Page 68 of To Hate Adam Connor

He tilted my head to the right and practically ruined me with the way he was kissing me.

It was a kiss wrapped up in another kiss.

Does that make sense? No? It didn’t make sense to me at the time either.

Yes, Lucy! Yes!

No, Lucy! No!

It was like I’d had multiple personalities living inside my head all this time and they’d been waiting to get out of their hidey hole just for this special occasion.

But then again, Adam Connor was kissing me…what the hell was a girl supposed to do when faced with such a problem? Hate or not, you’d go for it too. You’d give it your all and you’d make sure you gave it to him good.

My hands empty, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, returning his kiss with fervor. I could’ve written a poem about how good it felt to have him tower over me, and I wasn’t even the writer.

His grip on my chin tightened to the point that it came dangerously close to hurting me, but I was loving it. I hated him, but I was loving the way he was controlling the kiss. Controlling me. How could his touch feel so different than that asshole Jake Callum’s?

I was loving the way his breathing was getting out of control—just like mine. I was loving that he had sneaked his left hand around my waist and was pulling me toward his body.

Our tongues were in a battle, and I didn’t care who came out on top at the end as long as he kept his lips against mine.

I wanted him to lose his shirt so I could feel his skin under my touch, but that would have required breaking apart from his lips, and I wasn’t too fired up to do that. The earth beneath my feet could’ve cracked, and I still wouldn’t have let go of him. He turned his head the other way and deepened the kiss, forcing me to arch into him.

I was starting to think it was okay to not be kissed for more than a month if the kiss you’d get at the end of that drought was like this one. I was okay with anything that man would do to me.

And holy hell, he was devouring me as if he was quenching his thirst. I was seconds away from climbing him and trying my best to fuck him standing up. It would require a lot of maneuvering, but I could give it my best shot.

Unable to hold it back any longer, I moaned, and he slowed us down, giving my lips a few nips as I tried my best not to hyperventilate in front of him. His hand let go of my face and gently pushed my short hair behind my ear.

Just when I thought the torture of my senses was over, he leaned in and kissed my cheek, then a little higher, heading toward my ear. My head, acting on its own, tilted to the side to give him more space to work with, and he chose that moment to run his tongue along the shell of my ear, making me groan even louder.

All I could do was hold on to him. I was that gone. Can you imagine? My vagina was very happy, though.

“Lucy,” he whispered, and all the little hairs on my body stood up. Why did my name have to sound so damn good coming from his lips?

His nose in my neck, he was breathing me in, and my body was practically melting away in his hands. I felt like I was coming to life. Or floating out of my body. Or all of the above.

“Call me crazy, my little stalker, but I think I like you,” he murmured against my skin, his hot breath warming me from top to toe as he nipped at my skin.

“And I think I don’t like you at all,” I whispered back when I could think long enough to form words again.

“Hmm,” he hummed next to my ear, causing my eyes to flutter closed. What was he playing at? “Then you won’t kiss me back if I try to kiss you again, I assume?”

It was a stupid declaration. All kinds of kisses were welcome as long as they involved those lips touching parts of my body, and the asshole knew that, of course.

I tried to pull away, thinking he was itching for another slap, but his big hands rounded my waist and before I knew what he was planning to do—I’m not ashamed to say I was hoping for another one of those hard kisses—he started walking backward and taking me with him.

He fell onto the couch, and I magically climbed onto his lap. Again, I didn’t want to, of course, so I was blaming his big, strong hands. If he hadn’t been touching my waist, I would’ve totally walked out on him. However, since his hands were still on me, urging me closer, instead of walking away, I started to lean into him to have another taste of those lips.

Go big or go home, right?

With one of his hands still on my waist, he slid the other one around to my back and into my shirt.

I gripped the back of the couch with one hand and put the other one on his chest. It made me giddy to feel his frantic heartbeat under my touch. I had no right to feel giddy about his heartbeat. I should’ve gotten off his lap and run away.

What did I do? I stayed for more.

He rested his hand in between my shoulder blades. Skin on skin. Hot skin on burning skin. Making sure I was standing on my knees the entire time, I pressed my boobs against his broad chest and dove in for another brain-scrambling kiss.

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