by V. H. Luis
My stomach swirls with apprehension. Should I feel this nervous? A small nagging fear lingers in the back of my head, as my Catholic upbringing shames me. I always assumed I’d wait until I was married to sleep with someone, but the truth is, I’m tired of waiting.
My cell phone vibrates against Michael’s desk. I pull away from him. That’s the third call in the last twenty minutes.
Damn it, Tina! I told you I would call you after we did it.
“Maybe I should get that.”
I reach for the phone but he stops me before I get far with a soft push.
“Tina and your Dad can get by without you,” he says impatiently. “They’re always interrupting us. Don’t let them ruin our big night.”
Michael hooks a finger into the waistband of my underwear and again he’s kissing me. Though he’s trying to be gentle, his fast pace is intensifying my already spiking nerves.
Do I love Michael? I don’t know. Maybe? I enjoy spending time with him. He makes me laugh.
Laying his body over mine, he pins me against the bed as his hands run over my body. A strong banging on the door makes me jump.
“Evie, Tina’s here.” Michael’s roommate yells. “She says she has to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”
“Fuck! I knew they’d find a way to ruin tonight.” Michael turns onto his back, his arm pressed against his forehead.
Frowning, I start to put on my clothes. “It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s always nothing,” he says. “I’m so tired of being interrupted.”
“Come with me.” I offer him a smile.
“I’m too pissed to go anywhere. I’ll just…” He shrugs. “I’ll call you later.”
I sigh and nod. Great. He’s angry at me. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me that having sex with Michael is a mistake. Again my phone vibrates. Before rushing out I grab my cell and slip it into my pocket.
I step outside, ready to bitch at Tina, however her pale face instantly eliminates my anger.
“What’s wrong?”
“Evie, we need to go to your mom’s,” she whispers, yet I can tell by her tone that something awful has happened.
“What is it? You’re scaring me.” My hands shake.
“I’ll tell you when we get to your mom’s. Let’s go.” She turns and heads for the car.
I don’t move. It’s getting hard to breathe.
A frightening thought comes to mind. I reach for the cellphone in my pocket and look at my missed calls. Several of them are from Tina and one is from my dad.
He called a few hours ago, probably while Michael and I were making out. Acid churns in my stomach, because I know what’s happened.
“Oh God…no… Tina, is my dad okay?” I stare at her and the answer doesn’t have to be spoken. By the expression in her eyes, I know he’s made good on his threats. He’s done it.
“Evie… I’m sorry…”
The world fades. Shadows consume me, and though I know I’m firmly on the ground, I’m weightless.
My daddy’s dead.
“EVELYN.”
A voice calls out in the dark as I toss and turn against the sheets.
“Evelyn!”
I lurch my body forward into a sitting position, waking from the nightmare. I’m sweating and my breathing is irregular. Adam is beside me, his face furrowed with concern. My head shifts from side to side, taking in the shadows of the moonlit room.
Adam’s strong hands reach for me, cupping my face. Then his warm mouth rubs against mine in a sweet, slow embrace. Tenderly, he trails his lips down my cheek and across my neck. The fog lifts and everything comes into focus.
“Evelyn, you’re safe.” He breathes against my skin.
I dip my head forward in a childlike nod. My eyes are brimming with tears.
How can I be safe when my world doesn’t make sense? When my father took his life? When I tried to follow in his footsteps? Feelings of safety elude me because I’m haunted by so many mistakes.
Adam presses the pad of his thumb on my cheek and wipes away one of my tears.
Why is he being so sweet? He barely knows me. I don’t need his pity.
The idea of being here is unbearable. I push off the bed.
“Where are you going?” He clicks on the lamp and I squint as light floods the room.
“Home. It’s late and I need to get home.” I sound crazy but I don’t care.
“Calm down, Evelyn. If you want to go home I’ll take you.” He stands, his eyes scanning the floor for his boxer briefs.
“No. It’s okay, I don’t want to disturb you. I don’t live far from here, I’ll walk.” I mimic his actions, trying desperately to find my underwear. Where the hell are my panties?
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He’s adopted a businesslike tone. Only Adam Black could appear so authoritative and professional while wearing nothing.
I shouldn’t argue. I should nod my head and accept his offer, but I can’t.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
I turn to leave the room and to my surprise he’s by my side, gripping my wrists and forcing me to sit on the bed. His jaw tightens as he presses his lips together.
“If you think for one minute that I’m going to let you walk out of here in the middle of the night, you are seriously delusional.”
Frozen still by his cold voice, I stare at him, baffled.
“What was your dream about?”
He speaks with command, and I want to lie to him the same way I lied to Tina and my mother, but I’m unable to conjure the words.
“What was the dream about?” he demands, in an octave lower.
“The past, things I can never change. Mistakes…” Tears stream down my face and the urge to run is growing exponentially.
Adam kneels in front of me, his brow knitted. “That is the most ambiguous statement I’ve ever heard.”
Of course it’s ambiguous. He wants an elaborate explanation of my irrational actions, but you can’t define crazy. My father spent a lifetime trying to understand the impulses that dominated his actions. In the end he quit trying. And what scares me is that I’m like him.
“I hate the look you’re giving me right now.”
“What look? My pissed-off expression?”
“Pity. Your eyes are drenched with it. Don’t feel obligated to care because we slept together. Believe me, I won’t hold it against you.”
Adam’s grip tightens around my wrists. “I’ve already said it, but you obviously don’t understand so I’ll repeat myself. I’m not the type of man who does anything out of obligation. My actions are motivated by my sincere desire to do whatever the hell I want!”
He realizes he’s yelling and inhales deeply, muttering a curse under his breath. “I swear, you have the uncanny ability to drive me insane.”
His admission halts my melancholy and a small smile crosses my lips. I can do that to him?
“You’re not leaving now. In the morning, and I do mean much later in the morning, if you still want to leave I’ll take you home. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave while you’re tired and upset.”
I open my mouth to protest but his cobalt eyes are unyielding. I nod, too stunned to argue further.
“Lie down,” he orders as he pulls back the comforter.
That’s when I see it—on the center of the bed is a bloodstain. It’s not big, but the contrast of the crimson mark and white sheets makes the image drastic. I freeze, a mixture of mortification and dread crawling through my body. My eyes dart to my thighs and at the sight of dried blood, my throat tightens and it becomes hard for me to swallow.
“You want to revisit the response you gave me when I asked if you were a virgin?” Adam says way too calmly.
“Just let me go home,” I whisper, unable to face him.
“No fucking way—especially now!”
There goes his calm.
“You can’t keep me here if I don’t want to—”
> “You staying, shouldn’t even be a point of contention.”
He shakes his head and drops his hands, which have been gesturing as he speaks. He’s a poem, the effects of his irritation and exasperation adding flaws to his features that at least to me, aren’t really flaws.
Lost in the thought I’m surprised when he cups my face, “Evelyn, explain it to me,” he says slowly. “Why are you so desperate to leave?”
The direct question makes me shiver. Adam notices, and before I can answer, I’m in the cradle of his arms, my cheek warmed by the heat radiating from his chest.
“Don’t ask me to let you go like this, because I can’t,” he whispers huskily. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’m scared,” I confess without thinking.
His arms tighten around my body. “Of what?”
My eyes are clamped shut, as the smell of his scent surrounds me. How can I explain what even I don’t understand? I can’t, so I don’t even bother. Minutes pass and his reassuring hold manages to keep my panic at bay.
“Stay Evelyn. Stay so I can show you that when you’re with me, you have nothing to fear.”
Though I want to resist, the promise in his voice makes it impossible. I nod against him and he doesn’t afford me the opportunity to change my mind.
“Lie down on the bed,” he commands gently.
Using my hands to cover my bare breasts—a futile action, since he’s already seen everything—I get back on the mattress. With care, he covers me with the comforter. It’s cold in the room, but the stare he gives me is smoldering. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Is he pissed off because I didn’t tell him I was a virgin? Is he angry about his sheets?
Adam turns off the light and then I hear the soft tap of his bare feet against the marble floor as he retreats to the bathroom. A slow burn sizzles in my stomach making me think for a dreadful second that I might throw up.
I’m so focused on keeping my anxiety in check, I don’t notice Adam return until he’s close, so close the heat of his skin radiates against mine.
“Spread your legs.”
I stay motionless, not certain I’ve heard correctly.
“Baby,” he says in a slow, sexy whisper while drawing the covers down, “Spread your legs for me.”
I don’t move because it’s hard for me to process what’s happening, so he helps, his knuckles gliding over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Then a warm washcloth is between my legs, rubbing against me, and my hearts racing, I’m panting softly and my hand has found its way to Adam’s chest. I dig my nails against him, desperate to anchor myself from the reality of what’s happening—my embarrassment over the situation, the familiarity of his actions, the incontrollable response his touch has over my body.
Needing to put a stop to this I mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry about your sheets.”
His hand stops moving between my legs. “Evelyn,” he says gently while tossing the cloth on the marble floor, “I don’t give a fuck about the sheets.”
He slides under the covers and shifts me so my back is pressed against his firm chest. The way he holds me shows his dominating nature, though his touch is tender. He took my virginity hours ago and yet this is the most intimate moment we’ve shared.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
I’m obviously not, though I offer him my stock response. “Yes, of course. I’m fine.”
The hairs of his forearm tickle the skin under the swell of my breasts as he tucks me close. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I say, trying to ignore the feelings I’m having over being held by him.
“Put up this front and pretend everything’s okay when it’s not. You just woke up in the middle of the night terrified because of a nightmare, a nightmare you’re unwilling to discuss, and…” His chest pushes against my back as he breathes deep. “And you lost your virginity—”
“Adam, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You are annoyingly stubborn,” he chides.
“I’m not the only one who falls into that category.”
He squeezes me, and I squirm under the constraints of the tight embrace. His steady breath on the nape of my neck makes my muscles loosen. Wrapped around him, a scary realization hits—he makes me feel safe.
“Careful, I’m better at this game than you.” While his tone is serious, I can hear the playful edge he’s attempting to conceal.
“What do you care? If I want to leave in the middle of the night, why stop me?”
He laces his fingers with mine as he clasps my hand. His grip is steady and reassuring. “Because I wanted you to stay.”
How can his arrogance be both something that drives me crazy with anger and passion? How is it that in such a short span of time he can control me? The entire notion makes me squirm.
“Stop fidgeting and go to sleep.” He sounds distant, even though his hold is intimate.
I’m confused. I lie against him, trying to figure out the puzzle that is Adam Black. Unlike every man in my life, who has bailed on me at the mere hint of a complication, he’s not willing to let me go and he barely knows me.
His actions don’t make sense. Being in his arms is like taking a strong dose of Valium, and I feel like I’m floating. For a brief moment a nagging fear clings to my semi-awake consciousness.
Don’t fall from the cloud.
Chapter Nine
I WAKE UP curled against white sheets—alone.
Where am I?
Oh, I decided to go with my impulses and sleep with Adam Black.
I groan. My Catholic-influenced conscience still remains unforgiving.
As I put my feet on the cold marble floor, the large windows that wrap around the room capture my attention. The ocean view is breathtaking.
Standing, because I want to take in the sight, I wince. Muscles I’ve never used are tingling. I take a deep breath and step toward the en suite bathroom.
Since I can’t find Adam and there’s no way I’m leaving the room looking like this—a sex-tousled mess—I decide to shower.
The bathroom, a modern blend of black and white, is the epitome of Adam—intimidating.
Discarding my silver bangles on the stone countertop, I wait for the water to warm. A few seconds later I’m under the welcoming spray, bathing with his body wash. The smell floods me with memories of last night. My world is upside-down, but I love it.
The idea of lingering makes me self-conscious, so I hurry. After rummaging through his cabinets, finding a toothbrush, and borrowing one of his T-shirts, I set out in search of the sex god who has left me achingly aware that he’s explored my body with vigor.
Approaching the kitchen, I hear the soft sizzle of something frying. Oh shit, Ms. Wright is cooking. I start speed walking in the opposite direction, when Adam’s deep voice captures my attention.
“Read that line again… Send it back, the contract is shit.”
Peeking around the corner, I see him standing over the stove, wearing simple black pajama pants and a white T-shirt. He has a cellphone pressed against his ear and is moving something in a skillet with a spatula.
The sight of a domesticated Adam is funny. Mr. Incredible can cook. I can’t help it. I laugh.
He turns his head, his beautiful eyes focusing on me while the most adorable little scowl perches between his brows.
“I’ll be in the office around two. Send them the contract with our adjustments. Change it so they’re paying the closing fees. I don’t plan on staying long, so make sure it’s done by two.” He ends the call and places the phone on the counter.
I laugh again. He can be so curt and commanding one minute and extraordinarily gentle the next. Does he even realize he does this?
“Is something funny?”
“You’re a puzzle. I’m just trying to figure you out.” With a smile, I move to the counter and lean against it, placing my elbows on the cold granite.
“Coming from you, that’s ironic.” He rem
oves the pan from the stove and then leans against the counter, mirroring me.
“Hungry?” he says softly.
“Depends on what you’re serving.” My eyes take him in, from the lustrous waves on his head to the taut muscles his fitted T-shirt can’t hide. One night in his arms and I’m lost.
He stands with a cocky smirk. “At the moment, I’m serving bacon and eggs.”
I sigh at the disappointing response. “I’m surprised to see you cooking. I didn’t think a man of your stature would willingly take on such a commonplace task.”
“I should hope by now you realize I have many talents.”
The comment makes my cheeks burn, which elicits a low chuckle from him. Returning his attention to the skillet, he takes two plates from a cabinet, serves us both, and sits on the stool next to me. It’s surreal to be eating breakfast cooked by a man who spends his days dealing with multi-million-dollar business deals, so for what seems like forever, I’m quiet.
“Your silence is starting to worry me.” He reaches for his glass of orange juice. “You don’t like it?”
The fact he cares enough to ask is sweet. I scoop some eggs on my fork, take a big bite, and savor the flavor. “It tastes great, though I will reserve my final opinion until later, depending on whether I survive the day.”
He puts the orange juice down on the counter, while his tongue glides across his bottom lip. “Are you implying my cooking will get you sick?” He looks appalled.
Leaning forward, he speaks with a husky tenor that makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. “Believe me, it’s not my cooking you have to worry about.”
I arch my brows at the cryptic statement. “What should I be concerned about then?”
“The fact that you’re sitting next to me, wearing only my T-shirt.”
His searing stare is nothing but carnal. My mouth dries as my pulse quickens.
“I still have no clue why I should be worried. I believe my virtue has long since been discarded with you.”
“Why would you say that?”
The question sounds like a reprimand, which leaves me wondering how our conversation has derailed. Ignoring him, I stand and begin clearing the dishes. I place the plates in the sink, taking my time as I wash them.