Chapter 42
BILLIE
Pinned up against the closet door, I felt the wood rattle with my release.
My dress was hiked to my waist, the soft blue fabric was wrinkled around my ribs.
I could still feel the glow of my orgasm, raw and humming through my bones, every inch of my skin still lit up, hypersensitive, as if every nerve ending had been painted with starlight.
I never wanted to leave this place. If I could stay here, just like this forever, I would. This was my happy place. My safe place. My perfect place.
Adam’s cock was so hard and rigid inside me, pulsating with need.
I gasped as he drew back, slow at first, stretching me to the limit, making me feel every inch of him.
Then, without warning, he surged forward, fast, and my breath caught in my throat as I moaned.
He did it once, twice, and a third time.
His lips slammed me in place. We kissed between the thrusts, my mouth open, too desperate to be gentle as he swallowed my noises of satisfaction.
His hands dropped to my ribs, keeping me secure, thumbs pressing the soft spot just beneath the underside of my boob.
He wasn’t rough, exactly, but there was a kind of hunger there, a desperation, like he had to touch and devour every part of me or he might die right there in the closet.
His fingers slid around my mounds, and he pinched my nipple, hard enough that I yelped, then moaned as the pain instantly morphed to pleasure.
I reached for him, greedy, pulling him deeper even as every thrust threatened to tip me over the edge again.
He kept moving, picking up the pace until the slap of our bodies was faster, wetter.
I was seconds from coming again and he must have known, because he held me tight, his stubble scraping my neck as he bit down on my shoulder to muffle his own groan.
I ground into him, my back pressing into the door, trying to get closer to him, but I couldn’t get the angle.
He shifted his weight with an effortless, subtle strength that made my breath stutter in my chest. Suddenly my feet were beneath me, heels scraping on the hardwood.
I had barely gotten my bearings before he spun me, a gentle but inarguable repositioning, my back to him.
I heard the rustle of cardboard, felt the scrape of a box’s corner against my thigh, an instant before his palm smoothed over my ass and he pressed me forward, bending me over the stack like I was made to fit it.
The change in angle was seismic. My body arched instinctively, knees buckling a little.
He filled the space in back of me with a heat so intense it bordered on feverish, as he pressed kisses to my bare back.
His hands massaged my ass cheeks, spreading me open before he entered me from behind with a slow, deliberate slide, stretching me in a way that felt both obscene and perfect.
I couldn’t help the noise I made—it was a wanton gasp, mortifyingly unsubtle, and I felt him smile against my shoulder as he started to move.
He set a rhythm, slow at first, each thrust measured to draw out every sensation.
My hands scrambled for purchase, finally settling on the edges of the box, and I dug my fingertips in so hard the cardboard creaked.
He held onto my hips in a grip that was tight but careful, like he was worried I’d float away.
His breaths came out in low, rough and the sound—coupled with the slap of our bodies—echoed off the tiny walls.
My dress was pushed up to my waist, my panties wrenched to one side, and there was something so illicit about the way he handled me that I felt myself getting even wetter, clutching around him.
The speed picked up, pace urgent now, and each time he bottomed out I swore I saw stars.
I could feel the coil inside of me winding tighter and tighter, pleasure gathering in my core with a pressure that bordered on pain.
He twisted his fingers into my hair and tugged, just enough to arch my back and stretch my neck.
I moaned, helpless, and he rewarded me with a bruising thrust that made every nerve ending in my body light up like a switchboard.
There was no finesse left, no slow teasing, he fucked me with a single-minded intensity that stripped away everything but sensation.
The pressure built to a blinding peak, and when he reached around my hip rubbed his fingertip over my clit, I detonated.
My legs gave out completely, and it was only his hands on my hips that kept me from collapsing to the floor.
Pleasure crashed through me in waves, white-hot and obliterating.
He didn’t stop moving, didn’t even slow down, and the overstimulation was so exquisite I nearly sobbed.
I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, and when he finally came, he gripped my waist so tightly I thought I’d have fingerprint bruises tomorrow.
He groaned my name, his voice low and wrecked, and I felt the warmth of him fill me.
For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, ragged and uneven and completely synchronized.
We didn’t speak. He just rested against my back, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, both of us suspended in that strange, weightless afterglow. The boxes shifted beneath us with every small movement, and I started to slip.
He slid out of me with a slow, careful motion that left me shivering, and then he turned me around and pulled me into his chest, tucking my head under his chin.
I was still catching my breath, heart hammering, when I realized, I had absolutely no idea what time it was, or how long we’d been in this closet.
I lifted my head. “How long have we been in here?”
“A while.”
With a sigh, I reluctantly assessed, “We should probably get back.”
He nodded and we both started to clean up.
He found a clean white towel and used the sink in the corner to dampen it with warm water.
Once I was freshened up, I resituated my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, then fixed my hair.
He got himself put back together and we stood there, facing one another, neither of us wanting to go out into the real world, neither of us wanting our intimacy bubble to pop, when there was a sharp, insistent knock on the door.
He immediately stepped in front of me, blocking me from whoever was intruding.
The knock came again, louder. “Billie?” It was Bailey, her voice pitched high with urgency. “Are you in there?”
Adam opened the door. Bailey rushed inside, her eyes ping-ponging between me and Adam. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Detective Ramos is here.”
I exchanged a look with Adam, both of us clearly concerned that something was wrong.
“Did he tell you why?” I asked, wanting to find out as much information as I could before hearing it from him.
Bailey glanced down at her hands, her expression turning sheepish. “I um, since things didn’t work out with Russell, Olivia and I thought that we would invite him.”
No. She didn’t. “You invited him here as my date?”
“No!” Bailey held up her hands defensively. “No, not at all. I mean we were hoping. But I didn’t, we didn’t know…that.” Bailey waved her hand between me and Adam. “Not that I’m saying you guys…”
“We had sex,” I told her, it was obvious and I was done lying. I didn’t know how the cards were going to fall at this point, but I was done sneaking around. “And it wasn’t the first time.”
“Oh.” Bailey smiled wider than I think I’d ever seen her smile. “Okay, well I’ll go distract the good detective.”
“No, I’ll go talk to him. I’m about to leave anyways.”
“Then I’m leaving, too,” Adam declared.
“Oh, actually,” Bailey stopped and took a deep breath, “your girlfriend, or um Genesis is here.”
“What?” Adam and I chorused.
“Yeah, she showed up with some photographer.”
Adam’s jaw clenched in defiance. “I don’t care, I’m leaving with Billie.”
“You have to talk to her,” I told him.
“No, I don’t. I’m leaving with you.”
“Can you give us a minute, Bails?” Bailey nodded and walked out. “Oh, and don’t say anything to anyone, okay?”
She mimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.
The second she was gone, Adam closed the closet door behind us with enough force to rattle the glassware stacked on the upper shelf. “You’re not going out there alone,” he announced, like it was a non-negotiable clause in the custody agreement. “I don’t care if Genesis is here.”
“Adam, I’ll be fine. Detective Ramos is here, remember? I’ll talk to him and go home.”
He folded his arms, every muscle in his forearms bulging like a threat. “I’m taking you home. If you need to talk with Ramos first, fine but I’m taking you home.” His tone was so stubbornly sweet—like, I will physically carry you if I have to—it made my insides squeeze tight.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m a big girl. I don’t want a scene. Go talk to Genesis. I just want to go home and go to bed, I’m exhausted.”
His eyes softened, just for a second. “I’m sorry she’s here.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want you walking to your car alone.”
“I won’t I’ll have Bailey or Detective Ramos walk me.”
His jaw twitched, he clearly wanted me to have an escort to my car but if the police escort was with the attractive cop I’d been set up with…
I could see him running the Navy SEAL calculations in his head: threat assessment, tactical withdrawal, collateral damage.
Or maybe he was just being a jealous boyfriend.
Boyfriend? Was he my boyfriend? No. He couldn’t be because we were married.
And he’d said we couldn’t even be friends.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” I put my hand on his chest. “I’m tired.”
He covered my hand. “The girls are staying at Maddox’s tonight.”
He was right about everything he’d said. We couldn’t be friends, so I didn’t know why I found myself saying, “Come by when you’re done talking to her.”