“Hold on to me, Madeleine.”
My eyes jerk open. “Hold on to you?!”
Before I get a reply, Adam picks me up off the ground and forces me to wrap my legs around his hips. He pushes me up against my apartment wall and crashes his mouth to mine. Holy shit. We’ve gone from zero to 60 in seconds. We’re making out like savages. The popcorn texture on the wall is scraping my back, maybe leaving marks, who knows—I don’t feel a thing. Adam is a painkiller.
His hand is in my hair, and then it’s sliding down and tugging on the other strap of my dress until the fabric is pooled at my waist. With my skirt shoved high on my thighs and my top peeled away, I’m nearly naked and blushing scarlet from my navel to my chin.
“We should slow down,” I sputter just before his mouth falls to my chest.
He swirls his tongue around my nipple and my eyes pinch closed.
Or, y’know, speed up even more.
I’ve never been taken like this before. This apartment and these walls have seen purely PG action over the years. All sexual activities were relegated to the bedroom—lights off, music on, blankets covering body parts.
At this moment, Adam has me pinned against the wall. My legs are coiled around him like a snake and he’s in charge. I’m helpless. I don’t even think my fingers have feeling anymore. I can only focus on his mouth. On my breast. The cool air he blows before covering the sensitive skin with his lips. Sucking and tasting and doing his best to draw out every ounce of resistance.
But it’s not enough.
I can’t do this.
Nothing good will come from having sex with Adam.
Well, I can think of one good thing—but no, I can’t.
“Adam…we have to stop.”
He pulls back and his damp hair is tousled, courtesy of my fingers. It’s adorable, and I nearly cave.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
With his brows tugged together and a concerned frown playing on his lips, I want nothing more than to lean forward and continue right where we left off. Instead, I hold my ground.
“We aren’t dating. This is a bad idea.”
It becomes clear then how funny it is to be having this conversation while we’re poised in this position. I can feel how hard Adam is between my legs. My chest is still completely exposed to him. His hand is, yup, still on my boob.
I reach down for the straps of my dress and tug it back up as best as I can.
He lets me down gently, no groan or protest. My knees nearly buckle, but he keeps hold of me until I have my footing. It’s a sweet gesture, and it makes the next few minutes all the more painful.
We’re silent as he gathers his stuff and heads for the door, but it’s not an angry, tense silence. There’s a resolved, solemn feeling in the air, like maybe we both agree that this is for the best.
I trail after him, holding the door open as he steps through. He turns back and catches my eye. I smile. He smiles, and then he steps closer, dropping his forehead to mine. My eyes flutter closed and for a few seconds, there’s nothing to hear but the sound of our breaths coming in unison.
The unspoken words fill the gap between our bodies.
“Good night Madeleine.”
He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, and then he’s gone. I close the door and sink down to the floor. His car revs up in the parking lot, and I stare at the wall where he just had me pinned. There might as well be a white chalk outline etched there. After all, it’s a crime scene. Theft in the first degree.CHAPTER EIGHTEENMADELEINEI should have let Adam seduce me. We could have stayed right there, pinned to that living room wall, and I would have let him give me an orgasm, maybe even two. It would have done me good to let loose and have fun. It’s been so long since I’ve fooled around with anyone, I’ve probably forgotten how to do it properly.
“Madeleine?”
Adam didn’t seem to mind though. I mean, he minded when I forced him to leave, but up until that point it seemed like he was enjoying himself just fine. Maybe I’m not so rusty after all.
“Madeleine? Yoo-hoo? Have we lost you?”
I look up to find every set of eyes in the conference room focused on me. I’m at work, stuck in an endless loop of meetings, and apparently, sometime within the last ten minutes I drifted off into Adam-land. Helen is standing at the head of the long table, uncapped dry-erase marker in hand. Behind her, she’s scrawled three words on the white board: Real Estate Mixer.
I sit up straight and try to offer an apologetic smile. “Oh, sorry about that Helen. I must need a little more caffeine this morning.”