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I don’t let him go. It’s as if some part of me is sure he will disappear and that same part of me wants him to touch me again, to kiss me again. “I hate that you lied to me.”
He rotates back toward me, somehow now just a little closer. I can smell his cologne stronger now, and I decide it’s an alluring mix of vanilla and spice, man and beast. “I had to meet you,” he says. “I had to know I trusted you.”
“And do you?”
“More than you do me right now. You’re still touching me, Pri.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to disappear. I’m not letting go.”
It’s an invitation I don’t mean to deliver—or maybe I do because I swear my entire body sighs as his fingers tunnel into my hair and he steps into me, his powerful body pressed to mine. “Right now, you’re giving me plenty of reasons to stay.” His mouth lowers, a breath from mine. “Right now, all I want is another taste of you.”
“I thought you weren’t going to kiss me again until I trust you?” I challenge softly, already breathless.
“Maybe if I kiss you enough, and in the right places, you will.” His mouth closes down on mine and there’s this blast of passion in the long kiss that follows, in the lick of our tongues, as if we’re breathing each other in. His hand finds my lower back and he molds me closer, inhaling and parting our lips. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“I should,” I whisper.
“I should, too,” he murmurs, “but I don’t want to.”
“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” I vow.
His grip in my hair tightens, an erotic tug and he pulls my head back, my gaze to his. “Good. That will keep you alive.”
I’m not sure if that’s a warning about himself or Waters, and I don’t seem to care, not when his mouth is on my mouth again. Not when his hand slides over my backside and he arches my hips against his hips, the thick ridge of his erection pressing into my belly. It’s insane, even reckless, when I am not reckless, how much I want Adrian inside me right now, desperately, so very desperately.
I moan and my fingers close around his T-shirt, my tongue meeting his tongue with almost desperate strokes. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man, so very long since I even wanted a man, and now, all I know is want and need. And my god, the man can kiss. I am swimming in sensation, clinging to him, and his hands are now all over me and I want them all over me.
He tears his mouth from mine and stares down at me, his stare probing, but I don’t look away. I let him see me, really see me, in hopes that he will find what he needs to trust me, too. This is a two-way street, I’m just not there yet. I’m not ready to show him who I am, who I really am. And I have a feeling I will never really know Adrian Mack. And therein lies just one of my problems.
I don’t know Adrian. I don’t even come close to knowing him, and yet, I’m alone with him, vulnerable when he kisses me. Vulnerable when he touches me. And vulnerable is something I never wanted to be in my personal or professional life ever again.
And yet here I am.
Vulnerable.
Naked in nearly every way.
Exposed.
Perhaps even in danger, and yet, I just can’t seem to care.
His gaze lowers to my lips and down over my breasts and I don’t even know how the buttons of the red silk are undone, my breasts heaving against the black lace of my bra. He moans, this low, rough rumble and his gaze lifts to mine. “You’re beautiful, Pri, and nothing that I expected.”
I don’t know what that means and so I whisper, “And you are not Rafael.”
He doesn’t laugh. “Adrian,” he says. “I’m Adrian, and I’m going to make you remember me when I’m gone.”
Unbidden, the promised goodbye in those words punches me in the gut and I tell myself it’s about the case, but then he’s kissing me again. And there is something oh so dirty about this kiss. I have never experienced such a thing, not like this, when his tongue all but promises he will do naughty things to me and I will like every single one. My hands are on his chest, fingers flexing and then curling, while I lean into the long hard lines of his powerful body. Another rough, masculine moan slides from his throat before his mouth is gone, and I’m panting with the need for its return.
But already he’s turned me toward the door, and he’s tugging my jacket down my shoulders, holding it at my wrists as he leans in, his breath warm at my ear. He hesitates and I can feel the pulse of his arousal mix with mine. There is a dominance in Adrian that should scare me for more than one reason, because of my past with another man and then, of course, the fact, of who he is. I don’t know if I can trust him. And Lord help me, that is almost arousing. No. There is no almost to it. Seconds tick by laden with desire—his and mine. My nipples pucker, my sex clenches in anticipation.
