Page 51 of Ticket to You

Things between us didn’t just make a small shift—everything has changed. The animosity that once defined our relationship is gone, replaced by something even more powerful and undeniable.

Adam’s pupils dilate, and the rise and fall of his chest matches up with the pounding of my heart. He stares at me, waiting for a reaction. The cautionary voices in my mind have turned to eager ones, like a horde of hormone-overloaded teenagers.Kiss him again! Take him back to the hotel! Hell, who needs the hotel—just take him to a dark corner of the garden!

“That was…” Adam says, prompting me to fill in the blank, his version of Mad Libs.

I can’t find the right words, so I settle on “Nice,” exhaling slowly.

Adam’s smile comes full force. “You have a way with words, Ophelia.”

“When I sit down to write this story, I’ll pull out my thesaurus.”

The joke isn’t particularly funny, but Adam’s head knocks back a few inches with a hearty laugh. He pulls me closer to him, and I lay my head against his chest, grateful for more stability. My knees are weak and my limbs feel like cooked spaghetti. There’s a puff of joy in me when I hear Adam’s heart beating rapidly, maybe even faster than my own. How can a simple embrace feel so intimate?

Adam twists a piece of my stray hair between his fingers. “So we should…take things slow?”

“Yeah. But we should get out of here so we can at least talk about…all ofthisprivately,” I suggest, holding my breath as I motion between us.

Adam’s arms tighten against me. “Agreed.”

He slings the gear bag over his shoulder and follows me out of the reception. It takes everything in me to keep my feet moving forward. I stay a step ahead of Adam, knowing that one look at him could undo me from the inside out.

We don’t make it far through the palace gardens before entering a stretch of the path covered by arching greenery. The stars disappear behind a canopy of leaves and tiny pink flowers. I can still faintly hear the pulsing music.

Adam and I don’t talk. Even if I wanted to talk, I’m not sure I could sort through the static that flickers between my ears. Words pop into my mind every few steps as if I’m scanning through radio stations, but I can’t seem to form anything coherent.Mistake… unprofessional… inevitable… warm.We’re almost out of the covered path, almost to the street. The hotel comes into view right as Adam extends his hand out, grazing it against mine, and I freeze.

Adam’s bag drops to the ground. His fingers move along my arm delicately, avoiding my rock climbing cuts. He stoops down from behind me, planting a kiss on my bare shoulder, and his hair tickles my cheek. Heat radiates from the kiss and moves down my body, gathering on my thighs. I turn my head toward Adam’s, touching my temple against his as if to hear what he’s thinking. Of course, I hear nothing. Maybe his thoughts are as jumbled as mine.

I could stay in this spot forever and allow the garden to engulf us perpetually in its beauty. But apparently, Adam has other ideas. He traces my collarbone with slightly parted lips, moving them higher, onto the side of my neck, my jaw, my ear. His ragged breath flutters against my skin as he stands against my back. It sends a shock through me, pulling a moan out from deep in my stomach.

Without me directing it, my hand naturally moves up to Adam’s hair, grabbing a fistful of his curls. I never want to let go. He kisses my neck deeper in response, only stopping to let out a disbelieving laugh, which is rough and sexy and swirls around me, clouding my vision. I would give anything to hear it more.

My knees practically give out, but it doesn’t matter. Adam holds me upright, pressing me to his chest. The buzzing in my ears escalates, and I know I can’t hold back any longer. I whip around, grabbing at Adam wherever I can, and kiss him fervently, crushing myself against him. His lips are soft but insistent, and I moan again as he deepens the kiss.

Adam tastes like champagne and mint, an intoxicating combination that sends my head spinning. Months of bottled-up angst and chemistry flow out, slipping between our mouths and along our tongues.

I can feel the callouses Adam has earned through years of rock climbing, mountaineering, and skiing when he skates his massive hands across my bare skin. His fingers dance over my curves and trace the line of my spine. Gone are the cautioning voices. Gone is logic. Adam fills every crevice in my mind.

He squares my hips against his. I slide my hands behind his coat, feeling the bands of muscle I’ve been dreaming about for days. His body ripples from my touch.

I didn’t know I could kiss this passionately. In all my past relationships, kissing was something I did because it felt weird not to. But I could—andwantto—kiss Adam for hours.

The cool evening air is a sharp contrast to the burning between our skin, sharpening every movement Adam makes. His mouth leaves mine so he can follow the line of my jaw, dropping again to my neck, my collarbone, stopping at the line of my dress.

“You’re impossible,” Adam says, moving back to my ear.

I push Adam up against the curve of the greenery, taking in fistfuls of his shirt, so aggressively it comes untucked. I slip my hands up against his skin, and his defined torso tightens against my fingers.

It could be minutes or hours that we stand here, ignoring the outside world, but it’s nowhere near long enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” Adam says after I pull away to catch my breath. The corner of his mouth lifts. His hair is wild, sticking out in random places, hanging down over half of his forehead.

I tiptoe up to kiss Adam’s nose, still trying to steady my pulse. “How long?”

“Since the night we met, I think.”

“Oh, you mean the night you told Gemma you weren’t interested in me?” I tease.

Adam smirks, tipping his head against mine. “I sincerely didn’twantto be interested. But it was no use. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. And when you stood up to me, called me on my shit, that sealed the deal.” He kisses me again, slowly, and when he draws back, I feel like I’m pulling magnets apart by not following. “I’m yours, Ophelia. I think I’ve been yours since the moment we met.”

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