Stella's POV
When he finally pulled back enough for me to catch my breath, his green eyes had darkened with desire, like bottomless pools threatening to pull me in. The lines at the corners of his eyes held a hint of dangerous sensuality that sent a wave of heat through my abdomen.
"Mrs. Lancaster," his deep voice coursed through my spine like an electric current, "you're much nicer to Sam than you are to me."
Is he actually jealous? I laughed inwardly. This normally composed business tycoon was acting like a little boy demanding attention. The contrast was unfairly adorable.
I couldn't help but laugh, my voice slightly breathless from his kiss. "Adam, be good to me, and I'll be just as good to you."
Something flashed in his eyes—both playful and heated, like a lion contemplating how to savor his meal. I felt like the dish he'd fixed his gaze on, nervous yet eager.
Without warning, he lifted me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing, and set me down on the small console table by the entrance. My back pressed against the wall as his body moved between my legs, and I could distinctly feel his hardness pressing against me through his pants.
God, he's already this hard...
"Wasn't I good to you last night?" he asked, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a string of hot, wet kisses on my sensitive collarbone, his teeth gently grazing the skin there.
"Last night was too..." I paused, searching for words that wouldn't further inflate his already substantial ego. Damn it, why did he always make me say embarrassing things in moments like this?
"Too what?" he raised his head, eyes gleaming with mischief, deliberately playing dumb.
Bastard, just wants to hear me praise him.
He chuckled against my skin, his hot breath tickling my neck, making me shiver involuntarily. "Speechless? That's a first, Mrs. Lancaster. I thought that clever little mouth of yours never ran out of words."
His hands slid under my thighs, drawing me to the edge of the table, our bodies aligning perfectly. Even through our clothes, I could feel the heat between us threatening to consume me. His fingers caressed my inner thigh, teasing me through my skirt with light touches that sent my thoughts into disarray, all my senses focusing on his touch.
"Who's the new auction house owner?" he suddenly asked, his fingers tracing circles on my thigh.
The question pulled me back slightly from the whirlpool of desire. Asking this now? His thought process is so strange.
"Adrian Black," I replied, deliberately adding with a smile, wanting to see his jealous reaction, "Yes, and quite a charming gentleman too!"
Adam's fingers froze on my leg, his eyes narrowing slightly, like an offended predator. I watched his jaw muscles tense, that uncontrollable possessiveness flickering in his eyes.
Fuck, he looks so sexy like this.
"Charming?" his voice was low and dangerous, carrying obvious jealousy.
His jealousy was so transparent, like an open book—I almost laughed out loud. This man who usually controlled every situation was so easily provoked when it came to his woman. The sense of power it gave me was intoxicating.
"Yes, very distinguished," I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying its silky texture, deliberately using an exaggerated tone, "Those deep blue eyes of his are mesmerizing, his elegant conversation refreshing, and when he talks about art, that passion simply makes one—"
Before I could finish, Adam gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. His expression had relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained vigilant, like a leopard watching its prey. "Had enough, Mrs. Lancaster?"
"Not yet," I deliberately provoked him, enjoying this control.
"And this 'charming' gentleman paid for your auction purchases?" his voice now carried unmistakable possessiveness, his fingers tightening on my waist.
"He did." I nodded, my fingers tracing his jawline, feeling the muscles tense with restraint. "Of course, I'll pay him back."
"Of course," Adam agreed, though his tone suggested he still wasn't entirely pleased with the situation. He takes the bait so easily, it's adorable.
I leaned closer, deliberately letting my breath warm his ear. "Mr. Lancaster," I whispered, my fingers sliding to his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob beneath my fingertips, "your Adam's apple is quite attractive."
His reaction was immediate—pupils dilating, breathing quickening, I could feel his heart rate accelerate. His hand on my thigh tightened, almost enough to leave marks.
God, I love seeing him lose control.
"Stella," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave, thick with desire, "you're asking for trouble!"
Seeing the sudden intensity in his eyes, I realized I might have pushed too far. This new, more emotionally expressive Adam was still adjusting to showing his feelings—and clearly, those feelings included a possessiveness stronger than I'd anticipated. My heart raced, both from excitement and a strange, inexplicable panic.
Damn, the possessiveness in his eyes is melting me.
"Adam..." I stammered, suddenly nervous, "don't... don't get so worked up."
"Too late." He moved closer, his voice rumbling deep from his chest like distant thunder, "You always do this, tease me with that little mouth of yours, then act innocent."
His lips reclaimed mine with renewed urgency, one hand tangled in my hair, tugging slightly, bringing a hint of pain mixed with greater pleasure. His other hand slid behind my back, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel his hardness through his jeans, making me weak all over.
Damn it, why is he always the one setting the pace? I barely maintained my last shred of clarity amid the passion.
When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard, like we'd just run a marathon. His eyes searched my face with unexpected concern, that tenderness contrasting sharply with his previous intensity, making my heart tighten.
"Are you uncomfortable? Any discomfort?" he asked softly, his thumb gently brushing across my kiss-swollen lip.
His tenderness beneath the desire caught me off guard. This normally ruthless business empire controller was now worried about my comfort—the contrast warmed my heart.
He's much gentler than I imagined.
"No," I managed, my voice barely audible, my heart pounding. "Just... be gentle."
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, his eyes shining with that familiar determination I knew well—he'd set his target and wouldn't rest until he achieved it. "Stella, forget about sleep tonight."
The promise in his voice sent a thrill through me, heat rushing to my core. But a practical thought suddenly surfaced, snapping me partially back to clarity. "Wait—protection!"
Adam paused, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement. His brow furrowed slightly, as if considering my request unreasonable. "If we have a child, we'll raise it," he stated matter-of-factly, with a hint of impatience. "What's the problem? I can't afford to support a child? Can't give them legal identity?"
He talks about children so naturally? The thought inexplicably warmed my heart. This man's attitude toward offspring was so straightforward, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"That's not the point," I protested, though his casual acceptance of potential fatherhood touched me more than I cared to admit. In fact, imagining Adam holding a small baby—our child—made my heart skip a beat.
Damn, am I really thinking about this?
He studied my expression for a moment, seemingly reading every thought in my mind, then sighed dramatically. "Fine." From his pocket, he produced several options. "Choose one you like."
I stared at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. "You've been carrying these around? Did you plan this all along, Mr. Lancaster?"
"After yesterday?" His eyebrow arched suggestively, his lips curving into a smug smile, "I came prepared. After all, I know how passionate my wife can be."
This bastard, talking like I'm some insatiable woman. Though slightly annoyed, I couldn't help feeling a rush of excitement.
As Adam lifted me from the hotel room's mini bar, carrying me determinedly toward the bedroom, our laughter intertwined in the air, spreading like alcohol, making everything feel dizzy. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, feet crossed behind his back, his hands firmly supporting my backside, fingers pressing deep into my soft flesh.
That pressure made my heart race, both nervous and eager, my body already beginning to warm. Tonight, damn, it was going to be wild again.