28. Adrian
Nevaeh’s soft body is pressed against mine, her heated skin all over me in that dress that almost brought me to my fucking knees earlier.
Never in my entire life has a woman in a dress made me want to rip all my barriers down. Until Nevaeh stepped into this club in that orange dress, her curves getting hugged by the fabric in ways that made me jealous of the piece of clothing for getting to touch her like that.
Jealous of a piece of fucking clothing.
First of all, I don’t get jealous. Ever.
Second of all, how do you even get jealous of clothing?
I’m being ridiculous. Nevaeh is just a woman, and no matter how much I like dropping to my knees for them and making them scream my name in pleasure, she’s just a woman. I will get over this fascination.
You all agree with me on this, right?
“You know, when a woman is showing off her best moves to impress you, it’s impolite to let your mind drift somewhere else,” she says with a little laugh, and I bring my gaze down to hers.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when I spot the smirk on her face.
“Trust me, my thoughts may have drifted, mon ange, but you were still the center of my attention,” I admit, spinning her around once before bringing her back to my chest.
She grinds against me without hesitation, following the rhythm of the music with grace. Her arms fly backward so her fingers can run through my curls. My hands slip over her stomach and down her thick thighs, making her quiver in my arms.
My cock hardens in an instant.
And the beautiful tease in my hands doesn’t seem to have a clue what she’s doing to me.
A small voice in the back of my mind reminds me we shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be touching so openly, but all of the fucks I could have given were ground to dust when she started grinding her ass against my cock.
“Careful, Nevaeh, my self-control is slipping away,” I mumble into her ear. Her upper body starts shaking with a laugh, and she steps away from me before I have a chance to truly enjoy it.
She spins around and takes one more step away.
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she replies with a smile before moving toward Scarlette and Valentina and leaving me to subtly readjust myself.
“Tripping all over yourself already?” my best friend asks as he approaches me, a beer in his hand.
We move to the side of the dance floor and out of the way.
“I’m not tripping all over myself.” James’ eyes drop to my crotch before he lifts them again to smile at me. “I’m horny. There’s a difference,” I say, realizing with horror that it’s been almost five months since I fucked anyone.
Five.
Fucking.
Months.
I raise my palm to my forehead to check if I have a fever because the only reason it would be this long since I’ve had sex is if I’m sick with the longest flu in the history of mankind.
“How long has it been? A few hours?” James teases, and I let out a small laugh that soon turns into a humorless sound while I question my entire fucking existence.
“Yeah, a few hours.” It’s a bold lie, one he sees through as he steps in front of me to scan my face.
“Oh my God, how long has it really been?” he asks, sipping his beer as he waits for my answer.
I pull my lips into a thin line, avoiding his inquiring gaze until he slaps my chest.
“Tell me,” he insists. I shake my head.
“A week.”
“Liar. There’s genuine panic in your eyes. It’s been longer.” I hate that smug look on his face.
“Fine, it’s been two weeks. Now, can you leave me alone?” James places his bottle on the table beside us, laughing.
“Just tell me the truth. You’re a horrible liar.”
“No.” I grind my teeth.
“Just say it,” he says and laughs again.
“No.”
“I’m just going to keep asking. Might as well—” I cut him off.
“Five months!” His jaw drops dramatically at my admission.
“You haven’t fucked anyone in five months?” he asks like we weren’t just talking about it. I give him a strained nod. “Shit, are you feeling alright?” James says next, raising the back of his hand to my forehead.
I smack it away before he can touch me.
“I’m fine, just off my game apparently,” I reply, my eyes drifting to where mon ange is dancing with my sister.
“Something happened five months ago… remind me again what it was. That event that had you talking about a very specific woman and wanting to see her again,” he says with a smug smirk, tapping his chin like he’s thinking really hard about it.
Jerk.
“I met Nevaeh. Okay?” I say, taking a step toward him. I’m only slightly taller than him, but he’s wider than me, which is irritating when I’m trying to look intimidating. “I met Nevaeh, laid my eyes on her one fucking time, and now the only woman I want to touch is her. I don’t want to look at other women, and I sure as fuck don’t want them to touch me, not when my skin only buzzes from excitement from Nevaeh’s touch. There. Are you happy now?” I ask, breathing heavily after my rant.
I feel like sitting down. This admission doesn’t just catch my best friend off-guard. It has more panic washing through me.
I don’t want other women to touch me.
I don’t want to touch other women.
I haven’t had sex with anyone since I met Nevaeh.
I’m definitely going to be sick.
My head is spinning, trying to process all of this information even though it goes against my nature. I don’t get into relationships. I don’t date. I especially don’t pursue women who are off-limits because it’s way too complicated.
Why the hell does none of this apply to Nevaeh?
James pokes me in the forehead, forcing me back into the moment.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask, rubbing the sore spot.
“Just making sure you’re real,” he replies and picks up his beer again, taking a sip before he stares down at his phone. A picture of his son and him lights up the screen, and I watch his eyes soften.
“Adrian Romana?” Oh no.
“Melanie Whitehall,” I reply, forcing a smile. The short woman with black hair and clear blue eyes steps in front of me,
“How are you?” she asks, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. I meet her halfway, hating the fact that my body fights me even more than it usually does.
Melanie is a very nice woman. Smart as hell, too. The problem is, we slept together two years ago, and then her father decided to invest in my team. This means, as much as I would like to avoid her to prevent complications, I see her a lot during race weekends. And I don’t think she’s entirely over me yet.
And no, I know what you’re thinking.This isn’t me being my typical ‘everyone wants me’ version. This is just because she keeps making advances.
“I’m good. How are you?” I say, my eyes drifting to where Nevaeh, Val, and Scarlette have moved to, off the dance floor and closer to where I’m standing. Gabriel is with them, and Leonard and Chiara have rejoined them as well. I want to be over there. I want to drape an arm around Nevaeh and hug her against my side so she can wrap her arms around me. I don’t want to talk to Melanie.
“I’ve missed you, handsome. Any chance you’ll let me buy you a drink?” she asks, running a hand down my chest.
Alarm bells go off in my head. A humorless laugh escapes me because I’ve never not enjoyed flirting with a woman I am or was attracted to.
This is new territory.
“No, but thank you for offering,” I reply. I reach for her wrist to gently remove her hand at the same moment someone clears their throat from behind Melanie.
My eyes drift to Nevaeh’s forced smile, sending more panic through me.
Fuck, shit!
“Nevaeh—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I’m going to head back to my hotel. Congratulations again on the win,” she says. I step around Melanie to get to the woman I want to be around as much as I can.
My hands reach for her, but she makes her way to the exit before I have a chance to tell her that I really didn’t want Melanie to touch me. That I only want her. There is no way she heard how I turned down Melanie’s offer. It’s too loud in here, so all she saw was another woman touching me and me smiling politely. Goddammit. I have to tell her she’s the only person allowed to put her hands on me. Something I can’t fucking do because it’s not fair of me to tell her all of these things when we can’t be together. In any capacity. Because of her job and my lack of faith in relationships.
“Nevaeh, please,” I beg as I chase after her. I sprint in front of her, almost making her run into me.
“Thank you for this weekend and for tonight. I’m happy for you. You drove amazing, and I can’t wait to write this article. I’ll send it to you once I’m finished so you can approve it,” she adds, so I raise an eyebrow in response.
“Don’t be nice to me, not when you want to kick me.” My words bring a real smile to her face.
“I don’t want to kick you, Adrian. You deserve to celebrate, so go, celebrate with her. It looks like she desperately wants you to,” she says.
I take a step toward her, making her pull her lips into a thin line.
“Better not make her wait,” Nevaeh adds and steps around me, leaving me to sputter nonsense after her, all of my reasons for why I’m not going to go celebrate with Melanie, but she saw what she wanted to see, and I don’t think there’s a way to convince her to stay without saying all of the things I’m not supposed to.
Kiss me.
Celebrate with me.
Stay with me.
Let’s fuck away all of our frustration.
So, instead, I lean down to press the swiftest kiss on her cheek.
“Call me.”
I stare after her as she leaves without making any promises of calling me. My eyes drift back to Melanie, and I hate that I resent her a little for making Nevaeh think something that isn’t true.
All I can hope is that Nevaeh doesn’t care who I do or do not sleep with, but I have a feeling she does, and that I just really fucked things up by saying nothing.