Betrayed By Husband, Stolen By Brother In Law
Chapter 180: Breathless

Chapter 180: Breathless

By the time their dance came to an end, Melanie was breathless, her chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. Her skin was slick with sweat, her body still humming from the intensity of the moment. She had no idea how long they had been dancing, but it was too much... While everything had been decent and the movements had only been suggestive, she’d felt like a voyeur and an exhibitioist... She felt exhilerated and exhalted.

As Adam pulled her out of the crowd towards the bar, she could not help but cast a look at his back, her gaze tracing the taut lines of his back, the way his shoulders moved with that effortless confidence that had always made her heart stumble. Dammit... He was dangerous. Not in any obvious, physical sense-no, it wasn’t that. It was the way he made her feel, the way he unraveled her, slowly and completely, piece by piece. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready for the kind of chaos he could always bring to her. It was like he would dig deep into fantasies she didn’t even know she had.

When they reached the bar, Adam spoke briefly to a passing waiter, who gave them a look and then scurried away. In the next moment, Adam grabbed a glass, took a long, measured gulp, and then set it down on the counter, his eyes meeting hers with a glint of mischief.

She extended a hand, expecting him to pass the drink to her, but instead, he did the exact opposite. He just took a long gulp and she stared at him, wide eyed!

Before she could form another thought, though, Adam was already there, stepping into her space. His lips found hers with a purpose, as if he’d been waiting for the moment to come. She was caught off guard for a second, but then, the world around her seemed to fade away.

She barely had time to process it, but the feeling of water in her mouth—his drink, now shared between them—sent a rush of heat through her veins. The sensation was oddly intimate, the kind of connection that bypassed words and went straight to the primal part of her brain. His hands were on her, one still resting lightly on her back, the other brushing against her neck as he pulled her in closer.

Her hand instinctively curled around his shirt, anchoring herself as the kiss deepened, turned messier, wetter, the faint coolness of the drink lingering between their mouths. She could feel the thud of his heart against her chest—or maybe it was hers, hammering loud enough to drown out everything else.

The kiss didn’t last long, but when he pulled back, it felt like the air between them crackled. Her lips tingled, her breath came in shallow bursts, and her mind was nowhere near calm.

Just then, the waiter returned, stepping into their charged bubble with a small, elegant box in hand. Adam took it with a nod of thanks, his eyes never leaving Melanie’s face as he popped it open with a flick of his thumb.

Her brows lifted in curiosity, but she said nothing as he pulled out the contents

He lifted it toward her, and instinctively, she tilted her head, baring her neck for him. The chain brushed her skin like a whisper, cool and soft. But Adam wasn’t done. With quiet intent, he turned her around slowly, letting his fingers trail across her waist as he moved behind her. She felt every inch of his presence as he reached around, clasping the chain behind her neck, then trailing the rest downward.

His hands grazed the exposed skin just above her navel, lingering for a breath longer than necessary. One palm flattened against her belly, the heat of it branding her through the thin fabric of her top. The other adjusted the lower chain, securing it behind her back. It wasn’t just sensual—it was possessive, like a mark.

Melanie swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering.

Adam leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of her ear as he murmured, voice husky, "I regret buying you those pants..."

A pause.

"Should’ve picked a skirt. Would’ve made things so much easier."

Her breath hitched and her skin prickled beneath the chain and his words. Her hands gripped the edge of the bar for balance as she felt her knees go weak.

Then, as if the moment hadn’t just unraveled her completely, he pulled back slightly and asked with infuriating calm, "So? Want to head back? Or are you still up for playing tourist?"

Melanie’s breath caught as the meaning of his words fully registered, the implications curling low in her belly like a flame catching wick. Would’ve made things easier. Not for modesty. Not for comfort. For access. Her skin felt too tight for her body, her thoughts a storm of heat and desire.

She didn’t answer right away—couldn’t, not with the way her tongue felt like a foreign object in her mouth.

But Adam didn’t seem to need words.

With one final glance at her—smug, knowing—he took her hand and guided her away from the bar, away from the noise, the crowd and the too-bright lights, but she barely noticed anything else, floating somewhere between grounded reality and a kind of electric haze.

The moment they slid into the back seat of the car, the atmosphere shifted. The doors closed with a quiet thud and Adam turned toward her.

His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face to his with aching gentleness, and then his lips were on hers again—no preamble, no hesitation. The kiss was hungry this time, urgent, mouths colliding with the force of pent-up tension. She tasted the remnants of that earlier drink and something darker—need, maybe, or the danger he always seemed to wear like a second skin.

Melanie moaned against his mouth, her fingers threading into his hair as he leaned further over her, half pinning her against the seat. The world outside the car dissolved.