Free Everything I've Never Had by Lynetta Halat Page A

Adrian. Except it never turns out for my benefit.” I bristle as I realize that he's starting to treat me like every other male in my life. “You know, Adrian, I thought I knew you. I liked how you were different toward me. Not like all the other overbearing men in my life. Now, I wonder if this is the real you. Just like the rest of our Hebert men—arrogant, misogynistic, self-serving—”
    “Misogynistic, self-serving? Do you have any idea what I've done for you? No, I guess you wouldn't, would you? The point was to protect you from all that shit.”
    “What are you talking about, Adrian?”
    His voice is back to dripping with venom. “Nothing. The only thing I'm talking about is that fucking dress, and the fact that you're not leaving here in it.”
    “This conversation is over. Get out of my way.” I start to walk past him, but when I do he grabs my arms and guides me back to the wall. “Adrian, what—”
    Adrian runs his hands up my arms and shoulders until they grasp both sides of my neck to tilt my head back so that I'm staring straight into his arctic blue eyes. I immediately start trembling, and it's not with fear. That whiskey-laden voice drips with passion. “Celeste, I'm begging you not to leave here looking like that. You look gorgeous, babe, but I can't sit here all night wondering who's hitting on you, who's imagining moving that scrap of fabric over to get a glimpse at what is...”
    “What is what?” I breathe heavily.
    “What is underneath it all?” His brow wrinkles, and I feel his hands tighten their pleasurably painful grip. “What is underneath it all?”
    “Just me, Adrian, just me,” I breathe. “That's all.”
    “So everything then. Just like I thought.” He removes one of his hands to run it up the back of my thigh. My eyes widen and I swallow hard.
    “That's not a good idea,” I whisper. His hand wraps all the way around my thigh, his fingertips coming to rest along the crease of my left cheek. My thigh pulses with fire.
    “Why not?” His fingertips tease back and forth a little. Even though it’s a light touch, it feels like his calloused fingertips mark me.
    My voice is strained. “Why not? Look at us. We can't even have a civil conversation for everything that has passed between us, and you want to further complicate it. What you're doing will further complicate matters.”
    His hand stills. He exhales loudly and lets his head drop on my chest. “You do this to me. I don't act like this. That day in the park, watching you cross and uncross your legs. Throwing your hair over your shoulder. Laughing without a care in the world. Cheering me on like it was your favorite thing to do! It killed me. Killed me. I've never wanted a woman the way I want you. Never.”
    His words rain down on me like fiery drops of lust. I close my eyes and rewrite that memory. I thought he was just being an ass, but his unexpected anger was because he was yearning for me. I bite my lip, open my eyes, and shake my head. “It's just because you can't have me, Adrian. I'm nothing special.”
    “Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He runs his nose up my throat, scenting me as he goes. I lean my neck back, giving him more access even as my brain screams at me to run—not walk—out of this room. But when he says, “You're everything to me.” My head falls back even further and my eyes close again as I feel him slant his head and attack my jaw, throat, and neck with closed-mouth kisses. I hear myself moan and give myself one more little jolt to try to spare myself from this delicious torment that will only end in frustration.
    Adrian works his way back up my throat, but this time, it's his tongue that leaves a scorching path of devastation. I feel as though I've been flayed open and am just a quivering pile of nerve-endings. “Oh my God, Adrian, what are you doing to me?” I manage.
    “I could ask you the same thing,” he murmurs against my throat. “You're driving me insane. We shouldn't be