Bis Until Fountain Bridge (On Dublin Street 01)

It wasn’t close enough.

 

As we continued to kiss, everything 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 between my legs and made me gasp into his mouth.

 

Adam groaned and put pressure on my hips, pushing me down on his lap so his hard-on rubbed me directly between the 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.

 

Needing closer, needing 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 captured my nipple into 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. After I cried out I found myself flat on my back on the length of the couch and watched threw hazy, lust-blurred vision as Adam whipped off his shirt and pulled down my skirt and pants. The muscles of his ripped abs flexed deliciously and I felt another 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, finding the button and zipper on his jeans and undoing it. I pushed at his boxers, my hand sliding inside to grasp him and tug 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 lips, 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, pulling his boxers and jeans up and then tossing my skirt at me to cover me somewhat. “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 and 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 looked 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 big, fat, hopeless tears. I spun away from him and rounded the couch, my long hair covering my face as I grabbed at my jacket, heading 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.