“Why do you always do that?” she asks.
“Do what?”
“Pull away from me.”
“I’m not pulling away from you.”
“Yes, you are.”
Finding a pair of sweats on the floor, I slip them on, forgoing my underwear, and turn back toward Adley. She looks like an angel in my bed, and I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. Whatever this is between us, it’s coming to a head. I can feel it.
And she’s right—I pull away all the time. I like to tell myself it’s to protect Adley, but that would be a lie. I do it to protect myself.
I walk back to the bed and lean down, pressing my hands to the mattress. “I never should’ve offered you a ride home that night.”
“I hate that you feel that way. Maybe that day was the start of something wonderful.” She brushes her fingers across my cheek. The frazzled mess inside my head calms at the touch of her hand.
So, yeah, this is where that special place in hell part comes in, because I will never be her something wonderful. My parents made sure of that. But that doesn’t stop me from wrapping my fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand to my mouth, and giving her false hope.
“I said I shouldn’t have asked, not that I regret asking.” I kiss each of her knuckles.
I can’t bring myself to regre
t a damn thing that happens between me and Adley, no matter how bad I want to.
Releasing her hand, I trail my finger from the base of her neck, down her chest, over her collarbone, and along a pink nipple. Adley arches off the bed when I flick the tight bud, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I see the same yearning I feel reflected back at me.
But that can’t be, because men like me don’t get women like her. At least not to keep. I was the kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks with shit parents and clothes that had been handed down one too many times. I stole to feed my sister, fought to protect her, and I will always be the guy your parents don’t want you to bring home.
I’m Adley’s walk on the wild side. Her dirty little secret. And I’m okay with that.
Ninety-nine percent of the time.
Today is just that one percent when it doesn’t sit well with me. For some strange reason, I want to be here to celebrate all of Adley’s victories, not just this one. I want to be here when she gets her first job and take her out to dinner after her first shift. I want to be the person she calls when she has a bad day or saves someone’s life.
Shit. I need to get a handle on these damn feelings.
I pull my hand away, stand up, and reach for my shirt. “You should get going. You have lots of things to do, right?”
With a loud grown, she flings her legs over the side of the bed, the sheet pooling around her waist, and my eyes drop to her chest. Her nipples tighten under my gaze, and I grin.
“Stop doing that,” she says.
I move my eyes back to hers. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that. It’s like I have no control over my body when you’re around.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
Her lips part and then snap shut, and she looks down at her hands. “No, it’s not a bad thing.” Head tilted to the side, she glances up at me through thick, dark lashes. “And for the record, I’m glad you offered me a ride home that night. I just wish it hadn’t taken you five years to notice me.”
Is she crazy? “You think I didn’t notice you?” I admonish.
She shrugs, but that’s not good enough. I’m in knots over her, have been for months—years if I’m being honest. “Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed.”
“Oh yeah?” She arches an eyebrow and pushes up from the bed. With her eyes locked on mine, Adley bends over, scoops her shorts off the floor, and steps into them. Her silky underwear ride up her ass, leaving very little to the imagination. Slowly she stands, dragging her shorts up as she does, and the conversation fades into something I’m much more comfortable with.
This I can handle.