When He's Dirty (Walker Security - Adrian's Trilogy 1) - Page 38
We lean into each other, our mouths colliding, tongues licking a seductive dance, an emotionally charged kiss that is nothing I expect and somehow everything I need. Hunger curls inside me and I thrust into her, pulling her hard against me. She gasps, and her finger flex on my shoulders. Desperation roars between us, humming in our bodies that grind together fast and hard, and then sway slow and easy. It’s in those seductive moments that I feel Pri in a way I didn’t know I could feel a woman. She feels it, too, and her body responds. She arches into me, burying her face in my neck, and then her body spasms around my shaft. I moan and thrust into her one final time, holding her as I shudder through my release.
When we’re both relaxed, I hold her a moment, trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. What is this woman doing to me? I don’t know my answer. And right now, I’m not going to try to figure it out. I roll her to her side, clean us up, and I’m aware that this is when I’d normally leave but I don’t. I’m just not ready. I lie down on the couch, and take her with me, folding her close. Her head rests on my shoulder and her fingers tease the dark hair on my chest.
My lashes lower and I don’t overthink this. I just hold her. That is until she whispers, without looking at me, “I defended the wrong people, bad people. So I really am bad, too.” She hesitates and adds, “And I don’t like that about me.”
She’s not bad, not even close, but this new confession, spoken thoughtfully and honestly, in an unsolicited and vulnerable moment, tells me just how deep her demons run, just how much guilt she feels. And no one can relate more than I relate, so I say the only thing I can say. “I understand the feeling, sweetheart.”
She doesn’t reply and I say no more, either. I mean, no one wipes away our pain by telling us it isn’t real. Instead, I lay there and listen to her breathing grow steady and slow. She fades into sleep, and by doing so right after that confession, she tells me another truth. I was right. She trusts me. And I decide right then that I can’t change what I’ve done in the past, but beyond that, I will deserve her trust.
And yet, the demons in my own past promise me that won’t be good enough.Chapter Twenty-OneADRIAN
I fall asleep on my back with Pri naked and snuggled to my side, and wake to my pre-set alarm on my phone, the dim light of the lamp on the table above my head. Pri, all warm and sweet, is still pressed close, sound asleep. I shift us and grab my phone, turning off the alarm, and still, she sleeps, which tells me two things: her fear over Waters has affected her sleep and with me here, she feels safe. That’s trust, which blows me away considering hours ago she was holding a gun on me and asking me if I planned to kill her mid-orgasm. I shift slightly and manage to stand, while she snuggles deeper into the couch, facing the cushions, the blanket I pulled over us hours ago, all that covers her naked body when I’d prefer it be me.
There is no logical answer for that and I force myself to turn away from her and hunt down my clothes. When I’m fully dressed, I return to Pri’s side, and her breathing is deep, her sleep complete. I stand over her and stare down at her, long dark hair draped over the couch pillow, her skin pale and perfect. I know in my logical mind that I’ve seen many a beautiful woman, and fucked my share for that matter, but none of them affected me like Pri, none made me linger and hesitate to leave. None of them made me want to get to know them.
I glance at my watch, time ticking by far too quickly, and what I want doesn’t matter right now. Watchful eyes do, and they see more during daylight hours. Pressed now, I consider leaving Pri a note, but that doesn’t sit well with me and I don’t believe it will with her either. I can’t just leave. I sit down on the edge of the couch, my hand settling on her shoulder as I lean in near her ear, and damn, she still smells all floral and wonderful.
“Pri,” I whisper.
She moans all soft and sweet and rolls to her back, blinking up at me, and says, “Adrian?”
Adrian, not Rafael. I don’t know why her easy, groggy distinction means so much to me, but it does.
Her eyes roam over me and widen suddenly. “You’re leaving?” Realization seems to hit her—disappointment I like a little too much, furrowing her brow. She scoots up to rest on the arm of the couch, oblivious to her naked breasts, as the blanket falls away, while I am not.
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