His eyes held no apology. “I wanted to see what you were up to anyway,” he stated matter-of-factly. Ah, there’s the real reason. “And I’m going to reiterate, I do not want you going back there. End of story.”
“God, who do you think you are?” I said, incredulous and infuriated at his demand. “Maybe your, your minions obey your every command, but I, Adam, am not one of them. I make my own decisions,” I stated with conviction. “You got that?”
Maybe I should have held back. Adam’s eyes flashed in anger, boring into me. “Yeah, I got that, Madeleine. Far be it from me to try and save you from your own damn self.”
Fleetingly his mask wavered, and I saw concern cross his features. God, maybe I was overreacting. Was it guilt for keeping my visits to Billy’s secret that had me so worked up? Maybe Adam had been thinking of my safety?
Confused and humbled, I backed down. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said, my voice soft. “I know you’re only looking out for me.” I put my head in my hands and mumbled, “I guess it’s just been a long day.” It was a weak excuse, but it was all I had.
“Come here, Maddy.” Adam’s voice had eased, his anger dissipated.
I glanced up, and he beckoned for me to come around to his side of the desk. I got up and went to him, and once I reached him, he spun his chair to face me and leaned his head back. “Kiss me, Madeleine,” he purred.
His charm was irresistible. And the tension from our fight lingered—we both needed a release. So I bent down and curved my lips to his. Such a perfect fit. Our mouths moved together—tongues touching, dancing, darting—until Adam made a growling noise and pulled away.
Before I knew what was happening, Adam had shifted my body so that my backside was pressed against the edge of his desk. He stood, hovering over me as he kicked his chair back. “Want to make a friendly wager?”
Standing on the tips of my toes, I brushed my lips across his. “Yeah, sure,” I breathed. Hell, anything sounded good at this point. “What are we betting on?”
With no warning and to my delight, Adam slid his hands up under my shirt, his strong hands encircling my ribcage, his thumbs tracing over the lacy edge of my bra. My breathing hitched, and I leaned my head against his chest as his long fingers trailed up and under the straps, poised ever so teasingly on bare skin. I arched my back, wishing he would slide his hands down to my breasts that ached to feel his touch.
But as if knowing what I craved, he did the opposite—slid his hands back out from under my shirt. “First, if I win, you have to promise you will never go back to that bar under any circumstances.” The businessman was back, making a deal. He eased me back onto the surface of the desk and stood towering above me.
I looked up at him in his position of power. “And if I win?” I asked breathlessly, slick, glossy photos sliding beneath my jean-clad bottom.
Adam parted my legs and eased between them. Oh. My. God.
Chuckling, he said, “Then you’re free to do whatever you want. I’ll promise not to interfere.” He leaned down, cupping my face. “But Maddy, I will win.”
And then he kissed me like he’d never done before. His mouth was hungry, demanding, angry. His hands roamed, touching, taking—under the shirt, over the shirt, over the jeans, under the waistband. The top button popped. “Oh God,” I gasped, arching into him, aching to feel how much he wanted me.
But Adam shifted, and I felt his hot, urgent breaths at my ear. “Want to know how I’m going to win?” he asked, his lips skimming my neck.
I nodded furiously, plunging my fingers into the silkiness of his hair.
He chuckled, pulling back slightly. He turned his wrist, and we both glanced at his very expensive watch, noting the time. OK, whatever. At that exact moment, I couldn’t have cared less.
Dizzy, I leaned my head back on the desk, and Adam slid down my body, lifting the hem of my tee and placing a warm, wet kiss on my exposed hip. He knelt down between my legs, yanking me to the edge of the desk. His mouth returned to my hip, his tongue lazily trailing a wet path across my abdomen. And then his hand cupped my core. “Oh God,” I gasped.
“I win, Madeleine, if in sixty seconds or less, I can get you to beg me to take off these jeans,” Adam purred, and then he began to kiss lower and lower.
The bet was on…
Chapter 15
Not surprisingly Adam won the bet by a rather significant margin. Yeah, don’t bet against Adam Ward. But right as I was begging him to take my jeans off now so he could do all the amazing things he was doing with his mouth without the damn denim in the way, someone knocked on the door of his study. Adam yelled, “Go the fuck away.”
But the knocking continued and was soon accompanied by the apologetic-sounding, yet urgent, voice of Max.
I yelped and hurried to make sure everything was zipped and buttoned, while Adam straightened his own disheveled attire. On his way to the door, he let a litany of creative curses fly. Once decent I plopped down in Adam’s chair and pretended to be examining those damn pictures, most of which were now scattered all over the desk. Adam shot me an apologetic look as he opened the door just enough for him to speak to Max. Good god, how embarrassing. Not to mention frustrating.
After a few moments of mumbled conversation—I had no clue what they were discussing, nor did I care—Adam closed the door and turned to me. “Maddy, I have to
