Chapter Eight
Breaking Point
Lenor
I slam my front door shut so hard the glass rattles.
My heart hasn’t slowed since I stormed out of Blake’s. My hands are still shaking. My skin still burns where Adam touched me, where his thumb brushed my cheek like I was something precious instead of a game he decided to win.
I pace the length of my living room, fury and heat battling inside me. I should be angry. I am angry. At him, at myself, at the way one look from Adam Blake makes my body betray every wall I’ve built.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
The words echo through me, low and rough, impossible to silence. Because I couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because dinner with Mason felt like settling, and kissing Adam felt like flying.
And that terrifies me more than anything. I can’t open myself up again, not to someone who could destroy me without a single thought. I don’t think Adam would actually hurt me on purpose, but I can’t take the chance. I won’t survive it again.
I grab one of the little blue pillows off the couch and hurl it at the wall. It bounces harmlessly to the floor. My throat tightens, my chest aching.
“Goddamn you, Adam,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
A knock sounds on my door. Sharp and demanding.
I freeze, my breath caught in my lungs as I stare at the door. I don’t have to look. I know it’s him.
“Lenor.” His voice cuts through the wood, deep and steady. “Open the damn door.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll stand out here all night.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Of course he will. Adam Blake doesn’t bluff.
My hand trembles as I unlock the door and yank it open, ready to tear into him.
But the sight of him steals every word from my mouth.
He’s leaning against the frame, dark eyes locked on me, jaw tight, chest heaving like he ran here.
And there’s no cocky grin this time. No smirk. Just raw, unguarded determination.
“We’re not done, Lennie,” he says.
I cross my arms, trying to hold myself together. “You need to leave.”
“I can’t.” He steps inside before I can stop him, shutting the door behind him. The room shrinks instantly, his presence filling it, filling me. “Not when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” My voice is sharp, shaky.
“Like you want me as much as I want you.” His words are soft but full of determination.
My breath catches. “You’re imagining things,” I lie.
“No.” His hand cups the back of my neck, gentle but firm, tilting my face up. “I’ve had a lot of women, Lenor. A lot. But none of them ever looked at me the way you do.”
My pulse hammers. My walls quake. And I hate him for knowing me this well.
“Do you really think telling me about your never-ending list of conquests is going to make me give in?” Anger and irrational jealousy flow through me.
“You’re missing the point,” he says, our gazes locked. “You’re the one woman I see. The only woman I want. The only woman I am willing to change for.”
“You’ll ruin me,” I whisper.
“Maybe,” he admits, his forehead pressing to mine. “But I’ll ruin myself first.”
And then his mouth is on mine. And the kiss is fire, just like it always is.
Wild, consuming, and desperate. I shove at his chest once, weakly, but then I’m clutching his shirt, dragging him closer, drowning in him.
His hands grip my waist, my back, my hair, like he can’t decide which part of me he needs most.
We stumble backward, bumping into the couch, collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs. His weight presses me down, solid and hot, and every inch of me screams yes.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasps against my lips.
I can’t. God help me, I can’t. Instead, I whisper, “Don’t stop.”
We undress without thought, our clothes falling everywhere. His shirt, my dress, a trail of fabric leading to inevitability. His hands skim every inch of skin as he bares me, his lips following the same path. His touch is electric, setting my skin on fire.
“This isn’t just a one-time thing, Lennie,” Adam says, his arms keeping him braced above me.
Fear spreads through me but I fight and tamp it down. I need to take a chance or I will always wonder what could have been if I didn’t let my fear rule me.
“Just don’t hurt me.” My words are soft and cautious.
“Never.”
His lips cover mine once more, pouring all his passion into a single action.
His left hand cups my breast, his thumb swiping over my distended nipple.
A small sound of pleasure bubbles up inside me and I feel his smile against my lips before he breaks the kiss.
His lips trail down my neck until he reaches the same nipple he just teased, sucking on it lightly.
Every movement, kiss, lick, and nip only heightens my arousal. Adam slips his fingers between my thighs and through the wetness gathered there.
“Fuck, Lennie,” he mumbles against my skin. “Just as perfect as I remember.”
“Please, Adam.”
“I love when you say my name.”
He works his way lower down my body until his mouth reaches my apex. I push against his shoulder to stop him and he glances up my body.
“You don’t have to—”
“Fuck, yes, I do!” he cuts me off. “I’ve been dreaming of tasting you.”
And then his mouth is on me. His tongue spears into me before it moves to my clit, swirling around the distended nub and pushing my arousal ever higher.
“Adam!” I cry out as my orgasm slams into me.
He makes a sound of satisfaction as he laps at my spasming pussy, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from my body.
I’m still coming down from the last orgasm when I feel him slide into me.
His movements are slow, torturous, and perfect.
When I open my eyes, he is staring down at me with a softness I have never seen from Adam Blake before I know, without a doubt, that I am completely and utterly fucked.
Adam Blake is the only man that will ever make me feel like this.
This time we don’t fuck. No, Adam Blake is making love to me and my emotions are strangling me.
This isn’t frantic, not like that first night.
This time it’s slower, deeper, every thrust deliberate, every kiss a promise.
His hand laces with mine, his forehead resting against mine, his voice ragged as he whispers my name.
I break apart beneath him, not just my body but my heart, splintering under the weight of what I feel. And when he follows, shuddering, his mouth pressed to my shoulder, I know I’m lost.
We lie there in the aftermath, tangled, sweaty, and breathing hard. His arm stays around me, holding me close, like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he lets go. And for one perfect, dangerous moment, I let myself believe. That maybe I could be his. That maybe chaos could be worth the risk.
But then reality crashes back in. Jacob’s betrayal. Karmen’s kiss. The whispers. The pity. The fear that I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough for anyone.
I shove at his chest, slipping out from under him. My voice shakes. “This was a mistake.”
His head jerks up, disbelief flashing across his face. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”
I yank my dress back on, refusing to meet his eyes. “It can’t mean anything.”
“The hell it can’t!” He grabs my wrist, pulling me back, his voice rough with desperation. “You think I don’t know the risk? You think I don’t see the way you fight me? I don’t care, Lennie. I want you anyway.”
Tears sting my eyes. I wrench free, backing away, clutching myself like I can hold in the pieces of my heart. “Wanting isn’t enough.”
His chest heaves. His eyes burn with something I can’t name. “It’s a start.”
I can’t do this. I can’t survive him. So I do the only thing I can. I open the door, my voice breaking. “Go, Adam.”
For a long, agonizing moment, he just stares at me. Then, slowly, he gets dressed and walks past me before he steps out. But before he leaves, he leans in close, his voice a vow that shivers down my spine. “I’m not giving up on you.”
The door clicks shut as he stands on the porch step staring at me. I collapse against it, sobbing silently, because part of me doesn’t want him to.