“I get it. If we were to date, I’d just be your rebound girl.” He bristles at the assessment, but it’s the truth. “Have you dated anyone since Olivia? Have you even had a one-night stand?”
He barely shakes his head.
I yank my arms free from his hold. This is too much. I’m at my limit. My apartment, my car, my job, my love life—there isn’t a single thing that isn’t in shambles.
“This makes so much sense,” I say, more to myself than to him. “Why wouldn’t I go for a man who is completely uninterested in dating? This is perfect.”
I toss my hands in the air and whip around to grab Mouse. I want to leave now.
“Madeleine—”
He’s following behind me, trying to get me to listen.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I mumble under my breath. “Daisy is going to have a field day. I can’t believe she talked me into this.”
“Madeleine, you’re taking this personally.”
“Of course I’m taking this personally!” I shout just as I reach Mouse and grab hold of his leash.
It’s a couple dozen steps to the exit and Adam beats me there, barricading the door so I can’t leave.
“Oh, very mature,” I chide, crossing my arms and waiting for him to move.
“I’m not letting you leave until you understand where I’m coming from.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as warning bells start to ring in my head. I’m going to cry. The tears are forming, and if I cry right now, in front of him, there will be no going back. I’ll have to go hike the Appalachian Trail.
“Madeleine, listen to me,” he implores, his voice so soft and comforting.
He thinks he will be able to explain away my anger, but what he doesn’t understand is that I get it: he isn’t in a place to date, he doesn’t want to lead me on, and he respects me too much to use me to get over Olivia.
I repeat all of that out loud to him, just to verify.
“Do I have it right?”
He shakes his head. “I am over Olivia, but that doesn’t mean I want to jump right into another serious relationship.”
“I get it.”
I really, really do.
He groans, and there he goes again, tugging his damn hand through his hair. Each time he does it, it gets a little more messy, a little more irresistible.
“Let me leave, Adam.”
“No.”
I try to scroll through the few self-defense moves I know from the action movies I’ve seen over the years. I could go for the jugular, maybe stomp on his foot, but that seems too cruel, even in this situation.
Adam tugs Mouse’s leash out of my hand and tosses it to the ground. Mouse, for all of his dog instincts, walks a few feet away and goes back to lying down and ignoring us. I sear him with my gaze. What if I was in real danger, Mouse? Some dog you are.
I step to the left, right, left again and I think I’ve outsmarted Adam, but then he grips my shoulders and spins me until my back is to the door. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, literally. Adam’s thigh is pressed between my legs and his hands hold both of my arms captive against the cold metal door, like two goal posts. This exact pose has happened in a dream before, but it was Michael Fassbender standing where Adam is, and Michael didn’t have quite as much emotion in his eyes.
“I told you I didn’t want to date,” Adam says, his hands tightening on my arms enough that I don’t even think of trying to break his grip.
“Yes you did,” I bite out. “And then you proceeded to flirt with me incessantly. Sorry your signals got crossed! Usually guys who aren’t interested in dating don’t eye me like I’ve been dipped in chocolate sauce!”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“Nothing. Ugh.” I try to jerk free, but it’s no use. I should have been doing Insanity Yoga for months leading up this standoff; maybe then I’d have enough strength to break free. “Just let me go so I can salvage what’s left of my dignity.”
Who am I kidding? There is none left. This gymnasium now contains my last remaining ounces. I might as well march down to the local salon and tell them to give me ‘the Lori’ because there is no hope for me.
“I feel bad,” he says, bending closer.
You should, I want to say. You made me like you. Why did you have to make me like you?
Instead, I look away and say in a monotone voice, “You’re hurting me.”
I think that will be the end of it. No guy wants to hurt a woman; it’s engrained in their twenty-first century brains to respect women. That said, Adam doesn’t budge. Worse, he argues. He must have been raised by wolves—it’s why he wanted to become a vet.
“No, I’m not hurting you. I’m barely holding you.”
“I have weak wrists.”
He laughs.
LAUGHS.
I jerk my head back and glare at him. “You’re holding me against my will. I think this is called assault.”
His gaze drops to my lips. “Assault?”
It’s like I’ve just given him a brilliant idea. He inches closer, and his body wash tortures me a little bit more.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You aren’t ready to date, remember?”
He nods. “I know.”
He’s still studying my lips, and there’s fire lighting up his green gaze, fire and…lust.
“Adam?” I say on a shaky breath.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he announces.
“Don’t!” I snap. “Adam Foxe, do NOT under any circumstance—”
He kills the rest of my sentence with his lips.
He kisses me, and for a second or two, I refuse to cooperate. He can move those lips all he wants. He can grip my wrists tighter and hold me hostage, but I will not play along, not even when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down ever so gently. Well, maybe then…but I only moan and kiss him back because it’s a knee-jerk reaction. Anyone would do the same, really.
The second I give him an inch, he takes a mile. He runs his tongue across the seam of my mouth, demanding entry, and I open up for him because I’m helpless. I’ve never been kissed like this before.
One of his hands releases my wrist so he can move down and grip my waist between his fingers. He draws me right up against him and I sink my hand through his hair, finally weaving my fingers into the silky strands I’ve been eyeing for the last few weeks. They’re short and soft, easy to tug. He tilts his head, taking the kiss deeper. There are groans and thrusts, and what’s worse is that they aren’t just coming from him.
Soon there’s not a single millimeter between our bodies. His leg is still between my thighs and we’re rolling our hips, trying to grind our bones down to dust. I feel feverish, hot. I think my knees would give out if he weren’t holding me up. This has got to stop, but I trail my fingers down his neck and hang on for dear life.
“Madeleine,” he groans against my lips.
I think I have a mini orgasm just from the way he says my name, like he’s coming apart at the seams.
Take me. Take me here and be done with it.