“One sign is proximity. He might lean in, trap her against something. Stir up tension. Gauge her reactions.”
My breath goes shaky. Is that what he’s doing? Is he trying to tell if I’m attracted to him?
Am I not as obvious as others have always told me?
“And how should she respond?”
His smile is dirty. “Well, if she’s not interested, the wordnois appropriate. Pushing him back, gently, as to not hurt his feelings.”
Adam pauses, like he’s giving me the opening to do just that—push him back.
When I don’t, he continues, “Or if she is interested, she might lean in, too, touch him, or take charge and put him out of his misery.”
I’m not bold enough to kiss him, but my gaze drops to the open collar of his shirt.
I lift my hand to touch his chest, slowly working my way up to that small patch of bare skin.
He’s so unbelievably hot under my fingertips.
Heat pommels me at this small connection, and my insides turn gooey.
“Look at me, Drew.”
It takes me a second, but I do. We’re so unbelievably close, and my heartbeat rampages.
His green eyes are almost swallowed by the flare of his pupils. That’s a sign of attraction, isn’t it?
Adam takes a second to search me before he tips my chin up and lowers his mouth over mine.
Electricity zaps down my spine, lifting me further against him. My hands find purchase on his shoulders, gathering the fabric of his shirt in my fists.
His kiss starts gentle, but when my mouth softens, opens to him, he takes advantage, pressing his tongue inside to kiss me so thoroughly that my mind goes blank.
I’m submerged in sensation. In need. In the idea of being consumed completely by Adam, because this man knows how to kiss.
His big hand finds my hair as he moves me where he wants me, and I’m more than willing to submit to him.
To give into his lesson on what a kiss should be. To fall into the devoted, all-consuming energy of him as he peels away my reservations.
As he shows me exactly how much he wants me.
9
GABE
Rumors are flying about Drew and Adam, about Drew and Greyson, and I can only imagine about the two of us, although my employees are hesitant to spread that around me.
I’ve got a no nonsense management style, and I will not stand for gossip. It works for the most part.
But these lines of speculation have taken on a life of their own if they’ve reached me. It makes me furious.
My office door is open, an overt means of eavesdropping.
Whenever I hear her name mentioned or something that signifies Drew, I snap at my employees to get back to work. They scamper off, and I hate myself a little for being that kind of boss.
I’ve always prided myself in being level-headed. Of being fair.
This is not a good look. For me or the Lodge.
