Page 81 of Wrecked

“Is that why you’re here? I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking a step closer.

I fall back into the tree behind me. My heart is beating wildly out of my chest. “Are you going to be my protector now? You spent years ignoring me, and suddenly, you have a gained interest in my safety?”

It’s an odd sensation, being without sight. My other senses are heightened to the extreme as I am immersed in everything Adam. His controlled breaths are heavy in the air. The heat of his skin burns through him, warming me without a single touch. He smells like spice, smoke, and all-American man. And, when he speaks, I swear, the trees lean in as well just so they can listen to the most sensual sound on the planet.

“When will you stop and see that you have it wrong? That we’ve had this all wrong?”

“See what, Adam? I can’t see anything.” My words are a plea.

“If you can’t see me, then I need you to feel me.”

He takes a step so close that his body pushes up against mine, his arms down at the sides. I don’t know if I want them to stay where they are or wrap themselves around me.

“Do you feel my heart racing? Do you feel how fast my blood is running through my body just because I’m near you?”

The answer is yes. My own heart is about to burst out of my chest.

“No,” I lie.

Adam removes his sweatshirt and throws it to the ground. He grabs my hand, lifts it to his chest, and drops his hand, leaving mine to lace my fingers through his light smattering of hair. His body is hard and muscular, concealing a pounding beat that is pulsing against my palm.

“This is how you make me feel. It’s how you’ve always made me feel.”

My hand rises and falls with the heaviness of his words. Hesitantly, I lift my other hand to his face, as the desire to caress him is overwhelming. When my palm brushes against the stubble, his head falls into it, and he lets out a groan, as if my touch is the one thing he’s been craving his entire life.

“How do I make you feel?” I ask.

His arms are still at his sides, and I am secretly aching for him to touch me, too. Instead, he lowers his forehead to mine.

“Like I have no control.”

I close my eyes and firmly hold on to his face, not wanting him to move away, not even an inch. “That doesn’t sound like a very good thing.”

“It’s not. I’m always on guard.”

“You don’t seem like you are right now.”

“You have no idea what it is taking me not to touch you right now.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because you haven’t let me.”

His groin is pressed firmly against me, the weight of him powerful. I push down the ache in my throat and the burning desire I am experiencing. I know I shouldn’t want him. I know nothing good can come out of being with him.

Blame it on his words. Blame the shadow of night. Blame my damn heart because I want to feel his touch so damn much that I couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“Touch me,” I breathe.

As the words leave my mouth, his chest jerks ever so slightly under my hand. For a moment, I don’t think he is going to move.

Suddenly, I feel his lips on mine, and it’s as if the whole world explodes with a bright white light.

His lips are soft, warm, and slightly parted on my mouth. The power of this simple action is making my head spin with lust. He is firm yet gentle, like he wants more but is afraid to take it.

I part my mouth and run my tongue over his supple lip. He lets out a groan into my mouth, and I know it’s exactly what he wants. I deepen the kiss, and it feels like I’ve just given him permission to open the gates of heaven.