Like a Cigarette (Shakira & Adam Levine / Shadam)

I'm a (Hot) Mess

"She used to spend it all alone 'cause her man went and did her wrong, so she . . ."

"Couldn't keep away, huh?"

Shakira scoffed, "Who said I ever left?"

Adam smirked in a knowing way, "I don't know. Saw your cab leave and all with you in it. Maybe, I'm seeing things."

Adam sat in the small, unnoticeable area in the back of the bar. The lights, though dim, as in you-couldn't-see-two-feet-in-front-of-you dim, were the brightest in the entire bar where music ran thin and low.

Shakira's mind flashed immediate warning signs and alarms in her head, but her heart was already in turmoil. She needed a distraction.

So Shakira joined Adam in the booth.

She eyed his drink, "Maybe it was from your drinking too much," and made a grab for it, but as the cold liquid travelled down her throat in a slow-pacing, elegant way, she realized it was water.

"Are you drinking water, Adam?" she asked it like an accusation that caught her off guard.

"I don't drink," Adam shrugged, his hands fiddling with his lighter, his palms twitching for the pack of cigarettes in his left pocket that only contained three. He had bought the pack just a couple of hours ago.

His tone was soft as though he meant to say he couldn't instead and Shakira almost felt a little sorry for him. Perhaps, he is as good as an actor as the critics had said.

That is, until his mouth opened once again.

"Are we friends now, Shakira dear? We seem to be on first-name basis now," the corners of his mouth tugged just a bit.

"Depends," Shakira answered, a challenging smile playing on her lips, "Are you going to buy me a drink or not?"

An hour later, Shakira's back slammed against the hard door, vaguely noticing the pain hitting her spine, all because it just felt so good.

His arm supported her left leg as it wrapped around his body--the body that pushed against hers. Her hands clamped into fists as they pulled on his hair, his hand squeezing the back of her thigh and her mouth occupied his. Adam made effort to bite at her any chance he got, his other hand drawing seductive circles on her right hip, and she buried her tongue into his, pushing, fighting, enjoying.

"Fuck, Adam, door," Shakira knew she wasn't speaking cohesively, though, that is, when he allowed her air to speak.

Seriously, she blamed the alcohol.

Everyone should fucking know: Shakira and alcohol don't mix well.

But like hell if she cared now as Adam's mouth dived to suck the side of her neck that drove her absolutely insane, her fingers now trailing across his collarbone, nails digging.

"Shit," she gasped, her voice hazy with lust, "Adam."

And Adam responded with two sounds of approval at her use of swearing and his name. Maybe, he likes that sort of shit; she giggled shamelessly as she thought about his unusual turn on.

Adam's head came up as he heard the angelic sound, so innocent, so unlike her, that played like music to his ears. He pressed his forehead into hers, their eyes competing in a stare down, his tone demanding, "Do that again."

And though she didn't mean to, Shakira giggled again, her vision blurry from drinking shot after shot; but she didn't need to see him to think that his man act was so cute! Ha, he thinks he could order her around, as if! Shakira didn't notice that she was actually complying to his commands.

Adam smiled a genuine smile as he pecked her on the lips, his hands searching for his keys without his eyes for his eyes were too busy searching hers.

He fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them in his haste to unlock the door. Shakira's fingers traced the tattoos on his biceps, making it impossible to concentrate.

"Having trouble there?" Shakira teased, eyes never leaving his chest.

Adam only huffed in frustration before finally unlocking the obstacle that blocked the two of them from having hot, passionate, dirty, sexy, rough, beautiful . . .

He looked at her, his breath rugged, his mind filled with lust, his concern overloading, Maybe, this was a bad idea. He remembered her downing alcohol like each drop was her last and he could taste it in her mouth as well. Perhaps . . .

"Is there something wrong?" Shakira asked, her hands entering his shirt, fingers tickling his hardened abdomen.

"Jesus Christ, Shakira," Adam said through clenched teeth and his mind went, ah fuck it, before opening the door and shoving her backwards so fast that her legs almost gave out. As his mouth once again explored hers, Adam lifted Shakira off the ground and her legs wrapped around his body, his keys lost, his open door forgotten.

The two almost making it to the bedroom blindly before a loud gasp that did not belong to Shakira was heard.

"Adam!"

Adam and Shakira froze, eyes looking over to a female figure that left Shakira confused and Adam dropping her in a flash.