by Amy Andrews
Adam, his back propped against the wall, one leg bent at the knee, his foot flat against the wall, raised a beer to his mouth and took a measured swig, letting Tilly’s comment hang in the air before he pierced her with a knowing look. ‘Did my sister send you?’
Tilly feigned innocence. ‘She’s gone to work.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, knowing full well that Ruby had probably urged her friend to wait until after she’d left for the hospital before having this not-so-subtle talk.
Tilly shrugged. ‘We worry about her.’
Adam wanted to object but the way the four friends stuck together was touching. He’d been living the life of a nomad for so long that he’d forgotten how it was to be part of a community.
He felt strangely envious.
Which irritated him. He loved his life.
Adam drained his beer. ‘She’s a grown woman, Tilly.’
She did her job like a grown-up. She moved all grown up. And she sure as hell kissed all grown up.
‘Doesn’t stop us worrying.’
Adam dropped his foot to the floor. ‘Tell Ruby not to worry,’ he said, pushing off the wall. ‘I keep my promises.’ And he would. But as he went in search of another beer he couldn’t deny that a little of the night’s sparkle had faded.
‘Ah, here he is, the man of the moment.’ Jess grinned as Adam entered the kitchen.
He’d dressed down in scruffy jeans and a Hang Ten T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and Jess fought the urge to run her hand down his abs.
‘Another beer?’ she asked, bumping the fridge open with her hip and pulling out a frosty bottle.
‘Thanks,’ he said, acknowledging Rajiv and three others all chatting in the kitchen. He joined them, laughing and joking as they recounted some of the hairier moments of the last few days.
Jess wasn’t sad when the others drifted away, leaving the two of them. She’d really wanted to tell Adam how privileged she felt to be included in the project, how much she’d grown just being a part of it all.
But then the opening notes of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ blared from the stereo system and she felt an insane urge to move. ‘My favourite! Let’s dance.’ She grinned, her shoulders already moving to the beat, the toes of her bare feet tapping against the lino floor.
Adam forced a laugh out past the spike in his pulse as her shimmying did strange things to his equilibrium. ‘Thanks, I’ll pass.’
‘Not a dancer?’ She laughed at him over her shoulder, arms raised above her head, snapping her fingers to the beat as she boogied around the kitchen table.
‘I’m okay.’
Jess grinned. ‘Don’t believe you. I’ve seen you on a board and you’re pretty damn light on your feet.’ She shimmied towards him, wiggling her bottom and thrusting her hips. ‘I bet you’re an awesome dancer.’ She swirled her hands through the air and reached for him.
He took a step back. ‘It’s not my kind of music.’
Still on a high, Jess continued undeterred. ‘Let me guess. You into the Beach Boys, old man?’
This time when she reached for him, her hands connected with his abdomen and she slid her hands up his shirt until her palms were flat against his pecs. Adam’s hands automatically found her hips pressing gently against her forward momentum as she tried to dance closer. Her sweet scent enveloped him and a thrum of something primal stirred his blood.
He looked at her pink mouth as it pouted up at him.
Do not go there.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ he teased.
‘Not even a full beer. I’m just…high on life, Adam. On what we did.’
He looked at the awe and wonder etched into her lovely face and felt like a god. Operations such as Lai Ling’s weren’t such a big deal for him or for the teams he worked with because they saw tragic cases every day, made a difference every day.
It was fascinating to see it through her eyes.
Adam grinned. ‘You’re like a kid on Christmas Eve, aren’t you?’
‘I love Christmas Eve,’ she sighed, stroking her fingers along meaty muscles hidden beneath a thin layer of fabric.
Adam chuckled. ‘I just bet you do.’
‘At least then I’d have mistletoe as an excuse to do this.’
As Adam had her hips firmly in his grasp and firmly at a distance she leant forward from the waist, rising on tiptoe and capturing his mouth in a brief, hard kiss.
She pulled back before he could, his harsh inward breath a satisfying sound in the vacuum they suddenly seemed to be sucked into.
Adam’s fingers dug into her hips as he fought for control of his breathing. Of his head.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
‘And what if I want to do it again?’
Adam swallowed at her husky question. His gaze dropped to her mouth, still moist from their kiss.
He’d promised Ruby.
He pulled her hands off his chest and stepped away from her. ‘Denial is good for the soul,’ he said, before resolutely turning away from her and leaving the kitchen.
Jess almost whimpered as she watched him go, a well-spring of frustration beating a rapid pulse through her head. She watched his tall head weave through the throng, navigating his way to his bedroom. She could just make out his door open and then close.
Damn it!
Her fingers curled into her palms.
How could he just walk away? She’d seen the flash of desire in those golden flecks, felt the tension in his arms as he had held her away, the dig of his fingers into the flesh of her hip.
Yes, she wanted everything and he didn’t do everything but that could change and right now she just needed to be with him. She’d never been intimate with a man but she knew enough about Adam, about her feelings for him, to know that he was the one.
She’d known for three years.
And even if she didn’t end up being the one for him, if he pushed her out his revolving door tomorrow, at least she would have lost her virginity to an incredible man she felt deeply for.
Her grandmother had always told her there was no shame in waiting. To hold out for an honourable man. For someone who was worthy of such a gift.
And right now she was so pleased she had. Because she couldn’t think of a man more worthy than Adam.
And she didn’t want to wait another moment.
She set off after Adam, determination in every step. Tonight had had a preternatural feel about it from the beginning—their gazes meeting constantly across the room, both aware of something building. Like an invisible string was connecting them—a silvery strand of spider web, fragile yet amazingly tensile—and slowly, inexorably drawing tighter, drawing them closer.
Fate had extended its hand and Jess knew that the moment was now.
She was tired of watching everyone around her all loved up when she was missing out. Didn’t she deserve that too?
Adam was interested, no matter how much he tried to deny it. He’d flirted with her that first day when she’d found him naked in her bed, he’d kissed her thoroughly for her birthday and opened up to her the other night.
There was definitely something between them.
And she was tired of being a country bumpkin in his eyes.
It was time to speak up.
Adam was lying on the end of his bed, his feet flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling, praying for strength, when his door opened abruptly. He curled up instantly, his eyes narrowing as a shaft of light spilled into his darkened room and Jess stepped inside, shutting the door after her.
He collapsed back against the mattress, wondering how much more temptation a man could take before it killed him. ‘Go away,’ he half growled, half groaned.
Moonlight streamed in through the slats of his window blinds, throwing the bed and him into a milky spotlight. Even reclined he looked big and male and potent.
Undeterred, Jess took a step towards him. ‘I want to talk to you.’
Adam ran a hand through his hair and took a deep, st
eadying breath. He sat again and held out his hand, motioning her to stop. ‘Jess…no. We’re not talking in my bedroom.’
Jess halted. Her heart banged loudly behind her rib cage, coursed like a raging river through her ears as she sought to hold onto her courage.
‘Okay.’
She swallowed, her mouth dry, her throat as arid as the drought stricken ground of the outback. She advanced another step.
‘So let’s not talk.’
He stood. ‘Jess. Stop.’
She faltered, the note of warning in his voice unmistakeable. But it was the tinge of desperation in it that gave her hope. ‘I don’t think you want me to stop.’
Adam clenched his fists. Of course he didn’t want her to stop. He wanted to grab her, roll her on the bed and feel her under him, around him.
He’d never had to deny his natural sexual urges before and he was holding on by a thread.
‘Jess, you have to leave,’ he said, striding past her to the door.
Jess spun to face him as he reached for the doorhandle. ‘Not before I tell you what I came to tell you.’
Adam placed his forehead, his palms on the back of the door. Muffled sounds of the party continuing on the other side were encouraging—they were hardly likely to get into anything with dozens of people in their house.
He turned, leaning against the hard wood. ‘Is this about me being hot again? Because I think you pretty well covered that already.’
Jess shook her head, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, and was pleased that her face was hidden now by night shadows. ‘No. This is a thank you. For including me in the team. I’m honoured to have been a part of such an amazing project. You are a truly gifted human being.’
Adam felt his resistance to her crumbling. She was so lovely and he wanted to sweep her up and inhale her, devour her. ‘Jess…it’s my job.’
‘No.’ She took two steps towards him. ‘Don’t say that. You could be doing anything else, you could be in private practice, raking in the money. You could be like your father.’ She saw him flinch but carried on anyway. ‘But you chose this instead. It shows your honour. It tells me you’re a good, good man.’
‘Don’t.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not a good man.’
If she knew what he was thinking right now, she’d know that for sure. How much he wanted to touch her, to whip the T-shirt over her head—tear it if he had to—to get her out of her jeans.
She took another step closer. ‘Yes.’
She was close now. So close he could smell her perfume and the thud of his heart was outdoing the thump of the music outside.
‘No, if I was a good man I’d be turning you away. I’d have opened this door and insisted you leave the second you came in. I would have taken this conversation outside. Don’t paint me as some kind of saint, Jess, because I am just a man. Let’s leave the good out of it.’
It was darker by the door, his face was in shadow and his eyes were impossible to read, but Jess could hear the strain in his voice, the husky timbre betraying every keep-away vibe he’d been trying to project.
She may be a virgin but she was familiar with desire. With lust. How you could tremble with it. How it could colour your voice. Hijack your bodily functions.
She could sense Adam was balanced on a knife edge and heat pooled down low in her belly. Her nipples tightened. Her thighs trembled.
The next step had to come from her.
‘Make love to me,’ she murmured, taking the last step towards him, bringing their bodies a hair’s-breadth from touching. The words sounded odd, unfamiliar. Victorian almost.
But for Jess, it was exactly what the act was about.
Adam’s breath hissed out as desire slammed into him. He was hard in an instant. And she was so close. It would be so easy. His nostrils flared as her scent curled seductive fingers around his gut.
But still he fought against it. Hadn’t he told her that denial was good for you?
He shook his head slowly. ‘Look, you have a little crush, I understand that—’
Jess saw red. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of sixteen-year-old kid, damn it! You confided in me about your father the other night. You know I’m quite old enough.’
Adam swallowed. God help him, he did. ‘I promised Ruby.’
Jess dug her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘I won’t tell her.’
Adam shut his eyes against a surge of desire. ‘I can’t…’
Jess could easily have raised herself on her tippy toes and kissed him. But it was suddenly very important that it was Adam who kissed her. She’d initiated the previous two and she needed him to declare himself.
In the cold light of day she wanted to be certain that he had wanted it as much as her. She wanted him to be certain too.
But. He was grimly resolute, his arms firmly folded across his chest, his jaw set into a line of steely determination.
He was going to need a push.
Jess did the first thing that came to her mind. A little manoeuvre she’d seen on a telemovie the other night. It was scary, far from virginal, and her heart fluttered madly at the mere thought of it. If he still rejected her, there would be no way her dignity would ever recover.
But it was going to be scarier if she left this room with her virginity intact.
She grasped the edges of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it on the ground. ‘Make love to me,’ she insisted.
Adam felt every cell in his body grind to a halt as those seductive fingers grabbed a handful of intestine and squeezed hard. He licked his lips.
‘Oh, man. You shouldn’t have done that,’ he said, looking at her lacy bra and the sweet, gentle slope of her breasts. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’
Jess was suddenly embarrassed and moved to cover herself. It wasn’t like she had some amazing cleavage to show off. Not like the woman on the TV. Not like Adam’s usual type at all.
‘Don’t,’ he said, stopping her, pulling her arms to her side.
She lowered her gaze to the floor. ‘They’re not much.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ he breathed, placing a finger under her chin, raising her face. ‘You’re beautiful.’
Her sweetness, her uncertainty was his undoing.
‘Oh, God, Jess,’ he groaned, and reached for her waistband, dragging her hips forward and furrowing his fingers into her hair. She barely had time to blink as he swept her against his body and slammed his mouth against hers. Her head spun and her belly went into freefall. Her hands connected with his shoulders and her fingers curled into his T-shirt, bunching the fabric as she clung to him.
His mouth opened over hers, demanding entrance, and she ceded eagerly to his questing tongue on a primal moan. Then he was pulling her hairband out, freeing it from the ponytail to fall around her shoulders. His fingers fisted at her nape, grasping a handful, tugging gently to angle her head back further.
He spun around, pivoting her with him, pushing her against the door. Jess registered the hardness of wood at her back on a peripheral level as the hardness of solid male at her front consumed her on every other level.
‘I want to kiss every inch of you,’ Adam panted against her mouth. ‘Taste every inch of you.’
His mouth blazed a fiery trail down her neck and Jess could do nothing but hang on. To him. To the door. Fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes and she gasped, ‘Adam,’ as his tongue flicked over the pulse thrumming in the hollow at the base of her throat.
Then his hands were pushing down the straps of her bra as his mouth continued its southward assault. And then somehow he had it off and his hands were cupping both breasts, his gaze feasting on them, muttering, ‘Beautiful,’ as he lowered his mouth to first one rosy-tipped peak then the other.
Jess’s head thudded back against the door at the first touch of his tongue. She cried out and grasped his shoulders as he sucked her puckered nipples deep into the wet, warm cavern of his mouth one by one.
‘So per
fect,’ Adam groaned, his hands sweeping down her ribs, across her belly to her back, sliding down to cup and squeeze her bottom, grind his arousal into the sweet spot at the junction of her thighs.
‘Take off your jeans,’ he whispered roughly in her ear as his hands worked their way behind her waistband to the round warm flesh of her buttocks and he laved the side of her neck with his tongue.
Adam’s husky request ricocheted around what little part of her brain hadn’t been turned to mush.
This was happening. It was really happening.
Her head spun at the all-consuming urgency of it. The totally desperate way she wanted it. She hadn’t expected it to be like this in all those hazy fantasies. She’d always imagined a slow, revealing loving for her first time. Something languorous and decadent.
Not this crazy, seething, roaring imperative.
This primal need turning her insides liquid and even the most insignificant, asexual parts of her body into seething erogenous zones.
Part of her wanted to slow down. To confess her total lack of experience. To demand the fantasy.
But her body craved this passionate oblivion even more. Wanting, needing him to kiss every inch, taste every inch. Wanting it with shocking certainty.
And she only needed one functioning brain cell to know that while confession was good for the soul it would be very, very bad for what was happening right now.
This fever.
Like a bucket of ice water.
She’d come this far and she didn’t want to give him any reason to not finish what she’d started.
‘Jess,’ he growled.
Jess, her thoughts scattering all around her like debris swirling in the funnel of a tornado, desperately clutched for the order of proceedings.
What had he said? Jeans?
Jeans.
Her fingers fumbled the button and shook hard as she pulled the zipper down. His hands took over pushing them down over her hips and somehow she shimmied them down her legs and kicked out of them.
She clutched at his torso for balance, her fingers coming into contact with bare, warm, male flesh.
He’d taken off his shirt.
