He doesn’t break his lips from mine until he sets me on the mattress and makes short work of stripping me of my shirt. As he takes his off too, my trembling fingers find the button of his jeans, unfastening it and pulling down his zipper. Adam has gone still, and I allow my gaze to travel up over his flat stomach, past his tattoos, and over his silky soft lips. His eyes hold me captive as he kicks off his jeans and crawls over top of me.
He kisses me like neither of us needs to breathe, and when his tongue is sliding between my lips like that, I’m pretty sure I don’t. His body presses me into his soft black comforter, his fire-hot skin igniting the air around us and setting mine aflame. I’m lost in his scent, in his kisses, in his hands. He hitches my left knee up and rocks against my thin leggings, and the moan that escapes me prompts him to do it again. My head rolls back, and he does it yet again, his lips dropping to my neck as he sets an agonizing rhythm.
His fingers are flames licking over my skin, dancing higher and higher until they’re cupping the silky material of my bra. The thin fabric feels brutally sensual against my pert nipple, and when he plucks with expert fingers, the inferno completely engulfs me. It steals all the oxygen from the room, but just when I’m sure I’m about to burst into flames, a knock on the door douses the moment.
“Adam, we’re heading out!”
“Fuck off, Joel!” Adam barks at the door, and an irrational giggle bubbles from my throat.
I’m here . . . with Adam.
Me . . . and Adam.
His shaggy brown rocker hair frames his face when he smiles down at me. Then he settles at my side and slips his fingertip beneath the waistband of my leggings, snaking it in an agonizingly delicate line across my sensitive skin. Every cell in my body is tuned in to his touch, waiting impatiently for more.
“Why didn’t you pick me tonight?” he asks, staring at me while I desperately try to think of something to say that won’t ruin everything.
“Because we’re friends,” I quickly reason. It’s not exactly a lie.
“Friends don’t do what I’m about to do to you, Peach.” Adam’s hand slides lower inside my leggings, gliding over my moist panties. His fingers rub in a firm circle, and my breath hitches in my throat at the same time a moan tries to form. “Is this what you want?” he asks.
“Oh God.”
Adam nibbles my earlobe, maintaining an agonizing pace with his fingers. “That’s not an answer, Peach.”
I turn my face to him and suck his bottom lip into my mouth, which makes his rhythm falter a second before he slips his fingers into my panties and slicks them through my heat. They glide up to stroke my tight bundle of nerves, and I moan either his name or God’s, which should probably be the same thing. My fingers thread into his hair and I kiss him like I’ve never kissed anyone.
“Adam,” I breathe, and he deepens our kiss before sliding his finger into me. My back arches and I suck his tongue into my mouth, surprised and ridiculously turned on by the half growl, half moan that rumbles in his chest.
He pulls away only far enough to say against my mouth, “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” I moan. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.
“Tell me why.”
I’m breathless when I begin, “Because I—”
My eyes fly open when I realize I was about to tell Adam I love him.
His finger stops moving, and he cautiously leans back to search my eyes. “What were you just going to say?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer.
Oh my God, DO I love him? Is that even possible?! We’ve only known each other for two weeks—two freaking weeks—which might as well be five minutes! My head does a quick comparison of how I feel about Adam and how I felt about Brady, and I realize with a certain degree of horror that I think I love Adam more. Two weeks with Adam and the pain of losing him would hurt even more than losing the man I gave three years of my life to.
His hand slips out of my panties, and he stares at me for a long moment while my heart thunders in my chest. I’m terrified he knows—terrified he’s going to remind me how much he doesn’t want a relationship right now, or ever—but then he leans back in and his lips find mine in a dizzying rush. His kiss is bruising and insistent, and my thoughts are foggy with lust when he breathes against my mouth, “Tell me.”
When I shake my head, he drops his kisses to my neck and rolls his tongue in the hollow of my collarbone. “Tell me.”
My toes curl and my eyes roll back. Adam’s hand squeezes between the mattress and my leggings, gripping my ass as he roughly pulls me forward. His hardness grinds against my softness, and I trace my tongue over the shell of his ear.
“Please,” I beg, needing him inside me. I’ve been so close to having him so many times, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart if I have to give him up again.