Page 51 of Adrift

I make my way up the stairs and find him leaning against my doorway with his arms crossed. The dim lighting in the hall does nothing to dull his imposing and aristocratic form. I do a shameless perusal of his bare feet, his long black pajama bottoms that cinch around his lean waist perfectly, and a white T-shirt that stretches across his wide chest. My eyes snag on his biceps–of course, they do–before slipping up to his face.

He looks calm and focused–and that focus is set firmly on me. I stand rooted to my spot, listening to the rhythmic hum of Arman’s sound machine vibrating in the air between us.

Darian raises his chin and the low timber of his voice hits me below my belly button, swirling heat inside my stomach before pooling between my legs. “Did you know that lilies–the scent of them, the feel of them, the fucking taste of them–have the ability to make a person go insane?”

With his hands now in his pockets, he takes a step toward me as the air charges between us like uncontrolled electricity. “It’s not a written fact, but it’s one I’ve personally experienced. One I’ve become dependent on, like a potent drug.” He takes another step toward me, and I positively tremble with his closeness. “One I haven’t stopped thinking about since my first whiff . . . the day on the kayaks. One I can’t get out of my fucking head or my senses now that I’ve had a taste of it.”

His eyes caress my lips, boldly staking their claim, unwavering. “Did you know that the lily is considered one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs, awakening a desire so deep, it’s almost impossible to ignore?”

He covers any distance left between us as his large hand wraps around my neck. His thumb runs along my jaw, making my eyelids feel heavy, as my breaths come out in soft pants. “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried to remove the scent of lilies from every inch of my skin that’s been exposed. But there’s no way to scrub my fucking veins. There’s no way to cleanse my mind. It’s infused in everything.”

His other hand wraps around the other side of my neck and I whimper, leaning into his touch. “So,” he whispers, his lips a mere inch from mine, “I give up. I can’t fucking breathe without the perfume in the air. I can’t fucking breathe, Rani.”

My hands wrap around his shoulders. “Then just breathe.”

Darian’s fingers tighten slightly around my neck as his lips descend upon mine. He takes my bottom lip between his before pulling it gently between his teeth. I moan as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth and his arm drops to my waist, pulling me into him. I’m pressed to his chest, sliding my fingers around the back of his neck to play with the curls at his nape.

He tilts his head, and I turn mine in the opposite direction, as his restless tongue dives further into my mouth. He sucks my tongue, groaning into my throat. I feel the vibration of his voice well inside my belly as butterflies erupt, sending heat coursing through my veins.

His mouth fits mine perfectly and his hands keep me exactly at the angle he wants. There’s no exchange, no give or take with him. He gives and he takes, and I want more of it–I want all of it. I can feel his heart hammering against his chest, reverberating against my own.

His hard-on, deliciously protruding through his thin pajamas, presses exquisitely against my belly, and I almost ask to climb him so I can rub myself shamelessly against him and satiate the need building inside me. My nipples ache painfully inside my bra, begging to be let loose. Begging to be touched and licked, to be pinched and bitten.

The more he delves in with his tongue–refamiliarizing himself with my mouth–the more I reciprocate, massaging the side of his tongue and pulling in the sweetness from his lips. His hands tangle inside my long curls, and he wraps them around his fist. I’m going to collapse. Right here, right now. I’m going to die, but at least it’ll be happily in his arms.

Neither of us has taken a breath in God knows how long, and we’re in serious risk of asphyxiating, so I pull away from him slowly, leaving lingering kisses on his lips. Both his hands slip to my waist while I continue to softly tug on his hair. We’re both breathing hard, holding each other up and taking each other in.

Darian’s forehead meets mine. “Rani.”

I nibble on my bottom lip–tasting him on me–as the weight of the moment hits me. I recall Fred’s words and the subsequent thoughts I had about not pushing Darian into something he’s not ready for. Something I might not even be ready for. “Darian . . . I don’t know what this is. I don’t know where we are or how we got here, twice. And I’m . . ..”

He kisses up the side of my neck, inciting goosebumps all across my body and making me forget my train of thought. My legs clench, begging for relief. I’m shamelessly aware that he can probably smell the desire pooled inside my panties, but I’m beyond the point of caring.

“And you’re scared,” he finishes my thought.

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut.

I used to do it a lot when I was younger–squeezing my eyes shut to capture the moment in a mental picture. I can only recall a handful of happy moments from my childhood, but one was when Dad took Bella and me to a water park with roller coasters that dumped riders into enormous pools. It was a simple outing–one many kids spent their summers doing–but for me, it was a day of freedom. A day without my mom nagging me about something or another. I can’t recall the reason she couldn’t come with us, but I remember squeezing my eyes shut tight before opening them up, taking in the monster roller coaster in front of me and squealing in disbelief.

I want to squeal in the same way now, but I’m afraid I’ll completely ruin this dream if I do. Because how could I not be dreaming?

I open my eyes to see that he’s watching me, his usual blank mask back on his face. I should get my head checked for finding his unruffled expression so incredibly sexy. I know he feels a lot–it’s obvious with the way he guards himself–but he uses his inscrutable face as a shield that I find both irresistible and heartbreaking. Call me crazy.

“You don’t think I’m scared?”

Before I can answer him, he pulls me by the hand to his bedroom, turning on the light. I scan his neatly-made bed with navy linens and a fluffy white comforter. It’s large enough to fit an entire family on. Aside from that, there are two nightstands with oversized lamps and a couple of chairs placed for both form and function inside a bay window nook. Set against the light blue accent wall, the entire room feels subdued but deliberate–a lot like Darian himself.

The door clicks closed behind me, and Darian’s hands find my face again, imploring my eyes. “You don’t think I’m scared?” he repeats.

I nod, looking down at his chest. “I know you are, just like I am. I’m terrified that if things go south between us, I won’t just lose you, but I’ll lose Arman, too.”

He places a kiss on my forehead. “Sweetheart, I would never take Arman from you. I know how much you love him.”

“Maybe we should just take things slow.” I search his eyes again.

“Rani, I’m not scared of the physical stuff between us, so I hope that’s not what you thought I meant. You are so fucking beautiful, I haven’t quite found the right words–”

“I’d say you did pretty well with the whole lily analogy,” I quip, smiling shyly.

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