Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding 2.5)

Whatever it was, Adam seemed to ease into the change, which made Chyna think that the switch was his normal personality —the guy that Adam had talked about before Global came into his life.

Even she ended up relaxing as he took over. She just wanted to erase whatever had happened while Adam had been gone, accept his brother for the charmer he was, and have a good time. Yet, as much as she wanted them to, the events that had transpired last night and what had just happened with Nitya couldn’t just go away. She needed to tell Adam. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, but he needed to know.

“Ugh,” Nitya cried, swiping at her eyes. “Is it really one-thirty in the morning? I have to work in a couple of hours.”

“Fuck, me, too,” Trey said, elbowing Darius to get out of the booth.

“I have to work, too,” Darius said, sloppily standing and reaching for something to steady himself.

“You guys should take a cab,” Adam told them. He was hardly even tipsy.

How had she not noticed that he wasn’t drinking that much? Or was he was just holding his liquor better than everyone else at the table? She was tipsy, but she didn’t think she was over the edge.

She had yet to stand up though.

Nitya stood, wavered, and then crumpled back onto the edge of the booth.

She started giggling uncontrollably. “I can’t stand up. Oh my God!”

“Do you need help?” John asked, standing and then immediately sitting back down.

“Yes!” she muttered, her head flopping backward. “I can’t feel my lips.”

Adam shook his head as if he knew that this would happen all along. “Come on. I’ll help you guys to the cab,” he said, scooting around John to help Nitya up.

“Chyna, are we taking your town car?”

She nodded, her eyes heavy. It had been a long night, and she couldn’t wait to get back to her apartment, even if she did have to talk to Adam.

“Great. Can you manage here until I get them in the cab?” he asked desperately.

Chyna bit her lip, debating with herself. She really shouldn’t be alone with John at the moment. Probably not a good idea . But, she wasn’t that drunk, so she could handle herself. She nodded again, hoping she appeared confident.

“Great. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”

Adam put an arm around Nitya’s waist and helped her to her feet. Trey and Darius leaned on each other, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder to get through the darkened hookah lounge. As they exited the enclave, Trey laughed and closed the burgundy curtain to their area.

The only light now came from a single covered bulb in the ceiling.

“Chyna,” John whispered into the darkness.

She tensed and tried not to look at him.

She knew she should have gone with Adam.

“Chyna,” he whispered again.

She swallowed hard, wishing she had a drink so she had something to do with her hands.

He said her name one more time in the most seductive voice.

She couldn’t help but turn to face him.

“Yes?” she murmured.

“Why did you leave last night?”

“You know why I left,” she replied, resting her head backward.

She heard him move closer to her and could feel the heat coming off of him.

“Tell me why you left.”

“No,” she said softly, barely audible.

“You know why.”

“Chyna,” he said, pushing her dark hair out of her face. “Why did you leave last night?”

She sighed. The feel of his hand touching her face ignited a fire in her.

“John, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Don’t make me answer. You know why I left. It was time to go. Simple enough,” she whispered.

“It’s a simple question, and I don’t think that’s the answer.”

She could hear her breath coming out unevenly as she debated on how to answer him. “What do your tattoos say?”

“What?” he asked, clearly surprised by the question.

“You answer, and I will.”

He didn’t even think about it. “Deal,”

he said, standing and untucking his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, glancing anxiously at the curtain.

“Answering your question.”

He unbuttoned the top two buttons and pulled his shirt clean over his head.

Chyna just stared. Holy f**k! That body literally killed her. If she had thought she was on fire before, she had been all sorts of wrong.

“This one,” he said, sitting very close to her and pulling up his left bicep, “says ‘to define is to limit.’”

Her hand came up and lightly traced the words on the inside of his arm with her fingertips. “You’ve said that to me before,” she told him.

“You remembered,” he said with a smirk.

“And the other one?” she demanded, ignoring her manners.

He turned and showed her the inscription on his right ribs. “This one says ‘What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?’”

“Wow. That’s deep,” she said, resting her hand on his leg. She reached across his body and traced the other tattoo as well.

His breathing hitched as she pressed herself up against him while her fingers trailed across the sensitive skin.

“They’re Oscar Wilde quotes. Just a personal reminder,” he said, lifting his hand and running it through her dark hair.

She moaned softly, her eyes closing as his hand pulled through the long strands.

She felt him stiffen beneath her hand that still held on to his leg.

“That feels good,” she mused.

“Your turn,” he told her. With both hands, he pulled back her black hair, making her face him.

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into those gorgeous hazel eyes that were mere inches away from her.

“My turn for what?” she asked, her feeling his body heat at his nearness.

“Why did you leave last night?” he reminded her.

Looking down at his lips, she finally told him, “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

He beamed that gorgeous smile and leaned forward, bridging the distance, and he pressed his lips to hers.

It was like the floodgates were opened. The sexual tension that riddled both of them cracked and then crashed apart. John pushed her backward, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. His body forced her back into the soft- cushioned chaise, covering her. His hands ran down her body.