At Any Price(48)

“Oh God,” I said.

“I’m good but I’m not that good.”

“Adam—” I panted.

“Better,” he whispered. “Say it again.”

“Please.”

“Again, Emilia.”

“Adam. Adam. Adam.” And just as I felt the crest of release take hold, he lowered his head and sank his teeth into my earlobe, the pleasure and small, sharp pain clashing with each other.

I fell against his chest, panting. It was several minutes before I remembered where I was or even who I was. There was nothing but an aching, haunting bliss and the feel of his chest rising and falling under me—very quickly with each rushed breath. He was very turned on and I wondered why he’d done this in the first place—why he’d started this when he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it for himself—at least not tonight.

Or maybe he could. I stroked my hand along the rigid line of his erection, easily discernible from base to tip. He stayed my hand, hesitating.

An almost involuntary groan escaped his lips. “No,” he breathed. “Tomorrow morning I’ll have the boat back. We’ll spend the afternoon out, have lunch, go swimming, make a day of it. You can stay the night there.”

I looked at him, the question in my eyes. “I can wait, Emilia. You’re worth waiting for.”

The kindness of those simple words took my breath away. You’re worth waiting for. It was so opposite of what I’d known from my only serious relationship—if a self-involved high-school boyfriend could even be considered serious. Zack hadn’t wanted to wait. Had decided to force the issue when I told him I wasn’t ready. That wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, so he’d taken what he wanted anyway.

I shivered against Adam and he pulled me to him. “Thank you,” I said, voice trembling with an emotion I couldn’t fully explain.

When he turned on his phone shortly thereafter, there were four text messages and a missed call. Adam swore under his breath, but took the time to answer each one of them while I sat beside him huddled under the blanket.

His car took me home soon after. Restless yet depleted, I reclined against the leather bench in the backseat, mind wandering over the evening’s events. Hopefully things would come to a conclusion tomorrow. But that shard of desire came with a double edge—because it meant that tomorrow night together would be our last. And as much as his hands on me were driving me to new undiscovered countries of pleasure, I suddenly realized how much I would miss him, beyond just his magic hands. His conversation, his boyish smile, his caring consideration, his keen perceptiveness, his clean, ocean smell. I tried my best to ignore the ache at the center of my chest that hadn’t gone away since he’d said that simple sentence, You’re worth waiting for.

But I had to remind myself that a relationship with someone like Adam would be impossible. I would not allow myself to entertain that dream. On the outside, he seemed perfect. But on the inside, he was a man, just like all the rest of them. And they couldn’t be trusted.

Once home, I checked my messages. Heath had called, instructing me to call him the minute I got home. Alex had left two, demanding the chisme immediately. I glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight so I opted out of calling.

Instead, I wandered the apartment—cleaned a few dishes, picked up my study guide and threw it down just as quickly. Going to bed didn’t even cross my thoughts. I knew it would only lead to hours of tossing and turning.

I was too wound up by the thoughts of Adam’s hands and the delicious sensations they had awoken in me. Of the memory of his voice commanding me to come to climax, to say his name. Shivers slithered all through me at the memory.

So I did what I always do when I couldn’t sleep. I logged on to the game to while away a few hours. Heath had not logged in, nor had my other two game buddies, Persephone or FallenOne. Fallen hadn’t been on since the last time we’d played together, three weeks before. An hour later when I was about to log off, my in-game message screen flashed.



*Magnus tells you, “Why are you still awake?”



Magnus. The one and only. I ran a command to find out Magnus’s class and level. /whois Magnus

The game obediently told me: Magnus is a level 75 Fire Mage. Because of course he was a Fire Mage. Fire Mages were the most overtly powerful character class in the game. They had the element of fire at their command, could throw fireballs and command flame to dance on the heads of their enemies, or burn them slowly down with heat damage. I bit my lip, trying not to giggle at the irony—the thought of his hot hands still burned in my memory. How appropriate.