by Sophia Vice
“Doing okay?” He checks in, his steel grey eyes evaluative.
I get the feeling that nothing gets past Adam. He would probably know if I lied, so I just shrug. “I’ve been better.”
He nods and turns on the car. The engine purrs to life, and Adam smoothly backs out of his spot. The car suits him, and I briefly wonder if he handles everything as well as he handles his vehicle as we pull onto the road.
The thought makes me blush, so I turn my face away from him, laying my head on the cool surface of the window. I worry that Adam will try to talk to me and play therapist, but thankfully he is companionably quiet as he drives us to where he lives.
Hardly ten minutes have passed before we pull into a garage next to a tastefully modern house. It’s a beautiful, modestly sized home that looks like it should be featured in an architectural magazine, with wood siding and huge, floor to ceiling windows. We’re high up on a hill, so I imagine that the view must be incredible from inside. I fall in love with it on site, and I like that Adam lives in a house instead of some high-rise. I always pictured him in a ritzy penthouse with panoramic views.
I say as much to him, and he chuckles. The sound of his laugh is deep and rich, and I’m surprised at how it fills me with warmth. I’ve heard him laugh at my brother’s jokes, but I like that he can laugh with me too.
“That’s kind of the CEO stereotype I guess, but that’s not really my style. I appreciate my privacy.” He winks at me as he gets out of the car.
I flush. What is that supposed to mean?
As I unbuckle I see Adam walking over to Chris, who has parked my car next to the garage. They speak for a moment before Chris nods and gets into what I presume is his own car and drives off.
Feeling a little more collected, I get out of the car and approach Adam. “Don’t you have to be at work, doing CEO stuff or something?”
He smiles, and it takes my breath away. “One of the perks of being CEO is that you can set your own schedule. If I want to cancel some meetings to spend some time with a woman, I can.”
I stare at him, my lips parted in surprise, as he steers us towards the front door.
He leans close to me as he gets out his house keys. “I love it when you blush like that,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my neck. I shiver, startled by his closeness, but his words send tendrils of excited desire to my core.
I had been convinced that Adam was just offering a shoulder to cry on, but maybe Shauna was right? Could Adam be interested in me? Because if I didn’t know any better, I would swear that he was flirting with me.
Before I can analyze the situation further, Adam ushers me inside, and I’m distracted by the tasteful living room and kitchen. Arty black-and-white photographs are on the walls, and the kitchen is a magnificent mixture of marble countertops, stainless steel professional appliances, and polished, dark wood. Just like the outside of the house, it looks like it could be a photograph in a magazine. It’s tasteful, eclectic, and distinctly masculine.
“Adam, your place is amazing,” I hear myself comment.
“Thanks.” He grins, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Can I take your jacket?”
I absently hand him my jacket as I walk further into the room, stopping to examine the photographs. Some of them are nature-scapes, and others feature shadowy silhouettes. I pause at one that has the outline of a woman kneeling on the ground, her arms over her head in what appears to be supplication. Or she’s just doing ‘child’s pose’ in yoga, I think to myself wryly. Her hair spills out all around her like a halo. The photo makes me wonder if Adam is religious, but there is something about the photo that seems too sensual to be religious.
“Can I get you a glass of wine?” Adam asks from the kitchen. He’s rolled up his sleeves, and he looks as sexy as hell in just his white-button up, his muscular arms straining the fabric.
I clear my throat. “Could I have a cup of tea, actually?” I don’t really want wine because my sinuses are all clogged from crying, but I don’t admit that. Adam nods and sets a copper kettle on the stove. I walk over to him and lean on the kitchen island as he gets out two mugs.
“What kind of tea?” He looks at me, eyebrows raised, as he opens up a cupboard with a good stock of teas. I try not to stare at his ass, which his bespoke suit pants flatter, now that he’s turned away from me. With his body, it’s hard not to believe that he isn’t secretly a full-time athlete instead of a CEO.
“Um, do you have peppermint?”
“Sure,” he replies, digging through the cupboard. He returns with two bags of peppermint and drops them into the cups. “I like peppermint too. Keeps the breath fresh.” He winks again.
Oh my god, he is flirting with me! I feel myself turning red from the roots of my hair to my chest, a courtesy of my northern European roots. I look away from Adam and his cheeky grin, embarrassed.
He ignores or doesn’t notice my discomfort, and proceeds to pour our tea. He also pulls out some honey and a spoon, and I take him up on the silent offer by stirring a little into my tea.
“I could draw you a bath too, if you’d like. I know that can feel good after a hard day.” He looks at me, completely serious, and I almost burn my tongue on the rim of the teacup in surprise.
“Don’t you think that would be a little weird?” I laugh, but the sound is too high-pitched, betraying my awkwardness.
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I would like it if you felt comfortable to do what you want here. Why don’t we go sit in the living room?”
I nod, feeling completely baffled as I follow him to the living room. I don’t really know Adam from, well, Adam, and he wants me to feel comfortable taking baths at his house?
The sofa is plush as I sink into it, and Adam sits next to me, so close that our thighs slightly touch. Despite the comfortable temperature of the room, I shiver.
“So tell me,” Adam says, sitting back and spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa proprietarily, “what’s going on with you?”
Jesus, I think, he really gets to it, doesn’t he? I find myself again wondering whether or not Adam is interested in me. He’s flirtatious, but he also seems to want to know what’s going on with my life, which reads as more of a caring, brother’s friend move. Which is it?
I take another sip of my tea while I try to think of how to answer his question, or whether he even deserves an answer. “Well,” I begin, looking up at the high, wood-beamed ceiling, “I dropped out of school because I didn’t know what to major in, and now I’m just working part-time at the coffee shop. Or I was, I guess. Now I’m jobless.”
I tell him a little more about how lost I felt in college, and Adam’s expression is smooth and neutral as he listens, giving away nothing. He continues to look at me when I’ve stopped talking, and I start to fidget under his gaze. I play with one long strand of hair and look at my feet, feeling embarrassed. Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he trying to make me feel uncomfortable on purpose?
“I get not knowing what you want to do yet,” Adam finally says, the smooth timbre of his voice soothing my frayed nerves. “But that isn’t the whole story, is it?”
My stomach drops at the gentle censure in his eyes.
Adam sighs, leaning forward as he temples his hands over his knees. “Your brother told me about the binge-drinking. That you won’t answer his calls.”
“And you think that’s your business?” I burst, feeling like I’m being scolded like some bratty kid. “You aren’t family. What do you care if I fuck up my life?” I jump to my feet and whirl on him, enraged by his nerve.
“Because,” Adam explains, unruffled by my anger, “I’m into you, Kyle.”
Um, what did he just say? I stare at him, uncomprehending.
His eyes briefly rove over my body, making me heat, until his gaze returns to my face. “I’ve wanted you since I met you two years ago, but at the time, I felt certain that I would cause you more harm than good. You were only eighteen, and I didn’t want to interfere with you ge
tting a regular college experience. So, I held back. I didn’t want you shackled to some old rich man.” He shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “But now, I think that if you feel the same attraction I do, that it could be…mutually beneficial. To try this.” He waves between the two of us and I just stare at him, my mouth still agape.
“I know you’re feeling a little lost, that you don’t feel like you’re in control of your life anymore,” he goes on, his gaze intense with sincerity, “and I say that without judgment. I’ve been there. But it has me wondering if…the kind of relationship I’m imagining could be good for you too. To get you back on track. Please, will you sit back down?”
It takes me a while to catch up to his last request, but after a beat I sit down woodenly, completely bowled over by Adam’s confession and…strange proposition? I continue to stare at him, my eyes wide, as he looks back at me expectantly, clearly waiting for a reply. The small part of me that isn’t paralyzed by surprise is dancing around, going Adam likes me! He’s attracted to me!
“Well?” Adam moves a little closer to me, taking my hand in his, and the casual touch sends shivers down my spine. He touches me so easily, like it’s his right, and I find that I don’t mind that at all. In fact, I might love it.
“I, um…” I trail off, at a loss for words. “You’re not really that old,” I finally mumble, tucking my chin into my neck as I feel myself flush. What is he, like twenty-eight?
Adam laughs a deep belly-laugh, and I find myself smiling despite myself. “Is that all you have to say to all that? Kyle, you’re killing me here. Don’t hold a man in suspense.” His eyes dance with mirth, and I find some of the awkwardness melting away, only to be replaced by a warm, tingling sensation all over my body. Adam Ricci is into to me!
“Well,” I clear my throat, looking at my knees again so I can think straight, “I do…like you too,” I finally admit, my voice thin with shyness.
Adam grins. “You like me?”
I nod.
“You’re attracted to me?” His eyes darken.
I nod again, biting my lip.
Adam scoots closer, so close that he would only have to lean in a few inches to kiss me. My heart feels like it’s in my throat as I breathe rapidly, looking into his eyes. I swear electricity flows between us as we lean into each other. Adam’s steel-grey eyes drop to my lips, and I know in that moment that my long-held fantasy is going to come true.
He kisses me lightly at first, sending a thrill straight to my center, and then his hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me in closer as he crushes his lips to mine.
I melt.
The kiss deepens, sending thrills rushing to my core. He teases the edge of my lower lip with his teeth, and I moan into his mouth, all of my shyness unraveling in the wake of the taste of him and the hot press of his lips. Adam’s fingers tangle in my hair and tighten so that my movement is limited as his tongue delves into my mouth, drawing more small whimpers out of me. I think I whine a little. I’m not sure.
“Fuck, you’re everything I thought you’d be and more. You’re delicious.” Adam’s eyes gleam as he draws back, his hand still gripping my tousled hair.
I’m too overcome to respond, so I just breathe hard, lightheaded from his kisses.
Before I can register his movements, Adam rises from the couch and sweeps me up into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I squeal, pushing at his chest.
He looks down at me, his eyes heavy-lidded. “I’d rather have you on the bed than on the couch,” he purrs, matter of fact.
I stare at him, open-mouthed. His words send desire, hot and heavy, straight to my core. I don’t know whether to be angry, turned on, or intimidated. “You’re shameless,” I finally say, my hands still tensed against his chest. Jesus, he works out, I think idly, my fingers flexing against his powerful pectorals.
Adam kicks open the door to his bedroom, and I’ve barely taken in the tasteful, masculine color pallet before he tosses me onto a huge bed. I bounce for a moment, startled, before he pounces onto the bed after me, looking for all the world like a predator ready to devour his next meal.
My breathing ratchets up as his strong arms and legs cage me in, leaving me to stare into his eyes, which look at me with so much hunger that my mouth goes dry. Suddenly I’m feeling very, very nervous. I’ve slept with a few boys before but Adam—Adam is a man. I’m not sure what to do with him. I’m not sure that I’ll be woman enough for him.
Adam must read the anxiety on my face, because his palm comes up to tenderly cup my cheek. “Relax, Kyle. Be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” He plants a hot kiss against my collarbone.
Good girl? I think, shocked. I wait for feelings of indignation, of anger, but all I get is a thrill of forbidden excitement. I can be his good girl.
Adam’s lips claim mine again, and I moan softly as his mouth moves sensuously against mine. I’ve never been kissed like this before. Something about his teasing teeth, the swipes of his tongue, and the reigned in passion makes it somehow dirtier. It makes me think of other ways he could use his mouth on me.
I groan as one of Adam’s hands slides from my hip bone up my shirt to cup my breast, his palm fitting around it like he’s weighing it. Then, without warning, his fingers delve beneath the fabric of my bra and he pinches my nipple, the pressure just enough to send fissures of both pain and pleasure through me.
I make a small startled sound, unconsciously grinding my hips up against him as I reach up to grip his bicep, overwhelmed by the sharp sensation. Things are moving faster than I’d imagined, and it’s leaving me breathless.
“Shh,” Adam hushes me as he pulls my shirt and bra down over my breast and gently laves the abused nipple with his tongue.
“Oh god,” I breathe as he sucks on the nipple with strong, steady pulls. I jerk as his teeth close down on it gently, his eyes a molten silver as he glances up at me.
I roll my hips up again, desperate for more, but he holds me pinned to the bed with one strong hand, his dominance making me shiver. He releases my nipple with a final pull as he gets off of me and stands at the foot of the bed.
“Adam—” I begin to complain at his absence, but he gives me a dark look.
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
I blink. My body responds with a strong thrill at how filthy and demeaning his question is before my mind can protest. I don’t know exactly what it means to be a good girl, but I nod anyway.
“Good,” he rumbles, and his eyes gleam with masculine satisfaction as he pops the button on my jeans and drags them down my legs.
A hot wash of shame takes me out of the moment. He’s going to be disappointed by my body, I think, humiliated. I know I’ve let myself go, and I’m probably not the kind of girl he normally takes to bed.
Adam carefully removes both of my socks before he kneels on the bed again and hooks his fingers under the hem of my shirt and tugs it over my head. I feel myself going red as I look down at the coverlet to avoid looking him in the eye.
“Hey.” His fingers tip my chin up so that I’m forced to meet his gaze. “What’s up? If you don’t want this, or if we’re going too fast, just say the word. We can go back into the living room and finish our tea, or you can go home—your car is here. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“No,” I blurt, horrified that he thinks that I don’t want him. “I— I want this. I just…I guess I’m just a little embarrassed.” I hunch forward and cross my arms in front of me so that my stomach is covered.
Adam looks at me, his eyes concerned even as his lips fall into a hard line. “Embarrassed about what?” His voice is smooth and even as he looks me over, making my blush deepen.
He’s not letting me get out of this one. “I’m not exactly a model. My body has changed a lot recently. It’s probably not what you’re used to,” I mumble, looking away.
He continues to look at me evenly, not saying anything, as if considering my words. Then he reaches o
ut and takes my wrists in his hands, drawing my arms out and away from my body. I resist a little, still embarrassed, but his strength overwhelms mine.
“Adam—” I protest, but he silences me with one look that compels me to obey him. My arms go slack in his hold, held out as if I’m a bird with wings outspread. I’m completely vulnerable.
Adam’s gaze roves over me, sending mixed signals of shame and arousal through me at his frank appraisal. Why isn’t he saying anything? For a moment I imagine that he might deem me an unfit match for his god-like body, and panic surges through me.
Finally, his gaze returns to mine. “Yes, you’ve put on weight, but you’re still the same sexy girl I met three years ago,” he says as he pushes on my shoulders, making me recline on the covers as his powerful thighs separate my legs. “And, for the record,” he continues, “I don’t make a habit of fucking starved skin-and-bone girls. I like to fuck a woman. That’s what you are, Kyle.” His voice is soft but confident as his eyes rake my body. “You are a hot, sexy woman who, apparently, needs some lessons in self-esteem. If you like, I could begin instructing you by driving”—he grinds his hips against me—“the point home.” He smiles, his teeth like a tiger’s.
I flush at his flattery, my eyes tracking down his body to where his slacks do a poor job of concealing his arousal. I’m breathing shallowly, highly aware of the fact that he is still fully clothed while I only have a pair of underwear on. Something about it feels dirtier, like he could just fuck me with all of his clothes still on.
His hot gaze makes my stomach flip as he slides down my body so that his face hovers over the place that’s aching to be touched. I redden as he draws the fabric of my panties aside and dips a finger into my center, sending a hot pulse of desire through me at his touch.
His eyes heat as he draws up some of the moisture that’s gathered there and circles my clit with one lazy finger, making me moan.
He looks at me, his gaze full of masculine satisfaction. “You’re wet for me.”
Breathlessly, I nod. What does he want me to say?
