by R.S. Grey
“We can’t, Adam, not here—”
“Yes, here,” he bites back, enraged by the idea of stopping. His hand shoves my skirt up to my hips. Our clothes are crumpled around us. The carpet is scratchy against my back, my shoulders, my bare thighs. His hand digs into my flesh, feeling every inch that he’s claiming. Minutes tick away like seconds, and then Adam finds the soft center of my underwear and brushes it aside without an invitation.
I don’t recognize myself. I don’t know this woman lying in a dark closet letting a man brush his thumb across her most intimate area. Reality slips away. I’m nothing but a bundle of nerves and firing synapses as Adam drags his finger up and down between my spread thighs. He doesn’t have to hold me down or spread me wider; I do everything for him—with pleasure.
“Hold here,” he says, taking my hand and guiding it down to where my underwear is pressed to my thigh. He’d been holding it to the side, exposing me, and when my hand replaces his, suddenly it feels like I’m offering myself to him.
Here.
Take it.
Have it all, my body says as he bends low and blows cool air against my wetness. My hips jerk off the carpet, trying to ease the mounting tension. His hand finds my thigh and he uses gentle pressure to keep me still as he does it again. Cool air. A kiss pressed against my upper thigh. A finger skimming my folds. He sinks his finger inside me slowly, like he wants to savor the sensation. I’m tight around him and I try to relax. He adds a second finger and stretches me. I’m arching for him, letting him fuck me with his fingers in this dark closet because I’m not Madeleine Thatcher anymore. This is someone new, someone who left her inhibitions at the closet door.
“Could you come for me like this?” he asks, and I laugh.
Can’t you feel me starting to shake? I want to ask. Can’t you feel the way I’m starting to crumble beneath you?
He bends down and I have his hair in my hands. I’m tugging on the strands as his lips draw closer and closer to where I desperately need them. A lick. A taste. It’s hardly more than a few seconds of sensation, but the pleasure tears through me. He adds his thumb to the mix, swirling it across my bundle of nerves, and I’m crying out for him.
His free hand clamps over my mouth, trying to muffle my cries. His tongue drags across me. I try to stay quiet, but his fingers are working inside me, sliding in and out even faster. It’s like he’s telling me to stay quiet and moan louder all at once. I’m shaking. I’m close. The first few ripples of pleasure warn me that I’m going to crash and burn in a few seconds, that soon his hand will need to suffocate me completely to keep me quiet.
“Madeleine,” he whispers. “Madeleine.”
My name has taken on another meaning. It’s a plea and a command, and when I come for him, he says it a third time, pressing each syllable to the inside of my thigh.
I come back to earth slowly, putting together the pieces of our closet rendezvous as Adam crawls off me and tugs my skirt back into place. My shirt is still missing. My bra is unhooked, sitting askew on my chest. I’m pretty sure I have second-degree carpet burn on my back.
Adam is already standing.
“What about you?”
I think I see him smile in the dark. “There’s not enough time.”
Of course there’s not enough time!
“Oh God. I can’t believe we did that while your mom and sister-in-law were in the house.” I groan as he pulls me up to stand beside him.
He chuckles and helps me straighten my clothes.
The closet door is unlocked and pushed open. I have no clue how long we were in there, but it was long enough that I have to blink my eyes as they adjust to the light in the master bedroom.
“You look great,” he says, fixing his now-wrinkled scrubs.
He looks sexy, but his hair is tousled and his lips are red. A quick glance in the master bathroom mirror proves that I look a million times worse. My makeup is smeared. My clothes are creased. My hair is frizzy, and no amount of finger combing will flatten it back down to normal.
“Relax,” Adam says, eyeing me from the doorway. “They probably haven’t even realized we’ve been gone that long.”
Oh they realized all right. Diane has a knowing smile on her face when we stroll into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“And so that’s the house,” I announce to Adam as though I’m trying to conclude a fake tour.
“Wow. That was some tour,” Kathy says with a laugh. “We’ve been sitting here for almost thirty minutes.”
Adam nods. “Yeah, I really liked the house. I wanted Madeleine to show me every nook and cranny.”
“And did you, Madeleine?” Kathy asks with feigned innocence. “Did you show Adam every nook and cranny?”
Adam tries and fails to cover a laugh.
I pretend like I don’t understand subtle innuendos.
In all, it’s the most embarrassing experience of my entire life, and I decide that I won’t be able to look Diane or Kathy in the eye for at least a month.
Maybe a year.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ADAM
I keep my promise and don’t see Madeleine until the real estate mixer the following weekend. I’m not happy about it, and my office staff isn’t either. They don’t know the source of my moodiness, why I’m suddenly quick to snap and annoyed by minor mistakes, but I can tell they’re all scared to be around me. One morning midweek, I am about to wish one of the assistants a good morning and she scurries out of the reception area so fast that she spills half her coffee on the floor.
I get it. I’m not that fun to be around, and Madeleine is to blame.
Each day, I count down to the mixer. I wake up and I think about the closet back at the farmhouse. Even after a morning run, an extra intense boxing session in the gym, and an exhausting pick-up basketball game, the memories of what she tasted like are right there, clearer than ever.
The night of the mixer, I head straight home from work and shower quickly. I feel like I’m right back in high school, about to take my dream girl out on a date. I rush getting ready, and when I show up at the mixer on time, I assume I’ll be one of the first guests there.
Unfortunately, the brewery parking lot is nearly full—a side effect of free beer.
It’s a cool venue, rustic and old, nothing like I’d find back in Chicago. Instead of building from the ground up, the brewery took over an old granary, complete with rusted silos out back, old red bricks, and industrial beams. Right now, since the weather is still nice by Texas standards, they’ve pushed aside all of the glass-paneled doors so the patio stretches right into the main room, where the Hamilton Real Estate team has decked the place out for the evening. I spot one of the agents, Lori, right by the entrance, and she latches onto me before I even manage to step inside.
“Adam!? I didn’t expect you tonight,” she says, hooking her elbow through mine.
“Madeleine invited me.”
“Did she now? Funny, I didn’t think she’d be able to scrounge together any guests other than Daisy. Me, well, I had a hard time limiting my list—though Helen didn’t mind when I said I was bringing ten potential clients.”
I extricate myself from her grip and nod, feigning interest. “Right, well, that’s great. Listen, have you seen Madeleine?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she’s over by the bar, trying to chat up Carter just like the old days. They used to date, I think. Honestly though, when is she going to learn that you can’t throw yourself at every man you see? I mean, she’s pretty, but she just reeks of desperation if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask her. In fact, I started wandering away halfway through her rambling reply. Madeleine is by the counter, wearing a royal blue dress and nude high heels. Lori was wearing the same color, and a quick glance around the room shows that all of the agents must have been instructed to dress in the color for the evening. They’re easier to spot that way, though Madeleine needs no extra help in that department.
There’s a line of men
winding around the bar trying to get their turn to talk to her. Oh sure, a few of them nurse beers and pretend to check their phones, but I know they’re just biding their time until she kicks the current guy to the curb so they can sidle up and talk to her under the guise of discussing real estate.
The current guy, some macho man in a black t-shirt and jeans, is staring at her with hearts in his eyes. Lori mentioned his name but I already forgot it. Fortunately, Madeleine reminds me just as I walk up.
“Carter, I can’t believe you let Lori talk you into coming tonight.”
He leans closer. “I knew you’d be here and I wanted to check up and see how you were doing.”
I clear my throat and the two of them turn to look at me in tandem.
Madeleine lets loose a heartbreaking smile. Carter’s smile is a bit more forced.
“What’s up, man?” he asks. “Do you need something?”
For that, I lean forward and kiss Madeleine on the cheek.
“You look great,” I say, letting my gaze rove down her body. She really does. Her dress is tight enough to show off her killer figure, and her heels only make it that much harder to pry my attention away from her legs.
She’s flushed from my compliment by the time I glance back up at her face. “Oh, thanks. Um, Carter, this is Adam. Adam, Carter.”
I extend my hand to Carter and he does the classic asshole move of gripping my fingers instead of my whole hand so I’m left looking like a dainty girl. I counter with a hard clap to his shoulders. “Good to meet you, man.”
It’s not good to meet him. Didn’t Lori say he and Madeleine used to date? Clearly the guy isn’t over her. I was wondering when this would happen; Madeleine’s too amazing to go unnoticed for long.
“Madeleine and I were just catching up on old times,” he volunteers, shooting her a wink. “I was telling her the only reason I let Lori talk me into attending tonight was because I knew Madeleine would be here.”
Madeleine smiles and shakes her head. “Oh c’mon, it’s fun to catch up, but I’m sure you know everyone here.”
He shrugs and takes a step closer. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you. What have you been up to lately?”
Before Olivia, I might have walked away, been the cool guy. Now, I stake my ground.
“She’s actually been seeing me,” I volunteer, reminding him I’m present. “Madeleine, can I talk to you for a second?”
Her gaze flickers back and forth between us. “Oh, of course.”
“I thought you were about to show me a few houses?” Carter asks, and like that, he plays the trump card.
Tonight is about business, and Madeleine is desperate to pick up new clients.
“No problem. Come find me after.” I shrug. “I’d like to put in an offer on that farmhouse.”
We all have a trump card, Carter.
Her mouth drops. “WHAT?! Adam, are you serious?”
I take her wine glass before she spills it. “Of course. It’s a great house and I’d be a fool to pass it up.”
She looks back at Carter, her hands pressed to her mouth in shock. “I can’t believe this.”
Neither can he. I don’t have to look at him to feel the disdain rolling off him. I shouldn’t be proud of my behavior—it’s juvenile and petty—but then, all is fair in love and war, and this feels like a little of both.
“I guess I’ll come find you later, Madeleine,” Carter says with a nod before backing away. The other guys flocking around her get the hint and disappear too. I take Carter’s spot at the bar and lean in to kiss her, but she turns her head at the last second. Rejection feels like a hard slap in the face.
“Adam. Not here,” she says, scanning the room from beneath her lashes. “You’re only the second client I’ve sold a home to since Daisy and Lucas. I don’t want Helen to get the wrong impression.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” I ask, helpless at fending off the repressed anger building up inside of me. “That we’re together?”
“That I had to spread my legs to get you to buy a house!” she hisses, stealing back her wine glass and downing the rest of it in one go.
“Is that what you really think?”
“Of course not!” She doesn’t meet my eyes. “But that’s what they would think.”
“Oh c’mon, Madeleine. You rejected me when I asked you to go out on a date and now this? I came to this mixer to spend time with you, and now I’m not allowed to act like we’re…”
My voice trails off as I realize I don’t have a label for us. Friends, lovers, significant others?
She uses my falter as ammunition. “Exactly. Considering we don’t even know what we are, it’s probably best not to make out in front of all of my coworkers.”
“Fine.” I straighten up, wave over the bartender, and ask for one of the beers on tap.
We stand silent for the next few minutes. I can tell she has a million words left to say, but it’s not the right time. I sip on my beer and peer over at her. She’s staring down at the bar, contemplating something serious from the looks of it.
“I wasn’t kidding about the house,” I add, knowing she needs confirmation. “Regardless of what’s going on with us, I still want to put in that offer.”
She presses her lips together to keep from smiling, but I know it won’t work for long.
“Do you think it’s still on the market?”
She nods gleefully. “I checked this morning. They’ve had offers, but the owners are waiting for the full ask.”
“Then let’s give it to them.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Compared to the Chicago real estate market, that house is too good to be true. It costs a fifth of what my place sold for back in the city.”
She squeezes my arm and her gaze drops to my lips. I think for a second she’s going to break her own rule and kiss me right here, but then she shakes her head and turns to survey the crowd. “I have to go tell Helen. She’s not going to believe it.”
She’s right; Helen doesn’t believe it. In fact, she acts as if Madeleine is mistaken.
“And you showed him the house?”
“Just the other day!”
“Wow.” She glances between us. “And you’re the only agent he’s been working with?”
She beams. “Yes.”
Why is it so hard for Helen to believe?
“She’s been excellent,” I add, offering Helen a smile.
She nods. “Of course. I’ve always thought Madeleine had great potential with our company.”
When she strolls away a few minutes later, I turn and arch a brow. “That seemed weird, no?”
She frowns. “What? Helen? No. I mean, truthfully, she’s been on the verge of firing me for the last few months. I don’t think she thought I had it in me to sell a house.”
“But you sold one to Lucas and Daisy.”
“Yeah, months ago, and really, that doesn’t count.”
“You haven’t had clients since then? How is that possible? Carter was about to buy a house from you just a second ago.”
She stares down at her empty wine glass. “There have been a few—like Mr. Boggs. He’s here tonight and I’ve probably shown him a thousand houses, but he’s never going to buy anything.”
“Why do you continue entertaining him then? He’s probably just bored.”
Or worse, he wants to spend time with Madeleine any way he can. I wouldn’t put it past some men.
“Yeah, well, I feel bad.” Her finger traces the rim of her wine glass. “Maybe he does want to buy a house and he just hasn’t found the right one yet.”
Ah, I see her problem. When it comes to real estate, Lori is a snake and Madeleine might as well be a rabbit. A few things make sense now.
“That’s why you were so eager to talk to me about real estate at that first training class.”
She nods. “Helen put me on probation and I knew if I didn’t make something happen soon, she’d give me the axe.”
She beams and clinks her glass with mine. “And to buying the farmhouse of your dreams.”
“Madeleine, there you are!”
“Mr. Boggs,” she says with a smile. “I was just going to come over and show you a few listings.”
He groans and shakes his head, acting every bit the old miser his name suggests. “Don’t bother. Already looked. There was nothin’ good. I’m going home. Tell that boss of yours she needs to serve more food at these things. Wine and beer galore, but not a damn bread roll in sight.”
Madeleine laughs. “I couldn’t agree more. I actually stuffed some granola bars in my purse if you want one.”
He perks up a bit at the mention of food. “They’re not those healthy ones are they?”
She laughs. “C’mon, you can pick which one you want.”
Without Madeleine, I weave my way through the party, recognizing a few faces in the crowd from the puppy class and the clinic. A few of them even stop to chat with me, but I try to keep an eye out for Madeleine the whole time. After she finishes up with Mr. Boggs, Carter grabs her attention again, cornering her over by a table with all of Hamilton Realty’s current listings. I swear she shows him every damn house twice before the man is satisfied, and though I’m tempted to step in like I did before, I know it won’t do any good. She needs to make sales if she wants to get Helen off her back.
By the time I’ve finished my second beer and strategically covered two yawns, she’s moved on to another potential client. I’m ready to head out, and I don’t want to interrupt. She scans the room and finds me so I gesture toward the parking lot and mouth, “I’m leaving.”
She juts out her bottom lip and mouths back, “Stay.”
I’m tempted, but I don’t want to take up any more of her time. She needs to mingle with clients and I need sleep. I wave and her bottom lip juts out a little more. I sigh and turn for my car, knowing if I don’t leave now, I probably won’t.
When I get home, I unlock the door to my rental house and flip on the light. Everything is quiet inside, not a single item out of place. The housekeeper must have come by today because the rooms seem even more sterile than usual. I toss my keys in the bowl by the door then flip on the TV and the living room light, not because I want them on but because they help disguise the fact that I’m home alone. The soothing sounds of ESPN barely do the trick.
