Adrian's POV
"Amelia."
I broke the kiss long enough to pull off my jacket. Amelia grabbed my tie, pulling me to her. I reached for the light switch.
She pulled away. "No, leave it."
My fingers hovered over the switch. "I want to see you."
My gaze fell to her dress, tight enough to show off her curves. I'd wanted to rip it off her body since the party.
"I want to see all of you," I muttered.
She walked over to the bed, her fingers playing with her zip. Moonlight cut through the curtains, showing off her pale skin.
The dress fell to her knees. Her black lacy thong barely covered any skin. She unhooked her bra, throwing it at her feet.
Heat rose to my throat, making my pants tighten.
She turned—barely—enough to stare at me before stepping out of the dress. I pulled off my tie, tossing it across the room.
"Fuck."
She crawled on the bed, ass in the air—slowing, biding her time like she knew how much effect she had on me.
I tore off my shirt, ignoring the buttons popping across the room. Slowly, I removed my belt, my eyes never leaving her face.
Her red hair spread across her shoulders. Her green eyes were mesmerizing, piercing through me like an arrow.
I walked towards the bed slowly, unbuckling my belt. She crawled towards me, a smile playing on those damn lips.
I grabbed her neck and pulled her up. Her eyes searched mine; I wondered what she saw in them.
Her fingers played with my belt. I could smell the alcohol on her breath.
I pulled her chin, making her look at me.
"Are you drunk?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No."
I could feel her heartbeat thundering beneath my fingertips.
My thumb played on her soft lips. "Do you know who I am?"
"Adrian Cane."
She pushed her hand into my briefs, holding me fully. I inhaled sharply.
"My boss."
She knew who I was. Good.
Her tongue swirled around my thumb. I pulled my head back and moaned.
She pushed down my briefs, exposing me fully. She pulled away, getting on all fours. I grabbed her arm, making her pause.
Her brows knitted in confusion.
"Not yet," I said.
I'd imagined this moment a thousand times. Three months ago, she wouldn't have let me touch her. Now, I had her exactly where I wanted her.
In my bed. Wanting me. Craving me.
I was going to savor every moment.
I kissed her, inhaling every breath. Her tongue clashed in my mouth as her hands traced invisible lines down my back.
I groaned when she dug her fingers in, marking me. I grabbed her thighs, wrapping them around my waist as I settled on the bed.
She moaned in my mouth, the soft hum sending chills down my back. I broke the kiss, pulling away.
I stared at her, memorizing every feature on her face—the dash of freckles on her right cheek. Her lips were plump and soft.
My gaze moved down…at the scar on her right shoulder. She covered it instinctively. I pulled her hand away and kissed the scar.
The memories came flooding back, at the scared little girl running away from someone. She tripped and fell, screaming in pain as a branch lodged in her shoulder.
The anger flooded my veins, making me shudder.
Death wasn't enough to make them pay for hurting her.
"Hey."
I blinked. Her eyes searched mine inquisitively as she caressed my cheek.
"Where'd you go?" she asked.
I kissed her hand. "I'm here."
I've always been.
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Kiss me."
I did exactly that…and more.
I smiled as I watched her sleep. Her chest heaved with every breath she took. I pulled back the covers and stood up, careful not to wake her.
I froze when she turned in her sleep, moaning softly. I walked over to her side of the bed watching her closely.
A framed picture on her bedside table caught my attention. My brows knitted when I saw the man in the picture, his arms wrapped around her with a bright smile.
Why's the picture of her ex-fiancé still in her room?
I grabbed the frame. He had such a punchable face.
What the hell did she see in him?
I threw the frame across the room and watched it land on the futon.
"No. Please, no."
I turned to see her squirming. Her brows were knitted with beads of sweat rolling down her cheek.
She was dreaming.
"I'll do anything. Please, don't hurt me," she muttered.
I knelt beside her and held her hand. She reached for me in her sleep, her hand clasping over mine.
"Help me."
The look on her face made me pause and for a second, I forgot why I started this.
I had her in my bed. My plan was almost finished.
I should have felt victorious. I should have felt satisfied.
Instead, I felt…hollow. Like nothing else mattered than to protect her from the people who hurt her.
And the one on top of that list was me. But it was too late to save her. From them.
From…me.
She was exactly where I wanted her and I'd let the heavens burn before I let go of her.