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“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his brow creasing at my reaction.
I didn’t reply. I doubt I could have even if I’d wanted to.
“Emilia—”
And he would have reached for my arm, but I stepped away and ran all the way back to the house with him close behind. I laid it out flat—ran as fast as I could and he stayed on my heels easily.
When we stopped, I didn’t run for the door. Mia the coward would have done something like that. Instead I lingered at the front porch, glancing at the glow coming from behind the blinds in the window. It wasn’t yet dark enough for Mom to turn on the porch light so we were masked in the violet darkness of dusk.
I didn’t say anything but I didn’t move from my spot, either, still breathing heavily. In spite of the churning emotions, I liked having him here with me. It beat the hell out of that distant, empty ache. This pain was sharper, more acute, but he was here. Standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of him in his sweat-soaked shirt.
He took a hesitant step toward me. God, I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to touch him. I turned my face to the side, unwilling to look into his intent eyes. “Hurting you wasn’t the only reason I did it,” he finally said in a hoarse voice.
Pain radiated in my chest whenever I breathed. “Oh?”
“I wanted to prove to myself—and you—that you cared. ” He moved a step closer, reached up to run his thumb along my jaw and tilt my head toward him. I backed away and he followed until I came up against the pole that held up the overhang of the front porch. His face was inches from mine and my heart beat on every micrometer of my skin. “You do care, don’t you, Emilia?”
I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying to summon up every ounce of anger and annoyance I felt for this man. But his thumb—that tiny touch along my jaw, shifted to glide over my lips, making me crazy, awakening that deep hunger inside. I cared. Of course I fucking cared. I hadn’t been able to rip my mind away from him in the month we’d been apart from each other. He was the first thing I thought of every morning, the last every night and he slipped effortlessly into most waking thoughts during the moments between.
“I never said I didn’t care,” I finally said, lamely.
“You never said you did, either. ”
My eyes found his, I shivered and he pulled his hand away. “I care,” I whispered.
His head closed the distance on mine and he pushed my head back with the force of the contact. Our mouths met, eagerly tasting each other. My body rose up to meet his, my hands clamping around his neck to hold him to me. With a low groan, he plunged his tongue into my mouth and together our tongues danced. Desire pervaded me, right to the deepest center. I wanted the touch of his mouth, his hands, his body. I wanted the words to go along with them. I wanted to know he cared.
When he reached for my waist, I pulled my head away though everything in me screamed in protest. I put my hands on his damp, hard chest. I wasn’t ready for more. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I needed time to think. Time to breathe.
He was breathing heavily again and his arousal pressed against me. I trembled. My body wanted to answer that siren’s call. Before, I’d only imagined what it could be like between us. But now, I knew exactly what kind of pleasure I could expect in his arms, his bed. It took every ounce of willpower to resist. “You only came because you felt guilty about my not taking the test,” I said.
He hesitated. “No. But it did give me the excuse. ”
“Since when have you needed an excuse?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never done this before. ”
My eyes held his. “I can tell. ”
“Emilia—I owe you an apology for what happened at my office. It was an asshole thing to do and I knew it the minute I did it. And I am so damn sorry. ”
I drew in a shivery breath. I was so confused. As usual, Hurricane Adam was stirring up this swirling force of nature around me, catching me up in high-speed winds and dangerous tidal currents. I needed to think about what he was telling me. I needed a quiet place, to be alone. I shook and his arms tightened around me when he felt it. “Good night, Adam,” I said in the quickening darkness.
He paused, then released me, stepped back with clear reluctance. “Good night,” he said in the faintest hint of a whisper.
I fumbled in through the front door on shaky legs, avoiding my mom’s inquiries about the run with a few grunts and “It went great’s. ” Then I was off to curl up with a study book on my bed under a bright white reading lamp. I didn’t even pretend to study. There was no way. I immediately tossed the book to the floor and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, unable to get Adam’s words out of my mind.