Adam loved Diana.
They'd been together for three years, and had been in love even longer than that. There was no drama with her, or at least, what issues there were ended up
being minimized by Diana's all-encompassing maturity. She was always so calm, always collected. She could work through anything with that look of
concentration and a slight, wry smile. She was a living, breathing constant, and he adored that about her. She smelled sweet when Adam leaned in to give
her a brief kiss, the perfume he'd gifted her for her birthday gracing her skin as her new signature scent. Her dark eyes closed contentedly as her lips brushed against his for a single instant. The touch was gentle. Sweet. It was as comfortable and as familiar as his own reflection.
So he loved her.
Even if every time he saw Cassie Blake, it took everything he had not to reach out and touch her. Even if there was some sort of perpetual, maddening magnetic pull to the blonde haired newcomer- she the moon, he the all-too-willing tide, rushing to do as she bid. Whatever it was that ended up being. The first time he'd been alone with her, he'd almost kissed her. He was so close to doing it too, without regret or second thought. It was all he had wanted. To give in to the deep, insurmountable draw and press his lips against hers, just to feel the spark he knew would ignite. To feel the flame erupt under his skin. To taste the soft flesh of her lips as they clashed with his, dueling, dancing, making fire out of friction. A dozen times since, he'd nearly lost his head to the heat of her: Cassie pulled up against him, her body flush against his and her eyes staring, wide and bright and bluer than an ocean's first morning wave, trustingly into his. Her lips parted, eyes beginning to haze, and he could practically taste her desire for him to close the distance. It gave him shivers: Cassie Blake's desire. A force of nature. Give up. Kiss her already, damn it.
He wasn't proud of the fact that more often than not, it was Cassie who pulled away, her forehead wrinkling in horror at what they had almost done. He had to actively resist reaching out and pulling her back to him so that he could just do it. He wanted so badly to just bridge the goddamn distance and give in to the wrenching in his gut that twisted him inside and then out and then inside all over again. She was the incandescent sun that glowed beneath his fingertips, that wrenched out of his touch, and left with a guilt that he couldn't bring himself to feel coloring her face. Even she was too good for him. They both were.
Even if when he kissed Diana, just after reassuring her that he loved her (which he truly did, obviously), for one guilty instant he imagined it was Cassie. The kiss deepened, spiraled. He dreamed of blonde hair and soft lips that night, Diana wrapped in his arms, solid and constant and tangible.
Adam loved Diana.
But he craved Cassie.