Chapter Nineteen
MICHAEL’S FINGERS SNAG in my tangled curls as he guides my head down, forcing his erection between my lips and down my throat. I cough and my eyes water. My hands are pressed against his thighs and I fight the urge to push back from him.
He’s not forcing me to do anything; I’m the one who offered to get him off. And yet the idea of his touch is repulsive.
Once again, he shoves my head down, driving his cock farther into my mouth so the tip hits the back of my throat. My muscles stiffen and I cave—I push off of him. I move my thumb across my lips, wiping away the spit. When I manage to fix my gaze on him he’s furious.
“I can’t keep fucking doing this shit.” He shakes his head and stands up.
“I’m sorry.” I say the words reflexively, hoping they’ll defuse the situation.
Michael bends down and grabs his boxers.
“No. Please don’t go.” My voice shakes.
He ignores my plea and starts to get dressed. My arms begin to tingle as my heart struggles to pump blood throughout my body.
My muscles shift into gear and I stand up and move to him. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head against his back. He tenses and stills.
For a few drawn-out seconds everything is calm.
Michael turns abruptly and presses his lips against mine in a frantic kiss. He shoves me down on the bed and runs his hand up my shirt so he can squeeze my breasts. I freeze.
“No. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’ll feel better afterward. You want this, I know you do. Trust me.”
His voice is low, like the vibration of an idling engine. My skin prickles at the sound.
He hooks his finger on the fabric of my panties and yanks them down, exposing me. My hands move to counter his, but they’re soon halted by his unyielding grip on my wrists. His erection pressed against my thigh makes me panic, and I jerk my knees up between his legs.
“Fuck!” His hands cradle his balls and he lurches to the edge of the bed. “Fucking crazy bitch!”
“I’m so sorry. Please…I’m sorry.”
The words sound foreign on my lips, because a part of me wants to claw his eyes out for trying to force me, for trying to take something from me I don’t want him to have. However, between the bursts of anger a choking fear looms. He’ll abandon me like my father did.
“You’re a fucking tease, and I’m tired of waiting for you to put out.” He shifts off the bed and collects his clothing.
“Don’t go. We can talk about this. We can fix this.” I lean forward and place a trembling hand on his shoulder. He shrugs off my touch and my hand drops down.
“There’s nothing to talk about. And the only thing that needs fixing is you. You’re fucked up, just like your dad.”
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, hoping the pain will provoke a response from me. I want to cry at his words, but the tears won’t fall. Ever since the death of my father I feel frozen in place, a ghost walking among the living.
“Please don’t leave me. I’ll try to do what you want. Please just give me time.” I say in the hopes of appeasing him, however I’m not sure I can give him what he wants. Since my father’s suicide, the thought of sleeping with Michael, of losing my virginity to him, is disgusting.
“I’m fucking done with you.” His eyes are cold and vacant, as if the act of leaving doesn’t hurt him.
For weeks, I’ve done everything I can to please him, short of sleeping with him. I’ve held on to my virginity like a child does a security blanket, as if that small action will absolve me in the eyes of God for abandoning my father when he needed me the most.
The rattle of Michael picking up his keys from the nightstand makes me lurch up. I kneel on the bed and stare at him.
“Please…don’t go. Please, please, please…”
I say over and over as my panic attack robs me of the ability to breathe. I feel pathetic and weak for needing him to stay. He nearly raped me, and I’m begging him to stay.
He ignores me and walks out of the room.
For what seems like an eternity, I lie there, caving under the pressure of all the emotions I can’t confront.
When I recover enough, I walk to the bathroom, open the vanity drawer, and retrieve a razor.
I sit on the floor and do what Michael wanted me to—I spread my legs. I trail the razor across my thighs, and since I don’t even feel the blade I press down until I see the crimson blood dribble down my pale skin. A shot of pain ripples across my thigh to my groin. The sensation offers me the release I need, and the tears finally fall.
The cuts I give myself help me cope. They make it so I can survive the day. After six cuts—I survive this day.
I wake in a panic, Adam’s arms around me. My chest heaves as I struggle to regain control of my breathing, and in the serenity of the moonlit room I feel out of place.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do these memories haunt me?
I stare at Adam. He’s dead to the world as he sleeps, and it’s easy to pull away from his embrace, too easy. He could slip away from me in a nanosecond, and yet in the span of two weeks he’s become my North Star. He has awoken feelings I had abandoned.
I get out of bed and tiptoe out of the room. I’m naked, because I always sleep naked with Adam. Like my secrets, he enjoys stripping me of my clothing, leaving me exposed so he can explore everything I have to offer.
I’ve concluded I can’t fault Adam for wanting to possess me, because while I have allowed him to claim my body, the tragedies of my past have remained mine.
I’ve tried to tell him. Like the painting at Art Basel, of the naked girl with her soul exposed for the world to see, I tried to reveal everything to Adam. I failed. I’m too chicken-shit to show the man I love my vulnerabilities, or maybe I’m too selfish. In a few weeks he’ll tire of my company and toss me aside, like Michael did, and the fear torments me.
A soft, bitter laugh bursts from my lips as I walk to the piano room. I was unable to sleep before I met him, and now in this calm before the storm, sleep continues to be elusive.
My eyes scan the room; the skylight gives the space a moon-touched glow and the oddity of the antique piano displayed in this sterile, modern apartment once again draws my attention. Why would he keep something so contrary to his tastes?
It’s been years since I sat on a piano bench, and even when I practiced frequently I wasn’t good. Though I had the technical skill to play, I lacked the passion to make the music beautiful. My emotions were conveyed through my painting. That’s always been my gift, not music.
I move my fingers against the keys and the first few notes of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” echo in the hushed room. After a few minutes I pause, unable to remember the rest of the notes.
“My god, you look gorgeous.”
Adam’s voice surprises me. I tilt my head to gaze at him and the sentiment is mutual. He’s naked and gorgeous, leaning against the framed entrance. His face is relaxed and I can clearly see the ridges of his abs, the definition of his broad shoulders and sculpted chest.
He gives me one of those panty-dropping grins and if I was wearing any underwear, it would have slipped off at the mere sight.
“It’s the fact that you don’t know how truly beautiful you are that turns me on, Evelyn.” He speaks my name slowly, enunciating the syllables. “You sit there detached from the world, a specter in the room, and I’m drawn to the sight.”
The hairs on my arms stand up. “Why not sate your curiosity?” I lick my lips as I watch him stride toward me.
He hovers behind me, leaning over me before he whispers in my ear, “I had no idea you could play the piano.”
I smile at the statement. “I play at the piano, Adam. I have no real skill.”
His lips brush along the curve of my shoulder. “Maybe all you need is practice.” Adam’s fingers trail up my spine and the action makes me straighten my posture. “The first thing you have to do before you play is sit correctly.”
I push my chest forward, my breasts moving up as my shoulders pull back. “Like this?”
“Yes, perfect.” I can hear the smile in his voice. His hands caress the curve of my waist, softly grazing the sides of my breasts before they move over my shoulders and down my arms. They hover over my wrists, and with ease he lifts them up. “Remember, when you play it’s with the tips of your fingers touching the keys. Your wrists have to be elevated.”
I exhale, my head moving forward in a small nod.
“Play the song again. Only this time don’t stop.”
“Adam, I don’t…”
His authoritative order interrupts me. “Just play.”
I gulp, though I do what I’m told. My fingers move against the keys and I play the first few notes of the sonata. As I play, one of Adam’s hands moves around my waist and the feel of his warm touch makes me hit the wrong key. I recover, though my timing is off and I’m playing the melody at a too-quick pace. His hand continues down my body, sliding between my legs.
“I think playing the piano makes you wet,” he whispers in my ear as he rubs his fingers against the opening of my sex. “Don’t stop playing.”
Don’t stop? How the hell am I supposed to play when you’re doing that? My fingers once again betray me and I miss a note. Somehow I manage to find my place, and even though Adam is laying claim to my body, by some miracle I play.
His free hand moves to my thigh, and with little effort he spreads my legs open while two of his fingers push inside me, making my muscles tighten.
“I can’t…”
His husky voice cuts me off. “Playing the piano is all about muscle memory. Don’t think about what you’re doing.”
As his fingers thrust into me I lean toward him, and the feel of Adam hard and ready at my back makes me moan. My fingers continue to play, but I don’t even hear the music. Both of his hands are between my legs, one of them stroking that special spot as the other pushes into me at a quickened pace. My hands move off the keys, and I grab Adam’s shoulders as my stomach clenches. I thrust my pelvis forward into his hand as I come and I can feel my pleasure escape me, spreading onto his fingers. I tremble against him for a few long seconds and his lips trail kisses along my neck as I recover.
“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning when you come.”
He pulls his fingers out of me, and even in the dimly lit room I can see they’re wet with my release. I lean against him because I’m spent, because he can do that to me, make me lose control of my muscles and leave me vulnerable.
Adam, still standing at my back, moves his arms forward so I’m nestled between them as he positions his hands above the ivory keys. He plays Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” and the melody is perfect. His rhythm follows the specified tempo, he places emphasis on all the right notes, and I can literally feel the passion he’s exuding. I lie against him, and even though moments ago I reached an orgasm, my nipples harden and my body quickens at the sound reverberating around the room, at the sight of the slippery piano keys and the intoxicating smell of his body.
I turn, place my knees on the piano seat, and kiss him. I can tell by his eager tongue he doesn’t mind the interruption. The music has been silenced, yet there’s a harmonious overtone in the soft noises of our frantic embrace.
He pulls back from the kiss and looks at me, his gaze taking in the sight of my nude body. “You left a wet mark on the bench.” He licks his lips and gives me a salacious smile.
I mimic his grin. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for that. I love how wet you get for me.”
I lunge at him, because the need to have his skin pressed alongside mine overtakes me. We stumble onto the floor and the lone black-and-white rug in the room breaks our fall. I position my body between his legs, and by his expression it’s apparent my enthusiasm has startled him. My lips run down his length, and my hands move in unison with my willing mouth. I suck on the head of his shaft and a few eager drops flood my taste buds.
“Fuck! If you don’t stop I’m going to come in your mouth.”
His words stir my excitement. I twirl my tongue around him and I’m relentless.
Adam sits up and tangles his hand in the wild curls of my hair. He pulls me away from him and I’m sure there’s a pout on my lips, because all I want is to suck him dry. There’s a primal need coursing through my heated veins that only his touch will satisfy. That only his touch has ever satisfied.
Before I know it, his arms are around me and I’m on my knees, facing the mural I painted for him.
“Spread your legs.”
The domineering edge to his voice makes me grin as I follow the order. His erection is pressed against the cheeks of my ass. One of Adam’s hands moves across my skin, cupping one of my breasts, and as he massages my nipple he presses the tip of his erection inside me. My natural reaction is to move forward, to go on my hands and knees, but the pull of his hands stops my descent. My body is pressed along his, and we’re both slippery with sweat.
“Stay up on your knees.”
I don’t exactly have a choice. One of his hands pulls me back onto his length. From this angle he feels deeper, overwhelming, and he’s carefully building my excitement. Sex has always been rough and passionate with Adam, but this time it’s measured and tender.
I open my eyes and stare at the mural. The crimson petals of the flower are blossoming, and under Adam’s skilled touch, so am I.
He thrusts into my body while his hand massages the folds of my sex. The feel of his hand between my legs as he fucks me is enough to push me over the edge. I call out his name as I reach my climax, and he milks his own release, pushing into me with a savage intensity as the warm rush of his orgasm spreads between my legs, down my thighs.
I fall back on him and his strong arms brace me. We lie on the rug, panting as we regain the ability to speak, his body still pressed against mine, his cock still inside of me. As I lie there on the floor, I realize what we just did can’t be considered just fucking. It was gentle and giving. No one has to say the words for the sentiment to be true—we made love. The thought frightens me, and I don’t understand why.
A few minutes pass. I can’t face the elephant in the room, and so I rely on one of my many talents—I change the subject. “Where did you learn to play the piano?”
With care, he pulls out of me and turns my body so I’m facing him. “I’ve played since I was four. For a long time I thought I would do it professionally. I even dual majored in Music and Business at Columbia.” He rubs his fingertips against my cheek as he holds me close. “How did you learn to play?”
My body stiffens at the question. “My dad taught me. He was a musician.” I move my face into the curve of his neck as a chill runs across my body.
“You don’t like to talk about your father.” His hands run down my back and he pulls one of my legs over his body.
“No, I don’t.” I nuzzle against him.
“Did you wake up because you had a bad dream?” Adam’s voice is detached because he’s trying to coax information out of me. My body stiffens.
I pull myself from the security of his embrace and focus on the deep blue of his eyes. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you play.”
He frowns and refuses to allow me to distance myself, his strong arms pulling me close. “I don’t play often.” One of his hands cups my cheek. “You’re changing the subject.”
My eyes widen in contrived innocence. “I’m just trying to understand you better. Why would you study music and never play? You obviously used your degree in business; what happened to your passion for music?”
His hand trails down the curve of my spine. “Are you doing what you wanted to do when you went to college? You studied art and now you teach at a school.”
Though his tone is still gentle, I hear a hint of reproach. “No, I never expected to be teaching. I envisioned something different.” There is an obvious bitterness to my voice. “All I ever wanted to do was paint. The kids around my neighborhood would be running outside, riding their bikes and rollerblading while I worked for hours on pictures that consumed my head. My dad would say it was the same for him, only he didn’t see pictures, but heard notes instead. Was it like that for you?”
He shifts back and props his head up with a hand. The smile on his face is carefree. “My parents never were into showing their emotions. I’m sure by now you’ve noticed it’s a family trait. Music let me express myself in a way that was appropriate,” he says dryly.
“Will you play for me again? Not now, but in the future.” I place my lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. “Listening to you play relaxes me.”
A masculine chuckle escapes his lips. “I thought having me inside of you was relaxing. In fact, right after you orgasm you get the most adorable look in your eyes. They cloud over with this languid serenity.” The expression in his eyes is smoldering.
I giggle, because only Adam can simultaneously make me feel safe, calm, and turned on. “Well, we could alternate between the two.”
He nods. “I always have appreciated resourceful women with good problem-solving skills.”
I scrunch my nose in a playful frown. “Exactly how many resourceful woman have you appreciated?”
Adam shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t keep a running record.”
I frown and straighten my arms, forcing some distance between us. “You don’t take my questions seriously.”
Adam pulls me close, so my breasts press against his chest. The action is sudden, and I gasp at the movement.
“Everything you say, the questions you ask, the actions you take—all of it is important to me. If I’m guilty of anything it’s that I take you too seriously.”
The look in his eyes makes me uncomfortable because it’s raw. It’s an intense heart-melting look that for a second makes me believe fairy tales exist.
“You have talent.” He shifts so we’re both sitting, his eyes focused on the mural I painted. “You should paint every day. Let the pictures in your head run free.”
“Adam…” My mouth opens and I have to lick my dry lips. “Take me to the bedroom and fuck me senseless.”
His shoulders lift in a burst of laughter. “I never expected you to be so blunt.”
I’m reminded of the first night he made me his. I uttered similar words. I tilt my chin up and offer him the response he gave me. “You’ll find I only am on special occasions.”
“This is a special occasion?” Adam arches his brow with amusement.
I give a slow nod because words are useless. We don’t need them. The night fades and Adam does what I want, he claims every inch of my body with tender attention.
MY phone vibrates against the nightstand. I reach for it and whimper as my sore muscles constrict. I spent the night being deliciously tortured by Adam’s skilled hands, his nimble fingers, and his eager tongue.
“Hello?” I say scratchily.
My mother’s chiding tone reverberates through the phone. “Evie, where are you?”
I open my mouth to offer her a lie when Adam presses his erection against my back. His hands move over my thighs and nestle between my legs. I don’t think before I speak in a breathy pant. “Adam…”
“You’re with him?” My mother attempts to hide the reprimand in her voice. She fails.
Adam trails kisses down my back as his fingers part the folds of my sex and gingerly rub against that special spot he’s all too familiar with.
“Yes, I’m at his apartment,” I say quickly because if I don’t end this conversation soon, my mother will be privy to sounds no mother should hear her daughter utter.
“I see. Well, I was calling to invite you to brunch. It’s fortunate he’s with you. Your stepfather and I would like to meet him.”
I close my eyes as my body shifts back, brushing against Adam. “Mom, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to brunch today…”
Adam interrupts me. “Tell her we would love to go.”
My mouth opens to protest, but my mother’s voice sounds in my ear. “Perfect, how does Brio sound? We can keep it simple.”
I shift upright and frown at Adam, who has an adorably lazy grin on his lips.
I’m panicking. Adam and my mother together, talking? The idea is disturbing on so many levels. “Mom, don’t you have to go to church today?”
“Evelyn.” Her tone is clipped. “It’s Saturday.”
My shoulders slump. Duh! Adam’s chuckle makes me scowl. He’s enjoying this too much.
“I’m getting the impression you don’t want me to meet him.”
“No, of c-course th-that’s not it…” I stammer.
Adam once again speaks. “We’ll meet her wherever she wants. Name the time.”
My mouth is parted in shock as I hear my mother’s exuberant response.
“Noon will be wonderful. See you both then.”
I blink a few times as I place the phone on the nightstand. “What just happened?”
“We agreed to meet your mother for brunch.” Amusement governs his expression.
I grab one of the pillows and swing it at him. Adam grabs me by the waist and flips me so my body is trapped under his. I squeal with mock indignation at his forceful restriction of my body. My eyes widen as a disturbing thought interrupts the moment. “Did I hang up the phone?”
Adam gives me one of his movie star grins. “I sure hope so, because I plan for us to make plenty of noise before we go.”
I decide on wearing a simple spaghetti-strap dress for brunch while Adam opts for dark denim jeans and a button-down, the long sleeves rolled so his toned forearms can be seen. He is my little piece of heaven and the idea of sharing him with my mother, who judges every action I make, is as appealing as a root canal.
The restaurant is empty when we arrive, and yet my mother insists on sitting in the outside patio.
“We live in Florida, the weather is beautiful, and a little sun is good for you.” The designer sunglasses she wears frame her oval face.
Adam, to his credit, doesn’t seem to mind. With debonair flare he approaches my mother and kisses her cheek in greeting. He shakes my stepfather Nicolas’s hand and exhibits the impeccable manners I’ve grown accustomed to.
My mother wastes little time with pleasantries. “I must admit, I didn’t think we would meet anytime soon. Evelyn has been secretive lately.” She shoots me an accusatory glace before picking up her glass of water.
I move the menu forward, not bothering to look at it—from her tone, I know my nerves will make it difficult to eat.
Adam doesn’t appear to be flustered. I envy how self-assured he is, because I’m usually foundering in a sea of insecurity. The feeling is only amplified by the presence of my overbearing mother.
“I haven’t been secretive, just busy. There’s a huge difference between the two.” I try to sound calm, but an edge of anger pervades my tone.
Adam has a small smile on his lips as he speaks. “I’ve been a tyrant with her time, Mrs. Aaron. I won’t apologize for that—I doubt anyone could blame me for wanting to be around her.”
My stepfather’s loud chuckle and my mother’s shocked expression makes me grin. I give Adam a look as he eyes the menu.
“Are you always this demanding with the women you date?” My mother’s sunglasses shield the dark glare I know she is giving Adam.
Mom! I stifle a groan.
“Ava, she’s twenty-four years old. I doubt she wants you to interfere with her love life.” My stepfather rolls his eyes.
“I have a right to be concerned; she is my daughter.” Her expression of indignation is perfectly executed.
“I am demanding in general, and from the direction this conversation has taken, I think it’s safe to assume you are as well.” Adam looks at my mother with frank honesty. “Though, rest assured, Mrs. Aaron, I only show such interest when I truly care about someone.”
I look at my mother with a small smile, because I love hearing the gentleness in his voice. When he openly admits his affection for me I’m lost, drawn to that feeling only he can stir within me.
My mother takes off her glasses as she regards Adam. The corners of her eyes soften, the wrinkles easing. I have to stifle the laugh threatening my composure. His charm is winning her over.
“Mr. Black, what are your plans for Christmas Eve? We’re hosting a small gathering at our home. Nicholas and I would love it if you joined us,” my mother says pleasantly.
Adam reaches for my hand and holds it under the table. “Unfortunately, I have a business trip I can’t miss. I’ll be spending the holiday in New York. In fact, Evelyn will be traveling with me, and we won’t be back until after Christmas.”
My eyes widen at his words. Wait…we’re going where? Adam squeezes my hand and his thumb rubs across my knuckles. I get the impression I’m supposed to nod and smile; I can’t muster the energy to nod, though I manage the smile.
“Really? You’ll have to forgive my surprise, but Evelyn neglected to mention this.” The tension that had recently eased once again makes her stiffen in her seat.
My stepfather’s cheerful voice cuts the tension. “That’s the smartest decision you two could make. I’m only sorry I couldn’t convince Ava to go away for the holidays. Now we have the pleasure of hosting a party.” He sighs and shrugs.
“Nicolas!” My mother glares at my stepfather.
“What? It’s true. We’re going to spend hours getting the house ready, preparing the food, and then afterward we have to clean up. I doubt that’s anyone’s idea of a perfect Christmas.”
“I think planning a trip together when you’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks is unwise. I mean honestly, Christmas is less than two weeks away.” My mother looks at me.
I want to tell her to mind her own damn business, but the words elude me. I fist my fingers, pressing them against my palms. Adam’s grip around my hand tightens. He’s getting upset, though I’m not sure if his anger is for my mother’s intrusive statements or me. Why would he be angry at me?
“Patience unfortunately is not a trait I possess. Besides, the idea of spending the holidays without Evelyn won’t work for me. I won’t do it.”
My mother and Adam stare at each as the phrase “oh shit” is stuck on repeat in my head. After a few heart-pounding seconds my mother relents. She pulls her gaze away from Adam and gives him a hard smile.
“Well, I’m sure Evelyn and I will speak about this trip at length later.”
Oh great, that’s the type of conversation I’m dying to have. I need to get away from them both. I’m being pulled to pieces by these two domineering figures.
“Excuse me.” I don’t bother to wait for a response. I get up and walk to the restroom. For a few minutes I stand in front of the mirror, then I wash my face with cold water and don a brave expression as I make my way back to our table.
Our food soon arrives and I pick at my salad with disinterest. My mother, of course, chides me, and as I listen to her I catch the small frown that forms on Adam’s brow. When will this disaster end?
In less than thirty minutes we’ve finished our meal, and the check is placed on the table. My mother reaches for it, but Adam is quick to counter her. He slips some money in the black folder and hands it to the waiter.
The soft lines in my mother’s face become more pronounced. She hates not being in control. I understand the feeling, since it’s something I’ve been struggling with for the past two weeks. When Adam is around you have to enjoy the ride, because the moment you come in contact with him he’s like a wildfire, and he’ll burn until he’s ready to stop.
We say goodbye, and as we pick up the car from the valet I notice Adam isn’t talking to me. I don’t bother to speak, because after the stressful brunch I’m enjoying the silence.
When we arrive at Adam’s apartment I’m fed up with his brooding mood. “Is there a reason you’re not talking to me?”
“Oh, so the Evelyn I have come to know is still in there. I was beginning to wonder.” Adam tosses his keys on the kitchen counter.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I can’t believe you let her walk all over you.”
“Wait…” I blink a few times processing my confusion. “You’re angry at my mother and you’re taking it out on me?”
Adam shakes his head. “I’m angry that the woman I normally see in front of me, one that is not afraid to voice her mind to me, is so damn stifled around her mother.”
My fisted hands are shaking. He’s right, I do suppress many of my feelings in the company of my mother, but that’s only because I know the dangers of giving into them. There was a time when I thought of no one else, when I succumbed to my impulses. All that got me was several months in an institution, and for most people that would be the worst experience of their lives. For me it was one in a long string of them.
When I saw Tina’s ashen face, the tearful eyes of my mother looking at me with a horrible mixture of fear, pity, sorrow and anger, the shattered bits of my broken heart were grinded into dust. I swore then I would think about my every action. I would be patient and never give in to the selfish desires I had inherited from my father.
I purse my dry lips and focus on Adam. “Sometimes it’s important to stay quiet.”
“Throughout the entire experience you sat idly while she voiced all of her thoughts. Never once did you offer your own opinion. When is it time to speak up?”
“I didn’t have to; you were more than willing to offer opinions for both of us. In fact, you often make decisions without even consulting me. I had no idea we were going to New York.”
“Let me get this straight—you’re upset I didn’t inform you of my intention to surprise you with a romantic getaway?” He arches his brow at me and I get the full force of Adam Black’s arrogant stare.
“That’s not the point,” I say meekly.
“What is the point?” he scoffs.
“I loathe how you do that, Adam. How you can so easily confuse me. Just because you’re better at arguing a point doesn’t mean you’re right. You do exactly what my mother does.”
“I suppose the only difference is that when she does it you stay quiet.”
“Is that what has you upset? That I’m docile around her and not you?”
He gives a low chuckle and I shiver at the sound. The way he regards me makes me fidget, though I refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning away. I glower at Adam with a blend of passion and anger reserved solely for him.
“If I wanted a docile woman do you honestly think it would be hard for me to find one?”
Now I want to walk away. I turn around with the intention of going to the bedroom, though I never make it past the first step. Adam grabs hold of my hand and pulls me so my body hits his.
“Answer the question.”
“You are an arrogant, demanding, impossible man.”
“Answer the fucking question.”
“No! If you wanted some docile woman, I’m sure you could find hundreds who would bend over backward for you.” I shove at him and take a step back. “Happy? That’s what you wanted to hear, right? Has your ego been satisfied?”
Adam looks amused and I hate seeing his smug expression, because even though I’m furious I can’t deny this man is damn handsome. He looks as if he’s hiding a smile. Bastard!
For a brief second those hypnotic blue eyes stare at me, and then his arms are around my waist, pulling me against his body. His lips press on mine and his tongue is relentless as it probes my mouth. My hands find their way up his back, settling in his dark locks. I pull on his hair, because although I love the taste of his kisses, I’m desperate for even the smallest edge of control.
Adam bites on my lips as he’s pulled away and the most adorable expression is on his face. “The truth is, I want only you.” Adam shakes his head and for once I see an unsure look in those startling eyes of his. “I don’t like seeing you so uncertain of yourself.”
I blink a few times at his admission. Adam wants me. Why the hell is this idea so hard for me to digest?
I narrow my eyes at him. “So you want to take me to New York…” I press my chest against his. “How do you know I can go? Maybe I have to work.”
Adam’s laugh fills the room. “School’s out for winter recess. I know you can go.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t be so sure. I may have other plans.”
He pushes me against the kitchen counter as two lines form between his brows. “With whom?”
I run my tongue across my lips. “With this tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed guy.”
Adam tilts his head to the side as his facial features relax. “He sounds like a catch.”
I laugh. “Yes, but he does have an Achilles heel; he’s conceited and bossy.” Adam’s lips claim mine, and though the kiss is brief, when I pull back I’m panting.
“I would think by now my true weakness would be obvious…” His words are soft, the faint warmth of his breath brushing against my cheek as he trails kisses down the curve of my neck. “Come to New York with me. I don’t want to spend the holidays without you.”
My mother is right. We’ve only been dating for two weeks and going on a romantic getaway with someone under these conditions is insane, but with his body pressed against mine I’m unable to say no.
I close my eyes and whisper the word, “Yes.” When I flutter them open, Adam is staring at me with a triumphant expression. I can’t help but smile at him.
Once again he kisses me, only this time the action is not sweet, but frantic with erupting desire. His hands move up my thighs, underneath my dress, prompting me to groan against his mouth.
We do what comes natural to us, what we do best—we forget about everything but each other. A perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.