NVR AGAIN
I wake before Adam the next morning. Our limbs are still tangled, and a sheen of sweat sticks us together. Normally I’d wrinkle my nose at that, but being sweaty and intertwined with Adam feels different. Nice. Warm, for sure, but it’s an internal and external warmth—one that has me feeling all gooey and my belly doing flip flops.
Adam’s chest is rising and falling in deep, measured breaths, and his expression is sated. My legs are knotted together with his, and one of his hands rests on my upper thigh. The other arm is resting under my head, and I’m using his biceps as a pillow. Despite his relaxed state, his erection presses against my upper thigh.
Okay, then.
No matter how many mental calculations I do, I can’t see a way out of this without waking him. So much for being all smooth and put together by the time he sees me again. I had at least hoped to tame my morning breath.
Thankfully, Adam doesn’t leave me a lot of time to spiral. He’s stirring before too long. As if he realizes where his hand is resting, he groans contentedly and squeezes the flesh on my thigh before opening his eyes to peer down at me.
“Hey,” he says softly, his gray eyes roaming my face. I never knew a single word could be so intimate.
“Hi.” I gently extract my legs from his and roll onto my back. If I’m not mistaken, a flash of disappointment crosses Adam’s features, but it’s gone just as soon as it came.
A light scraping sound fills the silence between us as Adam scratches at the dark hair on his chest. “So, uh, I think we just have the closing keynote speaker today, and then we can head back to Heartsong.” His voice is flat and unaffected, but when I roll my head to look at him, he looks almost eager, as if he wants to have a conversation but isn’t quite sure where to start.
“Back to reality,” I sigh. And, honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. Is this just a one-time thing? Should it be? He doesn’t want to date me, right? When he was talking about liking me last night, surely he meant a physical attraction, which we’ve now thoroughly explored.
So why does the idea of never having Adam Sullivan touch me again fill me with sadness?
I’m not ready to think about this yet. Shit, I haven’t even had any coffee, which definitely seems like something I should do first. Uselessly covering myself with the comforter, I sit up straight in the bed.
“I’m just going to… um… get ready, then.” I look down at the bed, at the wall, at the sliver of daylight making its way through the crack in the curtains. Anywhere but at Adam, who is just lying there, his perfect pecs on full display like showing that much skin is an everyday occurrence.
“We have three hours before the session even starts.” The hand that was laying on top of his chest snakes its way under the comforter to stroke my thigh.
I scramble to the edge of the bed. If I let him touch me again, I might never want him to stop.
“Three hours isn’t very much time. We have to pack so we can check out right away. And get dressed… and my hair is a mess.” I pat my head. That part, at least, is true. I hardly ever sleep with it wet, and I can tell from feeling it that it’s going to take a Herculean effort to tame. “I’ll just—”
Adam also sits up and swings his long legs so he’s sitting on the edge, thankfully facing away from me so I’m not tempted by his thick cock, which I know is still semi-hard if the tent under the blanket before he rolled over was any indication.
“I’ll get us some coffee,” he says as he pulls on his boxers. “Take your time.”
I start to gather my things but watch out of the corner of my eye as he gathers his clothes and heads for the bathroom with an air of complete nonchalance. It’s almost as if last night hasn’t affected him at all.
The sigh that escapes me when the main door to our room snicks shut behind him a few minutes later is raspy and shaky. The protocol for how to act the morning after sleeping with a man I’m not actively dating—let alone a coworker—is foreign territory. I can’t very well jump in and ask him for some kind of commitment neither of us is ready for, even if every other sexual experience I’ve had pales in comparison to Adam’s. I might want him to wreck me again and again, but I don’t know if that’s what he wants. And even if he does, would it be weird to be with Adam Sullivan, the mayor of my beloved town and, until last night, the one person there who can get under my skin like no one else?
I decide to put it all out of my mind for now. No use stewing over it before either of us has made any decisions. Lauren had told me not to plan every single move for once, and I think that was good advice. I’ll just attend this keynote address, and we’ll drive home. No need to be weird about it.
Giving myself a fortifying nod in the mirror, I get to work. I smooth my hair into something presentable, gather up all my toiletries, and dress myself in a loose blouse and some stretchy pants that look like work slacks. By the time I’ve done all this, my stomach is rumbling, and I know if I don’t get some caffeine in me stat, the dull throbbing behind my temple is going to turn into a full-blown headache.
My cheeks heat at the memory of how the rumpled pajamas in the corner of the room got in that state. I end up shoving them in my bag. No amount of folding is going to save them, anyway.
When I exit the bathroom, I take a quick glance around the room. Adam is nowhere to be found, but his bag is clearly packed where it sits on the bed, and there is a paper coffee cup and a muffin sitting on the desk next to the ill-fated armchair. “Oh, bless you Adam,” I mutter under my breath as I toss my bag on the bed and cross the room. It isn’t until I take a giant bite of the muffin that I see the note sitting there, in his perfect handwriting.
Enjoy a sweet treat, courtesy of the City of Heartsong’s expense account. I went to do some last-minute networking. I’ll see you at the keynote.
I half-expect the delicious muffin to taste sour after reading that, but I am actually relieved. He’s clearly avoiding me, considering the very idea of networking again last night had him inviting me out to dinner instead. That fact alone means we are probably on the same page, and this should never happen again.
The coffee is hot but watered-down, and the muffin was probably less delicious than my rumbling belly thought it was, but I feel like a new woman. Sexually satisfied, full of carbs, and clutching a second cup of coffee on my way to the final address of a conference where I’ve learned a lot of things that could help with my career. This must be what all those type B personalities feel like, confidently going with the flow.
I don’t end up seeing Adam at the speech, which is just as well. If he were anywhere near me, his spiced cologne would distract me from my purpose, which is to learn as much as I can. When it’s over, people mill about, exchanging handshakes and business cards, but Adam doesn’t seem to be among them. I figure it’s probably best to head back up to the room and wait for him there.
I hum lightly to myself as I walk down the hallway, pulling my keycard out of my purse before coming to the room this time. I learned that lesson the hard way. But I don’t get to use it, because Adam is standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall, with our bags at his feet.
“Oh, hi.” My feet come to a grinding halt about two doors away. “Did you go down to the keynote at all?”
Adam’s mouth tips up into that charming smirk again, his gray eyes dancing in the light of the hallway. That look has me questioning if I read his earlier disappearance correctly.
“I was sitting in the back.” He examines his nails, then shoves his hand into his pocket. “And I ducked out early to get our bags. I wanted to beat the traffic home.”
Is that true? Or did he just want to avoid me all morning? I was okay with never sleeping with him again, but I’m not sure how I feel about awkward encounters—or worse, no encounters—from here on out.
But a hotel hallway is not the place for those conversations, especially when he’s obviously itching to get out of here. So, I swallow my insecurities and nod. “Okay, then. Let’s get home.”
Somehow, I expect the normally social Adam to open up some conversation, or at least turn on some music, but the only sound between us is the hum of the road passing us by and the incessant drumming of Adam’s fingertips on the steering wheel. It only takes me fifteen excruciating minutes in the car to crack wide open.
“We should probably talk about last night.”
Adam’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but his eyes remain trained in front of him. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Well…” I watch the snowy scenery pass us by as Adam’s fancy SUV zips over the road. “Maybe… it was fun?”
He glances at me briefly, then returns his focus to his driving. “That sounded more like a question than a statement.”
“It was fun. Very fun. But, I don’t know, do you think it should happen again?”
“What do you think?”
I sigh. “I think it could get complicated, what with you and I working together.”
To his credit, Adam nods slowly as if he’s considering my words. It almost looks as if he’s letting them roll around in his head, seeing how they fit. “You’re not wrong,” he says after a few silent moments.
I don’t know what I was expecting. This is what I wanted, right? But that relief from when I read his note is nowhere to be found. My shoulders slump, and I shift so I’m staring out the passenger-side window.
“I told you, Cora.” Adam’s voice is quiet, but no less decadent for the lack of volume. “I’m a fan of enthusiastic consent. If this isn’t something you’re ready for or want to continue, that’s your call.”
It’s my turn to consider what he’s saying for a moment, and I do. I let a few snowy hills fly past the window before I steel myself against this disappointment of my own creation. “I had a great evening, but I think it would be smart if we took a step back.”
Adam’s gaze lingers on me enough that it makes me nervous how long he’s not looking at the road. But he turns his head back and nods once. That’s it. Awkward conversation, done.
It’s for the best. It really is. It would be too complicated to continue sleeping with the mayor of Heartsong.
So why do I feel like shit about it?