Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“Adrian, we can’t keep doing this.”
Warm amber light fell across Claire Bennett’s pale face. She sat half-naked on the edge of the bed, one hand pressed to her forehead, her brows drawn tight with a worry she couldn’t seem to shake.
From behind, Adrian Sterling wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in with open hunger.
“What?” he murmured, his deep voice lazy in the spacious hotel room. “You’re tired of me already?”
Claire lifted her head. A flush from their lovemaking still lingered on her cheeks.
“What we’re doing is wrong,” she said softly. “I have Daniel, and you have Vanessa.”
Adrian looked at her, his expression turning unreadable.
Then, without a word, he got out of bed. His naked body was lean and hard, not an ounce of softness on him, every line of him carrying a raw masculine heat.
Before Claire could react, he scooped her up and carried her straight into the bathroom.
He turned on the shower. The first burst of cold water hit Claire’s skin, and she cried out.
“Adrian, are you insane? Are you trying to freeze me to death?”
He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at him. “So you do know what cold feels like,” he said. “I was starting to think you didn’t feel anything at all.”
The water gradually warmed, steam rising around them and fogging the glass.
Adrian tapped a finger against his chest. “Do you have any idea,” he said, his voice low and tight, “that I can hurt too?”
Claire stared at his beautiful face and the wounded look on it. A sharp ache stirred in her chest.
She rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is my fault…”
Adrian let out a breath, then pulled her tightly against him, their wet bodies fitting together without a gap.
Water streamed down their skin. His hand followed its path, sliding lower until it settled on the full curve of her hip.
Under his touch, Claire’s body slowly softened again, pliant as a vine curling around him.
Soon the bathroom was thick with steam—and desire.
Claire Bennett owned the cafe and managed it herself.
The first time she ever saw Adrian Sterling, his wife was in the middle of tearing into him.
The place was usually quiet, the kind of cafe where people came to work, read, or enjoy the illusion of peace. Which was exactly why the woman’s shrill voice cut through the room like a blade.
“That woman was flirting with you right in front of me. I don’t care—delete her from your contacts.”
The man kept his voice deliberately low, but the strain in it was obvious. “Vanessa, she’s a client. Stop making a scene.”
“Making a scene?” Vanessa shot back. “She’s chasing after a married man right in front of me. A married woman acting that shamelessly, and I’m not allowed to say anything?”
By then, plenty of customers had turned to stare, some openly curious, others already annoyed.
Claire pasted on a professional smile and walked over.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said evenly, “could you please keep your voice down?”
She hadn’t opened the cafe to make money. She’d opened it because she liked the idea of it, because she wanted a place that felt like hers. So she’d never bothered cultivating that all-smiles, customer-is-always-right service attitude.
She lived by one rule: kindness for kindness, attitude for attitude.
If someone came at her with a bad face, she had no reason to give them a pleasant one in return.
Vanessa turned on her at once. “I’m arguing with my husband. What does that have to do with you?”
Claire arched a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. Bracing one hand against the edge of the table, she said, “Your argument has nothing to do with me. Doing it in my cafe does.”
“You—”
“Enough, Vanessa.”
The man who had been mostly silent until now suddenly cut her off. He rose to his feet and gave Claire a small, apologetic nod.
“Sorry about that.”
The instant their eyes met, Claire went still.
His gaze was dark and deep, black as polished stone, and something about it hit with unnerving force.
It was the first time in her life she had felt her heart slip, all because of a single look.
She gave a brief wave to dismiss it, then turned and walked away.
That afternoon, Claire kept drifting off while she ground coffee beans behind the counter.
Every few minutes, those eyes flashed through her mind again—dark and deep, like black glass.
Maybe it had simply been too long since she’d been wanted by a man, she thought.
She and Daniel had met in college. He’d chased her hard back then, and after they got married, he’d always treated her well. He was attentive, dependable, decent. And yet she could never shake the feeling that something was missing.
Like a dish that filled you up without ever tasting good.
At ten that night, after closing the cafe, she headed straight for the cocktail bar she frequented.
The music inside pounded so loud it rattled through her bones. Claire stepped onto the dance floor and let herself go, moving with the rhythm, her body loose and fluid as she finally shook off the strain of the day.
She was almost thirty, but she drew more attention than the girls several years younger than her.
Her arms lifted high above her head, and the fitted crop top she wore showed off every curve to full advantage. Men kept drifting toward her, pressing close, trying to dance with her. She responded with easy heat, teasing just enough to pull them in—then slipped away the moment they started to think they had a chance.
Some of them were good-looking. A few were more than that.
None of them interested her.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Losing interest, she stepped off the dance floor and slid onto a stool at the bar. She had just opened her mouth to order when a glass of whiskey appeared in front of her.
She looked up.
And ran straight into the pair of eyes that had unsettled her all day.
In that instant, she caught the scent of something dangerous and electric.
The man smiled and held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Adrian Sterling.”
For one absurd second, Claire felt as if fate itself had leaned down and whispered in her ear: You’re not getting away this time.
She arched a brow, then placed her slender hand in his. “Claire Bennett.”
If she wasn’t going to escape it, why not enjoy it?
By the time they left the bar, it was past midnight. Claire leaned against Adrian, tipsy and soft with drink.
He glanced down at her, his tone edged with suggestion. “Where to?”
“I need to go home,” she mumbled, giving him her address.
The moment he heard it, some of the interest seemed to leave him.
By the time he drove her there, Claire had sobered up a little.
Adrian got out and opened the car door for her like a gentleman. Claire stepped out, long legs unfolding smoothly, her miniskirt riding high enough to hint at what lay beneath.
Through her hazy, alcohol-blurred gaze, she looked at the tall, handsome man in front of her and knew, with sudden dangerous clarity, that she wanted him.
Like parched earth desperate for rain.
In that moment, she cast aside the restraints of morality, slipped an arm around his shoulder, and gave him a slow, seductive smile.
“Want to come up?”
His eyes lit for a second. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You know I’m married.”
“What a coincidence,” Claire said, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she watched his expression dim. “So am I.”
Then she leaned closer and added, “But my husband isn’t home.”
Just this once, she told herself.
Her life had been far too dull for far too long.
The room was full of a man’s rough breathing and a woman’s helpless moans.
Everything had already gone too far. The kissing, the touching, the heat building between them—Claire had been dizzy with it. But just as Adrian was about to take things further, she put a hand against his chest and stopped him.
“The condoms are in the drawer.”
Adrian didn’t move.
Instead, he caught her mouth in another kiss. Claire let out a startled sound, completely unprepared, and by the time she realized what he was doing, it was already too late.
They spent the night tangled together.
Afterward, Adrian reached into the pocket of his discarded clothes and took out a small white pill.