Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(27)

My heart has skipped every third beat since I got to his apartment. I’m staying the night with him, and making out will no longer

do. The sound of the bass and the crowd humming from the door as we approach it has nothing on what’s going on below the belt of

my dress.

Adrian nods once at the bouncer, and we’re granted unquestioned access to the foreplay inside the stone walls. He waves to some

people I assume he knows, as he tears us through the crowd and onto the dance floor. He’s been quiet since dinner, and I’m no

longer sure what the hell it is I’m doing here if he can’t even talk to me. I push the question aside, as his hands swallow my

waist and move me in time with him.

After a half hour, Shakira and Pitbull’s song “Rabiosa” comes on. Our smiles high-five one another as we take our positions. In

college, the lacrosse team was invited to a formal party hosted by Monica’s sorority. We were dating at the time and he took me,

despite the hisses from some of the bitches of Delta Mu. He knew their game, and he wasn’t playing. A dance competition closed

that evening, and we took first place.

We’d each learned to dance at some point in our lives and pulled it off right there; stepping over the dropped jaws and bugged-out

eyes who thought Adrian Turner was too good for the likes of a hippie nerd. The only problem was I was a hippie nerd that he

happened to think was gorgeous, and that he loved—though I didn’t know about the love part until a few weeks ago.

The reggaeton-merengue mix brings our past crashing into our present once more, and we float through the crowd. My hips grind

mercilessly into his as I pull his pockets to bring him in tighter. It’s as if he has to force our bodies apart when he spins me,

then they’re right back together. I find myself staring intently at the beads of sweat on his neck.

“You still got it, Turner,” I pant as Beyonce regains control of the speakers.

“Thanks for leading, Gorgeous.” He smiles but doesn’t lock eyes with me.

By the time Jay-Z’s voice joins in the song, I’ve had enough of Adrian’s distance. I grab his belt and yank him toward me,

crashing his hipbones into mine.

“What was that about?” he grunts.

“What the hell is with you?” I’m forced to shout in his ear over the loud music.

He turns my back to him and I grind down his body. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re being aloof, that’s what I mean. You kiss me when I show up, but you’ve said about twenty words since then.

What gives?” I shout over my shoulder before he spins me back around.

Suddenly, he stops dead in the middle of the dance floor and presses his sweaty forehead into mine. “I’m trying really hard to

respect your boundaries, Ember,” he breathes onto my lips.

“I never set any with you.” I tilt my chin until my lips make contact with his earlobe. “Take me home, Adrian.”

He steps back, keeping me at forearms length. “Yeah?”

Seduction takes over my face. “Yeah.”





Chapter Eleven


“Taxi!” Adrian wastes no time journeying back to his place.

As soon as he climbs in the cab next to me and slams the door shut, I’m pulled onto his lap and his tongue invades my mouth. The

caged animal that claims Adrian’s body is ravenous, desperate for me with every moan beckoning from the bottom of his throat.

“Adrian,” I breathlessly pull away, “we’re in a cab.”

He grabs my hips and pushes me harder onto his lap. “I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

Adrian kisses me with hunger, while he runs one hand down the outside of my thigh and resumes its ascent under my dress. I circle

my hips on his, and I can’t believe I don’t care about the cab driver a foot away from us, but I don’t.

His hand reaches my hip and he runs his fingertip along the lace of my thong. My body remembers his next move, and I lift off him

slightly as he tucks his finger underneath the fabric and slips it inside me.

“Damn.” I exercise vocal control by breathing into his shoulder as he works his magic.

Just like that the cab stops, and in one motion Adrian slides me off him and hands the driver money. I sweep my hair over my

burning cheeks, but the cabbie doesn’t so much as look in the rearview mirror. I briefly wonder if he has seen worse, but don’t

give it too much thought as I shut the door behind me. Adrian takes my hand into his sweaty palm, and we walk hurriedly through the

private entrance to the elevators.

When the doors ding closed behind us, I slam Adrian into the side of the elevator by my mouth. “Never do that to me in public

again,” I curse in the short time my tongue leaves his mouth.

I feel his grin against my lips. “Don’t worry, Baby. Anything else I plan on doing to you has to be done in private.”

We tear blindly through his door in a hurricane of need five years in the making. I glide backward with each step he takes forward,

until my hips are backed up against the kitchen island. With the height of my heels, I’m able to lift up on my toes slightly and