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ADRIAN

“ L ambert?” Marisela asked.

She didn’t have to say more. I saw the question in her eyes—rather the realization—and I couldn’t keep myself from touching her.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t. That she shouldn’t let me.

My hand moved towards her face, the pad of my thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

Remembering what those lips tasted like.

How they felt against my cock. How perfect they looked pursed together and covered in my cum…

A day, a month, a year… it didn’t matter. There was no forgetting this woman and the way she altered my brain chemistry. The way she altered me and the way I’d altered her in return. We didn’t fit together. In the same world, in the same room.

I didn’t care. I’d shave down all our edges until we’d click into place. Until she became that piece I’d been missing since the first time she looked down at me from her window.

“See that?” I lowered my mouth, close enough to breathe her air, without actually making contact.

The anticipation was everything. At least for me it was.

It just seemed to infuriate her. “I gave you my name long before you took my brother’s, little lamb,” I whispered.

Quickly dropping my hand to my side. Stepping back and putting a few feet of distance between us.

It was all I could do to keep myself from doing something stupid. Something gratifying but so very stupid. It was ironic, how often those two crossed paths. How something could be wrong and feel so right.

Not to say anything about her being mine was wrong. It wasn’t. The timing was. I couldn’t rush it.

Marisela set her textbook on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest, the way she often did when she was trying to put her guard up around me. “Does Tate know about this?”

“It was his idea,” I admitted. Technically, it was mine. He’d just been too dumb to figure that part out.

“Of course it was,” she groaned, plopping down on the sofa. Her eyes rolling towards the ceiling before flicking towards me again. She paused a moment, then cocked her head to one side. “How’s the foot?”

“Significantly lighter. How’s that pretty little pussy?” I watched her smirk drop.

“You took something you had no right to take, Adrian.”

“Mr. Lambert,” I reminded her. “And so did you. ”

“That was different.”

“The way I see it, it was very much the same.”

She was fuming now. Her brows knitted in the middle and her lip curled slightly at the top. “Mine is gone forever. Yours is sitting upstairs in a jewelry box.”

“Do you plan on returning it, Marisela?” I lifted a challenging brow.

She shook her head and hissed, “Never.”

“Do you regret it?” I continued to press.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Me either.” I shrugged. “See? Same.” She opened her mouth to reply and I raised a finger to stop her.

“I suggest we use your time wisely. Unless you’d rather wait and see what other warm bodies your husband can dig up?

But I can assure you their qualifications won’t be anywhere near as good as mine are. ”

“Fine,” she grunted. “Show me what you got, Mr. Lambert . Just remember, a day will come when the student surpasses the teacher. It always does.”

“I have no doubt,” I told her.

Truth was, I was looking forward to it. There was nothing sexier than a woman who could bring a man to his knees. And I was practically crawling.

Several weeks passed and Marisela still wouldn’t let me touch her.

Which was smart on her part. I’d seen the morality clause in their prenuptial agreement.

Just the hint of a scandal, and she’d lose everything.

And what was more scandalous than having an affair with your bastard of a brother-in-law?

It was why I was here. Why Tate allowed it. Why he didn’t fight the suggestion I made and the idea he thought he had. To tempt her. To torture me. It was another game to him. One that was easy to play when you had the dealer in your pocket and all the cards in your hand.

It was also why he would lose. Why I would do whatever needed to be done to ensure Marisela would win.

She hadn’t realized it yet. But we weren’t on opposing teams. Fighting was just part of the sport. The more she hated me, the more driven she became. And fuck if she wasn’t driven to hate me.

She chewed on the end of her pencil, so lost in thought she didn’t feel me watching her.

Relaxed. More relaxed than she should be in my presence.

Considering all the things I was picturing doing to her right now.

She was also hyperfocused. Her legs curled up under her ass, one elbow propped up on the arm of the sofa.

All her concentration on the chemistry problems in front of her.

The woman wasn’t just smart. Plenty of people were smart. She was cunning and curious and unapologetic. She knew how to read the room, how to work it in her favor, how to adapt. It was survival of the fittest. It was also something you couldn’t teach .

She scribbled down a few more equations, checking her math before shoving the paper in my direction. I grabbed it out of her hand and set it aside.

“Aren’t you even going to look at it?” She sighed. “Make sure I’m right.”

“Don’t need to. I know you’re right,” I explained.

“How? How do you know without even looking?”

“I looked at what mattered.” I lifted a shoulder. “Your face told me everything. You know you’re right. I am not going to waste the effort proving it for you. You don’t need outside validation. Trust your gut, Marisela.”

“Even when it’s telling me I should take this pencil and shove it through your eye,” she grunted, and I grinned.

“Especially then.”