I LIKE U
The next morning, I’m sitting at my desk in my tiny office, staring at final plans for the Valentine’s Day fundraiser this weekend, but really running over and over Lauren’s words from last night. Maybe just focus on whether or not you even want to see him again. She’s right, of course. The curse of the eldest daughter means that I always jump to the conclusion farthest out of reach. I generally need someone—usually Lauren—to pull me back to the present and remind me that there are about ten steps before the one I jumped to in the doomsday scenario playing out in my mind.
It’s only nine-thirty when I click over to the tab that holds my checklist, hoping that the predictability of accomplishable tasks will soothe me. It does, for a moment, but almost everything is done, which doesn’t leave much to distract me. I drop my chin into my palm with a sigh as I consider checking with Dorothy about the catering, but she might actually kill me if I call her again. I’ve already confirmed three times.
This is going to be a very long day. Especially if Adam’s toned body keeps flashing, unbidden, through my subconscious. Or his gorgeous gray eyes. Or his huge—
A throat clearing from the doorway snaps me to attention. I sit up straighter so I can peer over my monitor, and my breath catches at the sight of none other than Adam Sullivan leaning against the doorframe. He’s actually leaning with his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his glorious forearms like some kind of viral internet video. And it’s in that moment that I realize, without a doubt, that I do want to see him again. Even if it’s impractical. Irresponsible. Downright risky for my heart. And if I have any kind of luck at all, his presence here means he feels the same.
I must gape at him for too long, because he chuckles deeply. “Hi,” he says. Casually. Like we’re just two friends who often visit each other’s offices on random Tuesday mornings.
“Hi,” I return, but it comes out all squeaky and weird. God, I’m such an idiot.
He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the small space, coming around the side of my desk to extend his hand. Which is about the time that I notice said proffered hand is holding a paper cup with the Sugar on Top logo stamped on the side. From this close, it smells suspiciously like a half-caff macchiato with almond milk, one pump of sugar-free vanilla, and a sprinkle of cinnamon, but it’s hard to tell over the equally delicious scent of his spiced cologne.
“For you,” he says carefully when I don’t take it from him, like I might bite if he makes a sudden move.
In a daze, my fingers curl around the cup and brush his in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. My gaze snaps to his, only to see his eyes widen slightly. He must have felt it, too.
Not wanting to give too much away just in case I’m mistaken, I eye him suspiciously. “What’s this for.”
He shrugs and shoves his hand into the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks. “Can’t I bring you a coffee just because?”
“That’s not really a thing we do.” I take a sip. The moan that escapes me is something Adam could report to HR. As I suspected, it is exactly my order. I hadn’t had time to stop this morning, so this is particularly welcome.
He licks his lips, then sips his own coffee. “It could be. A thing we do, I mean.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “What does that mean?” It’s a loaded question, but I really want the ball in his court on this one. While I know I want to see him outside of work again, I need to know we’re on the same page.
He clears his throat again, and his shoulders creep up slowly toward his ears. He’s uncomfortable, I suddenly realize. Luckily, my coffee cup at my lips hides my self-satisfied grin.
“It means I had a nice time in Reno. And I… uh… well, I didn’t see very much of you yesterday.” He shuffles his feet a little. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I know we said this could get messy, but… we’re mature adults, yeah? We can handle ourselves. If we want it, and I know I do, then we deserve it.” His gray eyes settle on me, and the heat in his gaze has me feeling flushed.
“‘It’ being…?” I ask, though I hope I already know what he means.
The smile that plays at his lips is relieved, and it changes his entire face. The normally angular lines of his eyes and cheekbones soften. Fuck, he is attractive.
“Us. Together. At least, exploring the possibility of it.” With a half-smile, he adds, “What do you think?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning like an over-eager buffoon, but the vigor of my nod is likely no better.
“Right,” he says. “Good.” He studies me for a minute longer, and just when I think he’s going to turn around and walk away, he takes in a quick breath and blurts out, “Would you want to go out with me? On a real date, I mean. One that isn’t attached to work or a conference.”
If the first step Lauren was talking about is figuring out if I wanted to see him again, the second surely is finding a way to do it. And here’s Adam, serving up a date on a silver platter along with my ridiculous coffee order that he either knew or asked Dorothy for. Either way, it’s a God-tier move, and I’d be stupid to play hard to get.
“Yeah.” I carefully set my coffee cup on my desk. “I’d like that.”
He bounces to his toes, then back on his heels. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Wait, tonight?” I ask incredulously. “But it’s Tuesday.”
“Do you have prep work for the fundraiser that you need to focus on instead?”
I shake my head, lips pressed together. “I might’ve been a bit dramatic about how much work I’d still need to do just to get out of the conference.”
His laughter is indulgent and decadent, rolling over me and settling in my chest. “Well then, it’s not like it’s a school night, Cora. Live a little.”
I flatten my lips into a thin line and narrow my eyes at him. He sounds suspiciously like Lauren, but I know she’d have told me if he talked to her. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I really do need to loosen up.
“Fine,” I give in. “See you at seven.”
When my doorbell rings at five to seven, I let out a frustrated huff. I should have known Adam Sullivan is a being-early-is-on-time kind of man. I, however, am a change-three-times-and-panic-call-my-best-friend-for-advice kind of woman, so at five till, I’m still trying to decide what earrings go with the burgundy ruffle-sleeved midi dress I ended up in.
I quickly put on some dangling gold earrings, and I hop on one foot as I slip into my nude chunky sandals on my way to answer the door. When I pull it open, I’m breathless for an entirely different reason than the exertion of last-minute dressing. Adam is standing there on my porch looking like he walked out of a men’s fashion magazine. His dark, tweed pea coat is open to show a white collar peeking out above a ribbed, gray sweater that brings out the color of his eyes. His black pants are more casual than trousers, but much nicer than jeans, and he’s topped off the whole ensemble with gray loafers to match his sweater.
But the best part of it all is the way he’s looking at me, as if he wants to devour me. And, frankly, looking like he does right at this moment, I’d let him.
“Cora.” My name is rich and thick on his tongue, like he’s rolled it around and likes the way it feels. “You look beautiful.”
The flush that creeps up my cheeks has me smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. “Thanks. You look—”
“Excuse me. Coming through.” Harrison startles me by putting his hands on my shoulders from behind me to move me out of his way. “I definitely do not need to be here for this,” he mutters as he scoots around me to get to the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask as he shrugs his shoulders against the winter chill. In his haste to leave, he didn’t bother grabbing his coat.
“Anywhere else.” He waves a hand in goodbye as he gets into his car. “Hang a sock on the doorknob if you need me to spend the night somewhere,” he shouts before slamming the car door and peeling out of the driveway.
“Oh my God.” I drag a hand over my jaw before pressing my palm to my lips, my eyes wide in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”
Adam looks a bit shocked, but his shoulders shake with repressed laughter. “Your brother is still living here, I take it?”
“Not for long,” I grind out between clenched teeth.
His laugh seeps out of him, and it’s enough to soften me. I shake my head, incredulous, but I smile, too. We linger in the humor of it, letting the first-official-date tension drain. What’s left is just… us. Two people who are clearly nervous, but who also enjoy each other’s company and want more of it. As if he feels it, too, our eyes meet, and his gaze turns heated.
“Shall we?” He motions toward his SUV idling in the driveway.
“Yeah. Let me just grab my coat.” I turn toward the hall closet and pull it off a hanger. Adam steps inside and takes the coat from me to help me into it. In doing so, his fingertips graze my collarbones, and I’m suddenly desperate for him to trail his fingers over the curve of my breasts and lower still.
“You’re a vision,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, his hands still resting over the shoulders of my coat. My eyelids flutter closed, and I let myself breathe in the scent of his aftershave. How did I ever resist this? He feels so good, so right .
But I can’t linger too long, because his hands fall away from my shoulders, forcing me back into the real world. I take a fortifying breath and open my eyes so I can step out and lock the door behind me. The chilly night air does nothing to calm my feverish skin.
Adam offers me his arm to help me to the car, then opens the door for me when we arrive. He angles his body presumably to let me slip past him and into the car, but the result brings me close enough to brush against his chest.
“Cora.” When he says it this time, his voice is strangled. He takes a step toward me, which presses the back of my legs into the seat. I almost fall backward, but his arm circles around my lower back, holding me up. The fingers of his other hand thread through my hair as he angles my lips to meet his.
And then I’m lost in a deep, languid kiss. His tongue teases at the seam of my lips, and I open for him. The mint of his mouthwash dances across my tastebuds. I toss my purse on the floor of the car behind me and weave my arms inside his coat, warming my chilled hands in the space between his sweater and the lining.
One of his thighs slips between mine, and I’m helpless to do anything but grind against it. The cold air meets my bare legs when my skirt lifts, and I shiver involuntarily.
Adam pulls away only enough to look at me, his brow furrowed. “Are you cold?”
“A little,” I admit breathlessly. “But it’s fine.” I meet his lips again, and he’s all too willing to continue the makeout session. If the hard length of him pressing against my hip is any indication, he’s also willing to do a lot more.
He presses a hot line of kisses down the column of my throat. When his tongue grazes the space just above my collarbone, he breathes, “We can take this inside if you’d rather.”
As much as I want Adam Sullivan in my bed, the thought of delaying for the few minutes it would take to walk inside feels like too much when he’s looking at me like that. Touching me like that. Tasting me...
“Why go all the way back when we have perfectly good, heated seats right here?” I say coyly.
His expression darkens with desire. In one swift movement, he grabs my waist and swings me around so he’s able to shimmy into the passenger seat. I climb in, too, hiking my dress up and settling onto his lap so I’m straddling him. In a burst of movement, Adam yanks the door shut and we are cocooned in darkness, save for the faint glow of my porch light forcing its way through his deeply tinted windows. It takes a second for me to find my balance in the cramped space, and he steadies me with his hands on my waist.
“You okay?” he asks on a strangled breath.
“Yeah.” I shift on top of him to try to get more comfortable, and I bang my elbow against the door in the process. “Shit.”
He presses his hands to the side of my face, dragging my hair away from my cheeks and forcing me to look at him. “Seriously, there’s a house right there. It probably has more space.”
I shake my head and drag my bottom lip through my teeth. “I need you now, Adam.”
“Say no more,” he mutters, and his lips meet mine again. We’re a tangle of tongues and teeth as we try to shed our coats and toss them into the back seat. With my dress hiked up over my thighs, the only things separating my core from his glorious cock are the fabric of my panties and the hard zipper fly of his pants. I grind against it, craving the friction. He groans into my mouth, and I swallow it with a frenzied kiss.
I reach between us to undo his fly, desperate for him. He lifts his hips to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, which raises me enough to bump the back of my head against the roof of the car. A breathy laugh escapes me.
“This was so much easier in high school,” I mumble as his lips find my neck again.
“Yeah, but it’s so much hotter now,” he says into my skin. It’s enough to make me melt into him. This is hot, and I realize my embarrassment is solely in how I worry he’s perceiving it. But he likes this. A lot, judging by the hard ridge of him trying to spring free over the fly of his pants. I lift myself up enough so he can shimmy his pants down over his thighs. He doesn’t bother taking them all the way off, and instead pulls a foil-wrapped condom out of the wallet in the center console.
“Let me.” I take the condom from him and tear it open. As I do, he uses a finger to push my panties to the side. He drags that finger through my center, and I shudder as I roll the condom over his length.
“You’re so wet, Cora.” He pushes his finger into me, and I gasp. “I never would have guessed you’d be the type to want this in my car.”
“Please,” I pant, grinding against his hand. “Please fuck me now.”
He removes his fingers from me. I angle myself over him as he uses one hand to keep my panties pushed to the side and the other to guide himself to my entrance. Slowly, I lower myself onto him as he stretches me lusciously full. It takes a few times of me raising and lowering myself for him to be fully seated, but it’s easier this time. I know what to expect, and I’m much more relaxed knowing he wants this as much as I do.
“You feel like you were made for me.” He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, and it’s such a tender moment. It steals my breath away. I roll my hips against him, the friction so exquisite, I’m afraid I might come apart right then and there.
Adam’s eyes never leave mine. He kisses me deeply, then pulls back to watch me again. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Cora. You’re beautiful in that dress, and you’re beautiful with that pretty pink on your cheeks while you ride me.”
My breath quickens, and his grip on my thighs tightens. I hope his fingertips leave half-moon marks in my flesh. The idea of wearing them where no one else can see, as a secret between us, is so hot, I start picking up the pace.
“Harder,” I breathe. “Please, Adam. I can take it.”
He bucks his hips so he plunges impossibly further into me. “Yes you can, baby. You take it so well.” He hits exactly the right spot, and I gasp. “Right there?” He does it again, and I nod frantically, whimpering.
“Yes. There. Don’t stop,” I beg.
Words fail us both, then, as our bodies meet again and again. I angle myself so the most sensitive part of me hits his torso with every thrust, and when his grip on my thighs tightens even more, I come apart. My muscles clench around him with my release. I bury my head in his shoulder as he follows me over the edge, spilling into me as his body trembles underneath.
When we’re both spent and our labored breathing has returned to almost normal, I lift my head from his shoulder to see the windows are completely fogged over. That dull glow is now fractured into a thousand pinpricks of light, like our own personal solar system within arm’s reach.
Adam shifts so he can remove the condom. He knots it and pulls his pants back up over his trim hips. He pushes a button to defog the windows, and air whooshes out of the vents.
“Stay here,” he says as he moves from underneath me and out of the car. I hear the lid of my dumpster lift and lower, and then he comes back in on the driver’s side.
“So,” he says with forced nonchalance. “Dinner?”
I pause in my efforts to straighten out my dress, my brow furrowed. “You still want to go to dinner?”
He huffs a laugh and smooths a hand through his hair. “Well, I won’t lie and pretend that I didn’t want the night to end like this one way or another, but… of course I want to take you to dinner. I asked you on a date, remember?”
He’s taking me on a date. A real one. I can’t help the giddy feeling that rises up from my belly, and I know my smile reflects it. He matches it, his eyes flashing in the yellow of the porch light.
“Okay. But it better be nice,” I tease. “I’m not cheap.”
He laughs heartily before placing his hand on my headrest to check out the rear window. “I’d expect nothing less,” he says as he backs out of the driveway. When he puts the car into drive, he reaches over to take my hand, threading his fingers with mine. Without taking his eyes off the road, he kisses each of my knuckles, and that giddy feeling rises again.
I like Adam Sullivan. A lot. And it feels really good.