His presence is a comforting constant in the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that have become my life. I can hardly believe how hauntingly similar to a romance novel my life has become.
It’s almost laughable.
Adam takes my hand, his touch grounding me back to the present. “We’ve been through a helluva lot the past few weeks, haven’t we?”
“That’s putting it mildly. It feels more like a hurricane penned by a writer with a flair for melodrama,” I quip, a smirk playing on my lips.
The side of his lips tilt upward. “Yeah, there’s definitely some melodrama mixed in there.”
“Adam …” I begin, turning to face him. I need to get this final piece off my chest. “For what it’s worth, I really had no idea you were the man from Nocté when we first met. I didn’t mean to lie—or take advantage of you.”
His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “You think you took advantage of me?”
“Didn’t I?” I ask, my heartbeat thumping unevenly.
He shakes his head. “I mean, that’s not the way I see it. We were both consenting adults, Carlie.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you what I knew when I—” I shake my head. “I should have.”
Adam nods in agreement. “Yeah, you should have.”
I frown, wishing I could go back in time and have a do-over. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” He nudges me with his shoulder, then laughs. “On the upside, we get three shots at our first time.”
My eyebrows tug in and I shake my head. “What?”
His grin is enormous. “The first time was as strangers. The second time, we weren’t on the same page. Next time, we start all over, knowing fully what we’re getting ourselves into.”
My heart nearly trips over itself.
There will be a third, first time.
I can’t help but laugh. “Something to look forward to.”
“Indeed,” he agrees with a huge smirk. “When did you know? Or guess?”
Instantly, my mind flashes back to that first kiss—to the way he smelled and the electric current that rushed through me. It was a shock, to be sure.
“Our first official date,” I admit, biting down on the side of my lip. “I mean, I didn’t knowfor sure—but that’s when I seriously wondered. There was something in the way you kissed—the way you smelled.”
“When did you know for sure?” he presses, rubbing his warm palm over the top of my thigh.
His stormy gray eyes track my movement as I itch behind my right ear. “Last night.”
“So, definitely not on the same page.” He huffs a soft laugh. “Truth?”
My gaze flicks to his and I nod.
“Before your first session at St. Mary’s, I was looking for you,” he whispers, his gaze dropping to our laps.
“What do you mean?” My eyebrows tug in as I watch him struggle for words.
His tongue flicks at his lower lip as he continues, “Every time I saw a woman with red hair—I realized I was holding my breath, wishing … Hell, I washopingto run into the woman from Nocté—I was searching foryou. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. Even though it would mean being kicked out of the club.”
“Why?” I ask, drawn into every word.
His eyebrows flicker as he sorts through his thoughts. “Because there was something in the way we connected that night. And I’m not just talking about the sex, either. Even though that was—” His sigh is utter contentment.