Page 127 of Burn

‘Just landed. Need to get my bag and a cab. Should be home in an hour.’

When the people ahead of me step into the aisle, he hasn’t replied, so I tuck my phone into my pocket and make my way into the terminal. I walk with purpose, driven by my excitement, and as I wait at the baggage carousel, I check my phone. Still no reply.

Come to think of it, he’s been oddly quiet the last day or two. My excitement is tempered by a momentary flicker ofconcern. I try to brush it off. He was at work yesterday; he could have been watching the hockey game, or…

Ugh.

It takes too long for the belt to start moving, and bags to appear, and by the time my galaxy print bag slides down the ramp, I’m downright grumpy.

Get me the fuck outta this airport.

I walk toward the exits, grabbing my phone and sending one more message.

‘Bag acquired. I’m coming home!’

I watch the screen, waiting to see those three little dots, but they never come. My head is down, and I’m not paying attention to where I’m going. When I collide with a wall of hard muscle, my purse and phone go flying, and I start apologizing as I stoop to collect them.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t —” My words die on my tongue as a familiar smokey scent fills my lungs. I freeze as I reach for my phone, and a grin spreads across my face.

When I look up, Adrian Liberty stares down, a playful smirk on his perfect mouth and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Hey, baby,” he says in that low voice that turns my insides molten.

My cheeks heat. I keep waiting for the day this man stops taking my breath away, but today is not that day, and I’m momentarily stunned by the sight of him; I’m completely frozen. I stumble over my words, and instead of telling him how much I missed him, I manage, “What are you doing here?”

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. When I rise to stand, he’s shaking his head. “You sure know how to make a guy feel loved.”

My momentary brain freeze thaws, and I drop the items I just finished collecting off the ground and leap into his big arms.A chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest as he lifts me into his arms. I take the opportunity to wrap my legs around his waist and nuzzle my face into his neck, feeling the stubble scratching my skin and kissing the area on his neck that allows me to feel his steady heartbeat.

“I guess I kind of missed you,” I breathe against his warm skin.

I sit up, looking into his deep brown eyes, studying the lines that form around them when hereallysmiles at me. When our lips connect, I’m still grinning like a lovesick fool, and we lose ourselves in a searing kiss. The other passengers flit past in a blur. If anyone pays any attention to us, I’m blissfully unaware. As always, he’s all I see.

He doesn’t pull away, instead speaking directly into my lips when he says, “That’s more like it, Donnelly.” I lean in to kiss him again, but he stops me. “Not much I want to do more than this, but I haven’t seen you in a week, and I’m already hard as hell.”

I let out a loud laugh and unhook my legs from around his waist, slowly lowering myself to the ground. I don’t miss the hard edge of his cock in his jeans, or the way his body jolts as my pelvis grazes over it. When he not-so-discreetly adjusts himself, I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from an all-out cackle. No one has ever made me feel as desired as he does.

He reaches down and grabs my discarded phone and purse, handing them to me. Then, he grabs the handle of my suitcase and takes my hand in the other. I thread my fingers through his and allow him to lead me toward the parking garage. He’s quiet as we walk, and when I glance at him, I notice he’s chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

“Everything okay?” I ask, keeping my attention on his face.

He flicks his eyes toward me and replies, “Oh yeah. I’m hungry; I’ve been here a while.”

He’s… lying.

I can tell something is up, but I opt to leave it for now, leaning into him for warmth when we step outside into cold winter air. By the time we step into the elevator in the parking garage, the tense silence is killing me.

I’m spiraling.

Naturally, I start to ramble.

“How long have you been waiting?” I ask. “My flight was supposed to land hours ago. Have you been here since then? Fuck, I’m sorry Adrian. I could have taken a cab. How was work yesterday? Rough day? How’s Millie? Oh! At the conference, there was this guy who got so drunk that he puked —”

The doors open, and Adrian pulls my hand out of the elevator, cutting me off mid-sentence. My mouth hangs open as he stalks out of the covered elevator area and into the evening light on the roof of the parking garage. I can’t figure out what to say to him, so my thoughts become a rambled chaos.

Is he mad?

Did something happen at work?

Is he over this?

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