Chapter 35
Jo
I’d never seen broody Adam before, nor had I seen a tipsy one. But the way he looked at me now, with so much focus and the wrinkle in his brow spelling out his determination, it made the hope that’d been building and building in me explode into something unwieldy, too giant for me to hold alone.
So maybe here, what we were saying, meant we’d hold hope for each other together. Maybe it meant we could see the days merging into something without end down the line. It might not mean marriage and kids and happily ever after, but did anyone really ever see the horizon when they looked at their relationship? I’d had a vision of one version of life, and I hadn’t given up on wanting those things, but just because they weren’t instantly in my grasp didn’t mean what I had, this precious fledgling thing in my hands, wasn’t beautiful and worth having.
“Okay,” I whispered, inching closer as my hands slid to the bend in his arms, then up the curves of his biceps.
His blue eyes followed the movement of my hands, flickering to meet my gaze, then dropping back as I drew closer.
When we pressed as close as we could get with my dress and his jeans and T-shirt in the way, I kissed his neck slowly, exploring in a way I’d never indulged in. Once I reached the line of his beard at his jaw, his hands sank into my hair and guided my mouth to his in one sure movement that made me tingly and aware from my scalp to my toes.
His kiss tasted like whiskey and Adam, and as much as I wanted a whole night with him, tonight wouldn’t be it. But for now, I let myself sink into his kiss. After a few minutes of this in the entryway, we stumbled into the living room and he pulled me down right as I sank to straddle his thighs on the couch.
His warm, rough palms on the soft skin of my thighs, the demand of his lips, the feel of the punishing brush of his beard against my chin and cheeks… it made me drowsy with desire—drunk on it.
And that thought brought me back as I reluctantly pulled away. “Let’s slow down,” I said, out of breath.
He nodded, gaze glued to where his large hands rested on my bare legs, my dress rucked up scandalously high. I watched as his jaw flexed and his hand rose higher, sending my stomach into a flurry of flips, and then he gently pinched the edge of the silky material and slid it back down to more typical leg-covering territory.
“Good call,” he said, his voice rough and rich and frankly, delicious.
“I’m going to head to bed, I think,” I said, because there was no small part of me still considering we’d both said we were going to hope. Hoping was good. Hoping should be celebrated. Hoping was cause for big grown-up-man-and-woman-style celebrations.
No. Simmer down! He’s not himself and this situation is messed up and you need to wait until your creepy stalker has been caught and you’re not living at his place by default to keep you safe.
Okay, self. Fair points, if a little rude.
“Good idea,” he said, eyes boring into me even as his hands found my waist and he guided me up and off him.
He stood once I stepped back, but he linked our fingers and raised my hand to press a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist.
“Thank you.”
That low, gruff version of his voice was enough to turn me to mush.
“For?” I asked, not sure whether he meant the kissing or the stopping kissing or the conversation before, or even simply not being mad he hadn’t thought driving home was right.
“For all of it,” he said, as though he’d heard my thoughts.
With a lingering clutch of our fingers, we parted more than a little reluctantly. I worried I wouldn’t sleep thanks to the rather intense last half-hour and the week over all, but the time with my friends had been wonderful, and my book would release in a few days. Jess would be back and I’d tell her everything so she’d be in the loop, and hopefully, everything would be fine.
When I woke later on Saturday morning than I had in quite a while thanks to not working a shift at the shop, I wandered out into the living room to find it empty. No bed-head Adam reading news on his phone or sipping coffee on his deck. There was a note on the counter that simply said “Be back soon —A,” so I poured myself some cereal and took my time eating while scrolling Instagram and organizing a few posts I had planned for the coming week. I’d spend most of my non-bookstore time working on social media and early reader campaigns, which meant these last few days before release were all just fun… and nerves.
I never knew what readers would think—would they love this book? And, would Adam read it? He might recognize a reflection of himself in the hero, and he’d absolutely recognize a few moments we’d shared during our book “practice.”
The back door swung open and I jumped, then absolutely melted.
Butter in a hot pan.
Wax against a flame.
Other meltable things next to heat sources, because goodness.
“Morning. Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said with a touch more of his accent than I usually heard, all smiles as though nothing was amiss. As though this magma-hot man hadn’t waltzed into his living room shirtless and in a smallish pair of running shorts which showcased his strong legs and very well-honed muscles.
It wasn’t like I didn’t know he was fit. I did. He ran every morning, and when he didn’t meet me for lunch, he lifted at work or at Grit, the gym right next door owned by my beloved stepbrother Warrick. He came from a job where his physical fitness and capability had been paramount, and I knew from having working eyeballs that everyone at Saint Security adhered to that standard in one way or another.
But this? This whole situation right now with the sun streaming in behind him and his breaths still heavy from exertion and how he’d dragged his hot fingers across my shoulders as he walked behind the couch where I sat and into the kitchen to get water? This was shoving my face in it a bit much, wasn’t it?
“Good run?” I managed, because I was not about to sit here and let myself actually burn to a crisp in his presence, though I should probably make sure I hadn’t fused to the couch.
“Not great after the whiskey, but cleansing. Got my head straight.” He glanced at me, blue eyes having stolen some of the sky’s natural coloring this morning and showing off with it.
“Good. That’s good.”
He rounded the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table next to where my feet were propped up. “You good?”
I tucked my lips together and nodded. “Mm-hmm. Yup.”
One side of his mouth quirked up, and he ducked his head a little. “You look a little flushed, honey. Are you feverish?”
My gaze had dropped to his chest and the flat arc of his pec, where a tattoo slashed into the space between muscles at his sternum. The lines were mesmerizing, and it felt shocking I hadn’t seen this before. I hadn’t even known he had a tattoo. Does he have more? Where? Can I see?
“Jo, honey, you okay?”
My gaze snapped up to meet his as heat rushed to my cheeks—no, my entire face. I was a blazing little tomato of guilt. “Totally fine.”
“Just fine? Should I flex for you?” He raised an arm and flexed his bicep, and it was just rude because how dare he.
I shot out of my seat on the couch. “Ew! Don’t!”
He laughed. “I’m just making sure you got your fill. Forgive me for disturbing your view.” He stood and set his hands low on his hips, because of course he did.
And yes, my eyes dropped to the tightly woven muscles of his abdomen. I’d felt his chest and stomach. I knew he had a solid body. But being confronted with it at first light of day after a fairly intimate week spent together, and especially after last night’s admission and plan and kissing…
I waved a hand at myself, willing my face to cool. “It’s a decent view, especially for your age.”
His eyes narrowed and he was bounding over the couch and coming for me before I had a chance to scream.
“For my age, huh?” he asked as he quite literally slung me over his shoulder and jogged me around his living room.
“I take it back—everything I’ve ever said about you being a good man, a kind person, a helper. You’re a menace.” I swatted his—yes, delectably firm—butt. “Release me! This is—gross! You’re sweaty!”
“I just ran six miles, so yes, I am,” he said, still trotting until he finally made it to my room and flipped me onto my bed, then leaned over me, arms braced on either side of my head.
He stared at me, all stern and serious, as though waiting for another comment.
I refused, but staring at him like this, so close range, I couldn’t stop the smile that crept over my lips. Soon enough, he was smiling back at me.
“No more objectifying me, Josephine.”
I chuckled under my breath. “I’m sorry.”
“And you won’t do it again?”
“Do I have to promise that? You’re so pretty.”
His scowl returned, but then he pressed a searing kiss to my lips and pulled back. I grinned, and then he dropped his head and nuzzled into my neck—with his sweaty hair.
“Ew! Ewwww!” I practically screamed it and shoved him away.
“Payback,” he said and sauntered out of my room.
I shuddered at the sweat but chuckled, too, and went right for a shower.
I liked him so much. He could be fun and lighthearted. He let me be silly and weird. He was just so…
Hope. We’ll hope together.