Page 43 of Pretend To Be Mine

ELIZABETH

Adrian Blackwell was kissing me.

The thought was running through my head like the ticker on the bottom of a news broadcast. Even as I kissed him back.

Adrian Blackwell. Was kissing. Me.

His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and rational thought fled entirely. His lips were ridiculously soft for a man. His mouth moved with an expertise that made my toes curl. When his tongue swept against my lower lip, requesting access, I opened for him without hesitation.

I would give the man anything he wanted as long as he kept kissing me. Wi-fi password. Bank PIN. My one and only credit card. Take it all but don’t stop kissing me.

One of his hands slid into my hair, loosening the messy bun I’d thrown it in. I felt the relief of letting my hair down a second before his fingers slid against my scalp. I moaned with ecstasy. His other hand moved to my waist and pulled me closer.

I went willingly, practically climbing into his lap as the kiss intensified. The photo album fell to the floor with a soft thud. Neither of us noticed.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured against my lips. Hearing my name in that rough, desire-laden voice made heat pool between my thighs. “We should probably⁠—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, surprising myself with the command in my voice. “Don’t think. Don’t analyze. And don’t stop.”

Both of his hands moved to either side of my head. He pushed my head back just enough to look me directly in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“If you’re asking if I’m too drunk to make this decision, no. Am I buzzed—a little. But don’t stop.”

Something flared in his dark eyes. Hunger. His mouth slammed against mine and I had my answer. He was more demanding now and I was absolutely lost.

His hands roamed over my body, feeling the curves through my ratty T-shirt and sweatpants. I should have been self-conscious about my appearance. But the way Adrian was touching me made all those worries evaporate. The man was desperate for me. I loved that feeling. I loved that he was lusting for me. Me. Elizabeth Laramie.

“Bedroom?” he asked, pulling back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against mine.

I let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “I don’t have a bedroom. This is it.” I gestured vaguely at my studio apartment.

His eyes moved to the very small bed.

“Works for me.”

He stood, pulling me up with him, and for one dizzying moment I thought he might carry me the ten feet to the bed. Instead, he kissed me again, walking me backward until I was falling, with him coming down on top of me. His body covered mine. He was heavy, but it was a good kind of suffocation. I wanted all of him on me. In me, if I was being specific.

There were approximately seventeen reasons why this was a terrible idea.

But when Adrian’s hand slipped under my shirt, palm hot against my skin, I couldn’t remember a single one of them.

“Tell me to stop,” he said against my neck, pressing kisses along the column of my throat that made me arch into him. “Tell me this is a bad idea and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Don’t you dare stop.”

That was all the permission he needed.

I never knew clothes could come off so fast.

One second, I was fully dressed, and the next, Adrian had my shirt over my head and was tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes raked over me, taking in the plain cotton bra I wore. I hadn’t expected anyone to see it.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

His mouth found mine again as his hands worked at the clasp of my bra. I felt it give way, felt the cool air hit my skin as he pulled it free. Then his hands were on my breasts, palming them, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened into peaks.

I gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire.

“Adrian, this is intense,” I breathed.