Chapter 18 #2
Adam takes a sip of his wine, then pushes himself off the counter and moves to stand in front of me.
Something within me, the stimulated part, slightly inches my knees open.
His eyes glance down, but he doesn’t step in between them.
Instead, he sets his glass to the side of me and lifts his hand, placing it behind my neck.
Goose bumps cover my skin, and I feel like there isn’t enough air in the world for me to catch my breath.
Gently, his hand swipes my earlobe while the other touches my cheek.
My breath deepens and my eyes close, because he may as well have reached over and put his hands down my jeans.
He lets go, and I suddenly feel cold. When my eyes flutter open, he’s holding up an eyelash on his index finger.
He leans in close, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Make a wish.” I lick my lips and look up at his hazel eyes, already fixed on mine.
Somehow, after a full day out, the scent of his bodywash is still sticking to his shirt, and it’s igniting my pheromones.
Not looking away for a moment, I lean in and blow out.
“I was scared.” I feel a release once I sayit.
“Scared,” he repeats, more like a statement than a question.
“When you asked me why I ran, the day of the meeting.”
His jaw muscles tense. “Why were you scared?”
“You know why,” I say, and take a sip of the wine still in my hand.
“I have a few ideas,” he says, then carefully takes my glass and sets it down. “But I’d like to hear it from you.”
I tremble a little. There’s nothing between us anymore, literally and metaphorically. Nothing to hide behind. My blood pulses through my veins, knowing that the wall around myself and my heart is crumbling more and more with each second of this conversation.
“I was scared that if I got close to you again…” My voice cracks. “I wouldn’t be strong enough to leave this time.”
His chest moves up and down, his breaths deepening. “Are you still scared?”
“Terrified.” I look up at him.
Adam steps back, squeezing the nape of his neck, and I don’t know if this is on my account or if he’s telling me that he doesn’t want this.
But I hook my heel around the back of his thigh, forcing him to move closer.
I’m not letting this moment pass by me. Not again.
It’s frightening but electrifying, because I haven’t felt this way in years—not since living with him—wanting someone as much as I do right now.
And this time, I don’t care about the consequences. I want to live in the moment.
“What are we doing?” he asks.
“We’re about to kiss.”
In one swift motion, his lips are on mine, and it’s everything I could ever have wanted.
There’s a current in my blood, coursing through my veins as I become flush with heat.
One of his hands is lost in my hair and the other is on my hip, pulling me to the edge of the counter, pressed up against him.
There’s a sense of urgency, want, need, as Adam takes the lead. Yet every movement is controlled.
My fingers grip his shirt, and I feel his tongue swirl inside my mouth. God, he feels better than I remember. It’s a warm, messy feeling. It’s like we’re two kids again, who just want to feel each other, though the slightest contact is almost too much to handle.
When my touch moves to his neck, his hands move to the sides of my ass, and a deep hum vibrates against me. Despite me sitting, he’s grabbing whatever he can, closing every inch of space.
“Adam,” I breathe against his mouth.
Slowly, he trails his lips to my cheek, then my ear.
I’m mistaken—nothing about this is messy.
Adam moves with intention, knowing exactly what pulse points drive me wild.
It’s not even from memory—it’s like he’s a pianist tuning my body to create the perfect note.
When I push my chest against his, I feel him smile as I let out an uncontrollable moan, the lower part of me pulsing.
Fisting his shirt, I pull him in closer, almost knocking the wine bottle over. “Shit.” I catch it just in time.
“Here.” Adam swiftly moves our bowls, glasses, and the bottle, making room on the workstation.
“Such a gentleman,” I breathe out, watching his every move.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he huffs, and drags his palm through my hair while the other squeezes my waist. His tongue swipes just below my ear as heat flashes in my most sensitive areas. “The things I want to do right now are pretty ungentlemanly.”
A shiver shoots up my spine as I think of all the possible things Adam could do right now. The things I want him to do. I want him to pull my jeans off, turn me over, and make me cry out his name in a way I never have before.
“That sounds…” I slowly exhale as he trails kisses down to my collarbone. “Yeah…”
I’m not making any sense. Nothing makes sense right now.
My primal instincts are in control and all I can rationalize is how much I want this.
Right now, I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been touched this way.
Probably never. As far as I’m concerned, no man on the planet exists aside from Adam Harper.
“Tell me to stop,” he says against my skin, and that’s actually the last fucking thing I’m going to do.
He’s not stopping, and no part of me wants him to.
“June,” he grunts, and I dig my nails into his back.
“You either stop me right now”—he squeezes my ass and whispers into my ear—“or I’m pulling these jeans off and having a second meal. ”
My insides shudder and I crash my lips back onto his. I whimper against his mouth, not realizing dirty talk had this effect onme.
“Please,” I beg. I can’t get enough of Adam, and I want nothing more than to feel his lips on every inch of my skin.
There’s a buzz in the back of my brain and my cognitive senses become fuzzy.
My physical intuition has completely taken over and what I want is for Adam to do all of the unspeakable things to me right here on top of his kitchen countertop.
The curve of his muscles tenses as I move my hand down from his shoulder to his chest to his stomach. Even through the fabric of his clothes I feel each chiseled angle. When I palm his growing erection I let out an audible gasp while he instinctively pushes in with a grunt.
“Fuck.” He blows out a breath. Knowing I have the ability to make Adam waver turns me on even more. I want to learn what his desires are, what spots on his body spark a reaction, and how he feels inside ofme.
With a flick of his thumb, he unbuttons my jeans and waits until I let out an approving nod before going any further.
“Sh-Shit!” I cry when I feel one of his fingers rub over my underwear.
“Now who’s soaked?” he says into my ear.
I let out a laugh as my forehead falls onto his. “Shut up,” I reach for the waist of his pants and start to undo the button.
“No.” He stops me. “Not like this.”
“Why can you do what you want, and I can’t?” I ask, practically pouting.
“My kitchen, my rules.” Adam nips the side of my neck that’s most sensitive. “Do you think I can make you come like this?”
“Positive,” I breathe out, and grind against him.
He removes his hand from my pants and I let out an embarrassing whine.
His fingers travel under my sweater, and the sensation of his skin touching mine makes my head roll back.
He moves his hand up slowly and begins to trace the outside of my breast. A slight grunt comes out of him when he realizes I’m wearing a lace bralette, leaving very little to the imagination.
“Fuck, June.” He puts his forehead against mine, with a laugh of defeat.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in—” A voice interrupts us, and we both look over Adam’s shoulder. “Oh shit—Adam?”
I move faster than I ever have in my life and jump off the counter, almost spraining my ankle, and fix my sweater.
“Hey, Covey.” Adam coughs. He runs a hand through his hair and subtly adjusts himself.
“Sorry, man, I was still in the area and saw the lights on.” The man by the refrigerator puts his hands up in the air. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Adam takes a deep inhale and nods. “All good. Covey, this is June. June, this is Covey, our head chef.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I give him an embarrassed wave.
He bows his head to me awkwardly. “Um, well, I’ll get out of your way. Adam, see you tomorrow.” He holds a hand up to both of us and disappears out the back. Adam and I turn to each other and burst into laughter.
“God, I’m so sorry,” I say with my hands over my face.
“It’s a good thing he didn’t walk in on anything else,” Adam says. “I would’ve had to fire him.”
My face drops. “You would fire him?”
“June, I don’t think you can come back from seeing your boss having sex on top of your workstation,” he says while putting our bowls and wineglasses in the sink.
“ Adam! ” My blush intensifies. When he turns I can tell he’s trying to conceal a smile. “What?” I sigh, worried that he’s going to tell me my whole boob is out or something equally embarrassing.
“Nothing.” He shrugs, a curve of his mouth revealing itself.
“Just say it.”
“That was, um, not on my bingo card for tonight,” he says, and the curve has turned into a full-blown smirk.
“And you think it was on mine ?!” The two of us start laughing again. “We are not talking about this anymore. We’re moving past it.” I wave my hands out in front of me. “We’re past it.”
Adam nods. “We’re past it.”
“Past it,” I repeat.
“Come on,” he says and walks over to the booth to grab my jacket and purse. “Let’s get out of here.”