51
“Let me get that, Suze, c’mon,” he jokingly scolds as I reach for my bag.
“You know I carry my big bags all by my little self when I travel alone.”
“Well, you’re not alone. If I’m with you, you’re not carrying your bags,” he grunts as he pulls out both our suitcases at once.
I don’t even bother stopping myself from checking out his tight backside and thick thighs in his jeans. I watch his arms work, his shoulders pull tight.
He also grabs our little bag of today’s souvenirs.
He’s really trying. I’ll give him that.
It wasn’t just the world’s largest crawdad, which again, he landed the jet for. There was no other reason to stop and that time he didn’t pretend about it.
He found a modern frog sculpture in a small town dubbed the “Frog Capital of the World.” It was much shorter than he thought it would be which made both of us laugh. It was taller than my Popeye statue, but not by much.
After that there was a very weird lighthouse inside a very weird sculpture garden. And then a few quirky stops on the outskirts of New Orleans, both before and after a delicious dinner at the most romantic little restaurant I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure how he even found the place. The conversation stayed light and fun, mostly about what Sally, and really all of my family, has been up to recently since Adam hasn’t been around.
“Thanks,” Adam says to the driver as he taps the top of the Uber car. He shifts toward the hotel. I walk behind him, still in a daze.
Because it wasn’t just the sentimentality. The fact that he found quirky things for us.
No, he also made a map and an itinerary complete with a checklist for all the selfies we needed to get for the boys.
Which he printed.
AND THEN LAMINATED.
He even brought a mini dry erase marker and let me do all the checking.
It’s like he thought the minor endorphin burst from every tick mark would score him major points with my subconscious. I’m not sure he was wrong about that.
Then the selfies themselves have made a mess of my brain and heart and…other body parts.
With each pose he held me tighter, taking longer to get his hand up and capture the right shot. His other hand moved lower on my back throughout the afternoon. One time he kissed my head right as the phone captured our image. The last time, it was my cheek he kissed.
The skin is still burning.
“No, I guess I’m not alone,” I say, snapping back to the present moment. “Funny that we both ended up booking the same hotel.”
“It’s not funny, actually. I just called your office to ask and, what’s her name, Addie? She just told me your whole itinerary.”
“Adam!”
“I know. Not safe. I almost ripped her a new one but she was helping me out so I just said thank you and hung up. But seriously.”
“No you seriously!”
“Huh?” he says. I realize I need to get a handle on my thoughts and feelings. I’m not even making sense anymore.
“Do not call my office for information about me!” is all I manage to say.
He smirks. “Okay, I won’t ever do it again.”
“I am not sharing a room with you.” I whisper-shout as we near the check in desk. He just looks back at me over his shoulder mischievously. “Or a suite! Or one of those little huts, does this place have those?”
“You think they have private cabanas along the Mississippi River?” He’s trying not to laugh. “Excuse me, do you all have private cabanas?” he asks the woman behind the desk. I roll my eyes when I catch her batting her long, expertly-applied lashes. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear before she answers.
“Yes, sir, we do have cabanas by the pool.”
“No, I mean like little—”
“Thank you, pool cabanas. Great!” I cut him off. He’s made his point. I glare at him before smiling at the attendant. Her smile has faded significantly since I reached Adam’s side. I shouldn’t feel so triumphant about that. “Canton, Susan, please.”
She finds my reservation, then Adam’s. Two swanky presidential suites.
“Next to each other. How convenient, thank you,” Adam says to her while looking at me.
I grab my bag and begin rolling it away as I say, “Don’t even think about it.”
We get in the elevator for a long, slow ride to the top floor. I fight the urge to look at the man next to me while he, in contrast, stares a hole into my profile.
His voice surprises me. It sounds gravelly and he doesn’t bother clearing his throat as he says, “One of the things I am trying to do more is, uh, say my thoughts out loud.”
“What?” I finally look over. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Maybe,” he says, looking at my lips. I look away quickly but his words are like a caress to my cheek. “But I thought every day how pretty you looked. How much I loved you and wanted you and I didn’t say it. And I should have. Like right now…”
“Adam,” I whisper, supposedly in protest, but it sounds a lot more like encouragement.
“Right now I’d like to pull the stop on this elevator and shove you up against that wall and taste you, kiss the ever living crap out of you.” I make a breathy noise I’m not proud of as the elevator dings. Before the doors open he adds, “and I don’t mean your mouth.”
He backs away in order to put his hand out to hold the door for us. He grins at me—his sex grin I haven’t seen in years, the one he only uses after he makes me scream—and waits for me to exit first. It takes me a second to remember how to walk.
“I’m not going to ask to come into your room,” he says as we reach the end of the hall where our doors are.
“Good bec—”
“But I’m hoping the laminated checklist bought me another twenty minutes?” I turn to face him and he scans his key and then opens the suite door wide, inviting me in.
I will myself to reject him.
To run in the other direction.
To save myself and the tattered pieces of my heart left in my chest.
Say no! Say no, Susan!
“I’m putting my stuff in my room first,” is what comes out of my mouth instead.
“Whatever you want,” he says, the sexy grit from earlier still lingering in his tone.
“I want to change clothes,” I admit without thinking. I’ve been in a tee tucked into a pencil skirt, which I usually wear for corporate travel. I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating. I need less? More? Something.
“Good. Yes, please,” He chuckles. “That skirt’s been killing me all day.”
I opt for more fabric but looser and softer. I put on a jogger set that has long sleeves and pants, but in a super thin, buttery fabric. It’s like wearing a dreamy cloud. That’s what I need right now.
I cross back to his door and raise my chin. This is fine.
Light, easy, breezy, oh fuuuu—
“Hey,” he opens the door. He’s changed too. He’s in a thin, too-tight dri-fit shirt that leaves nothing of his newly re-established chest muscles to my imagination. And sport shorts but they’re not the big ol’ basketball things he used to wear. No, I see plenty of thigh and calf muscles, all threatening to bulge right out of his skin.
I never realized meaty man legs were my thing, but here we are.
I’m worried he’s caught me ogling as he closes the door but when I look up, I catch him. His eyes are firmly on my chest, where he can clearly make out a lot more detail than before. My bra is sheer and this shirt is very thin and is it cold in here?
I blush and start, “Maybe I should—”
As he says, “Let me use my twenty minutes for something else.” And with the depth of his voice and the heat in his eyes, I know exactly what he means.
“Adam, I don’t think we—”
He takes two urgent steps forward, “Forget with me.”
“W-what?”
Slowly one hand reaches for my shirt at the waist where it’s tucked, but he just barely grabs the fabric and rolls it in his fingers. Not even enough of a tug to pull it out of the elastic. Just enough to make me wish it was.
“You’re not exclusive, right?” I frown, both of us watching his fingers play with my silky top. “You’re dating but are you with someone?”
“Oh. No.”
He inhales, his nostrils flaring, still looking down at how close we are to touching, but not really touching. “You want to forget everything for a minute?”
I can only whisper the same weak protest, “I don’t know if we should—”
“Not we. Not us. You. Let me take care of you.” He looks up from his fingers to my face, his lids heavy and his lips parted. The only sound in the room is my ragged breathing. Until finally he tugs harder on my shirt and his voice is so low it’s almost a growl. “Say yes, Suzie.”
Say no.
Shake your head.
Mind over matter!
Thoughts over feelings! No!
“Yes.”
He groans in relief, putting his hand on my waist under my shirt. His fingers are hot and scratchy and I want them everywhere. But he just squeezes once and bites his lip as he looks me over, like he’s deciding what to have from a buffet menu.
It's so freaking hot.
He’s still so hot! Ugh!
My turn to moan.
The sound makes something snap in him. His hands go to my face. He tilts my head and I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he devours my neck. Kissing, sucking, licking down.
“Mmm,” he murmurs into my skin. “You always smell so good.” He reaches down to pick me up and like I have a million times, I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. He breathes me in, nuzzling into my cleavage through my shirt. “I miss smelling you all over the house. My clothes.”
I whimper as he sets me down on the bed. I can’t help it. He smells and feels and sounds—saying actual words while we’re making out?!—like home. And I am not thinking clearly enough to dissect that right now.
“You want this on?” he tugs at my shirt again.
I shake my head. I don’t want anything on at this point. He pulls my shirt off quickly but then time slows. He slows. He kneels in between my legs and grabs me, and even though he moans and his head goes straight to my chest, it’s only his forehead that makes contact. His eyes close and he exhales and it’s…it’s just a hug but it’s more, it’s a plea. A cry for forgiveness, with him literally on his knees before me.
“I’m such an idiot,” he whispers, and the scruff of his beard on my sensitive flesh makes my body come alive. Like it was asleep for the last year. The last few years. The feel of his lips on my skin wakes him up too and suddenly he’s got my bra off. He’s kneading, pulling, sucking.
My hands are in his hair and my back arches like my body is securely on Team Adam. He starts to kiss down toward my navel and I tense. But before I can get self-conscious about any loose skin or stretch marks he’s commanding me.
“Up.”
I lift off the mattress so he can pull my pants off. I’m grateful I always travel in chic matching underwear sets as part of my corporate alter ego. It’s to go head to head with billionaire men in the boardroom and now head to head takes on an altogeth—
Yessssss
He spreads my legs and kisses up my inner thigh. “You are so damn sexy,” he mutters as he moves. Finally after what feels like an hour of torture he hums into my center with a deep, guttural satisfaction.
Whew, that sound. I love it. I missed it.
He adores me, explores me, expertly works me with his tongue and his fingers, like he used to, like he hasn’t in years. And I want…I need more. I writhe and squirm until he pulls away, whips his shirt off, grabs me, flips us, and...
Sits me…
On his chest…
I’m straddling his…
“C’mon, Suzie. Take what you want,” he pulls me toward his mouth and my body takes over, riding his tongue like a woman possessed.
I…
It…
“Adam!” I scream.
Literally.
White heat pulses through me in waves and I struggle to breathe.
I haven’t actually squealed like that since maybe our honeymoon.
He keeps licking and sucking until I stop shaking above him.
“What…was that?!” I collapse on the bed.
“Maybe my new favorite thing,” he says, sex grin fully in place.
“Uh, yeah, maybe mine too,” I laugh breathlessly.
He props himself on his side and stares at me. “Well? Did you forget for a minute?”
“I’m not sure I remember my own name,” I admit. He laughs, that big, free happy sound I hardly ever hear.
I look at the ceiling and cover myself. It is cold in here. “Can you hand me my shirt?” He raises up to reach for all my clothes and hands them all to me. I sit up and get dressed and he lays watching me, hands tucked behind his head.
I glance down at the obvious bulge in his shorts. “Looks like you could forget too,” I say, starting to reach for his zipper.
He stops me, gently holding my wrist. “I don’t want to forget.”
“You don’t want me to…”
“Oh, hell yes I do. But I don’t want to do anything else without my ring back on your finger,” he says as he pulls me down to him. Tucked into his side, my head on his chest, it’s like I never left. Or like I never should have left.
But I did.
Because he pushed me away.
What am I doing?
I tense and he feels it.
“Five minutes, Suze, then we’ll go to sleep. In separate rooms.”
“Okay.” I relax as I hear him inhale, like he’s bracing himself for whatever he’s about to tell me.