Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)

by Andrea Randall

  “Ha, I guess. That and Grandma Turner’s trust fund.” He shrugs and tucks his hands into his pockets.

  “She passed away?” I pick up my head and study his face.

  His gaze doesn’t break from the harbor’s white caps. “Two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry, Adrian. She was always so nice to me.” I cross my arms and lay my head on his shoulder as he pulls me in closer.

  We stand in silence as daylight turns to sunset. Our history extends further than an Ivy League high-rise. After a few minutes of silently sifting through our past, Adrian ceremoniously claps his hands.

  “Well, Blue, you want a tour of the place?” He’s suddenly like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Of course. By the way, this kitchen is fabulous. Do you use it or just woo women with it?” I hurry over to the oversized island and try to spread my arms the length of it.

  “Funny. What makes you think I try to “woo” women with my kitchen?” He leans against the exposed brick beam that separates the kitchen from the living room.

  “Right, of course. You don’t need a kitchen.” I arch my eyebrow and grin as I slink toward him. Grabbing his hand, I lift up and whisper in his ear, “It’s just a bonus, I guess.”

  He doesn’t respond except with a shake of his head and a grin before showing me the bathroom, study, and guest room. As any good ladies’ man, he saves his bedroom for last. The room bleeds Adrian—the whole place does, really. Strong lines adorned with leather and wood throw my senses into a tailspin and kick my body’s output of estrogen to full-throttle. Adrian Turner is as man as they come, and I shift as my panties suddenly seem uncomfortable.

  “This place is unbelievable. You really do seem happy.” I bring up my inquisition from weeks ago on the beach.

  “I am now.” With his hands in his pockets, he swings out his elbow and I loop my arm through his. “Let’s go eat.”

  * * *

  Adrian and I reminisce through two glasses of Prosecco and the wild mushroom risotto before he asks the host to call us a cab. I don’t see a check arrive at the table, but Adrian pulls out my chair and ushers us away from the restaurant to the main lobby.

  “Do you dine and dash here often?” I look over my shoulder and notice no commotion over our exit.

  “It’s on my account.” Without further discussion he opens the cab door for me, closes it, and enters on the other side.

  “You’re always such a gentleman.” I sigh, and just might bat my eyelashes. He takes hold of my hand.

  “You deserve a gentleman, Blue.”

  That seems to be an understatement. During dinner he remained guarded. Despite no one around that we knew, he didn’t try to court my legs under the table, he didn’t hold my hand while we were eating, and we haven’t kissed since I arrived at his doorstep.

  “Where are we going?” I attempt to shake the “insecure needy girl” thoughts from my head. It occurs to me I slid into this cab without question.

  “To a club up here. I want to dance with you.”

  Insecure, needy girl banished. Enter, Hell. Yes.

  “Oh. Are we overdressed?” My memory holds visions of jeans, bedazzled tanks, and platform flip-flops when I think of “club” and “dancing” with Adrian in the same sentence. I again have to remind myself we’re in our late twenties in Boston, not teenagers in an underground bar that looks the other way at fake IDs.

  “Even if we are, you look hot.” Adrian’s sentence is timed perfectly with the squealing breaks of our ride.

  My heart has skipped every third beat since I got to his apartment. I’m staying the night with him, and making out will no longer do. The sound of the bass and the crowd humming from the door as we approach it has nothing on what’s going on below the belt of my dress.

  Adrian nods once at the bouncer, and we’re granted unquestioned access to the foreplay inside the stone walls. He waves to some people I assume he knows, as he tears us through the crowd and onto the dance floor. He’s been quiet since dinner, and I’m no longer sure what the hell it is I’m doing here if he can’t even talk to me. I push the question aside, as his hands swallow my waist and move me in time with him.

  After a half hour, Shakira and Pitbull’s song “Rabiosa” comes on. Our smiles high-five one another as we take our positions. In college, the lacrosse team was invited to a formal party hosted by Monica’s sorority. We were dating at the time and he took me, despite the hisses from some of the bitches of Delta Mu. He knew their game, and he wasn’t playing. A dance competition closed that evening, and we took first place.

  We’d each learned to dance at some point in our lives and pulled it off right there; stepping over the dropped jaws and bugged-out eyes who thought Adrian Turner was too good for the likes of a hippie nerd. The only problem was I was a hippie nerd that he happened to think was gorgeous, and that he loved—though I didn’t know about the love part until a few weeks ago.

  The reggaeton-merengue mix brings our past crashing into our present once more, and we float through the crowd. My hips grind mercilessly into his as I pull his pockets to bring him in tighter. It’s as if he has to force our bodies apart when he spins me, then they’re right back together. I find myself staring intently at the beads of sweat on his neck.

  “You still got it, Turner,” I pant as Beyonce regains control of the speakers.

  “Thanks for leading, Gorgeous.” He smiles but doesn’t lock eyes with me.

  By the time Jay-Z’s voice joins in the song, I’ve had enough of Adrian’s distance. I grab his belt and yank him toward me, crashing his hipbones into mine.

  “What was that about?” he grunts.

  “What the hell is with you?” I’m forced to shout in his ear over the loud music.

  He turns my back to him and I grind down his body. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re being aloof, that’s what I mean. You kiss me when I show up, but you’ve said about twenty words since then. What gives?” I shout over my shoulder before he spins me back around.

  Suddenly, he stops dead in the middle of the dance floor and presses his sweaty forehead into mine. “I’m trying really hard to respect your boundaries, Ember,” he breathes onto my lips.

  “I never set any with you.” I tilt my chin until my lips make contact with his earlobe. “Take me home, Adrian.”

  He steps back, keeping me at forearms length. “Yeah?”

  Seduction takes over my face. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Taxi!” Adrian wastes no time journeying back to his place.

  As soon as he climbs in the cab next to me and slams the door shut, I’m pulled onto his lap and his tongue invades my mouth. The caged animal that claims Adrian’s body is ravenous, desperate for me with every moan beckoning from the bottom of his throat.

  “Adrian,” I breathlessly pull away, “we’re in a cab.”

  He grabs my hips and pushes me harder onto his lap. “I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

  Adrian kisses me with hunger, while he runs one hand down the outside of my thigh and resumes its ascent under my dress. I circle my hips on his, and I can’t believe I don’t care about the cab driver a foot away from us, but I don’t.

  His hand reaches my hip and he runs his fingertip along the lace of my thong. My body remembers his next move, and I lift off him slightly as he tucks his finger underneath the fabric and slips it inside me.

  “Damn.” I exercise vocal control by breathing into his shoulder as he works his magic.

  Just like that the cab stops, and in one motion Adrian slides me off him and hands the driver money. I sweep my hair over my burning cheeks, but the cabbie doesn’t so much as look in the rearview mirror. I briefly wonder if he has seen worse, but don’t give it too much thought as I shut the door behind me. Adrian takes my hand into his sweaty palm, and we walk hurriedly through the private entrance to the elevators.

  When the doors ding closed behind us, I slam Adrian into the side of the elevator by
my mouth. “Never do that to me in public again,” I curse in the short time my tongue leaves his mouth.

  I feel his grin against my lips. “Don’t worry, Baby. Anything else I plan on doing to you has to be done in private.”

  We tear blindly through his door in a hurricane of need five years in the making. I glide backward with each step he takes forward, until my hips are backed up against the kitchen island. With the height of my heels, I’m able to lift up on my toes slightly and shift myself onto the marbled surface. Once anchored, I kick off my heels and wrap my legs around his waist.

  “You have condoms right?” I breathe onto his collarbone as I explore the peaks and valleys of his muscles with my lips.

  As my tongue dances behind his ear, his breath takes any response away. He reaches into his pocket and produces the black foil between his index and middle fingers. My shaking legs can wait no longer. I open his belt and shove my hand down his pants, hungrily grabbing the last physical memory I have of him. He lets his pants fall to his ankles and tugs at the skirt of my dress. I lean forward, allowing the dress to settle on my hips and I drop my legs while I tear the wrapper open.

  “I’ll do it.” He takes the condom from me and his eyes bore through mine as he rolls it on. We remain at-the-ready as our hungry bodies play catch-up.

  “Adrian ...” I resume my leg-lock around his waist as he pulls back to look at me. “No, don’t fucking stop.”

  I dig my fingertips into his shoulders and beg him forward. His lips meet mine at the same time he slams into me. I wince for a split second, before reminding my body to relax around him. He guides my hips to the edge of the island and picks up speed. Releasing my grip on his shoulders, I wrap my fingers around the edge of the island, tilting my chin to the sky while arching my back.

  “Oh my god ...” Adrian groans.

  My sentiments exactly. In our time apart we’ve clearly graduated from Little League and are starting for the pros.

  His cadence is strong. He brushes my hair aside, exposing my neck. I rock my hips harder into him while he sucks on my collarbone, forcing his teeth to graze my skin. He pushes deeper and harder into me until my moans echo off the picture windows and sweat is pouring off of me. Adrian’s breathing increases and a shaky moan accompanies a final pull of my hips.

  Suddenly I’m in the air. Adrian kicks off his shoes and pants before walking me to the couch, still inside me. He sits, and I press my knees into the soft leather while gripping the back of his head. I push off my knees and stroke my body up and down his rock hard center.

  “God, this is good. Faster, Blue,” he commands, guiding my hips to the right speed. I concede and give him all I’ve got. I anchor my hands on the back of the couch and let him have it. I ride him with five years of angst, questions, and one hell of a breakup before he buries his face into my breasts and finishes inside me. I lean back and tighten my muscles around him.

  “Holy shit, Ember.” His voice sounds like he’s speaking through a fan. I did that to him.

  * * *

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” Adrian kisses my temple. We’ve been lying naked on his couch for over an hour, watching Boston below.

  “I do. And a shower, but I left my clothes in my car.”

  “They should be in my room by now, I asked the front desk to bring them up.”

  I shake my head. “This is unreal.”

  “What?” He laughs as I smack his shoulder and stroll to the master bedroom to shower.

  A few minutes later, an oversized terrycloth robe hugs my clean skin while I walk back down the hall to the kitchen. Adrian is waiting with wine—in his boxers.

  “Feel better?” He hands me my glass, and I walk over to the window.

  “Much. This week was fucking weird.”

  “I bet. Anything you want to talk about?” Adrian doesn’t want to say his name.

  “No.” Neither do I. “What’s it like, living here?”

  Adrian leans his back against the window and faces me. “It’s nice. Private.”

  I find it funny how a monstrosity of elegance can be classified as “private,” but I choose not to call him on it.

  “Tonight was fun, Adrian—and I don’t just mean the last hour, either.” I grin and he walks toward me.

  When his lips take a break from mine, he responds. “I had fun too, Blue. I feel like I’ve waited forever to have you here.”

  “Why didn’t you ever call?”

  “You deleted your Facebook account, your interest—or disinterest—in me was clear. You didn’t want to be found. At least not by me.”

  I force a guilty swallow. “I just didn’t want to see you and all of your ‘girlfriends.’” I include air quotes to denote their loose appearance.

  “Ha. Ha. November, I’ve had one serious girlfriend since you. And, no, that doesn’t mean I’ve had a revolving door installed in my bedroom.” He’s onto my suspicions. “Law school was a bitch; totally time-consuming. I wanted to be successful when I graduated, so goofing around was out of the question.

  “Oh, all work and no play?” I turn back to the kitchen and pour myself another glass of wine.

  “Whatever, like you’ve been locked away in an ivory tower somewhere?”

  “Whatever to you. I’m clean, I’ve been checked.” I quip, not wanting to divulge my entire sexual history.

  “Me too.”

  “Good.” I grin and cock my eyebrow.

  “Good.”

  We laugh and spend the next few hours talking about what, exactly, a consultant of his kind does and how I like my job. I can’t believe what a great time I’ve had tonight. I realize that the only negative feelings I had toward Adrian were cast in the shadow of Bo. Now that Bo’s out of the picture, I take no issue with Adrian. He loved me. Maybe he still does, but we don’t have time for that discussion tonight. He strokes his fingers through the length of my hair as I rest my head on his lap, my eyelids heavy despite my fight to keep them upright.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he whispers just before I fall completely asleep.

  When we reach his oversized bed, cloaked in what I’m sure are one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, I let my robe fall to the floor and I meet him in the middle of the bed. My head finds its former home in the crevice of his shoulder, and we fall asleep wrapped up in each other.

  * * *

  The clock tells me it’s 9:00 AM. My slight hangover feels like it could very well be 5:00 AM. The smell of bacon wafting through Adrian’s apartment tells me he’s made a huge mistake. I gather what I’m calling “my” robe from the floor and shuffle to the kitchen, wiping sleep from my eyes. Adrian hovers shirtless over the stove and bobs his head to the music from his laptop on the island. The island.

  “Really? Bacon?” I tease.

  He jumps at the sound of my voice. “Calm down,” he laughs, “I’ve got your ‘I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-meat’ crap right over here.” He slides a plate across the island that’s piled with fruit and my fake bacon.

  “Aw, you remembered,” I exaggerate while batting my eyelashes. I don’t eat this overly processed crap, either. But I’ll make an exception for Adrian; he’s trying.

  “You’re unforgettable. How’d you sleep?” He crosses over to me and kisses the back of my neck as I settle myself onto a stool.

  When breakfast is over, he asks the question I was hoping to somehow avoid. “What are your plans for today and tonight?”

  “Well, since Josh and Monica are away, I told them I’d hang out with Regan, a fiddle player for the house band, and watch some of the acts with him tonight.”

  One act. There’s only one act. In an uncharacteristic mark of betrayal, I feel heat spread through my cheeks and ears.

  Adrian takes our dishes to the sink. “Isn’t Cavanaugh playing tonight?”

  “Yeah. I told Josh and Bo it was fine because they were acting all weird about him still playing, but the crowd adores him. I said I’d be there, but I wouldn’t sing with him. Boundaries
.” I shrug and smile into my coffee mug.

  “Sing with him if you want.” Adrian shrugs back and loads the dishwasher.

  I’m instantly annoyed at his assumption that I said I wouldn’t sing because of him and not because of my own comfort level. His “permission” has me fuming.

  “I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t because of you; therefore, I don’t really need your permission to do it.” I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom to dress.

  “Ember,” Adrian calls after me down the hall.

  “Look, Adrian,” I say as he enters the bedroom, “this past week was really hard. I was as professional as I could be while working fifty feet from someone who broke my heart. He says we can be friends, but I don’t think he means it in the same way that I meant it when I agreed. I had an amazing time with you last night, and I don’t need you fucking it up by trying to dictate my actions.” I sit on the bed in a huff.

  “November, I didn’t mean that. I just meant do what you want. Don’t worry about me, him—or Monica, for that matter. Just do you, Blue.” He sits softly next to me.

  “Oh. Sorry.” The heat leaves my face.

  “Want me to come tonight?”

  Is he serious?

  “No. I just...I haven’t said anything to Monica about you, even though she suspects something’s going on anyway, and she’ll find out if we were there together. It’s just...I kind of like having you to myself right now. I need to not have people in my business for a while.” My ramble is honest, and Adrian’s eyes show me he appreciates it.

  “I get it. Here’s the deal, you come see me as many Fridays as you can on your way home from Concord until we’re comfortable with whatever’s going on here, and I’ll play by your rules.”

  Two men, two deals. God, if you exist, help me.

  “Deal.”

  “You want to seal that with a kiss?” Adrian lays me back on the satin comforter and pushes my legs open with his knee.

  “I want to seal that with a hell of a lot more than a kiss.” I grab his face as we explore the beginnings of...whatever this is.