Trashy (Take It Off #10)(8)
Author: Cambria Hebert

I stepped farther into the room, out from beneath the vent.

Adam leaned over his desk and snagged something off the back of his chair. He turned back and stared at me. “You look like a drowned cat.”

“It’s raining,” I snapped.

Briefly, his eyes traveled over my body, and I became very aware that my light-colored sundress was probably see-through from the rain and that my nipples were painfully hard from the cold.

Instead of leering at me like every other man would and did, his eyes snapped back up to my face and he stepped closer. Automatically, I inhaled, just as I always did when he was close. His scent was intoxicating. It was by far my favorite. Sort of woodsy, deep with a hint of spice. It lingered in my nose even after I breathed out.

The warmth from his large frame radiated around me as he shook out what he was holding and draped it around my shoulders. I glanced down, taken by surprise. I’d been too busy being distracted by his closeness to notice what he was doing.

“You’re gonna freeze, Rox,” he murmured as he wrapped his jacket around me. “C’mon, slip your arms through.”

I did so automatically, hoping his scent would stick to my skin and linger there the rest of the night.

It was ridiculously large, the jacket on my frame. The fabric engulfed me, falling well past my fingers, down my legs, and hanging off my shoulders. Adam grunted and pulled it closer around me. “I didn’t realize you were so small,” he murmured.

“That’s because I have a big mouth.”

He chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth?”

He pulled away. I was slightly disappointed. Turns out I didn’t need vodka. Just the sound of his laugh. The door yanked open with force. Adam was silent maybe two seconds. Then he began issuing orders.

“Amber! Take Roxie’s first dance,” he barked.

“No,” I protested behind him.

He ignored me.

“I need a towel, Cam. A big one.” He kept right on yelling.

The door shut once more.

“What the hell, Adam?” I said. “I can do my own dances.”

“Relax. I’ll cover whatever money you lose. I wanna talk to you.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. It was hard to be annoyed when his jacket was so warm. “So talk.”

The door to the office opened, and Cam stuck in his head. He held up the towel, and Adam motioned for it. Cam threw it inside, and he snatched it out of the air.

Cam left us alone again.

“Here,” Adam said, letting the towel fall open. He held it out, and as I moved to take it, he changed course and used the corner of the fabric to brush beneath my lip.

“You wanna explain to me why your lip is bleeding?” he asked, shifting closer.

“I bit it,” I replied, not offering more of an explanation.

“Why are you so wet?”

“It’s raining.”

He gave me a no-shit look and lifted his eyebrow, prompting me for a better explanation.

“I had to get gas.”

He sighed. “Here.”

I took the towel and began to dry my dripping hair.

Adam went back around his desk and sat in his chair. I often thought of it as the king’s chair, because Adam was definitely the king of the Mad Hatter.

Once my hair was towel-dried, I slipped off my soaked flats and kicked them aside. My feet were sopping, so I dried them and the rest of my legs. My arms and upper body were warm thanks to Adam’s jacket, so I hung the towel over the back of the chair on this side of the desk and pulled my brush from my bag.

I sat in the chair with the towel and began combing out the mess on my head. “What do you want to talk to me about?” I asked curiously.

If it wasn’t about the vodka, I had no idea. I knew I was doing a good job here. He couldn’t possibly have any complaints.

He watched me for long moments, his eyes following my movements as I brushed. The air was thick in the small office. I could feel his stare, and I tried desperately not to look back, but it was hard. My eyes automatically wanted to look at him, but I was afraid to. I was afraid he would see what I really felt about him in this moment. I was wet, cold, and wearing his jacket. I felt vulnerable and needed a few moments to gather myself.

The vodka needs to hurry the hell up.

When my hair was tangle free, I set the brush in my lap and pulled the damp strands up into a topknot on the crown of my head. I secured it with a hair band from the handle of my brush. When I had nothing left to distract myself, I glanced up at him.

“Your lip still has blood on it,” he murmured, like the sight of it bothered him. I ducked my head and dabbed at the sore spot.

When I was done, I lifted my head. “Better?”

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he got up and came around the desk, sliding himself between the furniture and me. He crouched down in front of my chair, gently taking the towel from my clutches, and lifted a corner of it to my mouth. Adam was tender as he swiped at the place I had chewed raw. The area stung mildly, but I ignored it as I watched him.

All his attention was directed at that one spot. He concentrated on it as if it were some important test. When he was satisfied, the towel fell from his hand and into my lap. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he brought up the pad of his thumb to softly caress the area, trailing his fingers far past the hurt and across my jaw.

“I don’t like seeing you bleed,” he whispered.

“It’s no big deal,” I whispered back.

His hand fell away from my face, and I felt the absence of his touch profoundly. I shivered lightly, and Adam pulled the lapels of his jacket around me just a little bit tighter. His hands lingered in the folds of the fabric. I could feel the heat of them even through the jacket.

Nameless emotion sizzled, crackling through the silence and making me feel buzzed. Maybe the vodka was working after all. Adam wasn’t much of a toucher; he usually kept within the bounds of his personal space, very few times venturing out of it.

He was a very controlled man, like he lived by some unspoken personal code. One of his rules was he didn’t date his dancers. Ever. And that little reminder was like ice water tossed on the flames he ignited just by being so close.

The tenderness he was showing me right now was just like the tenderness he showed a couple months ago, when he held me in his lap. When his words were soft and meant only for my ears. That night had been horrible. I should never want to think about it.

But I thought about it all the time.

Mostly in the dark of the night when I was lying in bed alone and all I could do was remember.