I needed the reminder.
Needed to remember why this couldn’t work.
It wasn’t the first time he’d come to me like this, and I knew what he wanted, standing there like he was. Like he owned the fucking ground beneath his feet.
I wanted to turn him away, God, I knew I should, but it was like...
Why should I deny myself?
Why didn’t I deserve the pleasure only he could give me?
I shivered at the very thought of what he created in me, and he saw it.
Of course.
“I want to taste you,” he rasped.
“You have no right.”
“You’re mine,” he carried on inexorably, making me feel like he was just going to stand there, telling me why this should happen until I agreed.
I always did.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Just like that, the thought of the forbidden, of how stupid, insane, this was, had my pussy burning with need.
I clenched down, tightened my thighs together, and because I only wore a pair of scarlet yoga pants and a cream, spaghetti-strap camisole, he saw it.
The bastard.
And he smirked.
Fucker.
He reached down, palmed his dick, and muttered, “You want me as much as I want you.”
This was the Adam I knew. Not the one who stood behind locked doors and whispered his feelings for me.
He took.
He claimed.
And somedays, I hated him for that.
Others, I loved him for it. Fuck, I just loved him.
He was, and always had been, mine.
Only at moments like this was I allowed to stake my claim. To forget about his wife, my curse, the rules of the game.
A game he always brought to a head.
When he reached for the zipper on his fly and tugged it down, my tongue about cleaved to the roof of my mouth. He was a presumptuous schmuck, but he’d read me right. I wanted to moan at the sight of his long, thick cock making an appearance, not knee him in the balls like he deserved. Christ, I wanted to do more than just moan at the picture before me. I wanted that beautiful dick in my hands, in my mouth. The taste of him against my tongue, the feel of him against my skin.
I wanted him inside me. Hot, burning, thick. A brand that would remind me of the bond between us.
When he jacked off a couple of times, I saw the bead of pre-cum at the tip and stated, “I’m not coming to you.”
“You’ll come for me though, won’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Clever word play. So original.”
He grinned at me, looking, ironically enough, cocksure as he began to walk toward me.
He didn’t stop until we were inches apart, and with one hand on his dick, the other snapped up, and I knew what he’d do.
He always did.
He reached for me, grabbing me by the back of my neck and hauling me into him. I let him because I wanted him to do that, because I liked him to have to make the move. He knew I wouldn’t come to him, so he always took that first step, and only then did I let him take me. It was a stupid point of honor, but I had to have some dignity, didn’t I?
And hell, if this counted for dignity nowadays, the world really was fucked.
His mouth went to mine, his lips pressing gently against the soft cushion of my own. Then he flickered his tongue out, letting it touch the tender curve, tracing until I parted my lips to gasp at the nerve endings he stirred to life. He surged inside then, just like I’d thought he would, and I melted into him.
He thrust into me, rubbing his tongue against mine, stealing my breath, robbing me of every ounce of air.
Shuddering, I let my hands come up to cup his shoulders where I squeezed him gently. Not to soothe, more for my own pleasure. Just to be able to touch him. To be able to be so tactile with him.
I had permission, free rein to hold him and caress him like I had in no other part of my life, and it felt good.
Fuck, it felt epic.
“Is this going to mess with your mindset for tomorrow?”
The suddenness of the question had me blinking when he whispered the words against my mouth.
“W-What?” I whispered back, stuttering because I wasn’t sure I understood what the hell he was saying.
It was like being offered two bites of heaven and stopping halfway through the first one.
I muffled a groan when he pecked my lips then pressed his forehead to mine. “Tell me to stop and I will. I don’t want to fuck with your head when you need to be in the zone for the race tomorrow.”
“If you’d cared about that, then would you have come at all?” I rasped.
“I care, I care so fucking much you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he ground out, “but I’m a selfish bastard. I had to see you before I leave.”
My eyes flared wide. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes. No choice.”
My heart stuttered in my chest, and I hated that I had no right to ask why. To tell him to stay. That he had to stay for my final race. I had no rights at all.
Needing to avoid those thoughts, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Kiss me.” That was all the answer I was capable of giving.
He released a groan, then connected with me. This was the Adam I loved. He could be an ass, cold, unfeeling. Then he could make me burn, but he could also be considerate. He could stop, even though he was close to getting his way, and ask if my head was in the game.
I loved him for that.
But he had no fear on that score. My head was in the game. Always. And the only way it wouldn’t be tomorrow was if he didn’t fuck me tonight.
Then I’d be thinking about what might have been, and the last thing I needed was to be tossing and turning all night.
My hands dropped to his ass, and my fingers dug into the tense muscles. He was trim and lithe, lean and hard, and he felt fucking amazing in my palms.
He grunted as his cock rubbed against my belly, the silken feel of the Lycra yoga pants making him stifle a groan as he bent down and pressed a kiss to my shoulder, which was mostly bare except for the spaghetti strap and sports bra strap against my skin.
“You smell glorious,” he whispered.
“I smell sweaty.” I’d just been doing yoga, for God’s sake.
He shook his head, his nose dragging along the curve. “No. You smell like mine.”
Then he spun me around and surprised the hell out of me by shoving me backward until I was pushed into the wall, not against the bed, but the wall.
With a moan, I let him drag my yoga pants and panties down, and didn’t care when he bounced back up and cocked my leg over his hip.
With him grinding into me, I released a high-pitched groan as his cock collided with my heat. The wet tip rubbing against molten hot tissues, flesh that needed him with as much hunger as he needed me.
I tilted my pelvis up and forward, rocking it so I could feel the friction, and even though he’d barely touched me, I let out a short, sharp scream as a small swell of release surged inside me.
“Fuck,” he ground out into my throat as he sucked and licked me there.
I didn’t care that live, on international TV, those marks might be visible.
I just loved the suction, the pressure, and with his dick against my clit, I had no choice but to drop my head back, to let the sensations flood through me like a river that had broken its banks.
When he notched the tip inside me, I didn’t even fight. Just used my angle against the wall to lift my other leg, and I half climbed up like a damn monkey as I took advantage of his strength.
He held me aloft easily, and now that I was in his hold like this, he slowly began to push inside me.
A choked scream burst from my lips as he thrust his way home, and his panting breaths, his bitten off curses in my ear, were enough to make my heart start pounding all over again.
His mouth moved against my skin with a feverishness that had heat prickling up and down my spine.
He supped at me, supped from me as he let his lips travel, whispering over my throat and up to my chin and jaw, not stopping until all my nerve endings were on fire, and his mouth was able to connect with mine.
In time to each plowing motion, he kissed me, plunging his tongue into my mouth as he fucked me.
His thrusts were slow at first. Letting me feel how thick and hard he was, how full I felt with him inside me. Then, as I felt his body shudder in reaction, he began to speed up.
It was urgent, frantic. Powerful. Intense.
It washed over me, drowning me in sensation, suffocating me in him, and fuck, I’d never wanted la petite mort more.
He groaned into me when he came, his kiss stealing my breath, my body accepting his seed.
I loved the feel of him inside me, the silky wetness that bound me to him in ways no one would ever understand, in ways that felt primal and right.
The feel of him, his slickness surging inside me, sent me soaring high again. I gasped, my heart stuttering as the pleasure washed through me, as ecstasy had me letting out a silent scream while I ran my fingers through his hair and gripped the locks hard enough to sting.
We groaned and moaned together, our sounds of love and pleasure better than a chorus, better than a choir singing hosannas to the heavens.
But then, wasn’t that what our cries of passion were?
A benediction?
As my pleasure began to wane, the soaring heights starting to drift away, I slumped into him, knowing he’d hold me, knowing he wouldn’t let me fall.
In this, I could trust him.
It was in everything else I couldn’t.
And if that didn’t break my heart...even as he glued parts of it back together again...nothing else could.
THEA
I squinted at Robert Ramsden, wondering if I was dreaming or something, because I was pretty sure what he’d just said was something from a bad trip. And I wasn’t talking the likes of The Hangover. I meant acid. LSD. Angel dust.
“Excuse me?” I repeated hoarsely. “You want to adopt me?”
His smile was tight. “I’m so sorry for what my son has put you through, Theodosia. As a family, we’d like to make amends.”
My brow puckered in confusion. “How... Why? You’re not to blame.” And he wasn’t.
Cain was.
I was almost ashamed of my oxygen-deprived brain for blaming Adam for hurting me, Adam who loved me. Who needed me as much as I needed him.
Cain’s evil had washed over me, and I’d survived. Barely.
Adam’s father’s mouth tightened as he scanned me over and looked at the hospital bed I’d been in for the last seventy-two hours, at the IV line that was still attached, and stated, “I raised him. Part of the blame has to rest at my door.”
I wasn’t sure if I liked that logic. “You want to adopt me because your son is a crazy person?” I asked bluntly, wondering if this was some kind of joke.
He flinched. “Yes.”
“I’m not a charity case.” Maybe I had more pride than sense, but dear God, no way was this happening.
It was like something from a fairy tale. But I didn’t trust in them, nor did I want to find myself in a starring role.
Usually, before the happily ever after, a whole fuck ton of bad juju came tumbling down on the poor, unwitting heroine—no way was I inviting that kind of mayhem into my life. If I hadn’t already, that is.
“No, you’re not, but the doctors have informed me of some...issues you’re having. Medically. I’d like to cover those expenses. It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t have to adopt me to cover those costs,” I rasped, refusing to wince at the issues he’d mentioned. Like suddenly refusing to have a bath because that meant getting into water. I was apparently too weak on my feet to have a shower, which meant I was sitting here, stinking to high heaven, because one thing Theodosia Kinkade could be was stubborn.
I couldn’t have a shower, then I was just going to have to stink out the ward until they let me.
I didn’t doubt I’d get over it—I had no choice. The water was my home. But for the moment, the decision between a bath or a shower was in my control, and control it I would.
Of course, if Adam had been here, I’d have showered. The notion of being mahrime in front of him was abhorrent to me, but he wasn’t here.
Hadn’t been since I woke up.
I didn’t want to think about what that might mean. Especially in the face of what had happened at Rosemore, and now with this? His father’s shady offer?
To say I was confused understated exactly how perplexed I was.
“No, but if I do, you’d be on my insurance.”
That made no sense. “But you’re rich.”
“That’s how I stay rich.”
I wasn’t sure why, but that made me laugh. “You stay rich by being shrewd?”
“Exactly.”
I was shrewd myself. Even if he adopted me, I highly doubted any insurance in the land would cover my costs. Far as I knew, there was always a waiver period, wasn’t there?
So, what was his game?
I could be wrong though. Still, I didn’t trust him.
Staring at him, I muttered, “You don’t have to do this.” And I meant it. How could the parents be blamed when Adam was a decent human being and Cain just wasn’t? Every family had a black sheep in it, didn’t they?
He gave me a strange smile. “I do. Cain pulled the wool over his family’s eyes. There are a lot of sins to pile on his shoulders. If I can’t make amends for them, then it will weigh on me. This is a small thing I can do—”
“You want to bring me into your family. You want me to, I mean, I guess, you want me to live with you? How do you know you can trust me? I could be a thief or something. I might have kleptomania.”
His lips twitched. “You might. I can cover those costs, just don’t steal the family silver. That’s priceless.”
My eyes rounded. “You have family silver?”
“No.” He snorted. “My father made the family fortune, but he was first generation.”
A little uneasy, I asked, “Is this because of your wife? Her being a politician?”
His sigh told me I’d hit some of the nail on the head. “Anna is finding this very hard. Cain was her golden boy and could do no wrong in her eyes. In the aftermath of this, all of his misdeeds that have been uncovered, yes, it’s hitting us hard. Her particularly.
“Her reputation is built on founder family values—”
Maybe it was mean of me, but I couldn’t stop myself from sneering at him. “So Cain’s besmirched your honor. How very Victorian.”
“Yeah, it is.” He shrugged. “That’s why she agreed to it, but for me? I watched you at the NCSA Nationals, Thea. You’re an incredible athlete, and you have a bright future ahead of you. My son almost destroyed that with his pettiness.”
“I don’t think he meant to kill me,” I mumbled, ducking my head.
“We don’t know he didn’t. Putting his foot between your shoulders didn’t exactly make it look like he was having fun. If the teacher hadn’t come along at that moment, he’d be dealing with a manslaughter or even a murder charge,” he finished hoarsely, and deep in his eyes, there was a horror so entrenched that I—
God help me.
I trusted him.
It made no sense because I didn’t know him, and what I did know from Adam wasn’t great, but this wasn’t about PR for him. This wasn’t about salvaging the family name.
This was atonement. Pure and simple.
Here he was, in a regular old hospital wearing a watch that cost more than surgery, looking drained and tired, but so wealthy, paying for his sins.
Because there was nothing I could say, I didn’t say a word, but I tensed when he scrubbed a hand over his face, and muttered, “Then, there’s this matter with Maria.”
“What matter?” I tilted my head to the side. “Has she been expelled too?”
His eyes were soft as he
looked at me. “Adam and you, you’re friends, right?”
Friends? Was that what we were?
Ever since he’d gotten me on the Almanac Water Sports Team, it was what we’d let people think we were.
But was that all we were?
I didn’t think so. And from the stars in his eyes when he looked at me, I knew nothing had changed between us, even though, by necessity, we’d had to slow things down.
So I lied to him. Adam wanted to keep our connection a secret, so keep it a secret I would. “Yeah, we’re friends.”
“Then you’ll know soon enough. Maria’s pregnant. With Cain’s child.” His mouth tightened. “Her father goes to the same church as us, and he’s furious. Adam, being the good boy he is, has agreed to set things right.”
My brow puckered as I dealt with so many slivers of information that I couldn’t keep up. My brain wasn’t addled from the near-death experience, but at that moment, I actually felt like it might be.
With the entire world beneath my feet suddenly quaking, I managed to get out, “What do you mean, Robert? How can Adam make things right when he has nothing to do with what Maria’s going through?”
“I mean, we’ve given them our permission to get married.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It isn’t like Cain can rectify his wrongdoings, can he? Not when he’s in jail. They might try him as an adult, for God’s sake, and if they do, I have no idea how long he’ll be inside.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, then bowed his head like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
I couldn’t blame him.
An almost-seventeen-year-old kid in a man’s prison?
Surely, nobody would sign off on that. But also, Robert’s pain was nothing compared to what I was enduring at that moment.
Nothing to the pain that was spearing me in two.
Was that why Adam hadn’t come to visit me yet?
Was that the reason I’d only seen the Majors and Robert?
For a second, I was sure I was going to puke all over myself, the bed, and Robert.
Because this couldn’t be happening.
It couldn’t.
But… Robert’s resolute misery was all the proof I needed.
This was happening.
There was no escaping it.
Above The Surface Page 14
