Page 137 of Intent to Kill
“You could’ve taken me with you,” she whispered again. Taking a step back as well she wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve.
Was that an option? To take her with him? Why in five long, lonely years did he never think of that?
He ran his hand down his face before moving over to place his hands on her waist. “Mercedes, I–”
“No!” she pulled away from him again. “You lost the privilege to touch me a long time ago.” She stomped out of the hotel, slamming the door so violently that the windows rattled.
Adam snatched a beer bottle from the countertop and threw it viciously at the wall, grunting as he put all the might of his muscled bicep behind it. Shards of broken glass smashed as beer dripped down the wall, akin to the broken pieces of his heart leaking out.
He dropped into the armchair, cradling his head in his hands and shaking. There was a tightness in his throat that gripped harder with every tear he pushed away, with every wave of emotion that he chose to suppress.
He wasn’t sure how he had managed to screw things up so badly. He had caused so much hurt, so much pain. People had died in the name of what he was trying to create, but still he had destroyed the one thing that mattered most to him. It wasn’t taking down Dorian Blake. It wasn’t the thrill of the fight. It was Dan, Carlos, Paul.
It washer.
They were all that mattered. And he knew it. He finally understood.
After being lost in his regrets for what seemed like a millennium, there was a knock on the door.
He lifted his eyes hopefully, his hands still shaking from where he’d cradled his head. He darted upright, straightened his shirt, pushed his hair back into place, and wiped at his eyes.
Then he was at the door. His heart beating so hard, he swore it’d fractured a rib. He gulped and took a deep breath, his outstretched hand inching closer to the doorknob.
He turned it slowly, cautiously pulling open the door as he moved back.
Mercedes stepped into the room, her eyes to the floor.
Without looking up, she shut the door gently and braced against it. As if she might fall down with weak knees if she dared loosen her grip.
Adam took deep breaths as he watched her. Waiting for her to look up. Waiting for her to make a move. Waiting for her to do something. Anything. Because she was still here. Still being braver with her heart than he’d ever been with his.
She inched closer. Her face twisted, and still without looking up, she placed two palms on his chest.
With that touch, he closed his eyes and let loose the last of the tears he’d been holding back. Following the gentleness of her fingers, he hesitantly placed his hands on her arms, giving them a soothing stroke before moving them to her shoulders.
Then up to her neck. Then her face. Until he finally braced on either side of her jaw, stroking the space just in front of her ear.
Slowly, he pulled her closer. Slowly, until she was pressed against his chest.
Then her eyes flicked to his. And in them he saw the answer to every question he could ever dare to ask.
He closed his eyes as he kissed her. Finally.
It started tender, their lips barely even brushing, before he hesitantly pressed his tongue inside and she opened for him. With his hands at the back of her neck he drew her forward and deepened the kiss, holding her like the fate of the world rested on it. His world did, that much he knew.
Her hands made their way around his neck, pressing fully into his front as they reconnected at last. Her lips were soft and sweet, but her tongue was rough as it met his stroke for stroke. It was both familiar and utterly surprising at the same time.
She slid her hands from his neck to the top of his shirt, unbuttoning each button with painful slowness. Slow, but intense. Slow, but hard. Once she had it fully unbuttoned, she pushed the shirt down his shoulders, running her hands over his arms as she did and making him groan in approval.
Now breaking his hands from her jaw, he grabbed the last part of his shirt that remained clinging to him and dropped it onto the floor. In the next movement, he had his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her up into his arms as her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms returned to his neck.
He kissed her again, cradling her while he carried her across the room, only breaking once for her to rip her sweater off and discard it before arching into him again.
With her still in his arms, he crawled onto the bed knees first, bracing one hand on the bed while he laid her flat beneath him.
He was absolutely lost in the moment. Nothing outside this room existed. Only her. Always only her.
He braced his hands on either side of her head and pressed kisses down her neck. Only as a distraction so she would arch enough for him to rip the crop top away and set her breasts free.
