Chapter 14
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.
“I know.” His voice was rough, strained. “I know.”
He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. The sensation shot straight through me, making me cry out. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before he sucked, hard enough to make me squirm beneath him.
My hands found their way to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. I needed to feel his skin against mine, needed to touch him the way he was touching me. But my fingers weren’t cooperating, trembling too much to work the damn buttons.
Adrian pulled back, a wicked smile on his lips. “Let me.”
He sat up, straddling my hips, and unbuttoned his shirt. Each button revealed more of his chest. I actually salivated as I got my first look at the smooth, tanned skin stretched over defined muscles. When he shrugged the shirt off and tossed it aside, I couldn’t help but stare.
The man was a work of art.
I reached up, running my hands over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle. He was warm, solid, real. My fingers traced lower, following the line of dark hair that disappeared into his pants.
“Elizabeth.” My name came out as a warning.
“What?” I looked up at him innocently, even as my fingers worked at his belt buckle.
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like fire.”
He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other went to my sweatpants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down along with my underwear in one smooth motion.
I was completely naked beneath him.
I should have felt vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful. The way Adrian was looking at me—like I was the most desirable thing he’d ever seen—made me feel like a queen.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured.
His fingers traced along my inner thigh, moving higher. I held my breath in anticipation. When he finally touched me where I needed him most, I moaned.
“So wet,” he murmured, circling my clit with his thumb while one finger slid inside me. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “God, yes.”
He added another finger, stretching me and sending sparks through me. I rocked against his hand. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in my lower belly. His thumb kept that maddening pressure on my clit while his fingers moved inside me, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and rough. “Let me feel it.”
As if my body had been waiting for permission, I shattered. The orgasm crashed over me in waves, making me cry out his name. My body convulsed around his fingers as pleasure rolled through me.
Before I could fully recover, Adrian released my wrists and stood, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes. When he pushed his pants and boxers down, I got my first glimpse of him fully naked.
Holy hell.
He was proportional to the rest of him, which meant he was big. Thick and hard and absolutely intimidating.
He must have seen something in my face because he paused. “We don’t have to—”
“Can’t a girl enjoy the view?” I asked, interrupting him. “Get back here.”
A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for his pants on the floor, pulling out his wallet and extracting a condom. I watched as he rolled it on, mesmerized by the sight.
Then he was back on the bed, settling between my thighs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. I tensed instinctively.
“Relax,” he murmured, kissing me softly. “I’ve got you.”
He pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but not quite. When he was fully seated inside me, we both groaned.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my neck. “You feel incredible.”
I groaned. “Move. Please move.”
He pulled out almost completely before sliding back in. It was too sensual. Too good. I was climbing toward another peak embarrassingly fast. His hips rolled with each thrust, hitting that perfect spot inside me that made my toes curl.
I clawed at his back, needing something to anchor me as pleasure built again. His pace increased, thrusts becoming harder, faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled my tiny apartment along with our ragged breathing.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
I slipped my hand between our bodies, finding my clit. The added stimulation was almost too much. Combined with the feeling of him moving inside me, it pushed me right to the edge.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Come for me again.”
My fingers circled faster, matching his rhythm. The pressure built and built until it exploded. My orgasm hit me even harder than the first, making my entire body shake. I cried out, vision going white as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
Adrian groaned, his rhythm faltering. The noises that came from his mouth sounded like a fierce animal.
He thrust deep one final time, his body going rigid as he came. I felt him pulse inside me, felt the tremors that ran through him.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat.
Finally, he lifted his head, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
And then he smiled.
Reality started creeping in around the edges of my post-orgasmic haze.
I just had sex with Adrian Blackwell.
My fake fiancé.
My future boss.
My brother’s best friend.
Oh God. What had I done?
Adrian must have sensed my sudden tension because his expression shifted. “Hey, don’t tighten up on me again.”
“Too late,” I said weakly. “I’m already overthinking it.”
He pulled out carefully, making me wince slightly, and disposed of the condom before lying back down beside me. The bed was barely big enough for two people, so we were pressed close together.
“Elizabeth, we’re both adults. This doesn’t have to complicate things.”
I stared up at the ceiling. “Sure.”
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turned my head to meet his eyes.
“This doesn’t change anything about our arrangement,” he said firmly. “Unless you want it to.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means this was great. Really great. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, we can pretend it never happened. Go back to being professional.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Or…”
“Or?”
“Or we can acknowledge that there’s chemistry between us and see where it goes. No pressure, no expectations. Just see what happens.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s see what happens.”
He grinned. “Okay.”
He pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest. I should have felt awkward. Instead, I felt comfortable. Safe. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had held me like this, but it felt damn good.
“Do you want me to go?”
I hesitated. “No.”
“Then I’m staying.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “If that’s okay.”
More than okay. It was perfect.
I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of being held. Tomorrow I could worry about what this meant.
I woke and immediately felt the unfamiliar weight of an arm draped across my waist. For a disoriented moment, I couldn’t remember why there was a man in my bed.
Then everything came rushing back.
Oh God.
Adrian.
I had slept with my fiancé.
I slowly turned my head, not wanting to wake him. He was still asleep, which meant I could stare at him for a few minutes. His dark hair was messed up and there was the faintest shadow of stubble along his jaw. His features were relaxed, like he was completely at peace.
He was too good looking to be simply called handsome. He was objectively, undeniably beautiful.
And he was in my bed.
I should be panicking. But I wasn’t. I felt calm.
That overwhelming, paralyzing nervousness that made me freeze up and forget how to function had vanished sometime between the first kiss and the third orgasm.
Nothing like three orgasms to break the ice, apparently.
Adrian stirred beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he made a low, sleepy sound. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on me, and for a second we just stared at each other.
“Hi,” I said softly.
“Hi.” His voice was rough with sleep. He looked at me, like he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. “Good?”
That one word was all that was needed. I knew what he was asking. I smiled. “Very good.”
He nodded. “Okay then, I have a very important question.”
“What?”
“Do you have coffee in this apartment? If not, does DoorDash deliver here?”
I laughed, climbing out of bed and not missing the way his eyes tracked my movements. “I have instant coffee and a microwave. Will that work for a billionaire?”
“Elizabeth, after last night, I’d drink gas station coffee if that’s what you had.”
I pulled on his shirt from last night and padded toward my tiny kitchen. Behind me, I heard him get up, heard the rustle of him finding his pants.
This should feel awkward, I thought. The morning after with my fake fiancé. But it didn’t. It felt right.
I was going to enjoy the best morning I had in years.