I slid my legs off the bed and stood up. “I need to use the bathroom,” I said hastily, making my way to the ensuite. I closed the door with a click, needing a few moments to myself.
These past three weeks had been almost too good. I had sworn that I wouldn’t fall for Adam, and I had held myself to that. I had kept my feelings carefully in check. Or so I thought. I could give him my body, but not my heart. I wished I could tattoo that to my freaking forehead. But sex was a funny thing. Because physical intimacy so easily became emotional intimacy. And when you least expected it, you were bringing him coffee just the way he liked it, and he was making sure to keep your brand of toothpaste in his medicine cabinet.
Yet Chelsea was clearly still in the picture. And he was still keeping her place in his life a secret, which was obvious given the fact that he didn’t tell me she was the one calling. The ghost of Chelsea Past hung a little too heavily over whatever this was, no matter how I tried to ignore her.
I splashed cold water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was glowing. How annoying. When I felt a little more collected, I returned to the bedroom to find Adam looking at his phone, frown lines etched on his forehead. He put the phone away when he noticed me and beckoned for me to return to bed. I did so slowly and with some reluctance.
Adam curled me into the side of his body, and I detested how quickly I relaxed into him. How I molded into his skin as if we were one being.
“Okay, so it was Chelsea who called,” he admitted. I looked up at him in surprise at his honesty. Huh, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Then why didn’t you just say so?” I tried not to sound accusatory, but when it came to Chelsea, it was difficult. Old patterns and all.
Adam kissed the top of my head. “Because I don’t want her ruining this. I don’t want the mention of her name to taint what we have in this room together.”
“Well, she is your wife—”
“Soon-to-be-ex-wife, you mean,” he interjected.
“Right. Soon-to-be-ex-wife. You have to deal with her. She’s in your life. It’s how it is.”
Adam rolled me onto my back, leaning over me, his hands framing my face, his gorgeous eyes looking into mine. “She’s not in my life. She’s been hassling me about the terms of our divorce. She’s playing games like she always does. You know she means nothing to me, don’t you? That there’s only one woman I want. She’s nothing, baby. I promise you.”
There was that word again. Baby.
Things were getting too intense. I looked away from him, needing a breather. “You’re crushing me,” I rasped, and Adam moved, giving me some much-needed space.“It honestly doesn’t really matter, Adam. I’ve got to focus on finishing the mural. That’s where my head is,” I lied through my teeth. Because my mind was most definitely not focused on the damn mural.
He ran his hands through my hair in a soothing gesture that did nothing to release the tension running through me. “I get that. How much longer? A month? Two?”
“Probably only another week,” I said and felt his hand fall away from my hair.
“Only a week?” he asked, other questions implied.
“Yep,” I retorted. I knew where this was going, and I had to head it off at the pass.
“So, when you’re done with that—”
I sat up suddenly, pulling away from him. Adam’s expression was startled. “We’re not doing this, okay,” I told him sharply.
His brow furrowed. “Doing what? I’m just asking what your plans are for when you’re done with the mural? Can’t I do that?”
I got up and grabbed my clothes. I tugged on my panties and then my bra, which had somehow become hooked over his bedside lamp. “No, you can’t, Adam. We agreed we wouldn’t do this.”
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I wouldn’t be leaving his house tonight, and I suddenly needed distance. But I also needed him to hold me. To kiss me. I wanted it so much I could burst with it.
I was one huge contradiction.
He had gotten out of bed and stood to the side, watching me. “We agreed it would be sex. No strings attached. I don’t see how my asking what your plans go against that.” He sounded hurt. Damn it.
I quickly pulled on my shorts and T-shirt before putting my hair up into a ponytail. “Because it’s what couples do. They talk about the future. We don’t do that,” I reminded him even if it felt like a knife to the gut to do so.
Adam remained silent as I gathered my things, most of which I had strewn around the room in my haste to get out of my clothes. I found my keys on the floor beneath his bed. How did that happen? When I got back to my feet, Adam was there, all up in my personal space.
“I have to get home, Adam,” I protested.
“Stop it, Meg. You’re being silly,” he admonished. He put a finger beneath my chin and lifted my face so that I had no choice but to look at him. I both hated and loved it when he got bossy.
He hadn’t bothered to get dressed so was still in all his naked glory. It was very hard to keep my attention on the words he was saying and not on that big, beautiful cock that he wielded so expertly.
Despite the horny haze that had descended over me, I bristled at being called silly.“I’m not being silly; I’m being practical. I don’t want things to get confused.”
Adam’s eyes hardened. “When have I ever been confused about what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know; why don’t you tell me, baby,” I spat out.
Adam closed his eyes with a groan. “Are you kidding me? You’re getting your panties in a twist because I called you, baby? And you say you’re not being silly?” he scoffed incredulously.
“I just don’t want lines to be blurred—”
He kissed me to shut me up. I knew the tactic well. “There are no lines being blurred. I’m very aware of where I fit in your life and where I don’t,” he assured me. Was I imagining the sadness that crept into his tone?
“I don’t know, Adam—”
“We have a good thing going on here. I, for one, am not about to ruin that. We have sex. We enjoy having sex together. And we can keep enjoying sex together until we grow tired of each other. End of story.”
I wanted to believe him. I also really didn’t want to believe him. That was the crux of the problem.
But then he lifted me so that my legs wrapped around his waist and carried me back to his bed.“I think there’s been enough talking, don’t you?” he asked before his mouth devoured me all over again.
**
“You weren’t here when Whitney got in last night,” Mom said, looking up from the paper as I entered the kitchen late the next morning.
I had purposefully stayed away, though I’d never tell my mother that. I wasn’t too old for a good old-fashioned June Galloway scolding. “Sorry, Mom. I was working on the mural until late—”
“And then you were with Adam.” Mom gave me a shrewd look. “I figured as much when you didn’t get home until the cocks started crowing.”
My cheeks felt warm. “A few of us were hanging out. It wasn’t just Adam and me,” I lied. And lied badly.