Chapter 3
AMELIA
U nlike Adam, I came to this date with zero expectations. After all, I didn’t really care what he looked like. All I knew was how fast I was falling for a man I hadn’t even met yet. I had his name, yes, but I didn’t actually do my research. I wanted to be surprised, and boy oh boy, was I ever.
If Adam had antlers, scales, or two heads, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d still do everything I promised, which was to tick off things on his list.
But then, I see him, and dear Lord, a warning would have been nice.
He could have told me he looked like Tom Hardy, if Tom Hardy were over six feet, had blue eyes, and long-ish black hair that kissed the tops of his ears.
He had no business knowing how to talk dirty and looking this good. I saw him, and my self-esteem plummeted to the ground.
Hot sparks shot through my body when he took my hand, and my core clenched when he started drawing on my palm.
It wasn’t fair!
But then, he tried to coax me out of my shell, where I wanted to stay forever if I could, and that did me in.
His face has darkened ever since I told him I wasn’t wearing anything. He was about to say something when the server came bringing trays of food.
Adam is everything I dreamed of and more.
We’re already enjoying our desserts—some fancy tiramisu I can finish in two bites—when I realize Adam has stopped eating and drinking and is just staring at me instead. And the way he stares? God, he might as well peel off my clothes one layer at a time … preferably using his teeth.
Oh, wait.
There are no layers. I have a dress on and nothing else.
I mean, what can I say? A woman has to come prepared after all that tension in our emails.
I knew I was going to get laid tonight even before I went to the shower, which was why I took my time lathering on body washes, body butter, and spritzes of my favorite perfume.
Yes, I even sprayed some on my inner thighs. You know, just in case.
Adam’s attention is pure heat, and the little touches are driving me insane, stroking a sensitive nerve somewhere deep inside me.
I clear my throat, trying to ground myself. I was so flirty in our emails, but I can’t seem to find that version of me right now. I’m too nervous and turned on. “You don’t like tiramisu?”
It’s such a stupid question, and we both know it.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I’m waiting for you to feed me.”
I raise a brow and lift the fork to my lips. “I am so not feeding you on the first date. You have to earn it.”
He watches me put the bite in my mouth, and I decide to push him a bit, sweeping my tongue along the fork and moaning. “Well, I do have another dessert in mind, but it’s not on the menu.”
Oh, shit. My thighs automatically cinch together, and I’m so close to rubbing them together. “Too bad, I’m full.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Depends if it’s actually good.”
Adam smiles, and my God, I have no defense against the million-watt charm behind it. “You know, my new coffee machine was delivered last week, and I’ve been reading about pulling shots and taking barista courses on YouTube.”
I realize immediately what he’s getting at, and tingles go through my body, my stomach flipping at the thought of being alone with him. “Oh, yeah? Will it be any good?”
Adam drops his smile and leans forward. “Come home with me and find out.”
Just like that. My self-preservation goes up in flames. Yes, I am definitely getting laid tonight.
I didn’t really believe him when he said he had a new coffee machine. I thought it was just a polite way of asking me to go to his home.
So imagine my surprise when I step inside his apartment.
“You weren’t joking,” I say, chuckling and pointing at the sleek, still-half-wrapped espresso machine sitting on his pristine kitchen counter. “Did you buy that just to impress me?”
He shuts the door behind us, then shrugs. “Obviously.”
“It still has the stickers on it.” I circle it, running a finger along its cool, smooth exterior. “I feel like this machine has never known the sinful touch of an espresso pod.”
“Ma’am, I learned from the experts that ‘actually good coffee’ doesn’t come from pods. We have to use freshly ground beans.” Adam leans against the counter beside me, arms crossed. “Besides, I was saving its first time for someone special.”
“Are we still talking about coffee, or…?”
“Depends. Are you still talking about coffee?”
The air thickens, warm and buzzing, but somehow easy too, because instead of retreating, I grin and reach for the instruction manual. “Okay, then. Let’s see if we can make this virgin machine scream.”
He chokes on his own laugh. “Jesus, Amelia.”
“What? I like my coffee loud, and just a little bit extra … without compromising the taste, obviously.”
“You mean like you?”
I fake offense, hand to heart. “Excuse you, I am the perfect amount of extra.”
Over the next hour, we try every button, every nozzle, every cup size the coffee gods allow. I burn my tongue on the first espresso shot and burn the beans on the second. The third tastes watery as hell, and the fourth is way too bitter for me.
“Say ‘ah’.” Adam holds the tiny cup to my lips, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Do not make me spit this all over your expensive floor.”
He chuckles. “I dare you.”
God, the way he’s looking at me should be illegal. My thighs press together instinctively, and I grab a spoon just to have something to do with my hands. Otherwise, I’d have them all over him, exploring that deliciously muscled body.
“You know,” I say, stirring foam that doesn’t need stirring, “I’m starting to think you didn’t buy this machine for coffee at all.”
He rests a palm on the counter and moves close enough that my elbow touches his abs. Abs! I can feel the six-pack even through our clothing. “What did I buy it for, then?”
“For seduction,” I say primly. “Obviously.”
Adam smiles and lifts both palms in the air. “Busted. Well, since you got me, you should check out my new mirrors too.”
My mouth goes dry. Adam really is going through my ‘deepest, darkest desires’ list like a man on a mission. Maybe the bar is in hell, but no one has ever paid this much attention to me before, to what I want, and it’s doing so many things to me.
And I’ve done nothing but work these past three years, trying to get my events organizing business off the ground, that I haven’t had much time for myself.
Hence, my best friend’s dare. She said if I wasn’t going to meet men at random places because of my busy schedule, I might as well try dating platforms online.
I didn’t like those apps, though, because it just felt like everyone was portraying someone they actually weren’t.
And that’s when I stumbled upon the online pen pal program.
The idea appealed to me. Sending emails telling a virtual stranger about your desires? Well, sign me up.
Only … I had no idea it would lead to this. I never planned on meeting him, but after feeling that connection, I said yes. And I wasn’t wrong. There is a connection. It sizzles in the air, thickening the space between us.
I cross my arms over my chest, hoping he doesn’t hear the way my heart thuds. “Mirrors? As in plural?”
He doesn’t even try to play dumb and just casually sips his coffee, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. The intensity of his stare is enough to make my breath catch in my throat. If I were wearing underwear, it would have been damp … no, soaked.
He looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world, and I love it. God, I love the attention so much.
I groan dramatically because he’s not making it easy for me. “You don’t even try to be subtle, huh?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “You put it on the list.”
“You remembered everything.”
He sets the cup down and walks toward me, with an almost predatory glaze in his eyes. “Of course I remembered. You think I was going to read that filthy little email and just forget number four?”
“I thought this was a date, not ticking things off my list.”
“It was a date, but then I thought, why stop at dinner? I’m nothing if not a people pleaser.”
Butterflies flutter in my belly, so hard and fast, I think I’m about to fly. “And number five?”
His eyes darken as he leans in, his hands bracing the marble on either side of me. “Depends on whether you think I’m a serial killer.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “No, I don’t think so. Then again, I’m too deep to care even if you are.”
“You didn’t Google me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “I figure if you want me to know something, you will.”
“God, you’re not making it easy on me.” His voice has turned husky, and I almost moan at the sound.
“Why?”
“You’ve driven me crazy these past few weeks.”
I suck in a breath. “You did the same to me.”
Our faces are so close now I can feel his breath against my mouth. I could close the distance. I want to close the distance. Subtlety has never been my style, so I trace the seam of his lips with my eyes, and just as expected, he notices.
A muscle ticks in his jaw as he grits his teeth. “Do you just want to look at the mirrors? Or do you want to see what I do to you? Every kiss. Every touch. Every thrust. You writhing, moaning, watching yourself come completely undone while I ruin you from behind or in front. Your choice.”
My knees wobble. My soul leaves my body. I let out a laugh that’s way too breathless to be casual. “Jesus, Adam.”
“Too much?”
“Nope. Not even close.”
Adam must see the shift in my eyes because his voice is a low rumble in my ear. “Say the word, and I’ll have you naked in front of it in under a minute.”
Well, shit. This is what I really came here for, isn’t it? Why am I just keeping my hands on my sides when I can have them all over this gorgeous specimen of a man?
I press my palms to his chest and trail them down, slow and curious, until I reach the hem of his shirt.
I tug just enough to expose skin. “And what if I want it slow, Adam? What if I want to sit on that couch with you behind me, feel you kiss my neck while we both watch your hands sliding over my body?”
He swallows hard, and I swear he’s gripping the counter for dear life.
“Then we’ll do it slow,” he says, voice tight. “I’ll give you so slow, sweetheart. We’ll build that tension until you’re begging me to move. And you won’t be able to look away from what I do to you.”
I tilt my head up and whisper, “You’d better be careful. I bite when I’m turned on.”
He smirks. “Good. I told you I like marks.”
I step away, fingers dancing across his waistband as I pass. “Well,” I say over my shoulder, tossing him a wicked grin, “I guess we should go admire your decorating choices up close.”
Heat flickers behind his eyes. “Amelia.”
“Hmm?”
“Be ready.”
“Oh, Adam. I came ready.”