refuse to believe that you and I have this link between us, this goddamn connection, and all for what? For us to be miserable with it? To love each other, but to never goddamn be together?
“I know I sure as fuck won’t believe that because I’ve been through enough shit, and so have you—we deserve each other, Thea. We deserve to have what this bond promises us.”
Well, that was a lot of ‘fucks’ and ‘goddamns’…
“I’m not going to disagree with you, Adam,” I whispered. “I hate it as much as you do. But you didn’t see my mother. You didn’t hear her—she blames herself and the curse for what she did to my dad. She said Nanny told her to leave him alone, to stay away, and she didn’t.”
“We are not your mother and father, Thea,” he snarled, and I wasn’t surprised when his face was suddenly right next to mine.
His hand was there, at the back of my neck, and he hauled me upright, dragged me into him, and didn’t stop until his mouth was against mine.
The moan escaped me before I could take heed. I tried to keep it soft, silent, but it was hard. The whimpers that wanted to escape me, the mewls and groans and sounds of delight that I almost choked on as he thrust his tongue against mine, fucking my mouth, reclaiming me, reminding me of what we were together.
Of what we had together.
I shuddered against him, loving the feeling of his hand against my neck, the tight clasp, the firm grasp that made me aware of one hard truth—he wasn’t going to let me go.
And God help me, I didn’t want him to.
A throat cleared, and I jerked in surprise, not because of it, because I ignored that, but the steward touched my arm, making me jolt back, breaking the kiss. I stared up at the guy with blind eyes, even as he averted his gaze, and went about retracting the table from the side compartment, laying a white cloth atop it, and setting out the cutlery.
A woman did the same for Adam, and after they both disappeared, a tray was brought to us.
I stared blindly at the pancakes, my brain in a whirl, my mind fractured, even as he’d glued the broken pieces of me back together again.
My appetite was gone—for food. Not for him. My body ached, pulsing and throbbing, needing him so desperately I wasn’t sure I’d survive until he could hold me in his arms, until he could take me and make me his once more.
He reached out, his hand sliding down my forearm, and when our fingers connected, he muttered, “Thea, you need to eat those before it gets cold.”
I blinked at him, gulped. “I’m not hungry.”
“You are. I know you didn’t eat much last night, and you’re so slender right now that you—”
I was just on the brink of being underweight, we both knew that. My body fat was at a low eighteen percent for race conditions, and that would change now that I was no longer having to train so hard.
He was right.
I needed to eat.
Sure, I didn’t need to eat the carb dump, but, out of nowhere, I wanted it again.
Craved the concoction that had been denied to me for months as Coach and I fought to get me to the level of peak performance.
I squeezed his fingers and assured him, “It’s okay. I’ll eat.”
“No more talking,” he muttered. “Let’s just enjoy the flight, chill out, and relax. We can talk plenty when we go to your hotel—”
“We’re not staying in a hotel,” I interrupted. “We’re staying in a private apartment. I hate hotels. Spending time in one this week only reinforced that,” I muttered, forcing myself to stop stuffing my face so I could reply.
How the hell had I lived without white flour?
As I moaned around another mouthful, it didn’t take much to realize I had Adam’s full attention.
I cast him a look, then narrowed my eyes at him in warning. “You know what it’s like in the run-up to a competition.”
“I do, but I never watched you carb dump in the aftermath before. Well, not since Fort Worth.” He twisted around in his seat, his own eggs Benedict forgotten, as he stared at me and watched me eat.
My cheeks flushed, but there was no way in hell I was going to stop enjoying my first normal breakfast in too long, because even at the hotel, I’d stuck to egg white omelets.