Wanting More.

Adrian’s POV

The image of Emma walking into the kitchen was burned into my brain. She had been wearing my white shirt with nothing underneath, her bare thighs glowing in the morning light. Her hair, which had been a beautiful mess the night before, was pulled into a neat ponytail. Then there were those glasses, sliding down her nose just like they had in the car while I was buried deep inside her.

It made me want her even more than I had last night.

It had been hours since I dropped her off at her apartment, but the thought of her hadn't left me for a single second. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her leaning against that doorway. I kept thinking about how much I wanted to bend her over that kitchen table and continue from where we stopped last night right then and there.

A part of me regretted my restraint. I had kept my cool, planning to wait until after breakfast to take her back to the bedroom and hear her scream my name again. But at the last minute, I had changed my mind.

I wasn’t going to make her moan my name only for her to regret it later. She was hurting and was merely using me to distract herself from the pain in her heart. As much as I wanted to claim her, I wasn't going to take advantage of her mid-breakdown. I had to remind myself she was only there because she wanted to forget about Trevor for a night... just the way I wanted to forget the countless times she’d crossed my mind over the years when I couldn't have her.

I had agreed to be her date because, why not? I would do anything to piss off Victoria and her daughter. Watching their faces turn pale when I walked in with Emma would be a very small price to pay for their past deeds.

I glanced down at my wristwatch for the fifth time, the silver metal catching the light. A business partner was supposed to meet me at this café, but he was already five minutes late. I frowned, the irritation bubbling up. I hated lateness. It shows a lack of discipline.

I looked out the window at the bustling street. People sat at tiny outdoor tables munching on croissants and sipping milky coffee while a street band nearby sang loudly in French.

“Oh, fucking Paris,” I muttered.

A male waiter approached my table, setting down a cup of coffee I had ordered two minutes ago.

“Voici votre café monsieur, noir sans sucre, comme vous l'avez demandé,” he said. (Here is your coffee sir, black with no sugar as you requested.)

I looked up and forced a polite smile. “Merci,” I replied, though I was secretly annoyed.

I didn't just understand why my partner had chosen such a noisy, tourist-heavy restaurant for a business meeting. I checked my watch again, but as I looked up, I saw a woman with blonde hair walking toward my table with a wide smile. She wore a long coat over a tiny top and shorts, topped off with a chic beret. I recognized her immediately.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hi! It’s you!” she exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent as she reached the table and took the seat opposite me.

I took a slow sip of my coffee and let out a dry cough. “Excuse me? Do we know each other?”

“It is you, isn't it? The night at Vis Las Club? We fucked, remember?” She bit her lip, leaning in. “I enjoyed it so much. I went back to the club all week to find you for another round, but you were gone. See? It’s fate. Here you are.”

“Sorry, you have the wrong person. I don’t know you,” I denied.

In truth, I did know her. We had spent a very loud night together the last time I was in Paris. It was good, enjoyable even, and it was a one-night thing that ended the moment I walked out of the hotel room.

“You’re not a twin, are you? You’re going to pretend you don’t know me?” she asked, her expression shifting from a smile to a look of deep annoyance.

I kept my face completely blank and uninterested. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. I’m expecting a business partner any minute.”

The woman grabbed her bag and glared at me. “Hijo de puta! (son of a bitch!)” she swore, picked up her bag and stormed off while continuing to mutter curses in Spanish.

I watched her go, unfazed, taking a sip of my black coffee while catching a glimpse of her backside. This had happened to me plenty of times than I could count with several different women. It meant nothing to me anymore.

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see my father’s name on the screen. He had called several times last night, but I had ignored all his calls. I had been too busy with Emma to let anything interrupt the moment. I looked at the screen for a while before I finally picked up.

“Where are you, Adrian?” His voice rang out as soon as I picked up. “You were supposed to attend your sister’s engagement party yesterday. I hope you have a good reason for your absence and for why you refused to answer my calls yesterday.”

I let out a sharp, impatient exhale. “You mean my step-sister. And I went there yesterday; I just left early. I had a lot of work to do and for where I am, I’m not in the country anymore. I’m on a business trip.”

“Adrian!” my father’s voice boomed angrily but softened immediately. “She’s your sister, Adrian. We ought to have moved on from the past, son.” He paused. “It’s her wedding in a week. Make sure you’re there. Work can wait.”

He continued without letting me speak. “Victoria is planning a family dinner before Allysia goes on her honeymoon. It’s been a while since we’ve all sat down together. We need to be close. We’re family...”

I didn't want to hear the rest of the lecture about "family" from a man who had replaced my mother so easily. I hung up and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

Just then, a man in a sharp grey suit approached the table. “Mr. Beaufort?”

I looked up. “Yes. And you are?”

“John. I’m so sorry I took up so much of your time. The traffic was a nightmare.”

Finally.

My partner took a seat and began talking about numbers and contracts, but even in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal, one thing refused to leave my mind. I wanted Emma. I wanted to do all the things to her that I had held back this morning.

One thing was certain: I wasn't sure I could wait a whole week to see her again.