Page 82 of Mayhem (Mayhem 1)

“Here or the bus?” he purrs.

Last time he kissed me like that and asked me to go to the bus, I told him I just wanted to be friends. This time, I say, “Bus.”

Adam is lifting me off the stool a second later. He takes my hand and whispers something in Shawn’s ear on our way out, giving clipped responses to every fan who tries to spark up a conversation along the way.

“What did you say to Shawn?” I ask when we emerge outside, on the same stoop Adam comforted me on the night we first met.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder to ward off the cold while we practically sprint toward the bus. “I told him the bus is off limits to anyone without a death wish.”

“You did not!” I gasp, and Adam laughs at me. He unlocks the door to the bus and opens it for me, and then he steps on behind me and immediately tugs me back against him, his hands splayed along the front of my hips. “Do you know what I wanted to do inside?” he asks.

“Hm?”

His fingertips glide under my top again, snaking up my stomach and over my bra. He clutches me possessively, his hands squeezing and kneading until my head falls back against his chest. His lips feast on the curve of my neck a moment later, and I wrap my arms behind his neck, drunk with desire for the man who put my heart back together and finally has his hands on me.

“Fuck,” Adam breathes when I grind my ass against him. He reaches down to hold me still, and I know he’s holding back. He said he was afraid of pushing me too far, so I take the lead, threading my fingers with his and tugging him away from the door. I don’t stop until we’re in the black-satin bedroom.

“Peach,” Adam says from the doorway, his voice cracking with restraint.

I turn around and flatten my hands against his chest, staring up into the same eyes I fell in love with in a line outside of Mayhem. “Ten.”

His brow dips with confusion, and I continue staring up at him. The first time he brought me to this room, he asked me to count backward from ten to prove I was still sober enough to not be taken advantage of. I need him to know that I know exactly what I’m doing and I’m doing exactly what I want. “Nine.”

Recognition begins to dawn across his features, and I continue counting. “Eight.”

The sexiest smile tugs at his lips, and he takes a step forward. I take a step back.

“Seven,” I say with my knees pressed against the edge of the bed, and he begins crawling over top of me. The restraint in his expression is gone, replaced by a predatory smile that makes my heart patter against the wall of my chest while I inch farther onto the bed.

“Six,” I say, and Adam’s hands push my top up until he’s sliding it over my head and tossing it over his shoulder. He drops his lips to my neck, and my breaths quicken.

“Five,” I breathe, reaching behind my back and unclasping my bra.

Adam’s fingertips graze softly over my shoulders as he pushes the straps down. He drops the bra to the floor, and I say, “Four.”

He kisses an invisible line between my breasts and down my stomach, and then he slips off my shoes, planting a soft kiss against my ankle before grasping the waistbands of my skirt, leggings, and panties. He pulls them down in one slow motion and sits on his knees to rake his eyes over every inch of me. His tongue traces the seam of his lips, and I moisten between my legs.

“Three,” I say, bringing him back to the moment.

He takes off his shirt, and I quickly say, “Two.”

Adam crawls back over top of me, his hair tickling my cheeks until his lips are a breath away. I trace a fingertip over the Magic 8 Ball tattoo inked on his pectoral before sliding my fingers over his sides, relishing in the freedom to finally touch him wherever and however I want.

“What are you waiting for, Peach?” Adam asks, and I never get to one. I kiss him fiercely, and he moans against my mouth. His hips rock against me, and I moan right back. His fingers thread into my hair, his elbows weigh into the pillow under my head, and he kisses me until I can’t think straight. I’m writhing beneath him, needing so much more of him than he’s giving me.

I reach between us to unbutton his jeans and then I push them as low as I can manage. My thumbs hook into his boxers, but then Adam pulls out of my reach. He rests his forehead against my chest, breathing heavily. “Peach, we don’t have to go all the way right now. I swear to God I just wanted to kiss you.”

I comb my fingers through his hair, knowing he doesn’t want to push me. But this feels right, so right, and I need him to understand how ready I am.

“I wouldn’t have regretted it,” I say, and his beautiful eyes gaze up at me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “Last night . . . you told me I’d regret it, but I wouldn’t have . . .” I swallow the lump in my throat, distracting myself by brushing his soft hair away from his forehead with my fingertips. My gaze finds his again, and I muster the courage to say, “I want it to be you, Adam . . . I’m yours if you want me.”

When he kisses me this time, it’s different. It’s slow and soft, but it makes me just as dizzy. He finishes taking his jeans and boxers off, and then he pulls a condom from his wallet and rolls it on. When his tip presses firmly against me, I suck his tongue into my mouth to draw him in. A moan rumbles low in his chest, but then he wrestles control away from me, nipping at my tongue and lips until I’m soaking wet with want for him.

“Peach,” he says, and I open my lust-filled eyes to stare up at him. “Ask me why I want you.”

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