by L. M. Carr
“Holy shit,” the only words I can manage to utter, fall breathlessly from my mouth. My nails rake up and down his back, his full weight pinning me down. “That was incredible.”
Adam still doesn’t say a word. His face is buried in my neck, his breathing ragged, trying to slow down.
“Hey, you okay?” I tug at the back of his head, wanting him to look at me.
“Give me a minute,” he mumbles, pecking my neck with tiny kisses which makes me squirm and giggle. My awakened body is on fire, ready for round two.
My room is illuminated by the bedside lamp; the light casts a serene glow, making everything warm and inviting. I welcomed Adam into my bed but I cannot, I will not, welcome him into my heart. Not that he’d want to be there anyway.
So I just lie there, with Adam on top of me, giving him the time he’s asked for. My fingertips circle random patterns on his back until my stomach growls in protest of having been denied sustenance earlier.
Adam raises his head, a wide, satisfied grin across his unshaven face and says, “Somebody’s hungry.”
I smirk. “Yeah, I was rudely interrupted earlier.”
His weight lifts off me as he rolls to the side. He knots the condom before propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at me. His finger circles around my navel slowly, traveling upward toward the swells of my breasts before pinching my taut nipple playfully.
“Ouch! That hurts!” I slap his hand away, narrowing my eyes, trying to conceal my amusement and pleasure. “Oh shit! Please tell me you’re not one of those guys who find pleasure from that BDSM crap! I am so not going there!” I look at him, expecting a reply.
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid of a little pain? Pain and pleasure do go hand in hand, you know. It’s a very fine line.” His deep voice mocks me. “No pain, no gain.” He’s teasing me! Bastard! With his index finger, he traces the small, very faint lines down my lower abdomen. “What are these?”
I pull the sheet over to cover my nakedness. Suddenly, I feel very apprehensive. Dammit! I didn't think he'd ask me about these marks. Most guys aren’t in the habit of inspecting my belly. Their attention is usually a little lower. “Uh...stretch marks?”
“Yes, I can see that. How'd you get them?” I notice he swallows hard and waits for an answer. “Tell me.”
My shoulders shrug, trying to pass for nonchalance. “How do most people get stretch marks? Weight gain. Weight loss. I like to eat.” I’d rather he just drop the subject altogether; they’re just stretch marks after all. He doesn’t need to know about the pain these stretch marks represent.
My curiosity gets the best of me as I continue, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, really.” He smiles, his dark eyes sweep up to look at my face. “I just want to know every inch of this beautiful body of yours.”
My stomach growls again. I throw my arms over my eyes to hide my embarrassment.
“Let's go. Up you go.” He’s off the bed instantly, standing gloriously naked, pulling me up to follow. “You need to eat a proper meal.”
“It's too late to eat a ‘proper meal,’” I protest, deepening my voice to mock him. “Besides I'm always hungry. You have no idea! My stomach is a bottomless pit.” I laugh quietly, grabbing my short red robe from behind the bedroom door.
Adam slips on his jeans and shirt then follows me downstairs to the kitchen where my deserted cheese and bruschetta have somehow, inexplicably found their way into Brady's belly. My dog sits on the couch, looking guilty as sin, probably hoping his “puppy dog eyes” routine will earn him some mercy and forgiveness.
“Brady! Bad dog!” I scold him. I scold him. He lowers himself from the couch with his tail tucked between his legs, lies down, turning away from me on his oversized, plaid doggy bed.
Adam walks over to the door that separates the kitchen from the living room and squats down, angling his head to look at the writing on the white trim. “Josh age 5. Mia age 2.” He smiles and runs his finger over the thin, black permanent marker line. “Josh age 8. Mia age 5.” He continues to look at every line that bears my name, age and height until he reaches the line marking my age at 15. That’s when I finally put my foot down and refused to be measured any more. God, I would give anything for my dad to be here and force me to stand against the thick, white trim to record milestones in my life.
My private thoughts are interrupted when he asks about the other name recorded. I tell him about my older brother, Josh, his wife, Araceli, and my adorable niece, Ashley, and nephew, JJ. He listens intently. I tell him about my plan to visit them again for Thanksgiving and about the crazy adventures we’ve had together. He nods thoughtfully. “That seems nice, you know—to be close to your family.” His mood becomes sullen after that comment so I decide not to pursue the subject of his family.
Adam’s interest in my family seems genuine. It surprises me actually that for wanting only a casual, sexual relationship, he asks a lot of questions. I answer his questions about Josh and our relationship as siblings. My brother, with light brown hair and blue-grey eyes, is tall, smart and athletic. He was always my hero and my best friend. Adam smiles when I tell him that I was that annoying little sister with skinned knees, the dirty little tomboy who wanted to tag along no matter what my brother was doing. Josh was usually pretty good about it. That is until he discovered girls.
I recant the story of when we were kids and Josh called me “PIA” in front of his friends because he hated that I was always following him around. I ran all the way home with snot running down my face and cried in my mom’s arms like a damn baby. I was completely humiliated and heartbroken when my brother stood by silently while all of his friends taunted me, telling me that I was nothing but a pain in the ass.
“That’s terrible!” Adam teases me, but concedes that Josh was a good brother when I tell him how later that night Josh came to my room and apologized, explaining that he’s older and likes to do things with his friends. But my feelings were hurt so it was then that I decided to find other things to do that didn’t include my brother. I started running that year and haven’t stopped since. Why I’ve just told Adam this story about Josh is beyond me. Talking about my family isn’t something I do that often anymore.
A loud yawn escapes me and I realize it’s late. I don’t want to start cooking at this late hour, so I settle on a bowl of cereal instead. Adam’s laughter fills my kitchen when I pull out a family-sized box of Fruity Pebbles from my pantry and set two bowls on the island.
He looks dubiously at the cereal box.
“May I offer you a bowl of our finest cereal? It’s a wonderful blend of fruity goodness and pure sugar. It goes wonderfully paired with cold milk, sir.”
He laughs, finding my attempt at sophistication humorous. “Sure. Fruity Pebbles it is.”
I feel like we’re playing twenty questions, but he’s the only one doing the asking. When I ask about Madison and Luke, he immediately shuts down or tries to divert my attention with playful kisses. It feels like I’ve known him for such a long time—we’re comfortable with each other which can be a good thing, but it also feels like I could lose myself in him, be consumed by him, and I will never let that happen again.
When our bellies are full and our bowls empty, Adam takes them to the sink and washes them quickly. I can’t help but stare at him in disbelief. His phone dings with a text alert. Pulling it out of his front pocket, he shakes his head and grimaces when reads the name, shoving it back in without responding.
Oh, crap! My phone is still outside! I push the screen door open to retrieve my phone and see several texts from Shelby, Pete, and Shane and two missed calls from my mom.
“Who are Pete and Shane?” he asks indignantly. I literally jump because I didn’t realize he was standing so close behind me or that he’d seen the names on my phone.
“No one. Just my friends.” I pick up the two discarded wine glasses and the empty bottle and head back inside. All of a sudden, there’s a strange tension radiating from Ada
m and it’s directed at me.
“Are you okay? You seem a little tense all of a sudden.”
Instead of answering with words, he crushes his lips against mine, pulling me close, his hands squeeze my ass under my robe. “I won’t share you. I told you that.”
Whoa! What? He sounds a little possessive and I’m not his to possess. Reality check, my friend.
“Adam, what are you talking about?” I break the kiss and push back against his chest. “I have friends, lots of friends, some happen to be guys. You need to chill out.” My eyebrows rise in expectation, a look of disdain crosses my face, “You’re not going to be all alpha male, ‘me man, you woman,’ are you? I kind of got the impression that this was going to be…” I search for the right word, “casual.”
His eyes search my face, seeking forgiveness and then he murmurs, “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just…you…never mind.”
“Let’s not confuse what we’ve agreed to do with anything other than what it really is. A booty call. Friends with benefits. You know,” I air quote, “fuck buddies.” Shelby would be so proud of me right now. From the sounds of it, one would be convinced that I’m really in control of the situation.
“Okay! Okay. I get it!” He backs away from me. “Listen, I had a really good time with you tonight.” His next words are spoken quietly, yet demanding. “I want to see you again tomorrow night.”
Adam is a man who knows what he wants and is clearly used to getting it. I glance over my shoulder to look at the digital clock on the microwave which indicates it’s already tomorrow in bright green. “Well, it seems that you’re in luck, my friend.” I smile. “Apparently, it’s already tomorrow and you’re seeing me.”
He steps forward, wraps his arms around my waist. “You are a wise ass, aren’t you, friend?”
“Better than a dumb ass.” I smirk and then laugh, pulling at the nape of his neck, angling his head for a kiss.
Once again, his phone chirps and I can feel the vibration against my hip bone. Holy crap! He’s a busy man. His lips cover mine in a slow, sensual dance, not with the intensity or need of earlier. I can’t even imagine who is texting him so late on a Friday night. Something tells me it’s not work related. It’s probably one of his many women. Adam Lawson doesn’t do monogamy—he’s a virile man who can have any woman with the snap of his fingers. HOLD UP! What am I saying? Oh, hell no! I refuse to share him while we have an agreement to be friends with benefits, fuck buddies or whatever label is more acceptable these days. No way! Absolute deal breaker!
“Are you going to answer that?” I ask boldly.
“No.”
“Is that your girlfriend? Is she calling to see where you are?” I toss his questions from the bar back at him.
He grimaces. “I don’t do girlfriends.”
“And I don’t share.”
He narrows his eyes on me.
“You should go—” I clear my throat, suddenly I’m parched and my mouth is filled with cotton.
“I should probably get going—”
The words spill from our lips at the same time, sheepish smiles appear on both our faces.
I need to play this cool. Thank God he can’t see how fast my heart is beating or how wet I’ve become again.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I mumble against his lips before stepping back to retie my robe which he loosened with roaming hands.
Adam leans down for a final kiss goodbye, letting out a quiet growl. “I’ll see you later.”
“See ya.” Holding the screen door open, I watch as he walks to his beast of a car as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Hey,” I call to him with a whispered shout. “Could you maybe roll that thing out into the street? I do have neighbors, you know.” My grin is playful.
“Goodnight, wise ass.” He smirks before sliding into the driver’s seat to start his sleek, sporty vehicle. Listening to the sexy, deep purring sound of his car backing slowly down my long driveway, I’m startled when the engine revs loudly before speeding away. I rush back inside, grabbing my phone to send him a quick text, “And you call me a wise ass?”
His text makes me laugh. “Me man, you woman.” Adam Lawson has a playful side.
Chapter Fifteen
“HEY, DADDY.” I look out over the town, my legs dangling carelessly over the edge. Brady has taken his usual spot under the trees for some rest. My father and I have a one sided conversation, but I know he’s listening, always looking out for his baby girl.
The cool, bottled water doesn’t do anything to quench my thirst today. I know the reason. I’m not thirsty for water, I’m hungry for Adam. My thoughts have been consumed by him all night and all morning. His lips. His eyes. His body. His...I suddenly remember where I am and that I’m supposed to be talking to my father. He would be just as mortified if he knew my deepest desires.
After my run and chat with my dad, the better half of the morning was spent lounging around, returning missed texts and calls from last night. Pete’s cousin, Ryan, is the lead singer in a new, alternative band and they’re playing tonight at Whiskey’s, this awesome dive bar just a few towns over. I promised Pete I’d go with him to check it out. Hopefully, Shane is finally getting the message that we will never be more than just friends ever again. And I mean EVER! I’m mad at myself for mentioning that I would be out and about at the bar. He said he might stop down for a few drinks. GREAT! I guess he didn’t get the message after all.
Several times during the day whenever I got an incoming text, my heart skipped a beat with anticipation before turning into disappointment. I thought they might be from Adam, but they never were. What did I really expect? It is what it is. Sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Damn, girl. You look good! Maybe I’ll play for your team tonight.” Pete eyeballs me, spinning me around. “I like the whole ‘fuck me pumps,’ ripped, tight ass jeans, and tight shirt thing you’ve got going on. Your tits looks great!”
“Oh my God, Peter!” I slap his arm. “Are you sure you’re gay?” I tease.
He jumps into the passenger seat, cranks up the satellite radio as we head toward the bar.
The weight of Pete’s stare is heavy even though he’s singing along to the music. “What?” I snap. “Why are looking at me like that?”
“You got laid,” he blurts.
“What?” I sputter.
“You totally got some! I can see it all over your face. You’re like fucking glowing!”
Pete knows me too well and I’m not a very good liar. I nod at his smiling face.
“Who’s the lucky bastard? Shane? God, what I wouldn’t do to have a piece of that!”
“Ewwww. Gross! You can’t have my sloppy seconds!” I laugh and let out an exaggerated gag.
My phone vibrates and the chirp comes through over the music. I’m almost afraid to get my hopes up…again. As soon as we pull up to the red light, I check the message.
AL: I can still feel you wrapped around me. Can you feel me?
OMG! No “Hi. How are you?” Hmmm! Okay friend, so that’s how it’s going to be?
Me: Sorry. I think you have the wrong number.
A cheeky grin spreads across my face as I slide my phone onto the dashboard. There! Take that, arrogant man!
“You gonna go? Or just sit there with that ‘eat shit’ grin on your face?” Pete points to the green light.
Another chirp and I ignore it for the time being.
There’s an excitement buzzing throughout the bar, a loud murmur of people talking and laughing over the music. The bar is pretty packed tonight, some faces are familiar, and others are not. Pete and I make our way to the bar to order our drinks. The first cover band is playing a decent version of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon and my thoughts immediately go to Adam.
Ryan and another band mate, Will, stop by to have a beer, thanking us for coming out tonight. “Hey. Nice to meet you.” I smile at Will, who is tall and lean, his arms covered in colorful, intricate tatto
os of every design. His eyes rake over my body when we’re introduced. Drinking his beer and telling us about their music, I’m slightly uncomfortable with how close he’s standing, pressing into my side.
“I’ll be back.” I grab my beer and push my way to the back of the bar in search of a bathroom. As usual, the line is ridiculously long. Silly drunks want to talk about their problems, I just want to pee. Reaching into my bag, I retrieve my phone and check my messages, smiling when I see that Adam sent three messages. I remember that I never responded to his earlier text about me feeling him. Hell, yes, I can still feel him!
His second message simply says, “Free after 9.” The third, “Playing hard to get? I believe I’ve already had you. I want more.” What? More what? SEX, Mia! Get that through your thick head!
As the line moves up, I send him a quick text telling him that I’m out with friends at a bar. Almost immediately he responds. “Which bar?” Crap! I’m not sure I want him here. Pete will most definitely pick up on something and I’m not willing to share this with him, at least, not yet. Against my better judgment, I tell him where the bar is and that I’d like to see him.
Pete stands close behind me, swaying from side to side while my hands reach high into the air, fingers snapping along to the music. I feel his breath in my ear as he sings along with the band. Anyone looking at us would think that we’re together. I glance up at the band as Ryan belts out Neon Trees’ “Your Surrender.” Will keeps the rhythm on the drums. When he catches me watching him, he smiles and winks.
Over an hour and three bottles of beer later, my buzzed body goes on high alert. I know he’s here, I can feel him. There’s a charge in the air when he’s near me. How did I not notice that before? Thinking about it, I felt it the first time I ever laid eyes on him on the summit. Again I felt it at school and most recently in my bed. Scanning the packed bar, I search for him not knowing exactly where he is. When I finally catch a glimpse of him, he’s across the bar, his eyes focused on me like we’re the only ones here in this noisy bar. His dark eyes light with excitement like a predator closing in on its prey. I am a little bunny to his big bad wolf!
