At Any Price

Breathing was difficult, too. “I’m quite aware of it.”

He watched me, eyes boring into mine. “But do you understand it?”

“I’m quite capable of understanding sexual attraction, Mr. Drake.”

“Adam,” he said quietly, his eyes lowering to focus on my mouth. My heart skipped a beat in its frenetic pace.

“Adam.”

“Why does it make you uncomfortable to call me by my first name?”

I locked gazes with him, suddenly intensely aware of how close we were standing. I could smell him—a subtle scent, masculine, clean, like the ocean and the hint of peppermint candy on his breath. I could almost feel the heat and power oozing off of him in waves. I swallowed in a suddenly dry throat.

“I don’t know.”

“I want to give you one more thing to think about.”

“And what is that?”

He leaned closer, his head approaching mine. I didn’t have the time to step back nor, I think, the willpower to do it even if it had occurred to me. His mouth met mine in a firm, sure kiss.

It wasn’t overpowering. That was the first thing that surprised me. It was a subtle give and take—gentle, at first, a warm pressure of his lips on mine. Then he took a step closer and slid a hand around my waist, the other going to my back.

He retreated, just slightly, just enough to allow me to pursue him. His mouth moved against mine, teasing, pressing it open. Now his body pressed against mine, his head angled down to reach me, for I was at least five inches shorter than him.

I opened my mouth to him then and his tongue slid in easily. Nothing tentative in this kiss. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was telling me I had the control, declaring the decision mine and then swooping in and taking no prisoners.

His hands stayed put. I was glad of that though I wanted his touch everywhere—my aching breasts, the throbbing between my legs. Goose bumps prickled up and down my arms. His tongue explored my mouth with surety, easy possession. And—to my utter humiliation—I let loose a small whimper at the back of my throat.

The arm around my waist tightened when he heard it, responding immediately, almost instinctively. He pulled his tongue back, as if inviting me to follow him with my tongue. And tentatively, I did.

I’d been kissed before—back in high school when I was normal and I actually dated. But it had been years, now, and I’d never, ever been kissed like this. My tongue entered his mouth and he made a noise at the back of his throat, not quite a growl, kind of more like a huff. It emboldened me. Empowered me. I thrust my tongue, lacing my hands around the back of his neck. Our heads moved together for long minutes and I felt like I hadn’t breathed in a lifetime.

Everything was spinning around me and I—I was spinning too, delirious with want. Like a woman drowning in the middle of stormy sea, in desperate need of a life raft. That sea was Adam Drake and he was pulling me adrift, stranding me in some strange and forgotten land.

When finally he ended it, he pulled away so slowly that I could hardly tell our lips had parted until cool air passed between us. It was then that I saw that he was as affected as I was—flushed cheeks, his breath coming fast, his eyes dark and drunk with desire.

I licked my lips and took a step back, but I didn’t remove my gaze from his. He stared at me for a long moment and then fished his sunglasses out of his pocket.

Before speaking, he coughed into a fist, as if consciously trying to affect that previous cool demeanor and knowing he was failing. “It was…That was just something else to consider. I hope you make the right decision.”

And with that, without even waiting for me to say good-bye or reply in any way, he was gone.

I fell back against the wall, aware of my aching, awakened senses. Every time I thought about his smell or the feel of his mouth on mine, a new shard of arousal cut me to the bone.

Thank goodness I was already decked out to run. I had planned on 5k but I ended up running twice that before I could even begin to feel the sexual energy burn off. This man had fired me up, intoxicated me. And why? Because of his gorgeous face? His solid, masculine body?

Because of his confident manner? He possessed maturity beyond his years. He seemed much more experienced than other twenty-something men I knew in college. Could life have changed him so much since his college days or had he always been that way?

I found questions like this sliding through my mind constantly for the rest of that day—all through the night as I worked. They harangued me on my day off, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wanted to call and ask him to come over and give me a good night kiss like the one he’d given me the day before.