He raises a brow.“You sure, Lenor?”
I don’t even hesitate.“Are you my mother?I want another fucking drink.”
Because if I slow down, if I let the buzz slip, the reality of everything will come rushing in.The whispers.The pitying looks.The memory of Jacob’s mouth on Karmen’s, the way it split my heart down the middle.Even a year later it still hurts like a motherfucker.Even now, when I know my bestie is finally marrying the only man she has ever loved, I can’t get that image out of my fucking head.And the truth I can’t admit—that no matter how much I love her, how much I forgive her, that night still haunts me.
The drink lands in front of me.I grab it, swallow down half, and let the burn coat my throat until my eyes water.And when I glance up, Adam’s still watching me.Damn him.
He’s leaning against the far wall like he owns the place—dark jeans, fitted green shirt, that cocky half-smile curving his mouth.Women are orbiting around him, trying to catch his attention but he doesn’t even glance at them.His gaze is locked on me.And it makes me feel ...seen.Too seen.
I turn away with my heart hammering in my ears, but it doesn’t matter.Because less than two minutes later, he’s behind me.I know it without looking.I can feel him, the heat, the danger, the way my body recognizes his presence before my brain can argue.
“You’re going to regret that in the morning,” Adam murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.
I shiver, forcing myself to roll my eyes.“What?This drink?”
“Every drink since your third.”His chuckle is low, rough.“Come on, Lennie.You’re not fooling me.”
I hate that nickname.I hate how it softens me, how it makes me remember being sixteen and sneaking glances at him in the high school parking lot.
I spin on the stool, glaring at him and his ridiculously sexy smile.“And what exactly am I supposed to be fooling you about?”
His eyes darken.“That you don’t want me.”
My breath stutters before I can hide it.Cocky fucking bastard.Except ...he’s not wrong.And that terrifies me.It always has.
I slide off the stool, stumbling slightly in my favorite black spiked heels.Adam’s hands are on my waist instantly, steadying me, his thumbs brushing bare skin where my top rides up.Sparks shoot straight through me, from the point of contact spreading through every inch of me.
Fuck.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
I shove him back, desperate to put space between us.“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”His grin says he doesn’t believe me.“Dance with me.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Liar.”He steps closer, crowding me against the bar.His cologne—smoke and cedar—wraps around me, making my head spin more than the alcohol.“One dance, Lennie.Just one.”
I should say no.God, I should say no.Instead, I let him take my hand.
The music shifts to something slower, a beat heavy enough to rattle my bones.Adam pulls me onto the dance floor, into the middle of the crowd, and suddenly it’s just us.His arms around me.My body pressed to his.His heart thudding against my chest.
And for the first time in a year, I feel alive.
“You’re trouble,” I whisper, breathless.
“You like trouble.”
His words make my pulse skip.He tilts my chin up, his gaze burning through me, and before I can find a reason to stop him, his mouth is on mine and the world tilts on its axis.
It’s not soft and there is nothing tentative about it.It’s raw and hungry, a kiss that devours every defense I’ve built.His lips move against mine, hot and demanding, and I can’t stop myself from kissing him back.My hands clutch his shoulders, my body arching into him like it’s where I’ve always belonged.
This is Adam Blake.Reckless.Dangerous.Off-limits.But tonight I don’t care.
His hands slide down my back, gripping my hips as he pulls me closer.My thighs press against his, my body aching in ways I don’t want to think about.He tastes like whiskey and sin, and I can’t get enough.
“Let’s get out of here,” he growls against my lips.
