of warm espresso with caramel running through them. I didn’t have to look at his mouth to know he was smiling ever so faintly.
‘You know why.’
My heart hiccupped. Did I? Did I know why? Certainly not in my conscious brain. That part was freaking out. But somewhere else, somewhere instinctual and primal, I knew that I knew. I also knew I had to make sure those two parts of my brain never touched. Because if they did…well, I sensed there’d be trouble. And a whole heap of hurt.
Adam was watching me. I’ve been told that my emotions are easily readable in my face. From the way he was looking at me, I’d guess I was putting on a pretty good show.
‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘Have it your way for now.’ He didn’t say more, but the words later and soon hung in the air around us.
My gaze floated off in the direction of the beckoning curtains. I could see Nicholas in the middle of the drawing room, no longer dancing with Louisa. He kept glancing into the darkness as he talked to Julian, but I had no idea if he could see us. ‘You thought he was watching?’
The voice in my ear wasn’t Adam’s. Or at least it was a harder, steelier version of his. I snapped my head back round to face him. No caramel in those eyes now. Just gunsmoke.
‘I…I…’
I didn’t deny Adam’s accusation. Partly because my tongue wasn’t functioning well, still reeling from the best kiss I’d had in years, and partly because on some gut level I knew it might be safer to have an exit route. An exit route from what, and to where, I wasn’t sure, but the events of the last ten minutes had been so bamboozling I was operating purely on survival instinct.
He stepped towards me. Adam had never made me feel even the slightest bit nervous before, but this time I took half a step back even as my heart began to thump in anticipation.
‘I thought you were past playing games, Coreen, but if that’s the way you want it…’ His eyes glittered and my heart-rate accelerated, race-car-style. ‘Let’s make sure he gets a real eyeful.’
There was no tender touching of my face this time, no gentle breath on my cheek. While the last kiss had been soft and soul-churning this one was angry and potent and—oh, my goodness—hot!
I didn’t even have time to react as Adam yanked me back into his arms. For a few seconds my arms hung limp by my sides, my brain too overloaded with the information coming from my lips to bother to send signals to something as mundane as my arms and hands. But when the initial onslaught of sensation was over I decided those hands and arms could come in pretty useful. I grabbed Adam either side of his neck, let one hand slide up into his hair, pressed myself against him and gave as good as I was getting.
He made a ragged groaning sound and it tipped me over the edge. I had no idea who was in control, and normally that would have bothered me, but if I’d been at a disadvantage at the beginning of this kiss, I now had a hunch we were both as lost as each other.
Eventually, though, the mist cleared. Right about the time I sensed a change in Adam. Right about the time he stiffened and wrenched himself out of my grasp.
I’d never seen him like this before. Where was my smiling, twinkling, comfortable and safe Adam? I didn’t know if I wanted to swap him for one who could set my toes on fire with his kisses and yet look at me with such disgust. This one didn’t seem safe at all.
He ran a hand through his slicked-down hair, returning it to its more familiar messiness, and shook his head. ‘I’m such an idiot! Even after all these years…’ He took a few steps backwards, his expression hardening further. ‘That was quite a performance, Miss Fraser. You must really be desperate for this guy.’ And then he pivoted round and strode away from me, along the terrace and round the corner of the house.
I ran after him. ‘Adam? Adam!’
He stopped as I almost caught up with him and stood with his back to me, just breathing. No discreet floodlights here. Just Adam and me in the dark. I could only just see his outline against the blackness of the country night.
Slowly, he turned and faced me. ‘What?’ he asked, his voice low and weary.
My heart was thumping hard as I stepped towards him. I didn’t have a plan, and I always had a plan when it came to men. It’s impossible to train or manipulate or manage them without one. I was going on instinct again—something I wasn’t entirely comfortable with when it came to the opposite sex—but my instincts seemed to be primed and ready, as I didn’t even have to think before I lifted my hand to his face, mirroring his earlier gesture.
This was all new and I needed to explore him, to discover him.
I couldn’t see his face, but I think he closed his eyes, and he made a noise as if he might be in pain. A few moments later his hand shot up and stilled my roving fingers. ‘Coreen? Please…don’t.’
I shushed him and turned his face fully towards mine, using my hand against his cheek as leverage. Then I pinned him up against the rough brick wall and kissed him back. There was no one else to impress. There never had been.
I lay in the dark in my peach silk pyjamas trimmed with lace. Yes, they weren’t very Constance, but I’d reasoned if I couldn’t be my glamorous self during the day I might as well make up for it in the privacy of my room at night.
I was alone, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be. Now, that was a scary thought.
Adam and me? Taking our relationship to that level? The thought made me shiver—in a good way and in a bad way.
He was my best friend. My Best Bud. Could that translate into something else? And what if it couldn’t? Would we lose everything we’d built up over the years? If Adam’s reaction when he thought I’d kissed him for Nicholas’s benefit was anything to go by, I’d guess we just might. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to take that risk.
But after this evening I also wasn’t sure I could bear not to.
If I’d known Adam could kiss like that I might have done something about it years ago.
I rolled over and punched my pillow—more because my thoughts weren’t letting me keep still rather than because the bed was uncomfortable. Far from it.
But you did know….
A memory hit me hard. Sharon Everidge’s eighteenth birthday party. Her parents had hired a hall. I’d set my sights on Tom Morrison, the coolest boy in school, but he’d pretended not to notice me. I’d made him pay for that later, of course. But at the time I’d grabbed the one prop I had to hand—Adam. I’d kissed him. Kissed him the way I’d been wanting to kiss Tom, hoping it would show the other boy just what he was missing out on. But before long I’d forgotten all about Tom, and Sharon, and every other hormone-laced teenager at the party, because I’d been too busy kissing Adam.
It had worked. Tom had sidled up and asked me to dance with him not long after Adam had stormed out. I blushed with shame as I remembered that I’d gone, telling myself Adam would understand, that he was my friend and would want me to be happy. And, after all…it was only a kiss.
I’d been such a coward.
I had known.
