Bookworm

Chapter 12

Two hours. Two margarita flights. And two of the tiniest tacos known to man.

It was one of those fancy Latin-fusion restaurants where you pay seven bucks per taco. Not per plate of tacos. Literally one stinkin’ taco is seven bucks. I was used to a plate of three tacos for every seven dollar order.

But not here.

Don’t get me wrong. The taco was delicious. Then again, it’s pretty hard to fuck up a taco. But after two flights of margaritas and only two small tacos, I was pretty tipsy.

And judging from the way Adam’s cheeks were flushed and pink and he was awfully giggly, I was guessing he was feeling the alcohol, too.

Thankfully we had walked here from our apartment building. That was the beauty of living in a college town… almost everything you could need was only a short walk away.

“Awww, c’mon!” Adam’s voice was way more loud than usual. Luckily, the restaurant was packed and filled with other date nights of people drinking and laughing. “I’m totally Han Solo. I got the elbow patches and everything!”

He lifted his arm to show me his elbow patches. Which I definitely appreciated. God bless a man with elbow patches.

“Your elbow patches are very sexy, Adam…”

His eyes glinted as I said that and his tongue slid over his bottom lip. Heat flashed over my face at the sight and I ignored the way the room vibrated around me in my tipsy state. “You like them?”

“You know I like your elbow patches. But…”

“But?!”

“But… Han Solo didn’t wear elbow patches!”

He snorted and fell back in his chair crossing his arms. “Noooo, but Indiana Jones did!”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You can be Indy. Or even Harrison Ford. But you’re not Han,” I teased.

Our server came back, interrupting our ridiculous argument and handed Adam his credit card and the bill. He quickly scribbled a tip and his signature, then left at the corner of the table before tucking his credit card back into his wallet.

Then Adam lifted what was remaining of the toasted coconut margarita sample from his flight, long fingers gliding over the drops of condensation, then drained the rest of it.

“Hey Adam,” I said, deciding to test his blood alcohol level to the best of my ability. “Why are there no stairs in the Death Star?”

He thought for a moment, sucking his teeth. “I don’t know.”

“Because everyone uses the ele-vader.”

His face stayed blank, staring at me with squinty eyes. Then after way too long, his expression lifted and he barked a laugh. “Ele-vader!” he repeated.

Uh-oh. He was maybe a little past tipsy and more into the drunk zone.

It occurred to me that, for as well as I knew Adam when we were younger, I’d never seen him drunk. That wasn’t really our thing in high school. While other kids our senior year were running off to parties, Adam and I were happy to have a movie marathon night with us and a few friends.

It was a side of him I’d never seen before… and it was fascinating. Normally so put together, drunk Adam was a little on the sloppy side. Sometime through our dinner, his shirt had come slightly untucked. And his neat hair stuck out on the sides like he’d run his hands through it haphazardly one too many times.

It was adorable.

I liked messy Adam.

He made me feel a little more normal as soberly messy Harper.

And if I was being honest, he was really, really hot.

Leaning forward on my elbows, I grinned across the table at my date. “You’re drunk.”

The response he gave was a cross between a snort and Pssshhh. “Am not. You’re drunker.”

“Which one is it? Are you not drunk? Or am I drunker?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “I think neither.”

“Which means?”

“Do you know what kind of a car a Jedi drives?” He didn’t wait for me to respond before blurting out, “A ToyYODA! Get it? Toy Yoda.”

He snickered at himself, then lifted the empty margarita to his mouth once more, frowning as he realized he’d already finished it.

“Oh yeah? What kind of car does Yoda drive? A Volkswagen JEDI.”

Adam scrunched his face. “Not fair… you just piggybacked off my joke.”

I shrugged and tossed my napkin on the table, then stood, offering Adam my hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t hesitate to stand as well, wrapping his large, warm fingers around mine. “Where we going?”

“To get some real food.”

Forty minutes later, Adam and I were laying in the grass at the Dartmouth Green park. We’d gorged ourselves on food truck fare. Shwarma chicken, a steak burrito, lobster rolls. I lifted the Slushie I’d grabbed at a gas station and slurped the remaining melted liquid through my straw.

“There’s Cassiopeia,” Adam said, pointing at a cluster of stars.

He’d sobered up quite a bit once we got some food in him. His messy hair was now smoothed down. His shirt, back to being neatly tucked in.

I kind of missed disheveled Adam. I wanted to mess him up again.

Instead, I looked in the direction he was pointing toward the inky night sky. “I never understood astronomy,” I grumbled. “All I see are stars. A bunch of stars, sure. But they don’t look like anything.”

“Right there,” he said again, leaning in closer to me. The scruff of his five o’clock shadow scraped my cheek. “Those stars make a sort of zigzag line.”

“Oh that zigzag line?” I repeated.

“Yes! You see it?”

“No! Every cluster of stars can make a stupid zigzagged line,” I said, laughing.

“You’re incorrigible.”

I gave a dramatic sigh and shrugged. “Guess you’re just going to have to find someone else to go stargazing with.’

His response was gruff and quiet. “Not a chance.”

When I turned my head to look at him, my nose brushed his and I was met with his low groan that slithered below my waist, waking up tingly bits that I’d ignored for way too long.

Silence draped us for a long breath. Two breaths. Three.

My eyes skimmed his face, taking in the strong slope of his nose, sharp cheekbones, angled jaw, and his bright eyes, flickering like candles in the night.

There wasn’t a single feature of his that wasn’t chiseled and perfect.

It wasn’t fair.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

And because I have no filter when I’m sober, let alone when my system was still working through two flights of margaritas, I was completely honest. “I’m thinking that you’re pretty much the perfect specimen of a man,” I said, my voice hoarse.

His smile made the grass beneath me tilt and only served to prove how right I was with that whole perfect thing. “You know who else is a perfect specimen of a man?”

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip. “Don’t say it?—”

“Han Solo.”

Before I could groan in protest, Adam cupped my jaw and pulled my mouth to his in a kiss so encompassing, I forgot where I was for the duration.

Rolling on top of him, I straddled his hips, moaning at the hard length rubbing against me.

With a gasp, I ended the kiss just as his hands found my hips, giving them a squeeze. “Okay,” I admitted. “Maybe you are Han Solo.”

“You know who that makes you, right?”

Pushing onto his elbows, his mouth clamped onto my ear, teeth scraping as he whispered. “What do we say we get you home, Princess?”

Before I could answer, several fat raindrops fell between us landing on the tips of my nose and cheeks. On cue, we both looked up at the sky where several clouds had rolled in, blocking the stars from our view.

With a crack of thunder, the skies opened up and a sheet of rain cascaded down on us.

Squealing, we made a run for it, darting the three blocks to our apartment building. We didn’t bother to wait for the elevator, instead opting to sprint up the stairs. My chest burned with each labored breath interspersed between the heaving laughter as I fell back against my door.

Panting, our laughter faded away as Adam leaned over me, two palms on either side of my face. Overhead, a light flickered in the hallway a few times before burning out entirely, shrouding us in darkness. Adam towered over me, caging me in against the door with two thick columned arms.

Arms I could slather with whipped cream then lick clean.

“So…” I started to say, shuffling my feet against the worn gray welcome mat outside my door. “I guess this is goodnight?”

Adam shook his head slowly which I mirrored.

“It’s not goodnight?” I asked.

“Only if you want it to be.” A pause. “Do you want it to be?”

I was dripping wet. My nipples were so hard from the cold rain that my sopping clothes showed everything. If I knew what was good for me, I’d give Adam a kiss goodnight, then go draw myself a steaming hot bath.

That was what mature, respectable girls did, right?

Unfortunately, I was neither mature nor respectable.

Maybe it was the margaritas talking, but I wasn’t ready for our night to end.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” I admitted.

Without responding, Adam bent, latching his mouth to my neck and licking a path up to my ear.

My fingers dove into his hair and I wasn’t sure if I was pulling him closer or pushing him away. The sensations were just so intense.

Then, his hot breath skimmed my ear as he whispered, “Then you better let us inside fast. Or the neighbors are going to get quite a show.”

Fumbling with my keys, I unlocked the door. Adam and I fell inside, a tangle of limbs and lips and teeth.

With clumsy fingers, I unzipped my dress and it fell with a whoosh to the floor. I hadn’t worn a bra tonight and my lacy panties were the only thing left covering me as I stepped back.

Adam’s gaze swept down my body and a chill rocked down my spine with it. He tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside, then slowly stalked toward me, scooping a single hand into my messy blond waves.

Whereas outside my door, we were frantic and chaotic, now there’s merely a steady pulse of desire. A quiet strum, thick and rhythmic between us. Every ounce of liquid in my body pooled between my legs at the sight of Adam shirtless.

Holy shit.

Adam was jacked. How in the hell did he hide all those muscles beneath Ralph Lauren polo shirts and tweed jackets? Bronzed skin stretched over lines of chiseled muscle. A tight bulge of bicep and shoulders. Mountainous pecks. Abs that I could strum like the strings of a guitar. A v-shaped shadow and trim line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

After another step closer to me, all those hard muscles are pressed against the softest parts of me.

His groan was so quiet, I could barely hear it as he hooked his thumbs into the delicate lace of my panties. With a flick of his wrist, they slipped down my thighs and I kicked them away from my ankles.

He muttered a few expletives as his thumbs found my nipples, sliding back and forth over them as they pearl beneath his touch.

“Harper,” he groaned, palming my breasts. “I’ve dreamt of this every day for seven years.”

I could have said the exact same thing. Every date I’ve been on, every kiss I’ve had, nothing ever compared to Adam.

Hell, I’d only ever been with one other man after him… and it had been awful.

But I didn’t say any of that. I couldn’t speak. Not with his fingers working their magic.

His hands shifted, cupping my jaw and his lips slid over mine in a kiss so deep and intense I actually gasped into his mouth.

Backing me toward the bedroom, I fall on my rumpled bedspread just in time to see Adam yank his belt off and push his pants down over lean, muscled hips.

Good.

God.

Adam was naked.

Adam was naked in my bedroom.

Adam was naked in my bedroom … and there was no one to stop us.

There was no reason to stop us.

With a cocky smirk, he gripped his hard length, giving himself a stroke and I swear I melted into a puddle right there on my bed.

Drunk and giggly Adam was adorable. But this quiet, confident Adam?

He was fire.

Now this is Han Solo energy right here, I thought.

I must have said that out loud because his response was a quiet chuckle. “Glad to know I’ve earned your respect,” he says, his voice low and raspy and oh so sexy.

Adam climbed onto the bed and settled himself between my thighs.

No foreplay was needed. Not tonight. I was already drenched for him. Swollen and needy, I pulsed my hips as he pressed himself gently against my entrance.

I could taste the relief as he pushed inside. The anticipation and tension melted away, replaced by a delicious stretch and a sigh of pure pleasure radiated between us. The slide of wet, slick skin and out in the slowest, most controlled movements.

I ache for more. Harder. Deeper. How is he so goddamned disciplined? My entire body trembled, shaking, distracted by the rhythmic movements. In. Out. In. Out.

The glide of bare skin nearly obliterated me as I slid my legs higher, wrapping them around his hips and guiding him deeper, harder, working himself deeper and deeper inside of me with each pulse of his hips. Then with a thrust, he obliged me, slamming into me hard. Stars appeared in my vision and I cried out, scraping my fingernails down his back.

More.

Again.

Then, nipping my collarbone, he reached a hand down between us, finding my clit.

The soft, slow strokes grew harder. Faster. Flicking.

My core tightened, tingles and heat wrapping around my skin like shrinkwrap.

The spasm rocked through my body, tightening around the thick length of him inside me. Squeezing, pulsing, I gasped as my lower back arched off the bed and I came around him.

“Harper.” My name was a prayer on his lips. A mere graveled sigh as he hoisted my legs onto his shoulders and knelt straighter, pounding into me faster and harder now that I’d come.

I whimpered at the hungry exploration of his hands over my body; down my thighs, gliding across my slick clit, squeezing my breasts and flicking my nipples.

The haze surrounded me and I heard grunted words like perfection and missed you between the slap of skin and sighs of pleasure.

My own climax is building again. Again. How is this possible?

But before I can question it, ripples of pleasure consume my body just as Adam threw his head back. His abs tensed. Then, I could feel the pulse of him from inside of me. Both of us squeezing and spasming together.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting and sweaty and satiated.

Turning my head to him, I kissed Adam deeply.

After a few minutes, he pulled out and I whimpered as he stood, reaching for his hand to keep him here beside me. “Don’t go.”

Smiling, he bent, kissing me. “I’m just running to take Verne for a quick walk. Then I’ll be back.” He grabbed his pants off the floor, tugging them up over his hips.

“Good,” I sighed and stretched out on my bed. “Bring Verne over, too, after his walk. I’m not ready for this to be over.”

Pausing, Adam captured a lock of my hair, twirling it around his finger. “Harper, if there’s one thing I can assure you, it’s that this is far from over.”