by Melissa Blue
Like there were lead weights drawing down her lids, she looked at him through a sleepy gaze. “You're still dressed.”
He straightened, his hands feeling clumsy as he tried to undo his zipper. She sat up and kissed him, pushing aside his hands to do the work herself. Was that him breathing like a freight train? Maybe. Fuck, likely. His head was filled with fuzz.
Adam didn't know how, but he found himself on his back, her hand closed around his cock as she stroked him.
“That mouth of yours,” she said and then groaned, “I can't think. I don't feel like myself after your tongue has been all over me.” She nipped at his lower lip. “I feel crazed.”
She tightened her fist and all thought stopped. He was too close. Adam grasped her wrist, but she kissed him, her free hand spearing through his hair until she closed her fist.
“I want you inside me. I want you to come.” She made a soft sound, as though she hated to speak the next words, “I need you to be inside me.”
He guided her hand down to the base of his shaft. “Take me in.”
She lifted, straddled his lap so her pussy lined up to his cock, and then she lowered herself onto him. He couldn't do anything else but shut his eyes and ignored anything that wasn't Charlotte closing around him so snug—so, so wet. She let out a strangled gasp halfway down.
“You're so big, Adam. So hard.”
He was lost in the heat of her. When she started to move up and down, his blood roared in his ears. She took more of him in then rolled her hips. Again. And again. She impaled herself, sinking him deep until there was nothing to feel but her, and then she was rising, tugging him from base to tip like a tight, wet fist.
Her soft hands rode up and down his chest in a thoughtless caress like she had needed to touch him while in this intimate position. That did him in. The quickening of her sex is was what finished him. His groans stopped being so quiet and turned into full-throat grunts of pleasure. She rode him faster, stroking herself with him harder.
A whisper of warning reminded him he wasn't wearing a condom. He'd tossed the one he had on in the kitchen. The conflict flashed for a moment, but he couldn't do that to her, so he held back until she cried out then went limp against him. He pulled out, letting out a deep, harsh groan. He came, his dick pressed against their bodies. Adam pushed her down, closer to him as his hips jerked in the final throes of his climax.
Spent, he grasped the nape of her neck and brought her down for a kiss. She melted into him, and he realized then that nothing else before her counted.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hours later, Adam should have been asleep, brain-dead but content. Any other free weekend he'd had since he struck that devil's bargain with the Outlaws, he'd stripped, slip under his covers, and pretended he didn't ache.
He'd thought—had been so certain—all he needed was sex or a good party to fill that nagging pit in his gut. All that free time behaving was the culprit to his idle mind.
Charlotte curled into his embrace, moaning softly in her sleep. He shifted, pressing his cock against her stomach, maybe more than a little hopeful she'd be prodded awake. Adam narrowed his eyes. Her breathing continued its slow, steady rhythm.
No dice.
And that left him alone with his thoughts.
Screw that.
As best he could, Adam rolled out of the bed, making sure the pillows he'd kept warm would cushion his absence. His ghosts didn't need to rattle chains at her, too.
Not bothering to put on clothes, he went to the kitchen, poured himself some water, wishing it was whiskey—but he'd banned all liquor six months ago. Tonight's wine had been the first in a long while.
A lot of firsts in a long while.
He rolled his shoulders and made his way to the living room to watch TV. He settled for standing up behind the couch to watch rugby, too restless to sit. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up a moment before Charlotte spoke.
“Do you always watch sports naked?”
Adam glanced down at his cock and shook his head. The sound of her voice could get him off. He should be more bothered by that. “Only when putting clothes on defeats my end goal.”
She leaned against the entryway, his sheet tucked around her. Love bites decorated both shoulders. Her tousled locks spilled around her face. He swallowed and considered looking away, though that wouldn't stem the southbound blood flow. But she stood there in a sheet, her hair rumpled from his hands. He'd done that—wanted to do it again.
Charlotte worried her lip then lifted her chin. No. He couldn't look away as she strutted over to him. Nothing was more beautiful than when a woman realized her power. He should have let her get on top the first time. Maybe then he'd be asleep, but he wouldn't have wanted to miss this walk—her hips rolled, sensuous and slow.
“What's your end goal?” she asked.
She'd probably expect the raunchy answer wanting to fall out. He turned the channel to some slow music. He crooked his finger on the sheet and gave it a nice tug. Nothing. Her hold was too tight.
“Well then,” he said, “getting you to loosen your death grip is first.”
A smile fluttered at her mouth. “Do you always have a sarcastic comeback ready?”
He rested his hands on her hips, yanked her closer, and rocked her to the melody. “It's like a pressure valve. One of the conditions of my contract is that I have to give straight, polite answers to any and all media.”
“So this is spillover?”
“Yes.”
“If you didn't want to answer all those questions in the class, you should have told me.”
“The kids were fine,” he reassured her, and he meant the words. “Matter of fact, if you want me to, I can come again next week. No PR this time. I can teach them chicken quesadillas. Quick, simple, and I'll even bring the chicken. I know this place that sells shredded chicken breast by the truckload.”
She tilted her head back, her features soft. “I would love that and the boys would, too.”
“I liked them. They remind me of me.” He ground into her on the next hip rock, and he liked the way her lids lowered. “I also like dancing naked with you. Though this sheet…”
Her smile went impish. “I'm not worried about you and this sheet. You're going to poke a hole in it soon.”
He kissed her instead of laughing. “I'm rubbing off on you.”
She rested a hand on his waist, still holding on to the sheet with the other. “Is that a bad thing?”
Yes. More than once, he'd caught the shadow in her gaze—it hid behind the vulnerability. Out of all the ways she could have volunteered, she'd chosen teenage boys—wild ones—to mentor. He knew that gleam in their eyes. Hell, he still had his. Is that what drew her to him?
Adam needed to know more about her than he needed to touch her. He grasped her jaw. “You've caught me on an off-season, I'm not this…” He searched for the right word and the last fit the best. “This. I don't dance naked in my living room with anyone. I don't let women spend the night or the weekend, unless it's Cabo. Never in my home. I donate to charities because that's important. But I'm everything the papers claim.”
Her expression remained the same—soft. “The Devil of the Gridiron?”
So she knew enough about him to come to that conclusion. Good. “More like I listen to that little devil on my shoulder much too often.”
She trailed her fingers up his torso then let them dance over his shoulder. “What is he telling you to do now?”
He raised his brows before ripping off the sheet in one hard tug. Charlotte squeaked, “Adam!”
He chuckled at her shocked, shy reaction. “Told you.” Adam closed his arms around her so she wouldn't dive for the sheet for protection. “Now, let's really dance.”
“I'm naked.”
“Kind of the point. Now put your hands around my neck, and I'll show you my moves.”
She did and he held her to him so they were eye to eye, her feet dangling at least a foot off the floor. Her brea
sts were flattened against his chest, her stomach a soft cushion against the hard planes of muscles he'd worked to maintain. Charlotte made him appreciate those hours at the gym a little differently. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he rocked them from side to side.
“Still doing all the work,” he murmured in her ear.
As he'd hoped, she chuckled. “I did some last time.”
“Did you?”
She wiggled, arching her hips down until her sex slipped against his cock. Adam almost dropped her. He staggered to the couch, his head dizzy as hell at the sudden loss of blood. She laughed the whole time. Somehow, she ended up on top of him, sporting a vixen's smile.
“You were saying?” she asked.
That so deserved payback, but she bent down to kiss him, and all the tension his body had harbored disappeared. He wrapped his hands low on her waist and let her mouth do things to him that he couldn't put into words. By the time she pulled away, Charlotte was trembling.
“Cold,” she said.
Adam glanced up at the back of the couch where the sheet had fallen. He tucked them in, their bared skin keeping the warmth between them under the light material. She crooked her face into his neck, and soon she was asleep again. Except this time, as the slow music continued to fill the silence, he followed her into a deep slumber.
*****
With the sun high in the sky, Charlotte demanded a shower, alone. Not that she somehow felt modest after their night of lovemaking and dancing naked… Or that she wasn't tempted to see what he could do while they were both wet and slippery from soap—that was probably on her bucket list, and she didn't even have one.
She couldn't think when Adam was right there, being the best kind of distraction. Charlotte needed to think. Too much was happening in such a short amount of time. There was no guide to what they were doing. No way she could have a contingency plan to the contingency plan.
She stepped from under the spray of the shower and twisted the ends of her hair to rid it of the excess water. At some point, though, she had to get out and face him again and somehow hold on to rational thought since this wasn't a long-term deal. He hadn't said as much, but did it really need to be stated? He'd breached his contract or even broke his word that he'd stay on the straight and narrow for a year. He'd made it six months. Would their relationship even last that long?
Goodness, she wished she could get caught up in the fun, wild side of this affair, but not thinking about the consequences is why she had a missing piece of her heart. Her brother never considered the repercussions of his actions.
Adam was a smart man. He had to have considered what this affair meant for his career if they got caught. She hated to think of herself as some kind of balm for his wild nature, and she wouldn't know unless she pressed him for the truth. And she couldn't do that if she hid in the shower all afternoon.
Charlotte shut off the water, got dressed, and went to get answers to the questions her time alone had sifted to the surface.
She found him on his patio, his feet propped on the steel fencing. A tinge of sea filled the air, but she picked up his masculine scent. As always, her stomach did a little flip until she caught sight of his profile. The stark, tense expression on his face forced her to slow her step. He tilted his head in her direction. After a quick inspection of her face, he raised a brow as though he knew she had a million questions and doubts.
Charlotte hated that he could see through her so easily.
“Who was it?” he asked.
She blinked at the abrupt question. “What?”
“You volunteer at what amounts to a troubled program for boys. Who was your troubled boy?”
Maybe if he hadn't offered his hand for her to come to him, her back would have stiffened at the probing question. Still, she sat in the patio chair far away from him. His touch made everything else dim, and nothing but his hands on her became important.
“My brother, Lance,” she answered without hesitation.
No point in trying to hide the truth. Adam was much smarter than he let on. He’d told her he was a bad boy, and she was going to believe him, but that didn't stop her from seeing his intelligence, his kindness, and his wicked sense of humor. At some point, she'd have to decide which trait was most important or damning.
He glanced back at the bay and cursed softly. “What happened?”
“Drunk driving. He died.” She swallowed so the simple fact wouldn’t choke her up. Charlotte gave herself another second before saying, “It was preventable. Not just that night, but the kind of behavior that led him to think it was okay to get behind a wheel of a car after a pint of bourbon.”
“I'm sorry for that, Charlotte.” His sincerity bled through the words.
She clasped her hands together and squeezed. “Thank you.”
Adam nodded and then shook his head as though coming to some kind of conclusion at her short confession. “Are you trying to save me?”
Her brows shot up. “Do you need saving?”
His chuckle was dark. “Depends on who you ask.”
She shifted. “I should go.”
He locked his fingers together and then rested them behind his head. The pose was both relaxed and arrogant. “No,” he said simply.
“What?” she said, shocked at the vehemence in his voice.
“Tell me why you're leaving, then.” His gaze was intense, unforgiving.
“We both know—”
“What?” he pushed.
Their time together had been short, but she'd changed. She could feel the difference when she closed her eyes and listened to her body. It was more than the aches and the beard burns. She'd asked—no demanded—that he take her hard and fast. She'd pushed him onto the bed and wrested control. She’d come out to his patio, and when he'd pinned that hard stare on her, she didn't buckle. How could one night change her life—change her—so drastically?
She straightened her spine and asked, “Are you saying we're more than a one-night stand?”
His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. “Yes.”
She broke the eye contact to look out at the water. From here, she could see the way the Pacific ocean raged against the shoreline. “Then how many nights?”
“As many as you'll give me.”
She whipped her gaze back to him, her limbs hot and her hands unsteady at the truth she could hear in those simple words. From his vantage point, she'd be the one to walk away first, not the other way around. Her lungs felt so tight she had to struggle to keep her breathing steady.
“I'm not some innocent, Adam. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear.”
“What you want to hear is that I'll always be safe and stable, never impulsive. I won't say that because I hate being a liar.” Smooth and languid, like a panther, he rose from the chair and strode over to her. He closed a hand in her shirt, forcing her to stand and meet his hard gaze.
“You don't want to believe you're the kind of a woman who will make a man reckless. You're not the devil on a man's shoulder.” He laughed and then nipped at the corner of her mouth. “And I can't walk away. Not yet. You're kind, sweet, and giving. You're the girl mothers should warn their boys about. You'll twist me into something I'm not, and I'll love every moment of it. So if anyone should have doubts or run for the hills, it should be me.”
Last night had been too real for these words to be lies. Adam thought she was the one who would break his heart. Charlotte, the woman who didn't take chances. Charlotte, who didn't believe in following one’s heart, much less a gut instinct—too often that led you to dark, ugly cliffs.
Her heart thudded hard and fast, more than ready to take a leap. “But you won't run?”
“Can't.” He closed his mouth over hers.
She grabbed his shirt's collar, her knuckles pressed into his firm skin. So warm. If they kissed like this for hours, she wouldn't mind it one bit. Especially when he wrapped his arms around her waist and all she could feel and smell was him.
Eventuall
y, he let her up for air, so she said, “I need more clothes if I'm staying the weekend,” she said.
“You may be the first woman I've met who packs an overnight bag for what she thinks is a one-night stand. You are a unicorn.”
“Did you see any rainbows last night?” Charlotte's blush ruined the effect of her salty words, but he still laughed.
“Let me make a call so you don't have to leave.”
“For clothes?” She tried to wrap her head around that. Logically, she knew football players had money to burn, but they had on call gophers, too? “And what happens after this call?”
“Don't know, but today, a size 36DD bra will be handed to me. Along with other things. I like today.”
She gasped, shocked at his accuracy, though she shouldn't have been surprised. He was probably better than Macy's—no measuring tape required. “Well, I'm starving and there is a well-stocked fridge.” She thought about Adam…really thought about him. “As for the clothes, make sure they cover everything. Not just lingerie you want to see me in.”
The way he grinned pretty much confirmed she'd been right.
“Adam.”
“What?” he widened his eyes and tried to look innocent.
She shook her head and passed him to go back into the house. He let her by with only an ass smack.
It didn't take her long to get the lay of the land in his kitchen. There was an order to the spices, pans, and pots. She believed his brag about cooking, many things were out of her reach, though just right for his. She worked around it, pulling out the parsley, spinach, mushrooms, and leftover wine from the night before as his voice drifted from the living room.
He must have trusted whoever he gave the task to. Wouldn't buying her clothes pretty much confirm he'd broken his no women rule? Despite their talk, that fact still left her with a greasy knot in her stomach. Silence filled the living room for another minute then his phone rang.
She could almost feel the stillness in the air before he answered. “Kent?” His tone wasn't cold but cautious.
She turned down the heat on the stove, feeling wrong for eavesdropping but unable to do anything else. This was a sneak peek into his every day life. Of course, she was curious.