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Leaving my hip, he wrapped his hand around my thigh, making sure I couldn’t grab for him like he grabbed for me. Keeping my hair in his fist, he led me to him.
I slipped my tongue in and Adam groaned. A raw, primal groan that made all the hairs on the back of my neck rise and my pulse race. A groan that vibrated my body, leaving me wanting and aching for more.
Adam swung me over, guiding me to his lap and I grabbed for the other side of the couch, willing and ready.
The door opened and I jerked away.
The floor swirled up to meet me, but before I could hit the ground, Adam caught me midair and yanked me back to the couch, gasping as hard as I was. I scrambled back like a shocked cat, putting as much distance between the two of us as I could, taking the other cushion while I struggled to catch my breath.
My hands shook so badly, I had to fold my arms over my chest to hide them.
“Mr. Russell?” a man asked, amused. Not Cleo, thank god. He wasn’t even someone on the payroll. Just another someone else to interview Adam about something or another, who came to collect him. I stole a look at the man at the door and his grin widened. “Sir, we’re ready for you.”
Without as much as a backward glance, Adam crossed the room and shut the door behind him. Leaving me alone in the blue room.
“Oh my god,” I whispered sliding back along the couch, still trying to actually take a breath.
Adam can do all that?
The reporter didn’t even look surprised. How many other times had Adam been caught in here with a girl wrapped around his finger? I shook my head and touched my lips.
That was magic. That was fireworks. That was…nothing I’d ever felt before. Certainly never with Thomas, who scoffed when I told him about my theories on first kisses.
Adam was…right.
First kisses didn’t mean anything. It’s all technique and experience. I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The realization crushed me more than I wanted Adam to know. I was wrong. He was right. And Adam had strolled away so casually because none of it mattered to him.
Because it didn’t. I’d taken my number and been surprised I was just another customer.
Adam didn’t feel anything.
61
Adam
Paper Towels
The interview was the longest one I ever suffered through my entire fucking life.
It was like I’d been hit by a car and expected to jump up and do lunge drills. I wasn’t anything more than a dazed animal. Going through the motions, like my lips weren’t burning and my brain hadn’t been liquified in a toaster oven.
I’d taken the opportunity to kiss Piper and gone feral. I practically dragged the ice princess to my lap. There’d never been a kiss like that.
Every time I thought about it, the realization washed over me.
“Thanks, man, we appreciate it.” One of the podcast guys shook my hand.
“Yeah.” I nodded. I had no idea what I said during the interview. “Good to meet you too, dude.”
“Are you off to practice again?”
“Yeah,” I lied and pushed open the doors.
Practice would have to fucking wait. I strode down the hallway, eyes flickering across the signs on the different doors until I shoved open one to a storage closet. I could barely fit. The place wasn’t designed to house a football player. I kicked away a mop bucket and slammed my fist against the button for the lights.
Everything was bathed in darkness.
“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself between my gritted teeth, barely able to squeeze the words out. I fumbled with my belt. Fucking practice pants, all the built-in pads and shit—I yanked them down as far as I needed until my cock was finally free in the cool air, hard as a fucking rock and jerking up and down on its own accord, about as desperate as I was.
