At Any Price(88)

He blinked. “The auction was for your virginity.”

“That’s a clear-cut argument, if you’re splitting hairs.” I raised my hand and jutted a finger toward his solid chest. “You keep saying that you’re the one in control of this situation and yet you have been losing control all along and that’s the real reason you’re pissed.”

His jaw set but he stood absolutely still. A fist of foreboding closed over my chest. He wore that strangely calculating expression—the one that meant he was thinking about ten other things alongside the conversation he was currently having.

When he spoke, it was with a quiet, even voice despite the anger in his eyes. “If you sent the money back, there is no deal now.”

I shifted my stance, feeling like a dragonfly about to be lured into a spider’s web. “That’s right. The deal is canceled.”

His eyes met mine, hard as flint. “So what about this bullshit about not seeing each other again when we return home?”

I exhaled. “That was always part of the agreement—”

He made a chopping gesture with his hand. “But you just said there is no agreement.”

I shook my head. “There’s no future for us. I mean, given how we first met and the arrangement and how everything has turned out. Heath said it best and I ignored him for so long. It’s sick. This is sick.”

The flush crept up from his jaw into his chiseled cheeks. “And what the hell does Heath know about us? I mean about what’s really going on here. He doesn’t. So why are you letting his opinions influence you? Why are you listening to him and not to me?”

I lowered my face, put my hand to my forehead. I couldn’t say the words that were almost on my lips. Because I can’t trust you. Now it was my turn to remain silent. Because honestly, I had no words and I could feel his agitation mounting no matter how much he fought to appear calm.

“So everything that’s gone down between us is sick? What happened in that bed this morning was sick?” He spoke in an even voice that was taut, edgy. A vein at his temple throbbed.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then what is this all about? Do you want to end this?”

“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is! What is there to end?” I finally said. Then I cleared my throat, my arms stiffening with indignation. “This was you…bidding on an auction for some unknown reason—an auction that you fundamentally cannot believe in. And then prolonging the outcome for as long as you can. You’ve manipulated this all along and now you are asking me to trust you? To listen to you? You should have let me go at the beginning so I could go through with this with someone else.”

He swallowed. “It’s not too late,” he finally said. It sounded like the words had been torn from him.

My chin came up and I folded my arms across my chest, his words stinging me like a shower of sharp pebbles. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

But my chest felt heavy. Because I wanted him, now. I wanted the experience to be with him and I couldn’t name why. The thought of going out and finding someone else—maybe Mr. New York or some Arab sheik or something—actually left me with a sick feeling.

If I couldn’t use him for the money, then maybe I could use him for the experience my body had been craving since he first touched me.

He moved up to me then, with hard eyes and stiff posture, a hand working at his side. He looked into my eyes, first one and then the other.

“Emilia,” he breathed. My eyes fluttered closed. “Look at me.”

I opened my eyes and tilted my face to him. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted this tension between us to ease. And the fierce ache rising up from the center of my being told me I wanted his hands, his body on mine. No more talking. No more arguing. No more discussion of a “deal.”

As if he read my thoughts, his mouth sank to mine, his hand steadying me at the back of my neck, curving around my bare flesh there. Goose bumps prickled down my arms and legs.

His kiss was so overpowering, it sucked me into him—like I was caught inside a raging hurricane, wrapped inside this force of nature called Adam and could not find my way out. When he pulled away, we were both panting. “There,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Would you mind telling me what was ‘sick’ about that?”

I fought for breath and he pulled me to him again, another powerful, consuming kiss. I shivered in his arms and his hands went to my shoulders. With two swift movements, he pushed my sundress off my shoulders and it slid to the floor. His mouth was on my neck, running his tongue and lips along the sensitive skin. The touch struck molten sparks through my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck. One of his arms locked around my waist. The other went around to the back of my bra, unfastening it easily.