24
MADDIE
I was in too deep.
Way too deep with the very real possibility of drowning. In all things Adam, of course. We'd had a moment the previous night. Right there under the stars in my backyard, we shared something. It wasn't deep or overly personal, but somehow it only cemented this indescribable connection I had to him.
And although there was no kissing, everything about it had felt intimate. Almost as if, piece by piece, our souls were bared to each other.
Or it was possible that I was so ridiculously sexually frustrated I'd started sprouting some weird-ass poetry. With the lack of stimulation I was getting, I definitely wouldn't count it out.
Leaning back, I dug my fingers in the sand. The sun had only just made its appearance; shades of pinks and oranges streaked through the sky while the waves gently lapped at the shore.
I took a deep breath through my nose and shook my head at Sheldon, who was scavenging for crabs.
"Mind if I join you? "
The butterflies in my stomach immediately took flight at the sound of Adam's gritty voice. Cupping a hand over my eyes, I turned and tilted my head back. In the crisp morning light, he was so damn hot, it made my heart stutter.
A light gray t-shirt hung loosely from his torso. The arms were ripped off, giving me just a peek of the stacked muscles hiding underneath the cotton. If he was standing at the other side of me, I probably would've gotten a glimpse of the scars there.
My gaze traveled lower and I bit down on my teeth. Hard. He was wearing those can't-really-hide-anything gym shorts again. The ones that left no doubt about the fact that he went commando.
The kind that promised whatever the fabric was covering would most likely be a welcome stretch that would feel oh-so-good.
Because my legs were stretched out in front of me and crossed at my ankles, it was easy to squeeze my thighs together without him noticing. I cleared my throat and tried very hard not to think about his shorts or rather what was under them or the things I could and seriously wanted to do.
"Not at all." I sounded all kinds of pitchy but if Adam noticed, he didn't say a thing.
Keeping his eyes on me, he lowered that massive frame of his onto the sand with zero amount of effort. He pulled his legs up and casually draped his forearms over the tops of his knees. His focus shifted to Sheldon still furiously digging. "No dancing today? "
I grinned at him. "You sound disappointed. Were you hoping to catch the show?"
Serious eyes bore into mine. "I was, yeah."
It was so tempting to tell him that I'd be more than happy to give him a private show—the frustration was very real. Luckily, I caught the words and quickly swallowed them back down.
"I get a lot of dancing in now that I am at the studio every day." My mouth curved upward on its own. Soulbeat—dancing—was undoubtedly my happy place. Somewhere I could be who I was without judgment.
"You didn't always have your studio?"
I shook my head. "I still don't. My old dance instructor needed someone to fill in for her." Not sure why, but I couldn't bear to look at him when I said the next part. "I…uh…used to work at my parents' hardware store."
"Hmh."
I gave him a curious look but before I could ask what the hell Hmh meant, Sheldon came darting across the sand, tail happily wagging at the sight of the man sitting next to me. He skidded to a stop between Adam's legs, kicking up sand in every which direction, and let out an excited bark.
"Hey, buddy," Adam cooed, giving my dog a scratch behind the ears that had his eyes rolling back in his little head. Not proud of it, but I was kind of jealous of my dog just then. I wanted this man's hands on me. Had a few itches he could scratch too.
"Your parents were the ones who told you that you couldn't dance?" His remark had the effect of a bucket of ice over the head—and lady bits. No one could have their parents and sex in their brains at the same time.
I eyed Sheldon, who seemed to be in a state of bliss, before following the lines of Adam's tattoo along his corded arm and over his broad shoulder. When my gaze finally landed on his, he was already watching me.
What did he see when he looked at me like that?
"They wanted me to study accounting and for a while I did." My insides twisted when I recalled how miserable I was. How spending every day looking at numbers sucked the life out of me little by little.
"What happened?" Adam asked quietly.
My tongue slipped over my lips. "I woke up one morning and decided I was done."
"Good for you."
"Oh no, it really wasn't. I went to New York, determined to be the next best thing, and fell flat on my face.
" This was the part that stung like nobody's business.
"I came back home with my tail between my legs a year later and started working for my parents the next day.
" I laughed dryly. "If it hadn't been for my grandma leaving me this house in her will, I probably would've still been in my childhood bedroom. "
Saying the words out loud made me feel so inadequate. And it sounded a hell of a lot like I was a quitter.
I didn't like accounting, so I quit .
I couldn't get a decent job as a professional dancer, so I packed up and came home.
My throat burned with the sudden bout of tears I tried to keep inside. I didn't want Adam to see, so I focused on the waves gently rolling over the sand.
A calloused palm landed on my knee, drawing my attention back to the man beside me. He regarded me for the longest time; those dark eyes roaming over my face. "Success isn't always measured in what we accomplish," he finally rasped. "Sometimes we find it in the things we learn along the way."
I couldn't speak past the thick lump in my throat. Hell, I could hardly breathe. The way he made me feel, I wished I could find the right words. Something to describe the crazy but wonderful feeling he evoked inside of me.
Unaware of what he was doing to my insides, Adam lifted his hand and toyed with the strands hanging over my shoulder. "I like your hair like this." His murmur was so soft, so sensual, it had delicious shivers dancing down my spine.
"I like you ." The words slipped from my tongue before I had a second to check them. But once they were out, I didn't regret saying it.
Adam's eyes turned darker. "You shouldn't." The fingers tangled in my hair moved, his grip getting tighter the closer he got to my scalp.
"You keep saying that," I breathed out.
"Mhm." His gaze bounced between my eyes and mouth. By the tortured look on his face, I knew he was trying to decide what to do. And as desperately as I wanted to beg him to just kiss me already, I needed him to get there on his own.
To crave this as badly as I did.
I knew the exact moment the war within himself was over. Impossible as it might've seemed, those dark irises turned even darker. The fist in my hair gripped tighter as he leaned forward and pulled my face to his at the same time.
Every single cell in my body felt alive.
My nerve endings buzzing with anticipation.
Behind my ribs, my heart was beating so fast, almost too fast. The wild thundering in my ears so loud, I was certain Adam could hear.
He wet his lips. I felt the warmth of his breath feather over my mouth.
There was barely half an inch between us.
I parted my lips when I felt the slightest touch of his against mine. Finally, finally , I thought.
"Madison. That you?"
"Are you freaking kidding me," I groaned. Adam pulled back and immediately angled his body sideways; hiding his left side from the man slowly ambling toward us.
I raised my hand and waved. "Hi, Mr. Stevenson."
Sheldon, who at some point must've scurried away, came trotting back and parked his butt next to Adam. I shook my head.
"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Mr. Stevenson said with a wide smile when he finally reached us.
Pushing to my feet, I returned his smile. "It sure is. "
The older man's head bobbed up and down while he gave a now standing Adam a curious look. "You fixin' up old Ronnie Nichols's place?'
"I am, sir."
At Adam's tight tone, my gaze shot to him. His jaw was ticking as he held a stiff arm out to Mr. Stevenson and introduced himself. He looked uncomfortable. So terribly uncomfortable. My heart squeezed a little.
"I was hoping I'd run into you today," Mr. Stevenson told me. "You know my son, Billy?" It wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyway. "He and his lovely wife, Angela, just had a little boy. They named him after me, you know?" He puffed out his chest, the smile on his face stretching wider.
"How wonderful! Congratulations."
He was beaming; it was impossible not to smile right along with him. Unless your name was Adam and your grumpiness was showing.
"They invited me to go visit for a while. You know, meet the little man and all," Mr. Stevenson babbled on. "I was hoping you'd keep an eye on the place for me. Agnus from the library will stop by once or twice a week to water the plants, so you don't have to worry about that."
"Of course."
After he thanked me profusely, Mr. Stevenson slowly strolled along the beach. I watched him for a while before I turned my attention to Adam. He had his serious frown aimed at the ocean.
I poked him with my elbow. "You're being a grumpy butt. "
He half-glared at me out of the corner of his eye. "I'm being quiet," he said matter-of-factly. "There's a difference."
"Oh, yeah?" I moved to stand in front of him. Hands perched on my hips. "Enlighten me. What goes on up there," I pointed at his head, "when you are being quiet ?"
Was he thinking about how we should pick up where we left off before Mr. Stevenson interrupted us? Gosh, I really hoped so.
"I just realized I have never seen a single dance movie."
Huh. Not where I thought the conversation was going but I played along anyway. Grabbing my chest in mock horror, I squeaked, "What? Tell me it isn't so."
His lips lifted into a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nope. Not one."
"We have to fix this, Adam. It's a serious problem."
"It is?"
I nodded furiously. "Yes! We can't be friends unless you've watched at least one of the classics."
One dark eyebrow slowly arched. "That so?"
"Yup."
"Well, then I guess you better school me." He bent forward a bit. "Because I really want to be your friend, Maddie."
I knew he didn't want to be just friends. The heat simmering in his eyes proof of that. But for reasons that probably had a lot to do with the scars coating his skin, he needed to slow down.
And I was perfectly happy with going as slow as he needed to.