by Liv Bennett
“Did you want me to stay for the dinner? I can if you want, you know?” I don’t know why I’m offering him that. Maybe because the fact that Pat’s coming to dinner is bothering me. If the two start all over again, Pat surely won’t want him working for me. And, I don’t know if I’m ready to stand on my own without him, both at work and privately.
“You don’t actually have any plans for tonight, do you?” His hand moves toward my collar bone, stroking away gently at my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Before I can react, it slips under my shirt and begins caressing the bare skin on my cleavage. His fingers are dangerously close to my hardened nipples, and I remember I’m wearing only a lace bra underneath. At this distance, he won’t miss his effect on my body. I close my eyes at the unexpected softness of his fingers running circles on me and also because I’m afraid to look at him.
It dawns on me, I’m always afraid of looking at him.
I open my eyes when I hear the elevator doors slide open, interrupting our intimate moment. Yet, Adam doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He runs his hand over my throat up to my chin and brushes my lips with his thumb. Cold and hot shivers go up and down my spine. My racing heart will burst out of my chest if I can’t get it under control.
“Instead of hiring me a housekeeper, why don’t you pay back your debt with kisses?”
His words rip the breath away from my lungs. I manage to look up at his face, carefully avoiding his lips, though I notice he’s running his tongue over them, perhaps preparing them for the one-move launch on mine.
“I thought you said I didn’t owe you anything.” My chest rises and falls with a crazy speed. I attempt to take a step back, but my numb legs fail me. I can barely hear the elevator doors closing over my deafening heartbeats.
“Yet, you insisted you did.” He leans down close to my face, his hair brushing my forehead. My eyes fall shut again, and I savor his scent. I’ll have to let him kiss me, and it doesn’t feel as if it’ll be a torture. Certainly, calling up my housekeeper to arrange for her to take over Adam’s condo will be more trouble than a kiss from him. If kissing an ice queen will make him as happy as he claims.
Heat surges through me as I stand on my unsteady legs, paralyzed with anticipation. I sigh as he leans in and lets his lips touch mine. Only shortly, though, because he just licks my lower lip and pulls back immediately. My eyes spring open to see why he doesn’t kiss me fully. Hard to admit, but I’m a little disappointed at the briefness of it. I suck my lower lip to relish the taste of his lick, under his surprised gaze.
“Go now. Or I’ll have to hold you captive here.” He swallows hard and presses the elevator button again. “Text me when you arrive home, so I know you’re safe.”
His eyes, ablaze and hot with lust, scan every inch of my body as the elevator doors open again and I step in. Holding my breath, I soak in the strange sensation his presence is subjecting me to, until the doors close, and throw myself back against the wall to support my unsteady knees. My crazy heartbeats don’t slow down even after I get into my car and go through the scene again in my head.
I cross my legs, savoring the revitalization between my thighs and run my hand over my chest, imagining having Adam’s tongue deep in my mouth. If he had a chance to see me like this, he wouldn’t just enjoy watching my embarrassing reaction, but would also push open my legs and satiate the hunger in me. Pat once mentioned what an aggressive lover Adam was in bed. The thought of him ripping my shirt and skirt flames the fire between my legs.
How long has it been since the last time I felt anything sexual? Since Jack, of course, because no other man after him has managed to made me want to take a second look, let alone arouse me. I should relish the moment as a sign of healing from my grief.
But how? What should I do?
I can’t just throw myself into Adam’s arms and start having sex with him. It’ll put our work relationship in grave danger. Although I wouldn’t give it a chance, he may want more than just sex, and I don’t think I can love another man. Worse yet, if I do fall in love with him, and he breaks my heart? What then? I don’t think I can handle another heartache after Jack’s death. That he left Pat, even though he loved her, tells more than enough about his commitment issues. In any case, staying away from him is the right way to go.
But whether it will be easy is an entirely different matter.
As soon as I step into my condo, I grab my phone to write a text to Adam.
“Safe at home and curious.”
He replies instantly, “Curious as to what might have been if I held you captive?”
Oh, shit. He goes in directly for the kill.
“Curious as to what the rest of your chest looks like,” I type and sit on the couch. Two can play this game.
Adam’s message arrives in less than a minute. “Just the chest or the rest of everything, too?”
Rest of everything? I giggle to myself. The guy is out of his mind. I decide to leave it at that and throw the phone over at the coffee table. Five minutes later, it buzzes with a new message. I grab it and snap open the new message, only to see a picture of Adam’s chest.
Muscled. Dark. And bandaged. He’s so doing it on purpose. Using every opportunity, including the scar, to get my attention. And, it works. I’m once again reminded of what he did for me. He risked no less than his life to keep me alive. How bad can it be to go on a date with him?
Only, he hasn’t asked me out again. Must be the scar.
“Nice and dangerous,” I write, hardly keeping my fingers away from the phone.
“You’ve got me figured out. And, one more thing; I always get want I want. Just so you know,” Adam replies.
I’ll need an ice-cold shower to cool me down after this. I leave the phone on the coffee table and head to the bathroom. After a quick shower and a bowl of cereal, I settle in my bed and switch on my tablet to go through my wedding pictures. Adam appears in only a handful out of a thousand pictures. I wonder why.
And in the ones he appears, he is barely smiling. Did he have feelings for me, then? Was I the reason for his breakup with Pat? The thought of coming between them makes me want to bang my head on the wall. As if the past wasn’t enough, instead of making it clear to Adam that he has no chance with me, I’m giving in to his advances and even encouraging him to flirt with me now that Pat might be interested in taking him back. What is wrong with me?
I select a picture of Jack and hug the tablet, before switching off the lights and tucking myself in under the covers.
Jack. If only you could tell me what the right thing to do is.
In the morning, I wake up all soaked in sweat with vague memories of the wet dreams I had last night. With none other than Adam. Oh, God. He has managed to force himself into my dreams, too. I wasn’t just running my fingers over his chest in my dream, but my goddamned tongue, too. What is it about his chest and its effect on me that I would shame myself in the bed I shared with Jack?
I change into a t-shirt and a denim skirt, and dump Jack’s pajamas, which are now dark with sweat, into the laundry box, and head to the kitchen. Switching on the TV to watch the morning news, I grab an orange juice from the fridge and drink directly from the bottle.
While drinking, I sit on the chair and turn up the volume of the TV. Just then, the face of the guy who attacked me fills the screen. Shocked, the juice spurts out of my mouth. The little bit of juice that manages to escape down my throat makes me choke. I cough violently, while trying to breathe at the same time. Am I hallucinating or is it real?
I hear the phone buzzing in the living room. Must be Adam, I think to myself as I race to get the phone and then press answer without looking at the ID.
“Hello.” My voice is husky from coughing.
“Am I talking to Ms. Doheny?” a man asks.
Hearing my maiden name throws me off a little, and I barely utter a “Yes.”
“I’m calling from LAPD. We’d like to ask you to come over to our station to help us establis
h the identity of a body that we think is the person who assaulted you on Friday.”
“Sure,” I mumble. “How… how did he die?”
“He was shot with the same type of gun Adam Garnett was shot. That, and your description of the assailant makes us believe that he is the one.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
Grabbing my purse and the keys I hurry outside. When I press the elevator button my phone chimes in my hand.
“Taylor, we’re coming over to pick you up.” Adam’s voice conveys every bit of agitation and anxiety I’m feeling. “Have you seen the news? The police found our guy dead. Adriana is driving me over to the police station. We’ll be in front of your apartment building in a couple of minutes.”
“I received a call from LAPD just a minute ago. I’m already on my way out.”
“Okay, we’ll pick you up in two.”
I press the lobby button, rush out when the doors slide open, and find Adam’s car pulling up beside the sidewalk. Adam is sitting in the passenger side in the back and motions for me to sit beside him. I round the back of the car and climb in quickly.
“It’s definitely him. I saw his face on TV,” I say as I settle by Adam. He’s holding his right hand over his chest under the seat belt, and I wonder why he's not sitting in the front beside Adriana.
“The news said the police found two dead bodies,” Adam says. “The other one may belong to the shooter. Did you see his face? I don’t remember anything about the second guy.”
“Neither do I. He came out of nowhere, and it was too dark to see anything from that distance.”
Adriana eyes me from the rearview mirror but doesn’t say a word. I guess witnessing the end of her brother’s shooter so soon wasn’t among her plans for her brief visit to L.A.
I hold Adam’s hand throughout the ride and squeeze it even tighter when we step into the room where two bodies lie under white sheets on two tables. The heavy metallic smell of blood mixed with dirt stings my nose. I can hardly keep my stomach under control. It gets worse when the sheet is pulled down to display the dead body of the attacker. Just a millisecond of a glimpse of his scarred face is enough to send me running out, looking for a bucket to empty the contents of my stomach.
“Yes, it’s him,” I utter, bending down over the garbage can I find a foot away from the doorway. The officer hands me a tissue and leaves me alone with the can. I hear him talking to Adam but can’t make out what he says. I gag several times but nothing comes out. At last, I force myself back to my feet and wipe my face with the tissue.
Adam approaches and slides an arm around my waist. “Are you okay?”
“I guess.”
“The officer told me that the gun I was shot with was registered under the name of the second victim. It’s very likely that he is the shooter.”
I try to steal a glance at the tables inside. “Good news, isn’t it?”
“Yes. At least we know we’re safe now. Nobody will be coming after you anymore.”
The officer takes us to another room and has us sign some documents, which I guess are statements confirming the identity of the victims. I’m in no condition to read them, though. I leave the station with mixed feelings. Death is never good news, but in this case I should be glad because, for all I know, they might have come after us and killed Adam or another innocent person.
“You okay?” Adam pulls me to a corner between the police station and the building next door.
“I’m a little shocked. That’s it.”
“Do you want to grab a coffee?”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
He lifts his hand and places it gently on my cheek. “You’re freezing.”
“I am okay.” I tilt my head back to look into his eyes, while I put on my calmest face.
He flashes me a naughty smile. “Don’t look at me like that.” He shifts his whole body toward mine, pushing me against the wall. His dark eyes stare at me with burning intensity, as he catches my hand and presses it against his chest.
“Like how?” I frown, working hard to stop my hand from shaking. His muscles stand firm beneath my palm, sending heat rushing through my body, and I find myself wishing I could touch his chest without the barrier of his shirt.
His eyes clouded with desire, he shakes his head, as if I said or did something outrageous, while his fingers brush my cheek, past my throat, down to my cleavage. My pulse shoots straight up and I inhale sharply. His left hand firmly grips my hair, and he traps me against the wall with his hips.
I can feel his erection pressing against my belly, and from the feel of it, it tends toward the massive side of the scale. Shame fills me as I picture its colossal size taking away the aching itch building inside my sex. I try to yank myself free from his hold, only to have him draw closer to me.
“Someone will see us. Let go of me,” I falter as I speak.
“You don’t sound very convincing.” He leans down, his breathing heavy, and forces his lips onto mine, catching my lower lip between his teeth to open my mouth, and sweeps his tongue into my mouth. I gasp when his tongue glides over mine and an embarrassing moan escapes from deep in his throat. His kiss is hard, yet tender, and full of longing. I feel his groin growing harder, fear it’ll rip through the fabric of his jeans.
He interrupts his kiss to whisper into my mouth, “Don’t hate me for that. You bewitched me since the first day we met.”
The shock of his confession washes over me. My guess was right. He was interested in me even when Jack was alive. Some friend he was.
I can’t break free from his claiming kisses even if I try. It’s not just his iron grip, but my unwillingness too, that stands in my way. And worse yet, my hands slip under his shirt and begin hungrily exploring his body. His stiff abs flex under the direct contact of my hands. His hand pushes my legs apart and positions his between my thighs and begins rubbing my sex.
With relief, I realize that he can’t take me here. Not because of it being in public or too close to the police station—I bet he’s the kind of man who’d get a kick out of public sex—but because of his health. The doctors must have ordered him to steer clear of any strenuous physical activity. Feeling relieved with this realization, I get up on my toes to press my lips harder on his, though trying to resist the urge to rub myself against his leg.
The next thing I feel is his hand roaming under my skirt, probing the inner flesh of my thighs. He presses his palm flat between my thighs through my panties before his fingers mercilessly slide under the seam and begin sliding along my folds. The feeling of someone touching me there is overwhelming and sends my head spinning with shock. Before I know it, he has a finger deep inside me, thrusting and twisting around my inner walls. Shit, this is Adam, Jack’s best friend, exploring my most private parts out in the open. It’s wrong in every way.
“Have you lost your mind?” I try to push him away, but his grip holds me too tightly between the cage of his torso and the wall of the building.
He looks down at me, his eyes sparkling with his intent. “Please let me have it. You feel so good,” he hisses, his voice raw and his breath hot with lust. “Shit, you’re so wet.” He grips me tighter and slips another finger inside.
In spite of myself, I moan when his fingers apply pressure on a sweet spot, and I clasp my thighs around his hand to lock it in place.
“You like it this way, don’t you?” His lips claim mine again.
There is no talking sense to him. Or to me, for that matter. I brace myself for the inevitable and let his fingers continue touching the places that I almost forgot existed. How could I manage so long without the pleasure of having a man?
He breaks our kiss and moves toward my ear. “Want me to finish you off?”
As if it’s remotely possible to say no to him… the explosion has already started to build up inside me. “Yes, please.” My answer comes out muffled between my labored breathing. But, all of a sudden, he stops and pulls the fingers back until the
tip of his fingers are touching my entrance.
“I will, baby, I will if you go out on a date with me.”
“What?” I yell. He seems to take delight in rendering me confused and helpless.
“A date is all I want. Say yes and you’ll have your orgasm.” He’s as breathless as I am.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what? Say it.”
“I’ll go out on a date with you,” I shout at him from deep in my lungs then close my eyes to feel the full power of his damn fingers thrusting me to an intense orgasm. I begin crying as my muscles contract violently around his fingers. I feel almost delirious with the intensity of the orgasm rushing over me. He keeps his fingers there for a little longer, letting me enjoy the last moments of my subsiding orgasm. I gasp when he draws them out, and drop my head on his shoulder. My body shakes in rhythm with my furious heart beats. I’ll be lucky if I don’t collapse in the street. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“You’re welcome, babe.” Adam lifts his hand up and sticks his fingers that are wet with my juices into his mouth.
All of a sudden, Jack’s face appears before me. He looks ashamed of seeing me breaking apart from a man’s fingers right around the corner from the LAPD. With none other than his best friend.
Finally, gathering up the energy and courage I’ve been missing the last sinful minutes, I shove Adam away from me. “You can’t play with me like this. I don’t want to see you again besides at work. I don’t care if you saved my life or a thousand other people’s. I won’t allow this again.”
“But, you said yes. You wanted it, too. Am I missing something?”
“You’re missing a whole a lot of somethings. I’m not interested in you. And get your hands off of me.” I storm out into the street in tears without caring about the traffic lights, as a green car drives past me with furious speed, almost crashing into the car ahead of it. If a hand hadn’t pulled me at the right moment, I’d have been swept under its wheels. My heart pounding against my chest, I stride off in the opposite direction.
