Melanie stomped through the basement, her heart beating hard at the thought of what she had blurted! She could have cursed herself! Adam was no fool. He would have understood by now that she was acting jealous! Dam* it! Hadn’t she learnt enough from her experience with Spencer? Why was she being a fool when it came to Adam. How could she have let herself become close to him... in that sense? This was supposed to be physical only! Just some fun with someone you might like! What did her stupi* heart have to be involved?
She was furious—at Adam, at herself, at Saira—but mostly, at the vulnerability she had just let peek through.
She spotted her car and was digging into her bag for the keys when, without warning, arms wrapped tightly around her waist from behind and lifted her clean off the ground.
"What the—Adam!" she shouted, wriggling in alarm. "Put me down!" She was about to scream some abuse at him when she twisted to look over her shoulder and saw him. He was breathing hard, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle in it ticked. His usually warm eyes were dark, stormy, and unreadable now.
"Adam," she said his name again, softer this time. "Let me go."
"No." He said in a low voice and even she could feel the anger in his voice as he adjusted against him so her back was fully pressed to his chest and she was caged between him and the car. She could feel every line of muscle, every breath, the warmth of him seeping into her skin.
"You don’t get to do that," he said against her ear, his breath warm and maddening. "Say something like that... then run away like it doesn’t matter."
"I didn’t run away—" She did run away but there was no way she was going to accept that and as she would have denied hotly, his mouth brushed her temple, and the rest of her sentence melted away.
"You don’t have to say it, Melanie," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "If you want to not say it, don’t say it. But do not run away. I won’t let you run away, ever. Get that?"
His hand slid around her jaw, not rough, but firm—commanding—guiding her head back so she was forced to meet his eyes.
Then he kissed her.
Hard.
Not gentle. Not questioning. His mouth crashed against hers with the kind of fury that spoke of everything he wasn’t saying. It was possession. A warning. A promise.
She tried to turn her head, to push him away, but he didn’t let her. His hand stayed locked at her jaw, tilting her just the way he wanted as his mouth devoured hers, almost punishing her for trying to run away from him.
Her keys dropped from her hand and clattered to the concrete.
He used that second of distraction to turn her around and press her deeper into the car. One of his thighs slid between hers, locking her in place, forcing her hips to arch into him. The contact pulled a gasp from her throat, and he swallowed it like it was oxygen.
He broke the kiss for a moment and yet, continued to hold her in place, as he growled his warning again, "I don’t want you running away," against her ear, his lips grazing her skin. "You don’t get to do that."
His hand slid down her waist, fingers tightening around her, pulling her even closer. She could feel the heat of his body radiating through the fabric of her clothes. He wasn’t letting her go.
She shivered against him, the combination of his grip and his words driving something deeper inside her as the words stirred up all these things she didn’t want to face.
He lifted his head, just enough to look her in the eyes, and the anger in his gaze melted into something more dangerous. A promise. A warning.
"If you try to run, I’ll make sure you don’t forget this. Ever."
Before she could respond, his lips crashed down onto hers again—forceful, raw, not giving her time to react. Her breath was stolen, her body caught in the frenzy of it.
His other hand slid up her back, pressing her body further into his.
He pulled back just enough to look at her again, and this time, she saw it—raw desire, the force of it palpable in the space between them.
His hand fumbled for the handle behind her, and with a sharp tug, the passenger door swung open. Before she could so much as blink, he bent slightly, hooked an arm under her thighs, and swept her clean off the ground again.
"Adam—!"
But he didn’t wait. He shoved her into the back seat, and quickly followed inside banging the door shut.
She barely had time to exhale before he was over her—pressing into her, his body covering hers in the cramped back seat. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt, just enough to grip her bare waist, his thumb pressing into the flesh at her sides as she moaned.
It seemed to turn him almost feral. He broke the kiss once again and asked softly,"Do you still want to run?"
She tried to glare. He didn’t let her. He kissed her again—slower this time, deeper, the kind of kiss that made her body betray her all over again. She hated how much she melted into him, how easy it was to let go when he held her like this, even if it was almost forcefully.
His grip on her loosened for a second, but only so he could shift her. His hands found her hips, gripped hard, guiding her rhythm with his as he ground into her, making her whimper in ache. When did her legs fall open? She had no idea.
But as she responded to his touch, and the way he reacted to her walking away, she knew she was already in too deep in this... whatever this was.