Except Adam. He was unforgettable and at my side constantly. I was relieved that I hadn’t had to leave him behind, but I wasn’t sure how long I could live with him without my feelings for him boiling over into something I couldn’t handle right now.
Despite everything, the first few days living together went well. But by the end of the second week, I was starting to feel trapped. I wrote up my notes from the shop, and Adam and I picked up two burner phones so we could reach one another if necessary. Aside from a few short hours when he worked, there wasn’t much chance of needing them. We were together most of the time. There wasn’t a lot of tattoo work in Joshua Tree, and I hadn’t looked for a job yet. I’d gone out to the grocery store once. I’d gone for a few walks, and I’d read almost the entire stack of novels that were at the house.
“I can’t do this,” I announced as I walked into the main room to find Adam working out again. Seeing him doing crunches and push-ups every day wasn’t doing much for my resolve. There was just something sexy about a man exercising… or maybe it was sexier because it was Adam exercising. He was already on the verge of being more defined than most sculptures in a museum. He was just as untouchable, too.
When he stopped at whatever ridiculous number he was at, he sat and looked up at me. “Can’t do what?”
“This,” I said. Words were too hard suddenly. Maybe I needed to pretend that it was just like with sculptures: There were security guards and alarms that would sound if I gave in to the urge to trail my fingertips over the sharp lines of his body. Smothering the moan that threatened to spill out, I shoved my traitorous thoughts away and made a point not to look at him as he finished his set of push-ups.
“This… what? Can you be a little more specific here, Sash?”
I flopped down on the sofa. He’d folded the bed up every day so the room wasn’t any smaller than it already was. Still, my body tightened at the thought that I was on what was essentially his bed.
“Sasha?”
My gaze dropped to him. Sweat trickled down his throat and disappeared under his shirt. I stared like I’d never seen him working out. I had. I’d seen it far too often lately. I swallowed and forced my gaze upward.
That wasn’t any better.
He was watching me intently, and I knew I couldn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t ogling him. “Oh, come on, Adam! You know you’re eye candy. What am I to do? Pretend you don’t look like”—I gestured vaguely at him—“that?”
He grinned. “I didn’t say a word.”
“It doesn’t mean anything that I look,” I muttered. “Anyone with eyes would look.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. He stood, pulled his shirt off and walked to the door to the bathroom. It felt like a challenge or an invitation, but I couldn’t accept either one. My resolve was just weakened by being in the tiny house with him all of the time.
Adam was off limits. He had to stay that way… which meant that all I could do was watch. He was hot, muscled, tattooed, and wearing only a pair of shorts. I was suddenly sure that it might be cooler outside in the mid-morning desert sun than it was in the house. It was criminal that he looked that good, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
I looked away. I was starting to think the alternative was to surrender any and all common sense. Friends. Friends. Friends. I chanted the word in my head. It was what I needed to remember. We might be hiding away in the desert, but we were friends. I knew it was a bad idea to cross that line when we weren’t in a small house together, and I had to be able to remember it was a bad idea here. I listed all of the facts in my head: He was my friend; he was Tommy’s cousin; he wasn’t going to stay with me forever; there were a lot of girls he’d been with, but none of them lasted for more than a few days; he deserved better.
The facts did nothing to ease the need to touch him.
Then he spoke. “Sash?”
I looked over my shoulder to where he stood in the doorway.
“I like that you look.” His eyes swept me from top to bottom slowly. “I look at you, too. I have for a long time.”
I swallowed; all of my reasons suddenly seemed hard to remember. With effort, I said, “Get your shower. I want to get out of the house.”
He stared a moment longer and then turned away.
My heart felt like it was beating faster than it should, and I thought about him naked under the water. I wondered, not for the first time, if he touched himself when he was in there.
I wondered what he thought about if he did.
Guiltily, I hoped it was me.
‡
When Adam walked out of the bathroom, he looked like an invitation to all the sins I wanted to commit. He had a towel slung around his hips and water droplets slid over his abs and vanished under the towel.
“Put on your fucking pants.”
“You’re in my bedroom,” he reminded me. With no further warning, he dropped the towel.
“Christ, Adam!” I snapped, turning my back to him—but not before I caught a glimpse of his cock, which even at rest was a beautiful sight.
“If it makes you feel better, you can walk into my bedroom naked too.” His voice was the only sound in the room, and the silence made it more difficult to erase the brief glimpse of him that was now seared into my mind.
Naked. Wet. Beautiful. Tattooed.
My eyes were closed as if that would make the images vanish.
“Sasha?” He zipped his pants, the sound far too loud for my already screaming lust. “I’m ready.”
It could’ve been my ridiculous level of need, but I felt like he was saying he was ready for a lot more than heading into town. I turned and took in the jeans he’d pulled on. “It’s too hot for jeans.”
“No shorts on the Harley, doll.” He shook his head. “As much as I like seeing your legs, you need them covered unless you want to take the truck.”
“Jeans. I have jeans,” I said hurriedly.
“Boots too, babe,” he said as I darted into the bedroom.
In a matter of minutes I’d rifled through my drawers, found a pair of skinny jeans, tugged on a pair of tall black leather boots, and grabbed my purse. When I walked into the main room, Adam had laced up his heavy boots and had a leather vest over his shirt.
He surveyed me and announced, “If you’re going to ride with me, we need to get you a little more protection than t-shirts and clubbing boots.”
“Says the man who refuses to wear a helmet.”
“My bike, my rules, sweetheart.” He motioned toward the door.
After I stepped outside, the desert heat seemed intense enough that I almost reconsidered the bike. The Explorer had air conditioning. That sounded pretty good right now.
Then Adam climbed on the Harley, and a moment later, I heard the engine growl. He looked back at me, raised his brows questioningly, and any thought of air conditioning vanished.
But I couldn’t move. Adam was sitting in front of me, waiting for me, in front of the house we were sharing in the desert. There were some pretty serious threats back in Rio Verde, and the man I’d been dating on and off for two years was dead. I didn’t deserve to feel any happiness.
I felt guilt wash over me because I did feel a moment of happiness. I wanted Adam, and he was here with me like a bodyguard, friend, and caretaker all in one. I was safe with him at my side. I hadn’t ever wanted anything to happen to Tommy, but I couldn’t give up on happiness because it had. Two weeks had passed, and although I still felt horrible for what happened, I was starting to admit to myself that while Tommy had loved me, I hadn’t loved him.
Not that I loved Adam either.
We were friends, and I cared about him, and heaven help me, I wanted him more than I could handle lately.
“Climb on, Sash,” he ordered.
I swallowed my guilt and nerves, walked over, and straddled the bike. I wrapped my arms tightly around him and leaned close. I raised my voice a little, “Adam?”
He glanced back and met my
eyes.
“Make me feel better,” I asked.
For a moment, he stared at me, our gazes locked. Then he said, “Hold tight.”
And we were off. The needle tipped far enough that I felt a thrill at the speed we were traveling. Out here, beyond stoplights and pedestrians, there was a freedom that I needed.
“More,” I yelled.
He laughed, but he increased the speed again. I wouldn’t trust just anyone like this, but Adam would keep me safe. He handled the motorcycle like he’d been born to it.
I kept one arm tightly around him, but I let my right hand drop lower so it rested between his legs. He swerved slightly for a moment, and I knew what I was doing was dangerous in so many ways. I stroked him through his jeans. Slowly.
He slowed the bike down until we were well under speed now. I was pretty sure that I could run as fast as we were rolling, but I didn’t need speed now that I had him under my hand. The Harley’s engine purred like it was a several hundred pound vibrator underneath us. Adam controlled it, had the power, and I felt like in that moment, I had the power over him.
I popped the button on his jeans and started to work the zipper down.
“Sasha,” he growled.
But I couldn’t speak. I just pressed my chest closer to his back and slid my hand inside his jeans.
He didn’t say another word, just steered the bike to the side of the road and stopped. He supported the bike with one foot on the ground, but he didn’t kill the engine.
“Tell me what’s going on here.” He started to turn back to look at me, but I couldn’t handle that.
With my free hand, I quickly stopped him with a steadying touch to his cheek. “Shhh.”
For several moments, he stayed like that, perfectly still with my hand in his jeans. His breathing grew harsh enough that I could hear the need in him mixed with the sounds of the still running machine beneath us. It was strangely perfect: the bike still but running, the straining muscles of Adam’s body motionless but for involuntary surges of his cock in my hand. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the sensations of restrained power all around me.
My panties were wet enough that I was starting to think I’d soak through my jeans too. I moaned as Adam thrust against my hand.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.
He killed the engine and dropped the kickstand.
And just like that, I froze.
He started to turn to look at me, but I kept my left hand on his cheek. My right hand was motionless, but my fingers were still wrapped as much as they could be around the width of the delectable cock I’d glimpsed at the house.
“What do you want here?” he asked in a strained voice.
“To feel you,” I whispered.
“You are.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “No. Can I touch you?”
“No,” I whispered, already resuming stroking him.
“Damn, Sash…” he started. Then I felt him swallow before he continued, “I don’t want a mess on my bike or my jeans either. Can we—”
“Just this. No sex.” I wasn’t sure why that mattered, but right now, this was all I wanted. It was all I could be okay with. Touching Adam, pleasing him, that felt good to me. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
This time there was silence.
After a few more moments, I said, “Close your eyes.” Then I slid from behind him. “Turn so you’re not straddling the bike.”
“Can I open my eyes to do that?”
I smiled. “Yes, but then close them and lean against the bike.”
He did as I ordered, and I moved so I was in front of him. Carefully, I eased his jeans down a little and freed him. “Keep your eyes closed, Adam.”
He moaned as I leaned forward and took him in my mouth. He was big enough that I had to relax my throat to work past the gag reflex, but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t thrust forward or do anything to make me regret my choices. His hands were at his sides, curled into tight fists as if he was holding some invisible leash of self-control.
I swallowed around him, taking him further into my throat than I’d ever managed without panic before now.
Adam moaned.
I reached out and took one of his hands and led him to my hair. I wanted him to hold on to me.
He tangled his fingers in my hair as I released his hand.
I lifted my other hand to cup his balls.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”
I sped up, lacing my fingers with his where he was touching my head and caressing his balls with my other hand, until he came in my mouth with a growl.
“More than perfect,” he said in a rough voice. “You’re a fucking goddess, Sasha.”
I pulled away, leaning back on my heels. The man I’d fantasized about was staring down at me like I was everything he wanted too. For a moment, I wanted to ignore reality and treasure the look on his face.
He yanked me to my feet and slanted his mouth across mine to kiss me like every word he’d said when I was on my knees was gospel truth. I know smart girls knew not to believe the things people said in the moment, but as he kissed me like it was a promise, I came damn close to believing him.
When he paused, he whispered, “Can I touch you?”
Mutely, I shook my head and closed my eyes.
He rested his forehead against mine and murmured, “I won’t hurt you, Sash.”
I shook my head again. I wanted him. I couldn’t even pretend otherwise any more. That didn’t mean I could be what he needed. I was too messed up, and sooner or later, he’d notice. Right now, we were alone together, so he didn’t have a lot of options. Later, when he realized and left me, it would destroy me. I shouldn’t have even touched him, but I’d been dreaming of him for so long that I was weak.
“I can’t. I just… can’t,” I whispered.
He was silent, but he pulled me into a tight hug and said, “We’ll see.”
Then he set himself to rights and we climbed back on the Harley like I hadn’t just given him head alongside the road in the middle of the day.
Chapter 11
Joshua Tree was a tiny speck of a town, perfect for being unfound for a while, but that also meant that it wasn’t a place where jobs were going to be easy to find. There were a few little stores, thrift shops, climbing supplies, and a pizza place. All told, I’d guess that the permanent residents of the town numbered under ten thousand people. My chances of many job options weren’t good.
Adam stopped the bike in front of a restaurant called The Crossroads Cafe. I slid off the back of the Harley.
He turned to face me, but I wasn’t able to look him in the eye. He stayed on the bike, but he grabbed my hand and kept me from walking away.
“Are we okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Did you think I expected—”
“No!” I felt my face burn in mortification. “That was my choice, Adam. I know you don’t… I mean, I don’t know what I mean.”
He hugged me, somewhat awkwardly because he was still on the Harley.
“I didn’t, um, take advantage of you, did I?” I mumbled the words against his shoulder.
He pushed me away and looked into my eyes. “Not at all.” Then his voice turned teasing and he added. “I’m not that easy, Sash. I don’t do anything with my body that I don’t want to, okay?”
I nodded and quickly turned away.
The restaurant we went into, the Crossroads Cafe, was mostly charming. I liked the weathered tables and the wooden… everything. The walls, the bare rafter ceiling, the bar, it was all wood. I loved that part. The people inside were varied and interesting. A man with long grey dreadlocks sat chatting with a girl in a retro 1950s cherry-covered dress. Climbers and hikers, dust covered and sun hardened, lined the bar.
The waitress led us to a table, and I continued to think the little cafe was pretty fabulous
—up until I saw the dead cat on the wall. I didn’t know my wildlife well enough to say what it was. It was bigger than a housecat, smaller than a mountain lion. I think it was a bobcat, although I wouldn’t swear to that. Whatever it was called, it was dead and standing on a ledge. I shuddered and turned away from it, quickly taking the chair that put my back to the taxidermied animal.
“Are you cold?” Adam asked as the waitress left to grab menus.
I lowered my voice and told Adam, “I don’t like dead things.” I gestured behind me. “I remember going to a natural history museum in high school. I had nightmares for weeks afterward. Seeing animals with glass eyes and slowly fading, decaying pelts seems like the stuff of horror movies.”
“So… Night at the Museum?”
“Right there with most horror movies in my book,” I answered.
The waitress returned, putting our conversation on hold, and we ordered drinks.
“Dave says they’re hiring,” Adam mentioned when the waitress walked away again. “They had a waitress quit yesterday with no notice. You could apply, assuming you can handle the dead cat watching your every move…”
I laughed in spite of myself. “If I have taxidermy dreams…” I started.
“You can wake me, and I’ll hold you,” Adam finished.
Whatever I would’ve said next vanished. I wasn’t even sure if I’d had a thought that I’d just forgotten or if my brain had totally fritzed. The tension flared to life between us again, but this wasn’t just about lust. Adam would take care of me; he had been in little ways for months when we were in Rio Verde—and he’d been trying well before that.
The waitress returned with our drinks, took our orders, and left. Adam and I kept staring at one another with so many things unsaid between us. He was my friend, my best friend. Cass had been the girl I was closest to, and most of the other girls I knew were the ones I had partied with the past couple of years. Cocaine and booze didn’t exactly engender lifelong bonds of trust and mutual respect. It sure as hell didn’t make me appealing to any friends I had before Tommy. They’d all drifted away or been pushed away as I grew closer to Tommy and more caught up in his world. Now Tommy was dead, and Cass might as well be dead to me. I couldn’t talk to her or see her without endangering us both.
Unfiltered & Unlawful (The Unfiltered Series) Page 10