The following week, while they waited to hear if MacGregor was going to make an offer, Paige was invited to dinner again. Adam asked Amanda at dinner if she wanted to have a party for her birthday.
“A party?” Amanda asked, dinner fork halted.
She glanced at Paige. Paige shrugged.
“A small thing,” Adam said nervously. “You know, a few friends. Me and Paige. Bob and Gert. Maybe some of the ranch hands, Antonio and Tanya, Kelly and Joanne and Mendelson. But you can invite a couple of friends from the harbor. We can go to Rosa’s Cantina, and they’ll close off the bar so it’s just family and friends, and maybe play pool and listen to the jukebox?”
Amanda stared at him.
Paige suppressed a smile. He didn’t want Amanda to feel as if he were hiding her up here, and he was determined to find a way to make sure she understood that.
He glanced at Paige. “Is that uncool now?” His uncertainty about teenagers was endearing.
“No, it’s cool,” Amanda said.
Relief crossed his face.
“They have a band that comes in at eight thirty,” he went on. “They might be country, though. Do you hate country?”
“I can deal with country.”
More relief. He was trying so hard. Paige wanted to melt.
“Do you want me to set it up, then?” he asked, stabbing his dinner now. “You invite your friends from the harbor, and I’ll do the rest.”
Amanda looked at Paige. “Is this for real?”
“I think it is.” Paige smiled.
The night of the party, everyone assembled at Rosa’s Cantina.
Paige greeted the same group from last time: Antonio and Tanya, Joe, Little, Tony, Jen, Sherryl, and Kelly. Joanne and Mendelson were there. Bob and Gert came, of course. Gordon and Gabe came by with three of the new wranglers, whom Amanda seemed to know. Amanda had invited Garrett from down the hill.
“Is that Garrett?” Adam asked, leaning into Paige’s ear as the country band started up. “He was the only one she ended up inviting from the harbor.”
“Yeah. He’s the brother of Gordon and Gabe.”
“How exactly does Amanda know him?”
Paige stiffened. She wanted to tell him about Amanda’s crush, but she didn’t know if she could give up Amanda’s confidence in favor of Adam’s, especially since Amanda had so few confidantes.
“You should ask her about it,” she said. “Hey, don’t you still owe me a dance?” She whirled so she was in Adam’s arms.
“Do I? You have a long memory, Paige Grant.”
“And you have a short one, Adam Mason.”
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “Could that be my excuse for why I can’t dance? I can’t remember the steps.”
“I think you can learn. We’ll start with something slow. But for now, I’m leaving you here because I want to line-dance.” A number was starting behind them, and Paige glanced over her shoulder.
Adam lifted his eyes to the crowd. “Thank you for not making me do that.”
“No problem.”
Paige headed out to the dance floor, surprised that even Amanda was out there, laughing with the others and participating in country line dancing with her goth chained boots, Grateful Dead T-shirt, lighter makeup, and growing-out dyed hair. Paige was proud of her for trying a little of everything. She was finding her own way.
Rosa brought out a cake around nine, and Amanda seemed shocked. Everyone sang to her, and she wiped a tear away before she opened presents. She loved Adam’s flatiron—he even got a public hug out of that—plus, he gave her an envelope that had something in it that made her tear up again before she quickly brushed at her cheeks. Paige knew that Adam had been staying up the last few nights writing out that card.
Bob and Gert gave Amanda some baking trays and kitchen gadgets, Kelly gave her eight free riding lessons, Tanya and Antonio gave her a vinyl of the Grateful Dead, and others gave her books, movies, and iTunes cards.
Garrett looked stricken when she started opening gifts and turned to say something to his brother. When he made his way around the room toward Paige, he leaned toward her. “I didn’t know it was her birthday.”
“It’s okay. She’s not the type to care. If she didn’t tell you, that means she didn’t want you to get her anything.”
“I feel bad.”
“She won’t mind. I promise.”
He didn’t look appeased.
“You could offer her a dance, though,” Paige added.
He lifted his eyebrow.
“You’re the only one she invited up here from the harbor, you know.”
He looked around at the crowd as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Really?”
“A dance would be special.”
He seemed to put the pieces together at once and started nodding his head. “Okay.”
Paige smiled. Boys could be so dense sometimes.
She looked at her own teenage crush and realized she was getting to do that all over again.
After cake and presents, the dancing started up again, and Paige waited for a slow song. Once one started, she found Adam, who was sitting with Bob and Gert, and drew him out of his chair.
“He still owes me,” she told Bob, who laughed.
As soon as Paige led him to the dance floor, he pulled her close. “Is Amanda going to notice that we can’t keep our hands off each other? At least I can’t while we’re dancing.”
“Is that a pathetic ploy to get out of this dance again?”
“It might be.”
“It won’t work. Besides, speak for yourself. I can keep my hands in appropriate places plenty.”
“I challenge you to do so for the next hour.”
She slid her hands toward his shoulders and stepped back a few inches.
“Never mind,” Adam said, pulling her back. “That’s a dumb bet.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and they swayed to the mournful country song.
“This is nice,” he said.
“I’m glad you like it. And, by the way, to your first point, she’s figured us out already.”
“Amanda has?”
“She cornered me in the golf cart one afternoon.”
“And she’s okay with us . . . you know . . . being FRED, or whatever?”
“Well, I didn’t explain it like that, but she seemed to be okay with our being together.”
“So what in hell are we sneaking around for? Come spend the night with me.”
“We’re still trying to be good role models, Adam.”
“Ah. Foiled again.”
The night Paige’s new king-size bed arrived, she invited Adam over to test it out. They had a long, languid evening romping in the new bed, since Amanda was down at the harbor with Garrett and some of his friends.
It was fun to be with Adam in what felt like her own home. Alone. Relaxed. Comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. It felt as if they were playing house.
She watched the moonlight shadows play along the ceiling after her second orgasm of the evening and ran her fingers through his hair.
“How is the gazebo coming along?” he asked sleepily.
It was coming along beautifully. Paige couldn’t stop staring at it every time she walked by. But having Adam in her own bed, dreamily watching shadows, and hearing his relaxed voice talk about home repairs made the feeling of playing house come on even stronger—making her feel sad this was going to end. She tried to conjure up her promises to be FRED.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about land when we were naked?” she said, her fingers still playing with his hair.
“I thought it was make promises,” he mumbled.
“Wasn’t it any discussion of deals?”
“I don’t remember. But if you don’t want to talk about wood and paint and gazebos, trust me, I’m okay with that. Instead, I can ask you about the other three.”
“Other three what?”
He got up on an elbow. “You said I didn’t
give you the best sex you ever had. That I was among the top four. So I want to know who the other three are.”
“I said the most intense.”
“I stand corrected.” He grinned. “So who are these other three?”
“We’re not really going to do this, are we?”
“I sort of want to.”
“Why?”
“I want to know what they did so I can top it.”
Paige had been kidding when she’d said that. But if the man wanted to improve his already talented skills, far be it from her to get in his way. She took on her sauciest tone and called up her best Mae West.
“Let’s just say you’re almost number one.” She smiled.
“What do I have to do to be number one?”
“Well, one man made me see stars once when I came.”
“Is that right?” Adam crawled up her body and put his biceps on either side of her head. “What was he doing to you that you saw stars when you came?”
“That’s where you have to use your imagination.”
Adam grinned. “Challenge accepted, Paige Grant. Meet me at midnight in the hayloft.”
After a few more chores, dinner, a shower, then a long evening of shopping for old ranch-house furniture online, Paige closed her laptop.
It was almost time to meet Adam.
Her fingers tingled with excitement as she brushed her hair and changed. As the clock ticked toward twelve, she threw her hairbrush down and skipped out into the meadow, pulling a wrap around her shoulders against the night air. The moonlight bounced off the long blades of grass that tickled her ankles, and she inhaled the scent of night-blooming jasmine. She imagined Adam in the hayloft, waiting for her, and her heart thrummed.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. She knew she should stay focused on FRED, keep her heart safe, stay distant from Adam, and all that, but she could feel herself falling. She’d been crushing on him for so long—and had built up an imaginary love for a man she’d never known—but now that she’d met him, and gotten to know him, the imaginary love was starting to become real. And now that the physical intimacy was matching every one of her fantasies, he was becoming almost mythical in her mind. If she truly wanted to protect her heart, she needed to stop seeing him. Otherwise she was going to keep falling and falling until she tumbled down. But she would focus on that tomorrow. Tonight she couldn’t wait to feel what he was going to do to her.
Through the dark, she could see a soft glow inside the hayloft and raced toward it, tugging the wrap around her. Once there, she pressed the heavy wooden door open. Adam was already inside, sitting in the center on a large haystack, fully dressed. He had three thick blankets thrown over a cluster of haystacks near him, and two lanterns on the ground that cast shadows on the wood. He smiled and held out his arm as she stepped inside.
She sauntered toward him, then straddled his lap, positioning herself over the bulge in his pants while he made a sound deep in his throat. He looked up at her with eyes that were liquid, adoring, begging, and thankful, until she started to move—then his eyes were suddenly anguished.
“Paige.” His voice was thin, like paper in the wind.
She undid his shirt buttons, moving just enough to torment him. She wanted his shirt off—wanted to see the muscles she adored, wanted to touch them again, wanted to feel the strength in his arms, wanted his skin against hers.
“Paige.” He suddenly reached up and stopped her hand. “Let me do you. Undress for me.”
She smiled and threw off the wrap, then unbuttoned her blouse slowly, loving the look in his eyes. They were ravaging her, devouring her, and she watched them the whole time—his pupils dark, wide, wild—while she took her time getting rid of the blouse and then starting on her skirt.
Adam sat quietly, trying to look controlled, but Paige could see the delirium there. When she got the skirt to the ground, she bent at the waist to pick it up, tossed it to the side, then stood before him in her pink bra and thong, letting him look her up and down.
“Turn around,” he rasped.
She did.
Although he was trying to look restrained, his eyes told a story of a man on the brink.
“You are magnificent.” He yanked her back onto his lap, against his pants, kissing the cleavage formed by her favorite push-up bra, hinting at promises of things his tongue might do, and she felt her skin prickle.
Paige chose not to think about the fact that that was the second line her mom had predicted. She chose, instead, to lean back and let him kiss her, and to run her hands through his hair while he undid her bra and adored each breast and drew each of her nipples between his lips until her toes curled.
“Lean back farther,” he murmured, gently lowering her onto another hay bale behind her, her hips still in his hands. Her shoulders settled into the blanket on the bale, and she wriggled into position. The thrill of it was almost more than she could stand. Her bottom and pelvis were still in his lap, face up, and he played with her as if she were a toy. He ran his touch lightly along her stomach and brought his fingertips to the band of her panties, tugging at them, torturing her. She writhed in his hands.
“Adam, I can’t wait.”
“Of course you can.”
His fingers were light and teasing, outlining the tiny triangle of her panties, tantalizing her until she was arching her back and letting tiny moans escape her lips.
“I can’t,” she whispered. The pleasure was too great, almost to the point of pain—the erotic position of her hips so high, the inability to fully see what he was doing, the teasing feel of his too-light touch, making her ache for more pressure.
“Adam, please.”
“Baby, we haven’t even gotten started yet.” He pulled lightly at the front of her panties. The combination of his expert touch and the wind whispering through the door and flickering across such intimate places of her body caused her to arch her back and go out of her mind for a second.
“Adam.”
“Relax.” He scooted her down, shifting himself back, and she knew what was coming next. The wind sent another meadow gust through the open door and puckered her breasts. Adam’s hands splayed along her back. She writhed against him, and his other hand pulled at her panty front, and a long, slow ache settled between her legs. She waited and felt the wind and closed her eyes. Then she felt his tongue, warm and insistent.
“Oh,” she cried out, not quite ready for the thrill that shot through her, and then—again. “Oh God, Adam.”
His tongue grazed her, swiping underneath her panties, adding to the aching sensation, as he gently pulled them to one side, and let his tongue touch her, and let her cry out, and then pulled the other side, teased her again, let his tongue touch, let her cry out.
He licked and tormented until she couldn’t stand it anymore—she was on a plateau in the wind, standing naked on a mountaintop, her arms open wide—and Oh God, Adam—she spiraled, and spun, and his tongue was flicking in and out and—Oh please—he entered her, wet and warm, and she pushed to meet him, and ached for him to touch her there, right there—Oh there, oh yes—and she arched her back and kept spinning, and splitting, and pushed to meet him again for—Oh there, yes, Adam, there—and then—
“Oooooooh God,” she cried out as he finally touched the ache, and then the ground wasn’t there.
She was weightless and floating, and the wind was carrying her down.
When she opened her eyes and was able to focus fully, she looked straight up through the hayloft, where a skylight had been opened that she hadn’t noticed before.
There she could truly see stars.
While the wind made a hollow whistling sound, and Paige lay still, a pressure started between her eyes, and a couple of quiet tears trickled down each side of her face.
They weren’t tears that belonged to a particular feeling—they weren’t from sadness or relief or fear—they were simply tears from too much emotion in general, too much emotion felt for this one man, who was still ho
lding her with his enormous hand splayed beneath her back, where he’d bent her backward. The tears felt like a relieving of pressure, the pressure of too much of everything, as if her body could handle only so much feeling, and the rest needed to be squeezed out in a couple of salty drops.
As the feeling of the uncomfortable hay against her shoulders came into her reality, and the wanting ache between her legs was replaced with a feeling of satiation, and she could hear the wind outside again, she knew she was back to the existing moment.
Adam adjusted her panties, straightening them in a sweetly clumsy gesture, then reached forward and pulled her up.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him, keeping his eyes on her.
“No good?” he said, smiling.
She laughed.
He tucked her head under his chin and held her there like a child. They simply sat like that and listened to the wind coming across the meadow, rocking together on the hay bale.
CHAPTER 22
Adam worked all the next day on the long front drive into the ranch, which needed new gravel along the side of the rosebushes. Antonio and Gordon came to help, and the three men donned their work gloves and parked their gravel-filled wheelbarrows under the sun along the quarter-mile stretch.
He appreciated the help, and he liked having someone to talk to. He especially liked having someone who could take his mind off Paige. Mostly he needed to know it was possible. Because he’d been thinking about her almost incessantly for the last fifty-six hours and needed to know he hadn’t lost all his senses.
Last night had been incredible. And damned intense. He hadn’t meant for it to be—intense, that was. He’d meant for it to be hot. He’d meant for her to anticipate. He’d meant for her to come. He’d meant for her to see stars.
But he hadn’t meant for the intensity of the end of the night, when he’d pulled her into his lap and held her quivering body and felt her tears on his neck. He hadn’t meant to have his own heart feel so full and want to hold her forever and feel that kind of power in a unity he hadn’t known existed. He hadn’t meant to pull the blanket up around them and settle them into the softer hay and fall asleep with her under the stars. He hadn’t meant to wake up with her in his arms, and stare at her sleeping face as the morning light came through. He hadn’t meant to spend the daybreak wondering how he was possibly going to say good-bye soon . . .
Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) Page 23
