by Lisa Edward
“I’m cooking you dinner tonight. What do you fancy?”
Raising my eyes from my manuscript, I watched Adam move around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. The way he made himself at home here, rather than spending his time two doors down, made me feel as if we had set up house without realizing it. He looked in the fridge, then gave up and closed the door again.
“Woman, you have no food in this house again. If I wasn’t here to look after you, you would wither away and die sitting in front of that laptop.”
I removed my glasses and stretched out the kinks in my neck. He was right. I’d never known anything else that could keep my butt glued to a chair for hours on end like writing did. I forgot to eat, I forgot to sleep, and there were days when I realized I hadn’t peed. If not for Adam’s presence, I probably wouldn’t have showered and changed out of my sweatpants and buttercup-yellow sweater, but knowing he would be coming over had my personal grooming high on the list of priorities.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” I said, smiling. “We can get pizza from Nick and Toni’s.”
He shook his head, and came toward me, his hands once again resting on my shoulders to rub out the tension. “I want to cook for you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to cook for, and I find it relaxing.”
My head flopped forward as his hands worked their magic.
“Besides, I feel like in some small way I’m contributing to what I know will be a bestseller.”
“Well, you’ll certainly get a big mention in the acknowledgements.” I groaned as he worked on a particularly stubborn knot.
His hands stopped. “Will I? Huh, how about that?”
I could tell by his tone that he was delighted, and it made me happy to think that I’d done something to make him smile.
“Of course you will.” I turned in my seat to face him, holding his hands in mine. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your patience and tutelage.”
His eyes glazed over as he realized I was being sincere. “I’m going to have my name in a book.” He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the top of the head. “That calls for celebration. Now I’m definitely cooking dinner.”
Half an hour passed before Adam returned with a bag of groceries and a cheery whistle. Max had been sleeping by the fire but jumped up and gave a halfhearted growl when he heard the key in the door.
“Come here, boy,” I said, calling him over with a pat on my thigh. “It’s just your dad coming home.”
Boy that sounded strange, and comforting. Strangely comforting…and extremely scary.
“What are you growling at, Max?” Adam said with a smile. “Are you protecting the lady of the house?” He scruffed Max’s head. “I thought you were supposed to be my dog.”
Max’s tail wagged so hard his entire body joined in before he trotted back over to the fireplace to resume his position on the rug.
Watching Adam unpack groceries as he hummed to himself gave me a sense of peace I’d never felt before. It was normal; it was so normal that I could be forgiven for feeling as if this was meant to be. We had both come to this place for different reasons, from different walks of life, and somehow found each other. And without complicated discussion, we’d eased into each other’s lives, but there was still one part of the equation missing. We were still just friends. Sure there had been some flirting and even some touching, not to mention a lot of ogling on my part. My eyes ran down the length of Adam’s back to his firm ass. Yes, there had definitely been ogling.
“You’re watching me, Buttercup. I can feel your eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.”
I smirked. “Oh, I ain’t lookin’ at the back of your head, Sugar.”
He swung around with a broad grin plastered on his face. I shrugged and gave him a naughty wink before returning to my manuscript. I needed to push this “thing” that was happening between us a little further to gauge if Adam had any feelings for me other than friendship. First, the glasses needed to go; then I pulled my hair from the messy bun that seemed to be my standard go-to hairdo, and raked my fingers through it until the natural curls sprang back to life.
Standing, I walked as casually as possible over to the kitchen. “Can I give you a hand?” Leaning up against the counter, I tried to subtly pull my shoulders back, accentuating my C-cup breasts.
Adam’s gaze lifted from the chopping board, loaded with vegetables. “Is your neck sore again?” he asked, frowning. “Your shoulders look tense.”
I slumped. Obviously my feeble attempt to look sexy just made me look like I was in pain.
“I can give you a proper massage after dinner if you like. I’m sure I saw some scented oil in the bathroom cupboard.”
Now that sounded more promising. I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck to feign sore muscles and furrowed my brow. “That’d be great, thanks.”
Preparation needed to be made, so I excused myself for a moment and dashed into the bedroom. Slinging underwear from my drawer, over my shoulders like a madwoman, I found my best matching black lace bra and thong and slipped them on in place of the granny panties I’d been wearing for comfort. This was not a time for comfort—this was a time for string rubbing between my butt cheeks. Quickly running my hands over my legs, I was pleased I’d spent a little longer in the shower that morning, shaving them so they were silky smooth. Redressing in the same clothes I’d been wearing, I checked myself in the mirror, fluffed my hair, and pouted my lips, then strolled back out to the kitchen to help Adam with the rest of dinner.
He was a marvel in the kitchen and in no time had whipped up chicken breast, stuffed with sundried tomato and Brie, with greens on the side. Meanwhile, I felt pretty useless in the kitchen, having lived mainly on a diet of packaged salads and frozen meals since leaving Charles. So I opted for setting the table and deciding between the two bottles of wine Adam had bought, one a light red and the other a dry white.
Conversation flowed easily as it always did between us, as I tried to subtly get the string from my thong to sit comfortably. When dinner was over and most of the bottle of wine had been drunk, Adam offered once again to rub my stiff and sore shoulders.
“Where’d you like to do it?” I asked in my best suggestive purr.
Adam grinned wickedly as he looked around the room. “I was thinking maybe the bedroom…”
My heart leapt out of my chest—Yes!
“Or perhaps we could get cozy on the floor by the fire, if Max will get out of the way.”
I could work with that. While Adam disappeared into the bedroom to grab some blankets, I called Max off the rug, then dragged it over to the corner. He seemed to understand that this was now his place, as he curled up on his rug and settled back in.
Should I undress? No, that might be a bit embarrassing, to be sitting here waiting in my underwear. But then if I wait fully clothed, I’ll have to undress in front of Adam once he comes out. I decided on a compromise and kicked off my shoes and removed my sweater, leaving a thin long-sleeved tee and jeans.
“Great, I see you’ve managed to move Max,” he observed before spreading out the blankets and tossing a few cushions from the sofa onto the floor. He reached into his back pocket. “I found this.” He held up a bottle of Massage & Play 2-in-1 oil that apparently doubled as a lubricant, making my heart do a little dance in my chest. “We can use it for the massage.” His eyes flared. “The play can come when you’re ready.”
We stood there watching each other, neither one moving.
“So, should I…” I imitated lifting my top over my head.
Adam smiled. “It will be hard to massage the oil in through your clothes.”
I felt like such an idiot as I waited for him to divert his eyes, but he didn’t. They stayed fixed firmly on me, or rather, firmly on my chest, waiting for my top to unveil what lay beneath.
Suddenly, a wave of uncertainty washed over me. What if he was disappointed in what he saw? Maybe I should have left the other underwear on inst
ead of going all out with the black lingerie. It was too obvious, trying too hard.
“Do you need some help?” His rich voice was soothing as his head tilted to the side. “You can leave it on if you’d feel more comfortable. We don’t have to use the lube.”
I gave myself a mental slap. I was a twenty-nine-year-old woman, for goodness’ sake, and was acting like a teenager. Still, as my hands took hold of the top and began lifting it over my head, I instinctively turned my back to Adam.
“I guess the jeans are staying on, then?”
I heard him move behind me.
“Here, this may make you feel more comfortable.” The iPod was turned on softly; then the lights were flicked off, leaving only the light from the fireplace to illuminate the room.
As fast as I could, I unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, tossing them to the side. It was a quick movement and I was only standing in my lingerie for less than a minute before I dropped to the floor and lay on my stomach under a blanket. But it was long enough to hear Adam, still behind me, suck in a sharp breath before exhaling slowly. My stomach fluttered at the thought that he had been watching and had liked what he’d seen.
Flicking my hair out of the way, I turned my head to face him. He was adjusting himself, his usually loose, low-slung jeans looking uncomfortably tight around the groin.
He caught my eye, and a cheeky grin crossed his lips. “What can I say? I’m only human.” He dropped to his knees beside me, still with the most adorable smile plastered on his face.
“I know, I’m hard to resist,” I said, laughing. I think the wine was taking effect because my usual filter between my brain and mouth had deserted me.
“Yes, you are.”
“Hmm, that’s why you haven’t even kissed me yet.”
Man, I needed to shut up. I was way too relaxed and I needed to zip it, lock it, and throw away the key.
There was silence for a few minutes as Adam warmed up the oil in his palms. Finally, his strong hands began gliding over my shoulders.
I was just closing my eyes, ready to enjoy the massage, when he asked, “Do you want me to kiss you?”
My eyes sprang open but I didn’t answer.
“I mean, would it be all right if I did? I don’t want to rush you. You’ve only just ended your marriage.”
Would it be all right? What a silly question. Heck yeah.
Instead of answering, I reached around and unhooked my bra, then pushed the blanket farther down my back to just above my thong.
“Knock yourself out,” I murmured into the cushion.
He chuckled softly as his hands slid to my lower back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The fire was getting hot, heating my skin uncomfortably down one side. “I need to move a bit,” I told Adam, lifting my upper torso from the floor and looking around at him.
He moved away so I could maneuver myself and find a cooler position.
Sitting up, I flung the blanket from my legs and went to stand, before realizing my bra was undone.
“Um…”
I looked at Adam, whose eyes were firmly glued to my chest and the bra that was hanging loosely over my shoulders but not actually supporting anything.
“Did you want to fix that?” he asked, indicating to the bra. “Not that I’m complaining. You could lose it altogether if you wanted.”
I looked down and in a bold, wine-induced move, wrapped one arm across my bust and slipped the bra straps from my shoulders. That was better, and Adam seemed to agree as his brows rose, his eyes still glued to my now discreetly covered boobs.
We moved away from the fire and I lay back down, quietly cheering myself on for now only being dressed in a thong. I waited for the warm, slippery hands to recommence their magic, kneading my flesh. Seeing movement from the corner of my half-closed eyes, I looked around to see Adam removing his sweater. The dim glow and shadows from the flames highlighted the peaks and valleys of his torso as my gaze took in every ripple down his abdomen. As my eyes reached his jeans and now undone button, Adam grabbed hold of the bulge in his pants, adjusting himself once again.
Leaning down, he lightly kissed my temple, his hot breath sending a wave of goose bumps along my skin.
“Is this okay?” he asked softly, as he straddled my backside, lightly sitting on me.
Nodding, I grinned into the cushion so he couldn’t see.
His hands worked over my heated skin, rolling, rubbing, and manipulating until I was like Jell-O. Every so often, his hands would glide up my sides, just skimming the curves of my breasts, or down just a fraction lower than usual to grip my hip bones. It was torturous, but it was the most turned on I’d been in years, never knowing when that sly touch would happen or how far he would take it the next time. Finally, after about an hour, he climbed off and lay beside me. I rolled onto my side to face him, looking straight into his eyes, my arm once again shielding my chest.
“Thank you. That was wonderful.” I sighed. “I feel so relaxed now.”
“I’m glad you’re relaxed.” The corner of his lip curled up into a half-smile. “I feel like I need to go for a swim to cool off.” Leaning forward, his hand cupped my jaw as his lips pressed to my cheek. “I’d better head off home.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “You look much too tempting lying there covered in oil and nothing else.”
The rise and fall of his chest had quickened, as had mine. Reaching out, I placed my hand on his cheek; then, unable to resist, I lightly ran my nails through the short whiskers of his beard. His forehead came to rest against mine as he huffed out a breath.
“Jesus, Evie. You need to put some clothes on.” Hot lips pressed softly to my forehead and I closed my eyes, leaning into the kiss. His warm hand glided down the side of my body to my hip, where he squeezed, wrapping the thin lace band of my thong around his fingers. “Fuck, I need to go.”
He jumped up, running his hands through his hair while looking for his sweater. He snatched it up from the floor and tugged it on over his head.
Did I do somethin’ wrong?
Wrapping the blanket around me, I stood, too, not wanting to be lying on the floor any longer. I was so confused. I’d thought things were moving forward. Had I really been out of touch for so long that I couldn’t read the signs?
Adam was at the back door. He called Max from his slumber, then held the door open, waiting for him. Shuffling over, the blanket still wrapped around my chest, my arms and shoulders bare, I stared questioningly at him. The look in his eyes took my breath away. They were so dark and wild, I knew our evening hadn’t come to a sudden halt because of something I’d done—it was because he needed to stop things while he still could. But why did he feel he needed to?
“Thank you for dinner tonight,” I said, sidling in between Adam and the doorframe. “And thank you for the massage. You have wonderful hands.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You have wonderful…everything. You’re going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?” His voice was husky as he spoke, his accent intensifying every thought, every feeling tenfold.
“I hope so,” I stated. I wanted him to want me, and I wanted him to be trouble for me. The kind of trouble where you can’t get out of bed all day because the only thing you want to do is lying there, beckoning you back in.
“You make it very hard for me to be a gentleman around you, when all I can think about are the ungentlemanly things I want to do to you.”
His hand went to my hair and I leaned back against the doorframe, needing to steady myself. With one final look, Adam brought his lips down to mine. It was the kiss to end all kisses, and the only true kiss I’d ever had. This is what I had longed for my entire life. To feel so totally swept away that everything else faded into oblivion. If I could remember this, the feeling, both physical and emotional, and do it justice in my book, then I would have something to look back on in years to come. The taste of his soft lips as they melted with mine, the feel of his hard body and the heat radiating from him made my head s
pin. His tongue slowly coaxing my mouth open had me leaning into him, my hand going to his cheek. As I wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, he trembled, sighing into my willing mouth. It was epic.
As soon as he left, I raced to the laptop, still wrapped in the blanket. My lips were tingling and I was sure I had a goofy grin on my face, but I needed to let everything I was feeling pour out.
A persistent knocking on the glass doors woke me at sunrise. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I looked around the room, disoriented for a moment before remembering where I was, the rain pelting against the window. I hadn’t set my alarm, my natural body clock usually waking me every morning in time for Adam’s swim, but I’d been up late the night before, writing about our kiss, trying to get it just right.
Shrugging on a robe, I went to the door. I knew the only person it would be was Adam, so I raked my fingers through my mass of wavy hair and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Adam held up a soaking wet grocery bag and smiled warmly as the raindrops ran from his flattened, drenched hair into his eyes. Apparently his penchant for cooking included breakfast, so I quickly let him inside.
He lit the fire and put on coffee while I scurried to the bathroom to fetch him a towel, then left him to cook breakfast while I took a quick shower and dressed. By the time I returned to the living room, the smell of bacon was wafting from the kitchen, making my tummy rumble and my mouth water.
There was a buzz in the air after the previous night, both of us taking sideways glances at the other and giggling nervously when we were caught. Sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar, my chin resting dreamily on my hand, I watched Adam serve up bacon, eggs, and waffles. Reaching for the plate closest to me, I went to slide it over, but he moved it away.
“You need to kiss the cook first,” he teased. “That’s the rule of the kitchen.”
Leaning over the counter, I tried to give him a peck on the cheek but he pulled away, disappointed. “Are you kidding me? After last night’s kiss, that’s the best you can do?”