me back. “I think you know,” I whispered.
Our eyes met and locked. The air thickened between us. Adam swallowed hard. “Ellie,” he whispered.
Holding his gaze, I reached a trembling hand out and placed it on his thigh and slowly I moved it up, caressing him. I had almost reached the heat of his crotch where, to my utter satisfaction and delight, I watched his erection strain against his zipper, when his strong hand grabbed mine tightly.
I’d barely let out a surprised gasp when he tugged on my wrist, yanking me against him. I collapsed on him and he used my momentary disorientation to his advantage. He gripped the nape of my neck and slammed my mouth hungrily down on his.
I melted against him.
My fingers sank into his hair, and I rearranged my legs so I was straddling his lap. My body sank into his. My mouth sank into his.
It was everything and more than I’d always imagined.
My skin burned and my nerve endings sparked and I was tingling all over. Adam tasted of wine and heat and . . . home. I purred into Adam’s mouth, and his arms tightened around my waist, somehow drawing me even closer. The kiss shifted from passionate to dirty in a nanosecond. It was suddenly biting and wet, our tongues tangling and licking and learning every inch of each other’s mouth.
It wasn’t close enough.
Everything was lost in a fog of sexual chemistry so electric I would never again doubt romance novels. I felt his rough hands on my ankles, coasting along the skin of my calves, and up the back of my thighs as he drew my skirt free of our tangle and bunched it around my waist. Those hands of his caressed my bottom, giving me a squeeze that sent a streak of heat down my spine and made me gasp.
Adam groaned and put pressure on my hips. He pushed me down on his lap so his hard-on rubbed me directly between my legs—nothing between us but denim and the thin cotton of my underwear. I sought the delicious friction, riding him until our mouths parted in brief increments to catch our breaths.
I needed him closer; needed him inside of me.
I sank down on him and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I rubbed harder.
Adam growled and broke away from me to tug my top off. I raised my arms, our movements hurried and frantic as he divested me of my top and then my bra. He cupped my breasts in his hands and I arched my back into his touch.
“So perfect,” he murmured hoarsely. “So fucking perfect.” He took my nipple in his hot mouth and I cried out at the rush of pleasure that coursed through me, pushing me closer and closer to orgasm.
My being so turned on seemed to fire Adam up. I cried out and found myself flat on my back on the length of the couch and watched through hazy, lust-blurred vision as Adam whipped off his shirt and pulled down my skirt and panties. The muscles of his ripped abs flexed deliciously and I felt a rush of wetness between my legs.
He was so goddamned beautiful it wasn’t fair.
Our lips met again as he braced himself over me, my hard nipples brushing his naked chest, my legs spread to fit him between them. He still wore his jeans, and the coarseness of the denim was sensual torture against my naked skin.
As our kisses grew even more desperate, I sought what I wanted from him. My fingers undid the button and zipper on his jeans. I tugged at his boxers, my hand sliding inside to grasp him and pull him out. He was throbbing and hot and hard and I couldn’t believe this was actually finally happening. Now I knew everything about him.
“Fuck,” he groaned against my mouth, his hips thrusting as I pressed the mushroomed head of him against my clit. I let go of him to grasp his lower back, tilting my own hips up as he teased me. He kissed me again, hard, and I felt his erection slide down . . .
I spread my thighs wider and smoothed my hands down his muscular back to push his jeans further down. I grasped his buttocks and pulled him to me. “Adam, please,” I begged. “Adam . . .”
He froze. Instantly. His name on my lips bringing him out of the magical sexual fog.
Our eyes met as he pulled his head up, his body hovering over mine, his muscles trembling with tension. While I imagined my expression was one of confusion, Adam’s was one of horror.
It was a look that made me want to crawl inside of myself.
It hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
He scrambled off of me, pulled his boxers and jeans up, and tossed my skirt to cover up my nakedness. “Ellie, we can’t.” He shook his head and practically jumped off the couch, grabbing his T-shirt and yanking it back on.
I was feeling a mixture of things—confusion, hurt, sexual frustration—and so I was slow in sitting up.
“For fuck’s sake, Ellie, get dressed,” Adam snapped harshly.
It took everything within me not to flinch—not to cry.
As I pulled on my clothes with trembling hands, Adam exhaled. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” his voice was heavy with regret.
I didn’t say anything. I just straightened my clothes and reached for my Uggs, trying to hold myself together. I couldn’t fall apart in front of him. I just couldn’t.
“Ellie?”
Finally I looked at him as I stood. He seemed almost as heartbroken as I felt. It was a small kind of consolation.
“Ellie, your Braden’s wee sister. I can’t . . . We can’t . . . ” he gestured helplessly to the couch before running a hand through his hair.
And that’s when I realized something absolutely tragic. While I thought what was happening was something borne out of affection, attraction, and—yes—love, to Adam what had almost happened was something borne out of lust. He didn’t want to make love to me. He wanted to screw me.
Pain lodged itself in my throat and I knew I was five seconds from bursting into a big, fat, hopeless, teary wreck. I spun away from him and rounded the back of the couch, my long hair covering my face as I grabbed at my jacket and headed to the door.
“Ellie!” Adam called out in panic, but I was already yanking his front door open. “Ellie. Fuck!” I heard him curse as I slammed the door shut behind me and bolted down the stairwell, knowing the lift might not arrive in time for me to make my quick escape.
The tears were pouring down my cheeks as I raced down the stairs, trying to hold in the gusty sobs that were ready to blow.
“Ellie, please!” Adam was suddenly in the stairwell, his footsteps pounding hard behind me.
I ran faster, ignoring his shouts for me to come back and talk to him.
By the time he made it out of the building, I was already racing across the street toward a bus that was about to pull away. I got on it and the doors closed behind me. I sagged down onto a seat in relief and glanced absentmindedly at the route number.
I didn’t care where it was going as long as it took me far, far away from the biggest mistake I’d ever made.
***
There had been a few times in my teen years I’d cried myself to sleep. A couple of those times had been over Adam. But when I was a teenager, like most teenagers, anything remotely negative seemed like the complete and total end of the world. Thankfully, that flair for the dramatic usually disappears as you enter adulthood. It did for me, anyway. So when I say I sobbed myself to sleep that night, it was without a sense of faux melodrama. The pain inside of me was real. It was genuine. It was raw.
For a good eight hours, I believed that not only had I been given absolute proof that Adam Sutherland didn’t love me the way that I loved him, I also believed that I’d ruined us and destroyed one of my favorite things in the whole world: my friendship with him.
I barely slept and woke up early to make myself tea, alone in my big flat and puffy-faced, wearing mismatched socks.
A pounding on the front door made me jump and sent hot tea over the rim of my mug and onto my lap. I bit back a curse and placed the mug carefully on the coffee table. I walked out of the room and into the darkened hall.
“Ellie, open up!” Adam shouted through the thick wood. “Ellie!”
I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to somehow fix things and rewind the clock, but I knew that if I let him inside the flat he’d take one look at my face and realize that I, Ellie Nichols Carmichael, was completely and utterly in love with him and that the previous night had devastated me.
So I didn’t open the door. I leaned against the wall in my hallway and slid down until I was sitting on the cold hardwood floor. I listened as Adam pounded on my door and called my name. I listened as the phone rang in my bedroom. I listened as Adam left a message on it. I listened as he cursed and walked away . . .
When I woke up I was curled up on the cold floor. I blinked, trying to get my bearings and as I did, everything came flooding back. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, because I realized what had woken me up was my phone ringing. I got to my feet with a groan, my back and neck hurting from my awkward sleeping position, and I ran into my room to pick it up. According to the display on my phone, I’d been asleep for just over two hours.
My stomach flipped at the sight of the picture of Adam on my phone. I sucked in a deep breath and answered it.
“Ellie, thank fuck,” he exhaled in relief and I could just imagine him tugging at his hair in anxiety. “I came by earlier.”
“I was sleeping. I had more wine last night, so I was kind of dead to the world,” I lied.
“Els, I don’t even know where to start. I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
“Adam—”
“I can’t lose you, Els. I can’t believe I fucked up like this but you have to forgive me. I can’t lose you.”
When he said stuff like that it made it hard to hate him. Worse, it made it harder to get over him. But I knew from now on that I really needed to try—and not just say that I was going to try. I had to try. I couldn’t live my life pining after him. So I made my decision to do just that. “Adam, it’s okay,” I promised him softly. “It was a mistake. We got carried away in the moment. And I’m sorry for running out on you. I was just embarrassed, that’s all.”
I heard his heartfelt sigh of relief and attempted to force the sting of tears out of my nose. “Els, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, okay.”
“Okay.”
“So . . .” his voice grew even quieter. “We’re good. We’re still us?”
“We’re still us,” I managed, blinking back tears.
“I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”
“There won’t be. I won’t let there be if you won’t.”
“Good, sweetheart. Good. We’ll just forget this. It didn’t mean anything.”
I choked back the pain. “Right. It didn’t mean anything.”