Page 99 of To Hate Adam Connor

It was a really good song.

A few minutes into the song…or maybe it was only a few seconds in, I took a deep breath. In Adam’s arms, feeling unattached yet connected to something I couldn’t name, I had lost track of time, the world, and the situation I had put myself in. Suddenly, Adam let go of my arm, and I thought about fighting him for his hand, to have him hold it just for a few more seconds, just until the song ended, just until…but I didn’t want to be that girl who asked for something she knew she wouldn’t get.

Snap out of it, Lucy!

His fingertips touched my chin, and he tilted my head back and away from his chest.

I looked deep into his green eyes and found out that I didn’t want to look away. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was doing to my heart.

Witchcraft maybe?

His lips parted as his brows furrowed. Was that anger I saw in his eyes?

“Why are you crying?” he asked in a hard voice. “What happened?”

I frowned at him and touched my face. When I looked down, I could see wetness on my fingers. I was crying? When? How?

“I…” I started, but couldn’t find the words, didn’t know how to finish the thought as the tears kept coming. This must be what they call hormones. I already didn’t like it.

“Lucy…”

He tilted my head up again and his thumb wiped away my tears.

The tears didn’t stop coming. His hand on my back tightened, and I lost myself a little more, felt myself falling a little further. Despite having his hard body pressed against mine, his hand holding me in place, I could feel my body start to shake, the hopelessness of the day finally catching up to me.

I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but it was like trying to push away a lion that didn’t want to move. He somehow managed to pull me closer, and I let him.

“Lucy,” he warned, his voice gravelly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for so long.

“I’m pregnant,” I admitted in a broken voice. Adam let go of me.

It was the lowest moment of my life. Not that being pregnant was anything bad because for someone else, someone who wanted to have a baby, someone who was looking forward to having a baby…it was everything. For me…being pregnant was the confirmation I’d never wanted to receive.

I really was cursed.

“I did it,” I said, curling my arms around my stomach. “I’m just like them. I’ll be just like them. Bitter. Unhappy. Angry.” I lifted my eyes up to meet his. “Not at the baby. Never at the baby. I’ll always be angry at myself, and I’ll end up being angry at the world. I should’ve never said ‘I love you’ to Jameson. He was a flirt, yet I still said I loved him. I knew it would never work, but I still said those stupid words. And now I’m being punished. I should’ve…I shouldn’t—”

Why the hell was I still crying?

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” I tried to explain, my voice rising. I was such a disgrace to womankind. “I’m angry. These are stupid angry tears. Or hormone tears, I don’t know! I don’t wanna cry!”

Then his lips were on mine and my words got lost between us with my gasp. His fingers tangled in my hair as I pushed myself up on my tiptoes to put my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. This one wasn’t a sweet kiss or a lazy one. This one was full of life, full of pain, pleasure, hate, anger, even a little bit of hope and love.

I took a deep breath through my nose.

Shit! The smell. The smell of his skin.

Don’t breathe, Lucy. Don’t breathe. He’s toxic. Don’t do it.

The hell with it! I moaned and breathed in his scent. His fingers tightened in my hair, and I let his tongue surround mine, licking, sucking, pulling, pushing as he slanted his head in every possible angle.

I was done for.

This was the end of me.

With a guttural groan, he tilted my head with his hands and went in deeper, took more from me. I grabbed at his collar, clawed at his neck, pushed my fingers into his hair, pulling on it. Hard. The hiss of pain he whispered into my mouth was beyond satisfying to hear, to feel vibrate through my body.

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