Page 11 of Bombshell

I brace myself. “What would that be?”

“Promise me you won’t let anyone come between us.” She puts her palm on my chest, and looks up at me with eyes like a full moon. The bright hope there leeches away my anger. “I need something real, Sterling. Someone real. Someone I can count on. And it’s going to be hard. We both know that now.”

I pull her to me, wrapping her in my arms.

What did I ever do to deserve her—the girl with everything, who somehow wants me more than all the rest? I can’t pretend I understand everything about how she works yet, but there is no doubt in my mind she means what she says.

“I promise,” I say, and tension melts from her face. “Can you promise me the same?”

“Of course,” she says, her eyes closing, her lips waiting for my kiss.

“Then show me,” I say, covering her lips with mine.

She opens to my touch, tilting her head back to help me explore more of her. I lift her by the buttocks, smashing her body into mine. We continue to search for answers with our lips and hands, our skin and our teeth. My mouth finds her earlobe. It takes her breath away, and she stops kissing my shoulder, burying her face there, clearing the path for me to take the lead.

I need her to understand she is mine. What did she say earlier? That her father wants to convince everyone his world is the only one? She wants a different world, and I need to show her my world is the best place for her.

I wrench the boxers off her hips, and she moans expectantly. I move up, with greedy hands, to her breasts, and I pinch her nipple, relishing the little yelp it produces. “You belong to me, Adair. Not your father, not anyone else. And I belong to you.”

She nuzzles her forehead against my chin, whispering in my ear, “I need you, Sterling. I need to feel something besides scared, and trapped, and—”

I spin her body away from me, dropping her gently on her feet and pushing her torso forward onto the bed. Leaning on top of her, I alternate kisses and sharp nips on the skin of her shoulders and back, enjoying the way they leave marks—proof she’s mine. She squirms toward me, but I’m not going to give her what she wants until I know she’d die to have it.

I slide the tip of my cock against her clit. She tries to move again, urging me inside her, but I hold her hips in place, kneading the soft, supple skin of her ass in my hands.

“Fuck, your body is so beautiful. I love how it responds to me.” I push into her briefly, and a low purr rumbles from her chest. I pull out, and her hips attempt to follow.

“Sterling,” she pleads.

“Tell me you love me,” I demand.

“I love you. You know, I love you.” She almost sounds annoyed, and she wriggles in my grasp.

It’s why I love her. She’s so impatient for life. “And I love you.”

I slam into her as hard as I can, and she strangles a cry. “Yessss.”

Our lovemaking is frantic, tinged with a sour edge that was never there before. I slow for a moment, considering if we should change positions, but Adair reaches back to grab at my hips, demanding that I go faster, harder, as if she needs this physical connection as much as I do.

I pump again and again, and each time Adair splays further onto the bed, her head nearly hitting the wall. If she’s not careful, I’ll end up fucking her straight through to my neighbors’ room.

Her breathing quickens and I allow myself to match her. When we climax, it seems to last forever, and then she goes limp, sagging into a boneless heap beneath me. I pull back the covers and tuck her gently beneath them, noticing where the frame of the bed bit into her thighs, leaving long, purple indentations. I rub them gently as I slide in behind her, giving her a kiss.

“When you’re in my bed, I know I can do anything,” I say, tracing the curve of her chin with the tip of my nose.

She smiles vaguely, the corners of her mouth falling open as her eyes close, sleep beginning to take her.

“I love you,” I say, but her only response is a faint snoring sound.

Sleep begins to take me, too, but not before I swear to myself that I won’t quit until every last one of these condescending assholes either respects me or fears me. It’s the only way I can keep their world from swallowing mine. It’s the only way I keep what I’ve already won. It’s the only way I keep her.

5

Adair

“The metal frame is cheaper, though,” I say, hooking Poppy’s elbow and guiding her away from the gorgeous ivory headboard she’s latched onto in the more expensive section of the furniture store—the side she obviously prefers.

“But it’s a four-poster!” she argues. “It’s on sale!” She pouts all the way back to the inexpensive metal headboard I’d picked out earlier.