Chapter 29 ADAM
Chapter twenty-nine
ADAM
I know her now. Not just the shape of her body, but the way her voice softens when she's tired.
The precise curve of her smile when she's about to say something sarcastic but kind.
The way she tries to hide her feelings behind clinical phrases, like "cortisol spikes" or "mild cardiovascular response," when what she really means is: I feel something and I don't know what to do with it.
Her eyes meet mine in the dim light, amber flecks catching the glow from the bedside lamp. She reaches up, tracing my jawline with her fingertips, a gesture so gentle it makes my chest ache.
"You're looking at me like that again," she whispers, her voice still rough from our earlier conversation.
"Like what?"
"Like you can see everything." There's no clinical distance in her tone now, just raw honesty. "Even the parts I'm not showing you."
I turn my face to press a kiss into her palm. "Is that okay?"
She nods, a small smile playing at her lips. "It's terrifying. But yes."
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, drawing me down to her. The kiss is soft, tentative. Different from our desperate collision earlier. This is a question. A beginning.
When we break apart, her fingers trace patterns on my shoulder—not random, but deliberate. Like she's memorizing the contours of my skin.
"Do you ever wonder," she murmurs, "if we're making up for lost time, or starting something completely new?"
"Both," I answer, seeing the vulnerability in her question. "Every day with you feels like finding something I didn't know I'd lost."
Her smile widens, then falters slightly. Something shifts behind her eyes.
Her skin smells like vanilla cupcakes and sleep and something else that's just... her. Sweet and heady and completely undoing. I breathe it in as I press my mouth to her collarbone, her scar, then lower, feeling her heart beat beneath the skin.
And I'm already hard.
I trace her ribs with my mouth, feel the way she shudders beneath the kiss. The way her body responds even as her hands stay twisted in the sheets, clenched tight like she's bracing for something.
She's here. But not all the way.
I kiss my way to her hip, then nudge my cheek against her thigh. “Where’d you go, Foster?”
She exhales. Doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m in my head again.”
“Talk to me.”
She hesitates, then whispers, “Last time felt easy. Like it didn’t cost anything. Because it was one night. And I didn’t have to think about what came next.”
She swallows.
“This time… it feels like if I let go, there’s more to lose.”
That hits like a punch straight to the ribs.
Because she’s right.
This time isn’t just sex. It’s the in-between. The maybe. The what if.
It’s the beginning of something that could matter.
And she’s terrified.
I move slowly, deliberately, tracing soft shapes on her stomach with my fingertips. “You don’t have to put on a show for me. No expectations. No finish line. This isn’t about performance. It’s just you. With me.”
Her eyes dart toward the nightstand.
I reach for it without hesitation. Flip the switch. The soft hum of the vibrator fills the air like a promise.
“AdamPro’s still within reach,” I murmur. “Haven’t had you call tech support yet.”
She laughs. It’s small, shaky, but real.
“It’s always there.”
“Perfect.” I settle between her thighs again. “Because I want this to be for you. Your pace. Your pleasure.”
I press a kiss to her thigh. And my cock is inventing new words for "hard" and "needy".
I take her vibrator, pressing it vibrating against her and she shivers. One slow pass of my tongue and she gasps, hips twitching. But her hands stay tight on the sheets. Holding on. Holding back.
I see it now. Really see it. The way she braces against pleasure like it’s something dangerous. The voice in her head still whispering that needing is weakness.
Chuck.
Fucking Chuck.
I play with her, with AdamPro, using my fingers as it plays with her clit, and her whole body trembles.
“You want to know what I did the morning after you left?” I ask, my voice rough against her skin.
She nods, barely breathing.
“I jerked off in the shower. Every night. Sometimes twice. One hand on the tile, thinking about you. Right here. Wet and open and moaning my name like you did that night.”
A low moan escapes her, and her hand moves—hesitant at first—until it rests against my thigh. Then she drags her fingers upward, finding the rigid length of me straining against the sheets.
Fuck.
I hiss through my teeth as she wraps her hand around me, slow and deliberate, her grip unsure but wanting. Needing.
My abs clench. My cock jerks in her palm. I bite back a groan.
“Sometimes,” I grit, “I imagined you bent over the sink. Or on my bed, flushed and panting, riding me until I couldn’t think straight.”
She strokes me once. Slow. Tight. And I could come just from that. From her touching me while I’m inside her head and between her thighs.
She starts to pull away, like she’s second-guessing herself.
“No,” I rasp, catching her wrist. “Touch me. I want it.”
She does.
She keeps her hand on me while I lean forward and brush the toy against her clit again, watching the way her breath stutters.
“Sometimes,” I whisper, “I imagined using this. You spread out. Begging. Me. Talking you through it until you broke.”
Her hips buck. Her hand tightens.
We’re locked in now. Touch to touch, breath to breath, memory to desire. I’m barely holding it together, but fuck if I’d stop this.
“Tell me what you want,” I growl. “Tell me you missed this. Missed me. Tell me you're taking that orgasm for yourself. It's fucking yours, Eve. Your orgasm."
"Yes."
Her hips roll against my hand, needy and restless.
She’s still trembling from the vibrator, still gasping through my fingers inside her, but not finished.
Not yet. I can feel it. That edge is there.
Waiting. And this time, I kiss her neck, breathe against her shoulder.
And I intensify AdamsPro's pressure. She gasps, holding on to my shoulders, her eyes locked on mine.
"That's you, Eve. You and me."
And when she shatters, I swallow her moans with my mouth, my tongue.
“Good girl," I whisper and she smiles.
“VoiceGasm,” she murmurs and then she continues, “I want you inside me.” She pauses. “I’m clean.”
My breath catches. My cock jerks so hard it’s almost painful. Every part of me clenches, my abs tightening, my control hanging by a thread.
“Me too,” I rasp out. “You sure?” I murmur against her neck, already sliding my hand along her hip, cupping her ass to pull her tighter against me. “Because once I’m inside you again, Foster… I’m not going to want to leave.”
“I’m sure,” she whispers. Her eyes lock on mine. “I want to come with you inside me. But, also, if you can never leave, that might get awkward at work. Your father’s my boss.”
Fuck. I let out a laugh that booms out of me and she giggles. Fucking giggles. The sound is an aphrodisiac.
I reach for the lube in the and slick myself quickly. My hand jerks over my cock once, twice, and I groan low in my throat, the need sharp and searing and all for her.
She watches. And when I line myself up behind her, she opens her legs enough for me to settle between them. Not fully on her stomach, not quite on her side.
I kiss her spine. “Let me know if it’s too much.”
“It won’t be,” she breathes.
And I slide in.
Her pussy sucks me in inch by inch, hot, wet, tight, and I swear I black out for a second, pleasure punching through me like lightning.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp against her shoulder. “Like you were made for this. For me.”
She gasps, hips twitching when I reach between us, bringing the vibrator back to her clit. The second it touches her, she bucks, moaning low and deep, her hand scrambling for mine. I grab it, hold it tight. Anchor her.
I set a slow rhythm, my cock buried deep as I move in time with the gentle hum of AdamPro against her clit.
She starts to shudder.
“I’ve thought about this,” I whisper against her skin. “You. Like this. So many nights.”
I kiss the back of her neck.
“I’d come home from my shift, still smelling like antiseptic and wet dog, and jerk off in the shower thinking about your mouth on me. Your hands. Your laugh.”
Her fingers tighten in mine.
“And when I was in Maryland I went to Severna Park?” I thrust deeper, making her moan.
“I went to Spark in the Park. Thinking about you. I didn’t even know where you were, what your last name was.
We hadn’t talked in years. And all I could think was you.
Got signed books from Xio Axelrod. M.K. Hale. Elodie Now.”
Her hips jerk hard.
“Told Elodie I wanted a second-chance Christmas romance,” I murmur, voice breaking with how close she is. How close I am. “Didn’t know I’d end up living it.”
She lets out a strangled cry.
“You didn’t,” she gasps.
“I did. And I read every damn book you ever mentioned. Steamy small towns. Grumpy-sunshine tropes. Dark mafia. Angsty second chances. All of them.”
Her body starts to shake.
“And Lady Grey,” I groan, burying myself to the hilt, holding the toy right where she needs it. “The one with the trauma nurse who won’t let herself love the EMT?”
She chokes on a laugh, but it collapses into a moan.
“Adam—”
“Come for me,” I growl. “Right fucking now.”
She shatters.
Her body convulses, pussy clenching around me so hard I lose my rhythm. Her cries are high and raw and real, her thighs trembling as her climax crashes through her.
And I’m gone.
I thrust once, twice more, and come hard, groaning against her skin. My fingers lock on her hip, the vibrator still trembling between us, dragging out every last wave until she collapses boneless beneath me.
The world narrows to heat and sweat and her.
We breathe.
We tangle.
She shifts back, pressing her forehead to my shoulder, her body melting into mine.
“You remembered Lady Grey’s book,” she whispers.
“You told me it made you feel all the feelings,” I murmur. “I bought that signed copy six months ago. Just in case I ever saw you again.”
And when she curls tighter against me, I know:
This is our story.
And I’ll fight for every last page.