3. Unwrapping Adam Wilson

Maya…?

What cruel joke was this?

Adam Wilson stared at the woman in his arms. Her face. That face.

The same face that haunted his nightmares, his regrets, his shame for the past five years.

Yet this wasn’t Maya. This woman wasn’t looking at him like she used to — with patience, with quiet devotion. No, Imogen looked at him like she wanted to ruin him.

Her name wasn’t Maya. It was Imogen.

And Maya… Maya would never beg. Never tease. Never seduce.

That role used to belong to Sabrina.

For a fleeting second, Adam’s mind betrayed him. Sabrina. The woman who walked like sin, every curve screaming sex, every step daring men to lose control. Men hardened at the sight of her, without her needing to even glance their way.

But Imogen… she was different.

She didn’t need to speak.

The way her breath hitched when her chest pressed against his…

The way her lips parted, soft and wanting…

The way her thighs shifted beneath the silk of her dress, rubbing together in silent frustration…

Innocence? Maybe. But desperation made her bold.

Right now, she wasn’t some delicate woman needing protection.

She was sensual. Starving.

Her body spoke louder than words — soft curves pressed against him, her scent filling his lungs, her skin heating beneath his touch.

And God help him… she was beautiful.

Beautiful enough to ruin him.

Dangerously so.

No. She’s not Maya. She’s Imogen. Get a grip, Adam.

He felt like the drunk one now.

“Imogen, I’m not the man you’re looking for,” he said again, his voice hoarse despite himself.

“Immie,” she whispered against his skin. “Please… Only my brother and my father call me that. And now… you.”

Adam swallowed hard when her breath ghosted over his ear, followed by the soft bite of her teeth. A low, helpless sound slipped from his throat.

“Immie… I’ll admit it. You’re… impressive in bed. Your kiss alone…” His words cut off as her chest brushed against him again, bare skin grazing his. “With moves like this, I can only imagine how mindblowing the sex is.”

Her hot tongue traced the shell of his ear, slow, sinful. “Ah—” A raw sound broke from him before he could stop it.

Her arms tightened, pulling him down onto the mattress.

Her kiss deepened, hotter this time, hungrier. Fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. One… two… three… slipping the fabric aside like unwrapping a forbidden gift.

Adam’s shirt was already half open, his chest partially exposed. The cold air from the AC hit his skin, making every inch more sensitive.

Imogen’s hand was warm as it slid over his chest, her palm pressing lightly against firm muscle. The contrast between her heat and the cold air sent a sharp jolt through his body.

Her fingers spread, tracing along the line of his pecs, brushing over the hard plane of muscle. When she moved lower, her touch dragged across the ridges of his abs.

Goosebumps followed wherever she touched, his skin tightening under her slow, deliberate exploration.

And when her fingers brushed lower, he realized with no small amount of horror — he was hard. Fully. Painfully.

Imogen pulled back just enough to look down. Surprise flickered in her eyes… then satisfaction.

Her fingers pushed through her hair, slicking it back in an elegant, almost lazy gesture as she admired him.

“You… work out?” she teased, eyes tracing the lines of his body. “Bodyguard? Or just obsessed with gym memberships?”

Adam groaned as her fingers found his nipple, tweaking it without shame, watching his control snap little by little.

“Immie… ah—” He caught her wrist, breath uneven. “I’m… I’m not the man for this.”

She paused, her face falling just slightly. “So, what is it? You’re rejecting me… again?”

“I’m not lying to you.” His voice sounded ruined even to his own ears.

Imogen scowled. “Sure. I believe you’re not lying about erectile dysfunction.”

Her hand slid behind her, lower, gripping him through his pants, mocking the liar — thick, hard, pressing into her backside.

“I’m serious—”

“What’s wrong with you, Adam?” she whispered, her gaze locking onto his, her breath soft against his lips. “You look at me like you want me too. Or am I wrong? Are you… a virgin?”

Adam’s laugh was hollow. “No.”

But he couldn’t tell her the truth. That he used to be a bastard. That his dysfunction was penance. That half of him wanted to push her away and the other half wanted to ruin her right here.

Imogen’s frustration burned hotter. She pressed closer, rubbing against him, punishing his denial with her body.

She leaned in, her lips grazing over his chest, right above his nipple. She didn’t hesitate — her mouth latched onto it, sucking just hard enough to make his breath stutter.

Her hand found the other, fingers pinching, twisting. Slow. Purposeful.

Adam groaned, his muscles twitching under her touch. “Immie…” His voice sounded wrecked, strained. “You’re driving me insane.”

Imogen smirked against his skin, releasing his nipple with a soft, wet pop. “I’m a fair woman.”

She moved to the other side, her tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before pulling it between her lips. Harder this time. Hungrier.

Adam’s back arched slightly, his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

“You really want to kill me tonight,” he rasped, his control slipping fast.

Imogen sat up a little, pushing his shirt wider open, baring his abs fully to her gaze. Her fingers traced the lines, her nails scratching lightly.

“Look at this body. My instincts were right. A man like you? No way you’re impotent.”

Adam swallowed. “I really was… for over five years.”

Imogen leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Yeah, yeah. Poor thing. Too bad I’m smarter than your doctors. We should’ve met sooner… would’ve saved me from wasting time on losers like Alan Lewis.”

Her fingers trailed down, pulling loose his belt, slow, deliberate. His breath caught. Her touch sent fire licking through his veins.

Her palm flattened against him through his slacks. His jaw clenched. He was throbbing now, aching.

She smirked. “So much for dysfunction.”

Adam’s self-control cracked.

Her fingers toyed with his zipper. The sound of it sliding down cut through the tension like a knife through silk.

But just as her hand slid to undo him — his phone buzzed.

She frowned. “Don’t answer it.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “Sorry… I can’t ignore this.”

Her brow arched in silent challenge. “You’re not the kind of man to offend a woman… are you?”

“No,” Adam groaned. “But… this is my children. Please …”

His breath hitched as the words left him.

Her hand froze on his zipper.

And so did her heart.