A single shiver shakes her, and she answers, “Because you like it. You’re comfortable with it.”
“It’s trust, Genevieve.” I kiss her lightly, inhaling the salty damp smell of her. “I want to experience everything with you. I don’t want to be greedy. I don’t want to let you do all the work. This is a partnership, right? Fifty-fifty?”
“You really want to?” she asks, her voice small. “It might take a while.”
“Trust me. That’s no problem,” I promise, sliding my thumbs along the lips of her pussy. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath.
“Think about whatever you think when you touch yourself.”
She moans and shakes her head.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s just…that’s when I’m alone. It’s embarrassing with you here.”
“Genevieve, I can’t see what you’re thinking,” I point out, licking her with more pressure, more quickly. I know she’s doing what I asked because her hips find that trance-like rhythm that’s elemental. I could keep this going, but there’s a question burning in my brain, and I break my mouth away for quick second to ask it. “Do you think about me?”
“Huh?” The sound of her voice pleasure-soaked.
“What do you think about?” I go back to licking her, this time wildly focused while I wait for an answer.
“That’s private, Adam.” Her voice is dreamy.
I pinpoint my focus, trying not to fly off the handle when it occurs to me that I asked a question I expected a certain answer to. If I didn’t want to be open to the possibility that her exes might play a main role in her private fantasies, I shouldn’t have asked.
Instead of obsessing about things that are none of my business, I go back to touching her, tasting her, bringing her as much pleasure as I possibly can while I listen to the high, breathy gasps and shaky, loosened moans spilling out of her lush mouth. Whatever she’s thinking about, it’s working. She forgets to be self-conscious and spreads her legs, reaches down to press her hands to the back of my head so my mouth is closer, rather than pulling me away. She twists and whimpers excitedly when I smooth my tongue over the peaked swell of her clit.
“Mmm, do you think I could ever give you head in your lab?” she asks, her voice a raw whisper.
I pull back for a single second, my brain fuzzy with the incredibly appealing prospect of Genevieve and her hot, wet mouth sucking me off in the lab—
“Of course,” I say, my words ragged.
“Because that’s what I think about. When I touch myself. For the last few months. I’ve thought about you and me, in the lab, closing the damn books and you telling me that you’re sick and tired of tutoring me. That you want to spread me out on the lab counter and peel my clothes off and kiss every inch of me. That you want to feel how wet I am and that you want—oh! Adam! Adam!”
The entire time she told the story, I kept pace, waiting to feel her changed rhythm under me, sliding my fingers deep inside her while my tongue stroked her over and over right where she was almost ready. And then, as her story got more vivid, her body started to shake and jerk against me, until her hands were fisted hard in my hair and she was pressed against my mouth with persistent need, convulsing and crying out my name.
I’m dizzy with a sense of triumph. She’s gone slack on the bed, her breathing so hard, her chest rises and falls visibly.
“Holy. Amazing,” she wheezes. “That was so damn amazing, Adam. That felt so…mmm. Thank you.”
I am perfectly willing to end the night with her taken care of and the two of us snuggled close. But—
“Are you good, or do you want more?”
She rolls onto her stomach and smiles over her shoulder. “Do you have any more to give?”
“Genevieve,” I groan, my hands already running over her legs, along her smooth calves, to the edge of the fishnets where her thighs are so soft and so damn sensitive. I hook the waistband of the lacy thongs I pushed to the side when I licked her until she came in a sweet torrent against my mouth and drag them down, leaving them tangled at her ankles.
I spread her legs apart and slide a hand under her, pressing up on her stomach so her hips lift. She spreads her arms wide on the bed and then presses her ass back at me. I slide into her, so hard I have to keep one hand at the base to control it.
Her hips pull and pump in time with my thrusts, and it’s a whole new feel, a whole new way to sink into my wife. I pump into her quick and hard, keeping my hands firmly on her hips.
“Adam,” she moans. “Adam, I feel like…”
But she doesn’t need to finish that thought because she goes slicker and tighter around my dick, and her moans echo in my ears.
“Genevieve, doll, I can’t…”
And then I’m completely out of control. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, and I don’t. I know Gen has been satisfied every way I’m capable of satisfying a woman, so I let everything go. I come hard and let my chest press down over her back, my mouth planted next to her ear. “Thank you. That was so damn good.”
She rolls underneath me and traces her fingers over my face. “Thank you. I can’t believe I’ve been telling guys not to do that all these years.”
I pull her to me. “Shh. Don’t ruin my moment of glory.”
She pulls her legs up and rolls her fishnets down, tossing them on the floor, and yanks at my hand. “Get me out of this corset.”
I press the hooks together and manage to pop it open. She runs her hands over her naked body and makes me close my eyes and grit my teeth in an attempt to keep from pulling hard against me and starting all over again.
“Are you sleeping naked?” I ask when she rolls to the side without making any attempt to put her nightgown back on.
“Is that a problem?” Her voice drips with sexiness even when she’s completely drowsy.
“You’d turn me on if you slept in a flannel nightgown. With puffy sleeves and a turtleneck.” I pull her close, my hands on warm, soft skin no matter where I put them. “Do you have any idea what it’s going to be like trying to sleep with a raging hard-on all night?”
She giggles and wiggles her bare ass against my dick. Unbelievably hot.
“Will you be turned on…all night?” she asks around a yawn.
“I’m always turned on when I’m around you.” I kiss along the back of her neck and down her the dip of her spine.
“Has it always been like that?” she sighs.
“You can’t even imagine…” I’m about to say how much I love you, but I stop myself short. “How much I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
Genevieve tenses in my arms. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I nuzzle behind her ears.
“You’ve never said…if, in the beginning…before, if you…” She holds her breath. I can feel her go totally still.
I want to tell her. That I always will. That I do. That there’s no doubt. That I always have. No question, since the beginning.
I hold her hard against me and say, “Goodnight, doll.”
Because I’m an asshole. She fits herself against me anyway, and we fall into a fitful sleep, me realizing full well I’m way damn luckier than I deserve.
16 GENEVIEVE
“Wake up, gorgeous.” Adam’s voice is so close that it ruffles the hair around my ear and tickles my neck.
“Too early,” I groan. I pull the pillow out from under my head and press it over my face, blocking the sunlight that streams in. “If we’re going to make this marriage thing work, you’re going to have to understand that I don’t do mornings. At least by choice.”
His hands run up and down my body, and I arch against them. “Oh really? I remember how well you did morning just a few hours ago.”
Memories of the pre-dawn extracurriculars flood my mind, making my toes curl and my breath quicken.
“Exactly,” I mumble. “Can’t we just savor the memory and go back to sleep? I promise I’ll be good to go for round t
wo in a couple of hours.”
“No,” he says, as he kisses my throat, then along my collarbone.
“Fine!” I say with a laugh. His lips are hot on my skin, and I don’t even want to try to resist him anymore. “What is it that I need to get up for? God, do we have a tutoring session?”
I fling the pillow from my eyes, and Adam grins.
“No, but I could probably come up with something to teach you if you’d like,” he starts working on the buttons of my night shirt. “Or, you could get your toothbrush and throw on a swimsuit…preferably a tiny one—I’m fairly certain you have a couple of those—and let me take you on a honeymoon.”
“A honeymoon?” I choke the words out like I’m garbling wet sand.
His grin is pure pleased mischief. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“What about school?” Adam is constantly worried about school. I can’t believe he would have forgotten about it. Maybe he’s planning on packing our laptops and binders.
“Let’s forget about school. Just this one time. It’s just a weekend. But it’s better than nothing, right?” He pulls away from me, waiting for confirmation with hopeful eyes.
“Absolutely.” I nod, flinging my arms around his neck and kissing all over his face. Adam slips an arm under me and pulls me on top of him.
“Where are we going?” I ask between kisses.
“You’ll see when we get there,” Adam says. He pulls my hair back away from my face and leans in to kiss the tip of my nose.
“I hate surprises,” I pout.
“I didn’t know that. But, that’s what this weekend is all about. You’re going to know so much about me by Sunday night, you’re going to want to marry me.”
“I doubt it,” I joke, drawing the back of my fingers down his face. “Seriously, where are we going?”
“Get dressed,” he says, popping a kiss on my lips. He rolls me off of him and smacks my butt as he hurls himself off of the bed. I half seethe with anger over Adam’s refusal to tell me where we’re going, half smirk to myself as I watch my husband strut nude across the room in search of the boxers I’d stripped off of him hours earlier.
***
“I hate heights,” I say as Adam negotiates the curvy road a little too fast for my liking.
“Good to know…for next time,” he says, his mouth pulled into a frown.
We’re cruising up the winding mountain, on what I’m sure he assumed would be a scenic and romantic drive, but all I can do is clutch the door handle, white knuckled, and cringe with each twist of the road. Adam seems mostly at ease, but that doesn’t make me want to cry any less.
“So,” I say—swallowing hard and trying to steady my voice—“What made you choose Big Bear?” Adam takes his eyes off the road to look at me, and I shake my head frantically, pointing out the front windshield. “Watch the road!”
“Wow, so this is Genevieve terrified. The way you popped the question to me without even hesitating.” He gives a low, infuriating whistle. “ I was beginning to think your nerves were made of steel.” I glance over and he’s got a shit-eating-grin plastered across his face that—if I could let go of this stupid door handle—I would smack right off.
“I hate you,” I mutter. I hate this drive. I hate the sight of cars’ paint scrapes on the rocks that line the side of the road. I hate this drop to nothingness out my side of the car. “And stay in your own lane.”
“Gen, I am in my lane. We’re almost there, baby. Just close your eyes. I promise, for our anniversary, I’ll pick somewhere made for flat-landers.” Says the man who was raised in a desert. His voice is warm and comforting, his hand on my leg is lidocaine for my nerves. I release the door handle, lean back in my seat, and close my eyes, thinking of one thing only: what it will feel like to celebrate an anniversary with Adam.
***
“It’s not exactly the penthouse, but it’s nice, right?” Adam says, swinging the door of the tiny cabin open.
The floors are dusty, the kitchen cabinets are all open and completely bare, and the light that Adam just flipped on is buzzing so loud, I think I’d prefer a weekend in constant darkness.
“It’s fantastic!” I say, forcing enthusiasm into each syllable for his sake.
Adam worked really hard to put all of this together, and it’s better than sitting in our same, stuffy apartment for the weekend. I feel like I’m suffocating in the tiny red rooms most days. Not that I’d ever tell him that he was right about the paint making the room feel like the walls were closing in on us.
No, the weather is gorgeous here, and we’re going to enjoy the hell out of this weekend. “It’s so pretty out, let me just put my stuff away, and then let’s go find something to do. Unless you made plans?”
“We can do whatever you want, doll.” Adam walks to the kitchen and picks up a stack of brochures off of the small table. “Looks like they left these for us. There’s hiking, zip lining..Oh! There’s an alpine slide down the side of the mou—”
Adam glances up and sees me frantically rubbing my palms onto my dress, wiping the sweat away as he rattles off the list of attractions that sound more like death threats to me than fun-filled pastimes . Things I’d rather gouge my eye out with a spork than participate in. He tosses the pamphlets back onto the table.
“Change of plans. Why don’t we go check out the bedroom?”
Adam follows me down the narrow hall, and into the small, dark bedroom. The room is sparse, like the rest of the cabin, but it feels like the owners were smart enough to put the most time and effort into this room. Which is excellent, since I have a feeling it will be the one Adam and I will be spending the most time in.
The details in the woodworking on the bed and matching dresser are stunning. The linens are fresh and fluffy and make me want to slip under them bare with my husband and never leave. The circular rug matches the pattern on the throw pillows. It feels like a Pottery Barn ad, if you can ignore the creepy ass stuffed bear on the dresser.
Staring at me.
I’m about to comment that we need to shove that thing down the mountain when Adam lifts the hair off the back of my neck and presses his warm mouth to my skin.
“I have something for you.” I spin toward him and he’s holding a small box. His eyes look more gold than green when he’s excited about something, and right now they’re almost completely gold.
“What’s this?” I ask, running my fingers over the edges of the box.
“Call it a wedding gift,” he says with a shrug.
Once again, I’m left standing without anything for him when he’s gotten something thoughtful for me.
I manage a wavery smile, my throat tied in a stiff knot. “That wasn’t necessary, but wow, thank you.”
“Open it.” He nudges my hands, and I shake the box until the lid releases.
Inside, under a sheet of rustling silver tissue paper, is a pale pink, thin strap. I loop my finger through it and give it a tug. I pull out a simple lace slip. Something I never would have picked out, something that Adam would definitely be drawn to when choosing lingerie. I’m getting more comfortable in the simple things. Clothes without rhinestones. Shoes that aren’t skyscrapers.
“Wow. Is this a present for you, or a present for me?” I ask, flashing a flirty grin that I know will drive him crazy.
He steps in, clutching my hip with his hand. “Depends. Do you want me to put it on?”
I shake my head. “No, I want you to take it off.”
***
“That thing creeps me out.” I look at its dull smile, its glazed eyes, and its zombie-like outstretched arms.
“What?” Adam hovers close, his chest to my back, and looks over my shoulder. “The teddy bear?” The bear that’s the size of our TV at home is still looking at me, unblinking. “Are you being serious?”
“Of course I am. Look at it.” I do. And shudder.
Adam kisses my shoulders and nudges my ear with his nose, whispering, “Gen, I think we may need to talk about
your sanity. It’s a stuffed animal.”
“It’s probably a nanny-cam,” I say, only half-joking.
“I had no idea you were so paranoid. I sort of love it.” He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair.
I press my hands over his and rub up and down the strong length of his arms, loving the coarse hair and corded muscles, the tiny chemical burns that fleck his hands from his years of experiments and the way his wedding band glints on his ring finger. “I guess we don’t really know a whole lot about each other, huh? I mean, you’ve gathered that I’m a paranoid freak—”
His arms pull me closer, cradling me like I’m something undeniably precious. “You’re not a freak, Genevieve. You’re unsure of yourself, that’s all. And I take it as my personal responsibility to help with that. You just need to break out of your comfort zone.” He kisses my temple, and it’s like he seals his promise with that gesture. “Tomorrow.”
17 ADAM
“Kayaking,” Genevieve says, pointing to the advertisement for rentals on the marina sign. “That’s what we should do. Nothing to fall off of. And if you do manage to fall out of the kayak, there’s nowhere to drop except into the water, and that’s not remotely scary.”
Speak for yourself.
“The point was to do something outside of your comfort zone, baby. How about parasailing?” I offer, glancing at the lake that looks so damn innocent. I have no idea why people are deceived into thinking of lakes as placid.
Maybe they don’t know the facts. Or maybe they ignore them. I have a problem with memorizing random facts, and one I know off the top of my head is the depth of Lake Tahoe. 1,645 feet at its deepest.
1,645 feet of cold, silent water to suck you under until your corpse is tangled in the silent, waving plants and dead-eyed lake fish nibble on your remains.
This lake isn’t Lake Tahoe, and I don’t know the official depth. But I hate imagining it. My throat goes dry when I imagine being pulled under and struggling for my life as water pours into my lungs and chokes the oxygen out of me in fat, desperate bubbles while the lake top remains a flat expanse of hidden secrets.
Limits Page 17
