Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [113]
“Hey,” Adam said. “That was . . . wow, a huge step for you. It was awesome. Are you okay?”
She turned back to Adam, looking a little lost for a second. “I’m fine.” Her face cleared almost at once. “Where do we go now?”
“Home,” Adam said, stepping off the curb to flag down a taxi.
“Home,” she echoed with a soft smile. “I like that.”
Once they’d clambered into a cab and were speeding down Tenth Avenue toward the Village, Adam leaned his head back against the cracked vinyl seat and groped along the cushion for Miranda’s hand.
“Miranda,” he said. His voice sounded strange, tinny, and far away. “There was a guy with a gun. In my kitchen.”
Even in the dim light of the cab’s backseat, he could see those gorgeous blue eyes fill up. “I know, honey.”
“You keep calling me ‘honey,’ ” Adam said. “And I can’t even enjoy it. Because of the guy. With the gun. Oh, Jesus.” A sob ripped out of his gut before he knew it was coming. His chest heaved and he brought a shaky hand up to his face.
Miranda’s arms were around him in a flash. Nothing in the world ever felt so divine.
The rest of the cab ride passed in deep, cushioning silence. Adam felt like he’d been packed in cotton balls; the world rushing by the taxi window seemed very far away.
When they got to his corner, he let Miranda pay the cab driver and maneuver him into his townhouse. He watched her deadbolting the door and was shaken by a wave of delayed fear and adrenaline.
“I almost lost my best friend today,” he said, startling himself. Saying it made it real. He pulled Miranda close.
“But you didn’t,” she reminded him, coming willingly to his arms. “It’s over and Frankie’s got lots of people looking out for him. He’s going to be better than okay.”
Adam nodded, his face in Miranda’s hair. No wonder Frankie nuzzled Jess all the time. The Wake hair was addictive, warm and soft. Comforting.
“I could’ve lost you, too,” he said, the words slow but inexorable. He couldn’t stop dwelling on the terrible what-ifs.
What if Rob’s shot hadn’t gone wild? What if Adam had shoved Miranda in the wrong direction, and she’d been hit instead? What if . . .
“But you didn’t. You won’t.” Miranda’s voice was fierce. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, too. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere unless you make me.”
The only possible response to something so wonderful and longed for was a kiss.
Adam framed her face between his palms and looked his fill. Luminous blue eyes, pink, cupid’s-bow lips, soft red hair waving over the milky skin of her forehead. He could feel the butterfly pulse of her heart in her neck, where the heels of his hands met to cup her chin.
He took her mouth, hunger beating in his chest like a wild bird was trapped behind his ribs.
She gasped into it, opening for him, yielding everything. Adam wanted to touch every inch of her, reassure himself that she was real and safe and there and all for him.
Pulling back, he told her, “I meant what I said to Rob. I want you to stay. After the month is up, for as long as you want.”
He had to be sure she understood. Should he say he wanted her to stay because he loved her? Would that scare her off?
Miranda gave him a tremulous smile. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
She punctuated the words with a slip of her hand down his body, to where his dick was trying to leap out of his jeans. Adam didn’t know when he’d gotten hard, but it was suddenly all he could think about. Her hand moved delicately, every shifting bit of pressure sending sparks up his spine and shivers through his belly.
“God, yes,” he panted. “Need this, need you.” Love you.
“Shhh,” she crooned, looping her arms around his neck. “You’ve got me. Whatever you want.”
Adam kissed her again, desperate for the dark, sugary rush of her taste, the slick press of her tongue against his.
It wasn’t easy to make it from the front door to the bed without letting go of the kiss, but Adam put his back into it. He didn’t want to let Miranda go, even