But Adam is more than that. I actually enjoy spending time with him, and that it happens when he’s not touching any part of me is equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
NINETEEN
adam
We still on for tonight or are you going to continue ignoring me?
I shoot off the text to Paige, glancing at her door before I let myself into my apartment. I spent the past nine hours working my ass off, prepping for my first guided classes this weekend and unpacking a shipment that showed up mid-afternoon. Pretty much the only thing I want to do is sprawl on the couch with a cold beer and some mindless television… Unless I have the chance to see Paige, then all bets are off. And I don’t even care if that makes me sound pussy-whipped.
I strip off my work shirt and toss it in my hamper, then move on to unbutton my jeans with my phone pings with an incoming text.
Full of yourself much? I’m not ignoring you. Maybe I just haven’t been home.
I chuckle as I type out a response.
So that shadow I saw moving behind your peephole was your roommate?
Whatever, creeper. Find something better to do than stalk my peephole.
Challenge accepted. Are you in or what? Shorts and tank top if you are.
Even if these aren’t technically dates, I can’t deny that planning them has been fun as hell. Fun and also a good reminder of exactly how much I like doing this kind of stuff—physical activities that engage my body as much as my mind. And doing them with a member of the opposite sex is just the icing on the cake. I realized earlier today I’ve never so much as gone on a bike ride with any previous girlfriends, let alone gone to the batting cages or any of the other activities I have planned, and that bothers me. I never realized what I was missing.
Originally, I was going to take Paige paintballing tonight, but a frequent customer stopped in at the shop and told me he was playing sand volleyball tonight. There are always games after the winners are announced where anyone is welcome to jump in and play, so I figured we’d take advantage of the hot temps and do that instead.
When Paige doesn’t respond for a couple minutes, I toss the phone to the couch, then strip the rest of the way before walking into the bathroom and cranking on the shower. Kind of pointless to shower before sand volleyball, but considering I spent the majority of my day lugging boxes around from the shipment, I’m not exactly fresh and clean. The only time I want to be sweaty and dirty around Paige is when we’ve worked to get there together.
After a quick shower, I hear my phone ping as I’m drying off. Wrapping the towel around my hips, I head to the main room and pluck my phone off the couch.
Yeah, I’m in. Be there in 5.
That must’ve been the second alert that sounded when I was getting out of the shower, because I don’t even have time to pull on a pair of boxers before there’s a knock at my door. I think about calling out for her to wait and throwing something on…but this will be more fun.
I pull the door open just as the second knock sounds.
“Took you long eno—” Paige’s snarky reply cuts off when she looks at me, her eyes darting all over my exposed skin before pausing to look at where the towel hangs off my hips. Her lips part, and a flush works its way up her neck to her cheeks.
“Sorry, you caught me before I could get dressed.”
She finally lifts her gaze and narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t sound sorry at all.”
“Yeah? Neither do you.”
She huffs and crosses her arms, and I realize this may have been an epic disaster in the making, because Paige listened to me. She’s dressed in a fitted tank top, the straps of her hot-pink sports bra peeking out at the top, and a tiny pair of running shorts, her long, toned legs on full showcase. Jesus.
“Are we going, or what?”
Clearing my throat, I drag my eyes up and will my semi to go down. Not much I can conceal with just a towel. “Yeah, just let me get changed.” I hold the door open for her. “You can come in, if you want. I won’t pull out my dick and slap you in the face with it or anything.”
She doesn’t offer a response, just shakes her head, but she steps into my apartment and walks ahead of me to the living-slash-bedroom. I grab some clothes from the closet and make my way to the bathroom, quickly pulling on a T-shirt, boxer briefs, and a pair of basketball shorts. After running a hand through my wet hair, I head back out to find Paige looking around.
She jerks her chin toward the monstrosity my parents loaned me. “Nice couch.”
I can’t tell if she’s being sincere or not. “Thanks. It pulls out.”
“It…what? Are you trying to be pervertedly clever right now?”
“Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’m definitely not being clever, pervertedly or otherwise.”
“‘It pulls out,’” she mimics, her voice pitched low. Then she points a finger at me as she says, “Don’t you dare whip your cock out right now. You promised there’d be no cock slapping.”
Chuckling under my breath, I step closer to her and watch as pleasure and apprehension battle each other in her expression. “Not until you ask.” I lean forward until our faces are only an inch apart. “Are you asking, Paige?”
She scoffs. “You wish.”
Her breath puffs against my mouth, and I can’t keep my eyes off her lips…can’t stop from remembering what they felt like against mine. I want that and a hundred other things. Again and again and again. “I’m not going to deny that.”
She stares at me, her eyes darkening even further, and then she clears her throat and averts her gaze. “Where are you taking me?”
I step back and grab a couple bottles of water before tossing them in my duffel bag along with some towels. “I have a customer who plays on a sand volleyball league. He said after winners are announced, anyone can jump in and play. You up for it?”
“I’m up for anything you can dish out, Adam.”
I smile as I hold open the door for her, gesturing her out ahead of me. “Be careful what you say, cuddle muffin. Or I might start calling you on it.”
* * *
paige
Whereas my first planned non-date date took place at the innocuous batting cages, Adam goes balls to the wall and brings his A-game straight out of the gate. There’s absolutely no way he didn’t realize exactly what watching him play sand volleyball would do to me.
We’re playing against each other, so I have a perfect view of him on his side of the net. Especially when halfway through the game, he reaches back and tugs off his shirt before tossing it to the side. Okay, so maybe it’s a little hot out here with the sun beating down on us, but honestly. How many spikes does one player need to go for? He’s just showing off now. I get it, buddy, you can jump high and you have all these manly muscles that flex in your abs and arms when you pound the ball down on the other side of the net…
The whole situation is doing bad things to my self-control. As in, I have none. It’s gone. Has left the building. I’m pretty sure if we weren’t surrounded by all these people, I’d go over and lick the sweat off his chest. And I wouldn’t even be sorry about it.
Even with my hair pulled back into a ponytail, it’s hot as hell out here, and considering all the other girls playing are in their sports bras or bikini tops, I don’t think anything about following suit. And anyway, it serves Adam right to get an eyeful of me like this when he gave me the smorgasbord that is his body.
When I catch his eyes focused on me after I’ve tossed my tank top to the side, see his jaw clenching, I smile and flutter my fingers at him in a wave. Then I mouth, What? It’s the beach.
The other players are occupied, chatting and laughing with each other as the guy on my team gets ready to serve, so Adam leans closer to the net. “Don’t play this game unless you’re ready to face the consequences.”
I cock my head to the side. “And what would those consequences be?”
“Not having this”—he flicks his finger between the two of u
s—“happen on your timetable.” I should be turned off by how he speaks with such confidence. He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, insinuating I’m fighting a losing battle. That it’s him allowing me to maintain whatever laughable amount of control I’ve managed thus far. And that thought is scary as hell because…oh God, what if he’s right? What if I haven’t even seen his A-game? Holy shit. What if this is Adam holding back?
The thought sets me on edge the rest of the game, and I miss so many passes, it’s embarrassing. I can’t concentrate, though. Not when I think about having all that restrained want focused directly on me. God, what kind of combustible chemistry would we have together if he held nothing back?
Adam goes in for yet another spike, scoring the winning point for his team, despite my teammate falling to the sand to try and save it. And it should say something that I’m so distracted about what’s going on between Adam and me that I don’t even care that I lost.
“Good game, cookie,” Adam says, walking over to me and offering his hand for a high-five.
I laugh at his nickname, not even bothering to get mad at them anymore, and slap my hand against his. “You too.” I can’t help my eyes from straying to his body. His delectable muscles are covered with sand and sweat. When I look back up at his face, his expression is a mixture of smugness and arousal. Rather than telling him I have a way to get him all cleaned up, and it involves the both of us stripping down and spending a lot of time in the shower, I say, “We’re going to get your car filthy.”
He stares at me for a minute, and I swear to God it’s like he can see right through me when he does this. His eyes flick down to take me in as I use my discarded tank top to try and brush some of the sand off my body. He clears his throat. “I brought towels to put over the seats. Or in case we wanted to use the outdoor showers over by the clubhouse.” He tips his head in that direction and cocks his eyebrow in silent question.
It’s an innocuous question. We’re in public, for fuck’s sake. Out in the open with dozens of other people. It’s not like he’s going to fuck me up against the wall in the view of everyone else. Still…that doesn’t keep me from thinking about it. Or wishing it would happen. Which is probably why I make the foolish choice and say, “Showers, please.”
But, really, the chance to watch water sluice down a half-naked Adam? I’m not an idiot.
He nods and heads in the direction we need to go. He bumps his shoulder into mine. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I had fun.”
“Me too.” And I realize I mean it. I’m not just bullshitting him. I’m also not just talking about enjoying the fact that I have eye-candy readily available to me when we go out. There’s no denying we get along great—both in and out of the bedroom. He challenges me in a way guys usually shy away from. I’ve had guys interested in me sexually, and I’ve had guys interested in my sporty side, but I’ve never had someone who was interested in both. And I…like it. Love it, actually. Which is probably why I’m so hesitant to do anything with him again. I click more with him than I have with anyone since…ever. Needing to take my mind off that, I say, “Guess I need to think of something for next week to top it.”
“I was going to take you paintballing tonight until this opportunity presented itself. You can steal it if you want.”
“Oh, please, I don’t need your castoff ideas. I can do just fine on my own. Or did you forget about last week?”
His eyes burn twin paths down my body, until he locks his gaze on my lips. “No, Paige.” His voice is low and gruff. “I think it’s safe to say I didn’t forget about last week. I’ve thought about that kiss every night before I go to bed…and every morning in the shower.” He leans closer. “You gonna give me another tonight?”
I force my voice to be steadier than I feel, because I’m pretty sure Adam just told me he jerks off to thoughts of kissing me. “Don’t push your luck, buddy.”
“We’ll see…”
The outdoor showers are set off to the side of the building, and, thankfully, they offer a bit more privacy than I was anticipating. There are four of them in a row, the surrounding walls high enough where you don’t have to look into the eyes of the stranger showering in the stall over. The last stall is the only one unoccupied. When we get to it, Adam looks inside, then back to me with a raised eyebrow.
“We’re not actually showering,” I say. “I trust you have enough self control not to attack me when you see me watering sand off my legs.” I hang my tank top on the hook by the opening and step inside the stall to turn on the water, yelping at how cold it is. It might be hot as balls outside, but that doesn’t help the shock of ice-cold water hitting my bare skin.
Adam’s deep, rumbling laugh reaches me as he steps inside, hanging his shirt next to mine, and I don’t take a minute to think about what I’m doing before I grab the spray hose off the wall and shoot it directly at him. He sputters as it hits him right in the face, then lower to his chest and stomach. I can’t hold in my laughter at the shocked look on his face, and I double over, the spray hose falling to the ground.
Mistake number one.
He wastes no time snatching it up and gripping it like a weapon. “You really shouldn’t have done that, cupcake.”
Sobering up immediately, I shoot to a standing position and hold my hands out in front of me while I retreat backward. “Come on. It was just a little fun. You don’t have to—” A stream of freezing water hits me right in the face, and I cut off, sucking in a shocked breath and sputtering as I bring my hands up to block the spray.
He points the water to the ground. “Tell me you were wrong to do that, Paige.”
“Not gonna happen.”
He shoots me again, this time not stopping until he’s covered every inch of my body, the blast of ice pulling the breath right out of me. “Wrong answer. Say it.”
“Never!”
He stalks toward me, the spray directed at the bottom of the shower stall, but I know that’s going to be short lived. “You’re not really in a position to deny me”—he lifts the hose and sprays my ankles—“so say it. Say, ‘I’m sorry I was a bad girl, Adam. I didn’t mean to get you all wet.’”
I gasp and gesture to my body. “What about me? I sprayed you once. You’ve hit me three times with that sucker, one of which soaking me head to toe! Are you going to tell me you’re sorry for getting me all wet?” I continue walking backward as he advances on me, but the floor is slick from the water, and combined with the plastic of my flip-flops, it’s only a matter of time before disaster strikes.
I slip but Adam’s there before I ass-plant on the shower floor, his arm like a steel band around my back as he hauls me up against the front of his body. And holy hell, I thought guys were supposed to shrink when exposed to cold water? Whoever came up with that theory was a big fat liar, because the part of Adam that’s currently pressed against my hip is anything but small.
I’m barely breathing as he leans toward me, our noses so close I can feel his breath ghosting across my lips. When he speaks, his chest rumbles against mine, and the girls perk up even more than before, not even ashamed as they get harder, my nipples straining toward him. “In the interest of being honest, I’ll never apologize for getting you wet. And I will always mean to do it.” The only thing I can do is stand here on my tiptoes, pressed to his body with my hands resting against his bare chest. It’s taking all my willpower not to dig my nails in and…mark him. And that urge only increases when he closes the distance between us, his lips glancing over the corner of my mouth, across my cheek, until they’re right next to my ear. “Did I get you wet, Paige?”
And that’s it. I’m done. Game over. He wins.
I grip his face and bring it to mine, fusing our mouths together. Adam groans as he drops the spray hose and engulfs me in his arms. He hauls me closer to him, stepping back to sandwich me between his body and the shower wall. Tilting his head, he uses the hand not wrapped around my waist to move my head, urging my chin down so he can take the kiss even d
eeper. Twining my arms around his neck, I try to pull him lower or yank myself higher, but nothing is working. When I hook a leg over his hip, Adam growls—fucking growls—and grips the backs of my thighs before lifting me and hauling me up against him, and oh yes, that’s exactly what I need.
“Christ, Paige, you’re fucking killing me.” He nips at my bottom lip, then swipes his tongue over it. “How long are we gonna keep playing this game?”
I suck in panting breaths as Adam’s lips feast on my shoulders, down into the scoop neck of my sports bra, and God, I want him to go lower. I want him to rip away this piece of cotton covering me so he can take my nipples in his mouth. The only thing stopping me is that we’re in public with barely any privacy. And that seals the deal for me. If we were home, in my apartment or his, this wouldn’t be a question. He’d already be inside me.
Grasping his stubble-roughened cheeks, I pull his head up until his eyes connect with me. Against his lips, I say, “We’re not. Take me home.”
TWENTY
paige
I thought the feeling would fade on the drive home. Abate somewhat. I worried it would get awkward. That the burning inside me would lessen when I had enough time to actually think about what we were going to do, and it would get weird when we got home and I wasn’t into it anymore.
Well, we’re home and I’m fumbling with my keys to open my apartment door, and I can’t get him inside—the apartment or me—fast enough. It doesn’t matter that I had fifteen minutes to do nothing but think about what the hell we were doing. Turns out, my brain is a bit of a hussy, because all I thought about was how good it felt the last time I slept with Adam, and how much better it’ll be now after all this build up.
Apparently he feels the same way, because he takes over, brushing my hands out of the way and unlocking the door before forcing it open. And then his arm is under my ass, easily hauling me off my feet and up against him so our mouths can connect. Vaguely I hear the door slamming in the background before Adam walks us farther into my apartment, but I can’t focus on any of it because I’m too swept up in the way his tongue slides against mine, the way he carries me so easily through my living room.
Paige in Progress (Reluctant Hearts #3) Page 14