Page 97 of To Hate Adam Connor

Oh, hell. Fine. It was a sweet kiss. The kind of kiss I avoided.

He didn’t stop me. He stood there, his lips moving so softly against mine as I did my best to quiet my screaming heart.

When his arm gently touched my waist, either to push me away or pull me in—I couldn’t take the chance—I pulled back from his lips and started hearing the music again.

“Lucy…” Adam murmured, his hot breath against my wet lips.

“I don’t know this song,” I murmured back and finally looked into his eyes. “I know it’s George Michael, but I don’t know the song.”

He was silent for a moment as he searched for something in my eyes.

“It’s called ‘Jesus to A Child’,” he said after an awkward silence.

I nodded, but said nothing more.

“You came over to ask about the song?”

“I’ve never heard of it. It’s a beautiful song.”

“It’s old and it is a beautiful song.”

Those vivid green eyes that were looking at me with such intensity were also gentle. Could he see what I needed even though I had no idea what that was anymore? I forced a smile on my lips, trying my hardest not to show how much I was shaking inside as I stood in front of him.

You shouldn’t have climbed over that wall to get to him, my brain screamed at me. You shouldn’t have listened to your stupid heart.

“Do you like dancing?” I asked, ignoring common sense.

“No.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Okay.”

“Ask me anyway,” he countered.

I hesitated.

“Will you dance with me?”

“Yes.”

He took my hand in his warm, big one and pulled me inside. As soon as he closed the door and turned to me, I walked up to him, put my hand on his heart, and rested my head next to it. His body froze for a moment, but then he circled one of his arms around my waist and pulled my body closer to his.

I released the breath I was holding and something eased in my heart.

Something eased in my stupid heart, I should say.

He didn’t ask me what was wrong, though I knew he would eventually. All he did was gently push my hair behind my ear and rest his chin on the top of my head.

My fucking stupid heart shivered.

Then he lifted his left hand and pulled my hand away from his heart. That was a little disappointing, but I knew I was taking it too far.

As I dropped my hand, he caught it midway and started linking our fingers together. My eyes opened, and I watched the pad of his thumb lightly caress the sensitive skin between my thumb and index finger as my fingers fit perfectly in between his.

I curled my fingers around his hand and held on.

Never lifting my head up from his chest, I glanced at him through my lashes, only to see his sole focus was on our hands. He looked…he looked different. Thoughtful. Worried? Then he blinked and brought my hand back to rest against his chest, his own hand covering mine.

The nerve…I know.

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