A dark feeling of foreboding fell on me like a blanket. I shifted my stance. “Yeah, there’s… probably more than one thing you could be pissed about.”
His gaze sharpened. “Thanks, Emilia,” he said tightly before walking off and disappearing into the bathroom.
Shit. I ran to my bag and fished out my phone, frantic to pull up my e-mails before he came back. Maybe Heath had cc’d me on the message he’d sent to Adam or at least deigned to tell me what he meant to accomplish by e-mailing Adam. This was the first time since arriving that I’d even looked at the damn phone. But the reception on this side of the hotel was crappy and my little loading symbol spun and spun without ever updating. When I heard him behind me I jumped and dropped the phone onto the nearby chair.
I turned, tucking a strand of errant hair behind my ear. His vest was off and the glimpse of his strong neck and chest where his shirt opened drew my eyes. I swallowed. I didn’t want this confrontation. Not now. Goddamn it. I didn’t want it
ever,
actually. I’d just wanted to fade back into the woodwork—let my fairy tale dissipate and go back to my normal life without ever having to deal with this unpleasantness.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, first, about the money…”
He looked at me expectantly but he said nothing, waiting for me to continue.
“After our conversation the night I stayed over at your house, I decided—I mean, I figured we wouldn’t go through with this, right? So—so I thought it was best to have the money sent back to your account. I asked Heath to do it. No—no services rendered, no payment. And this—this whole fucked-up thing can just fade away and we won’t have to—”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want that money back.”
A fist closed at my side. His eyes darted to it. “Well tough shit. You’re getting it back.”
He sighed and looked away, out over the bay. “It’s not prostitution if we don’t sleep together.”
I shook my head. “Um, no. Wrong. You sent me money. We’ve been fooling around. It
is
prostitution. I obviously don’t have the same problem with it that you do, so don’t turn this around on me. I’m doing you a favor by calling this off.”
He blinked. “The auction was for your virginity.”
“That’s a clear-cut argument, if you’re splitting hairs.” I raised my hand and jutted a finger toward his solid chest. “You keep saying that you’re the one in control of this situation and yet you have been losing control all along and
that’s
the real reason you’re pissed.”
His jaw set but he stood absolutely still. A fist of foreboding closed over my chest. He wore that strangely calculating expression—the one that meant he was thinking about ten other things alongside the conversation he was currently having.
When he spoke, it was with a quiet, even voice despite the anger in his eyes. “If you sent the money back, there is no deal now.”
I shifted my stance, feeling like a dragonfly about to be lured into a spider’s web. “That’s right. The deal is canceled.”
His eyes met mine, hard as flint. “So what about this bullshit about not seeing each other again when we return home?”
I exhaled. “That was always part of the agreement—”
He made a chopping gesture with his hand. “But you just said there is no agreement.”
I shook my head. “There’s no future for us. I mean, given how we first met and the arrangement and how everything has turned out. Heath said it best and I ignored him for so long. It’s sick. This is sick.”
The flush crept up from his jaw into his chiseled cheeks. “And what the hell does Heath know about us? I mean about what’s
really
going on here. He doesn’t. So why are you letting his opinions influence you? Why are you listening to him and not to me?”
I lowered my face, put my hand to my forehead. I couldn’t say the words that were almost on my lips.
Because I can’t trust you
. Now it was my turn to remain silent. Because honestly, I had no words and I could feel his agitation mounting no matter how much he fought to appear calm.
“So everything that’s gone down between us is
sick?
What happened in that bed this morning was
sick?”
He spoke in an even voice that was taut, edgy. A vein at his temple throbbed.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then what is this all about? Do you want to end this?”
“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is! What is there to end?” I finally said. Then I cleared my throat, my arms stiffening with indignation. “This was you…bidding on an auction for some unknown reason—an auction that you fundamentally cannot believe in. And then prolonging the outcome for as long as you can. You’ve manipulated this all along and now you are asking me to trust you? To listen to you? You should have let me go at the beginning so I could go through with this with someone else.”
He swallowed. “It’s not too late,” he finally said. It sounded like the words had been torn from him.
My chin came up and I folded my arms across my chest, his words stinging me like a shower of sharp pebbles. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
But my chest felt heavy. Because I wanted
him,
now. I wanted the experience to be with
him
and I couldn’t name why. The thought of going out and finding someone else—maybe Mr. New York or some Arab sheik or something—actually left me with a sick feeling.
If I couldn’t use him for the money, then maybe I could use him for the experience my body had been craving since he first touched me.
He moved up to me then, with hard eyes and stiff posture, a hand working at his side. He looked into my eyes, first one and then the other.
“Emilia,” he breathed. My eyes fluttered closed. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and tilted my face to him. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted this tension between us to ease. And the fierce ache rising up from the center of my being told me I wanted his hands, his body on mine. No more talking. No more arguing. No more discussion of a “deal.”
As if he read my thoughts, his mouth sank to mine, his hand steadying me at the back of my neck, curving around my bare flesh there. Goose bumps prickled down my arms and legs.
His kiss was so overpowering, it sucked me into him—like I was caught inside a raging hurricane, wrapped inside this force of nature called Adam and could not find my way out. When he pulled away, we were both panting. “There,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Would you mind telling me what was ‘sick’ about that?”
I fought for breath and he pulled me to him again, another powerful, consuming kiss. I shivered in his arms and his hands went to my shoulders. With two swift movements, he pushed my sundress off my shoulders and it slid to the floor. His mouth was on my neck, running his tongue and lips along the sensitive skin. The touch struck molten sparks through my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck. One of his arms locked around my waist. The other went around to the back of my bra, unfastening it easily.
“I need you,” he said.
My eyes closed and my body heeded his call. “We shouldn’t,” but my voice was weak, faltering, because I could not put the full force of my belief behind it. His mouth, hands and tongue were too convincing otherwise.
His head came up, taking my ear between his lips, running his tongue over the lobe. Heat shot through my body. “Can you deny this?” he said in a harsh whisper. “Can you just walk away from whatever this is between us?”
And then he backed toward the bed, pulling me along with him. I stepped out of my shoes. My nerves pulled taut like harp strings. His eyes were flame and frost from one moment to the next—anger, passion, pure lust.
“I’m going to show you what we can be like together.”
He pulled me to him again and we kissed and my body responded to the sensual promise in those words. I trembled. “You’ll hate yourself if you do this.”
“I’ll hate myself more if I don’t,” he said between clenched teeth.
He turned and laid me gently on the bed. Wearing nothing but panties, I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable as his burning eyes raked over me. They scorched me like errant embers from a bonfire and he made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and losing it, along with his pants.
He freed his erection from his underwear and he was naked. My breathing slowed. He was beautiful—every developed crease, every curve of firm, packed muscle. His ready shaft, a potent reminder of his maleness.
“Take off your underwear,” he said. And slowly, my eyes locked on his, I did. Somewhere in the back of my mind I doubted where this was appearing to go. We had been here before—several times—and he had always pulled away, always stopped himself with an iron grip on his self-control. It would happen again, despite that ragged wildness I saw deep in his black eyes. He’d fight for control and he’d win. And he’d do nothing he’d regret.
Under his scrutiny, my nipples came to hard points and damp heat pooled between my legs. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, running an almost reverential hand over my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my sex. “So beautiful. Emilia. You are so damn beautiful.”
I closed my eyes. I’d just been thinking the same about him. “Thank you.”
He took a deep breath and spoke the words haltingly, as if some part of him still fought and struggled to keep them inside. “If you tell me right now you don’t want it, we won’t do this.”
My gaze fixed on his, unwavering. It was time to tell the truth. The consequences be damned. “I want this, Adam. Not because of money, and not because anyone is making me. I want it because
I
want it.”
He moved so fast it was almost a blur. He was on top of me in seconds holding my arms against the mattress as his body pressed me down with his. His mouth was on mine again, but at that moment, I realized it wasn’t going to be long. He wouldn’t spend another second on foreplay because we’d been engaging in the most frustrating game of foreplay for a month.
He nudged my knees apart and I spread them for him. He stared into my eyes, just like he’d said he would.
I’m going to watch your face when you take it in.
And in one, sure, confident move, without any more hesitation, he pushed himself inside me and there was nothing slow about it. His body was so hot, as if he was on fire.
I tried not to stiffen from the sharp pain I felt as he penetrated me. He saw my face, my widening eyes. He felt me tense underneath him, but he didn’t pull back. He pushed in without letting up, as if once having decided to travel down this path, he wouldn’t turn away from it.
Soon he’d eased himself all the way in and he paused, still watching me closely. “You all right?”
I didn’t speak, just nodded. His hands gripped mine, and our fingers entwined. His mouth connected with mine, our tongues twisting around each other. And he began to move. I’ll admit, there was more than a little pain. He felt very big inside me as my body stretched around him. But as he maintained his gentle rhythm, there was something else there. A deep, fulfilling pleasure. A feeling of ultimate connection. Not just at the juncture of our bodies but our hands, our mouths. I’d never felt physically a part of someone else as much as I did at this moment.
And the erotic slide of him deep inside me, with each thrust, spoke of possession and belonging. He possessed me and belonged to me. I did the same.
Soon his movements came faster, more urgently, his eyes closed in concentration. He released my hands, rising up on his elbows, watching me again. The changed angle relieved some of the pressure and sharp, breath-stealing pleasure shot through me, erasing the discomfort.
I found myself urging Adam to continue doing what he was doing, telling him how good it felt. When I moaned his name, it seemed to put him over the edge. He plunged into me, pushing his hips flush against mine, penetrating deeper than before. I caught my breath, somewhere on the threshold of pleasure and pain. He stopped, his breath coming so fast it was difficult for him to speak. “I’m not coming until you do.”
He reared up so that he was on his knees and continued. I gasped. His strokes came fast and steady, as he recognized that I was close. I squeezed my eyes closed, concentrating on that wave of ecstasy rising up inside me. The only thing in my awareness at that moment was the feel of Adam’s shaft sliding inside me.
My back arched off the bed and I was coming in air-stealing, body-convulsing waves of sheer gratification. Only a few more strokes and Adam was coming too, pushing himself as deep as he could go. His orgasm tore through me as if it was my own.
He lay on me for a minute or two after it was done. I wrapped my legs around him, now cherishing the feel of him inside me. When his eyes finally opened, he looked into mine and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me again.
We lay in each other’s embrace for long, quiet moments before I finally cleared my throat. “I think I should get up and shower.”
He nodded, scooting aside to allow me to rise. When we left the bed, I noticed he’d stopped to stare at the bedspread. Looking back, I saw a small bloodstain there. A strange look crossed his face and he ran a hand through his hair, then reached out and yanked the counterpane off the bed, tossing it into the corner. Minutes later, he joined me in the shower. He was still strangely quiet and we both had receded into our own worlds. No fun scrubbing each other this time.
We’d crossed a threshold we could never uncross. We’d taken a step that could never be untaken—that small evidence of a permanent change in my body was also evidence of a change in us. In who we were, both to ourselves and to each other.
Adam washed quickly and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom. But I lingered, soaping myself slowly, focusing on the soreness between my legs, examining my own feelings. I was different now. It was just a bit of skin, like I’d always imagined. But when I’d imagined how it would be, I’d always thought nothing would change. Feelings wouldn’t change.
But this was different. These growing feelings for Adam were the biggest reason.
No, Mia.
Stupid girl. I swallowed a sob in the shower as that realization rose up in me. I could love Adam. But I wouldn’t allow it because it went against everything I’d stood for—for so long. I was Mia, the girl who stayed single by choice. The woman who would always take care of herself, because I didn’t need anyone to save me. I saved myself.