My gaze flits back to his and his eyes are still closed—his trust in me absolute. It’s a trust I’m terrified of breaking, yet I can’t turn back now.
I have to know.
In my books, the heroine often faces a moment of truth, usually with better bodies and better lighting. Here I am, living my own cliché, except the plot twist is real, and the stakes are my heart.
Sliding my palm over the top of his briefs, I drag my hand over his length, reveling in the hardness. A low moan escapes his lips and moisture pools between my legs.
God, do I want him.
Thisman. Not some imaginary figment.
But there’s another part of me that’s desperate to have him, even if he is the man from Nocté.
Because then … it’s like we’re cheating fate.
Or cheating the club.
Ironic, considering how the club works.
I shake my head, forcing all of those thoughts from my mind.
Slowly, I push his briefs down his hips, and as they fall to the floor, my eyes dart to his lower abdomen.
The soft glow of the moonlight spills across his skin, revealing ...
My breath catches and my heart skips a beat.
There it is.
The tribal tattoo is precisely where I remember seeing it that night at Nocté.
A cocktail of shock, realization, and an inexplicable sense of destiny washes over me.
It’s him. It’sreallyhim.
I stand frozen as every emotion under the sun crashes over me.
Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all—part of me wants to cry.
Another part is grappling with the moral dilemma of not saying something.
Should he know?
But there’s no time for any of the questions circling my brain because Adam reaches out undoing my own jeans. They’re on the floor as his mouth crashes against mine and I’m swept up again in the moment.
In a desperate bid to regain control of the situation, I gently push Adam back onto the bed, keeping his focus on the movement and away from my own telltale birthmark.
“Keep your eyes closed,” I whisper, my voice barely steady. “I want you to focus on how we feel together.”
It’s the truth, but not the whole truth. I need him to remain oblivious for just a little longer.
Adam complies, a small smile on his face, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me.
I quickly shed the rest of my clothes, careful to keep my back to him as I try to remain upright. The last thing I need is for him to see the birthmark until I know what in the actual fuck I’m going to do—or how I’m going to explain it.
God, howamI going to explain everything to him?
Turning around, I slowly climb onto the bed, straddling him between my legs. My heart pounds against my chest and just about everywhere else. Then, I lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s fueled by a mixture of passion, desperation, and a newfound urgency.