“Sasha?” He sounded worried.
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “I don’t know why you put up with me, but I’m grateful. I don’t know if you knew that, but you should. When I was trying to get clean and when I had the flu and now… you’re a good man, Adam.”
He shook his head. “I don’t ‘put up with you.’ There’s no one I’d rather be around.”
I sipped my drink, both to buy a moment and because my mouth was dry, before saying, “I feel the same. I’d be lost without your friendship.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he replied. Adam didn’t say anything else, but he seemed tense.
We finished our meal, and I asked to see the manager while Adam walked outside. It didn’t take much to get a shot at the job. Apparently, there weren’t dozens of people moving into Joshua Tree at the end of May. It wasn’t an actual hire, but they were willing to have me come in for a shift or two and see if I worked out.
That plan fit my needs perfectly. It meant no paperwork right now, and that was exactly what I needed. If we decided to stay in Joshua Tree, we’d figure out how much of a paper trail we wanted to leave, but as a temp, I could stall on that dilemma.
After that was sorted out, Adam and I meandered through the town, checking out a fun looking pizza shop, an outdoor supply shop, and picked up a few brochures. His theory was that if we were in the area for a few weeks we ought to enjoy it. That was apparently how he traveled: settle in for a little while, check out what the area had to offer, and then move on.
“Why didn’t you leave Rio Verde then?” I asked after he explained how he’d lived before coming to check on Tommy.
Adam shook his head. “I was needed there.” He stared at me, like he was daring me to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. When I didn’t, he said, “Let’s head back to the house.”
The drive back was uneventful. I kept my fingers laced together, arms around his waist, and did my damnedest not to press my body too tightly to him. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but after talking, I realized exactly how devastated I’d be if I messed up our friendship and lost Adam over a bit of sex. The risk wasn’t worth it, even though I was sure being in his arms would be something more than special.
When we got to the house, I all but leaped off the bike and hurried inside.
Adam must’ve decided to give me a moment because he took his time outside, checking something or other on the Harley. It was a much needed reprieve. Riding with him was harder than ever after our interlude along the road.
My reprieve ended when he walked through the door.
“Let me finish your tattoo.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was like the serpent in the garden, knowing exactly what to offer to break the resolve I’d been steadily building up. I wanted to say yes, but instead I said, “I can’t.”
“I’m here; you’re here. Why not?” Adam watched me like he expected me to run.
He wasn’t wrong to expect it either. I wanted to run. I just wasn’t sure whether I wanted to run to or from him. It was probably a bit of both.
“That’s a bad idea,” I said.
“Because…?”
What was I to say? “Because I’m running out of reserves of self-control”? “Because I want you so bad I wake up from dreams that make me moan in my sleep”? There was no way I could admit that without doing the very thing that I was trying to avoid—damaging our friendship.
“Let me tattoo you,” he urged. His beautiful blue eyes widened, and he added, “Please?”
And I had no other answer I could give him. “Sure,” I whispered. “But be… like you would with a stranger, not like you… not those things you said before.”
His mouth curved in a dangerous smile before he asked, “So I shouldn’t use the vibrations of the machine to try to make you come? I could, Sasha. You can trust me.”
I nodded, agreeing to all of it—the fact that I was saying he shouldn’t, the fact that I wanted him to, and the fact that I trusted him.
“Let me get set up.” He turned away, suddenly the professional I’d asked him to be.
I wasn’t sure what to do, other than wait. I paced to the tiny kitchen and got a drink of water. I tried not to watch him as he pulled out the case that held his traveling kit. He used it for conventions, but when Tommy and I had visited him at a show in Phoenix, he’d had a temporary set-up that looked a lot like it would in a shop. There was a table, a chair for him, and of course, a counter where all of his supplies were.
“Your bed or mine?”
“The sofa,” I said in a surprisingly steady voice, pointing at the sofa which was his makeshift bed.
I watched him as he set out the things he needed to add art to my chest. It wasn’t the same as at the shop or at the convention. This was his bed, and we were alone. He was acting like a professional though, setting up supplies and ignoring me like I was no different than any customer.
After a few minutes, he pointed at the sofa. “On the table, Miss Kovac.”
I couldn’t look at him as I shucked my shirt and dropped my bra. I didn’t want to see his eyes when he saw me topless. I’d seen the heat in them once, the first time I’d peeled my shirt off so he could tattoo my stomach, and it made me crave him so badly that I hadn’t had any work on my tattoo for a couple of months.
He didn’t look at my face as he carefully swiped my skin with a cleanser or when he began studying the lines of the branches to see where they should extend. Tattooing was more than slapping stock images on some random body part, at least it was when the tattooist was an artist. Adam was an artist.
For several moments, he studied me, his eyes following the lines of my body, and then he nodded to himself. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
The hum of the machine made my body tighten in excitement, and that first bite of needles on my skin made me gasp. I wasn’t a pain junkie, but I knew that the initial pain would fade under the natural chemicals in my body. I had to ride the pain for a few moments, and then a glorious high would follow. That expectation, the joy of getting my art, and the bliss of Adam’s hands on my skin combined to make my eyes close. Several minutes passed with only the sound of the tiny motor and the steady breathing of the man wielding it. I didn’t mean to, but I moaned a little.
“Are you okay?”
“Very,” I admitted.
“Hurt?”
Quietly, I admitted, “No.”
He chuckled, a sound that always made my body clench in need lately, and I blushed. “I’m being professional, as requested,” he reminded me.
“I know.”
“If you change your mind…” he offered.
My eyes opened, and I stared up at him. The needles left my skin for a moment as he met my gaze. The heat I’d seen there before was back. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
“I could make you feel good. Let me, Sasha. Let me make you happy.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to fall apart while he stared down at me. My body was screaming yesyesyes, but I shook my head. “Tattoo me, Adam.”
Later, I’d think of him like this, his eyes filled with lust as he left his mark on my body in a way no one else ever would. I thought of his admission that he’d only ever been unprofessional with me, that I was the only one he’d ever wanted to make orgasm while he etched art into my flesh, and I knew that I could never let anyone else tattoo me. In this, if nothing else, I was always going to be only his.
Chapter 12
The next week was somewhere between ludicrous and embarrassing. I volunteered for every shift I could at The Crossroads Cafe, and Adam drove me to and from work in the Explorer. We never once mentioned that Thing That Happened Along The Road, but we didn’t take the Harley if we were together. We both acted like I hadn’t wanted him desperately and he hadn’t let me touch him and taste him. Our shared silent agreement to try to behave like everything was normal made me feel like I was walking around waiting for something t
o snap.
Then it did.
I was folding the laundry he’d carried into the house. I wasn’t sure if we were staying in the little town or moving on. We hadn’t discussed it. All of my fears about drug dealers, police, and killers seemed to have been left in Rio Verde. I wanted to tell him he could leave, but… I wanted him to stay. As the days passed, I felt more and more settled. The money from that night at The Coffee Cave sat untouched in the bedroom. I could buy a car with some of it, but that felt like asking Adam to leave… which wasn’t what I wanted at all.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he suggested.
I looked up from the t-shirt in my hands. “No.”
He walked closer, and I felt like he was stalking me. I didn’t want to run though, at least not run from him. I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
I dropped the shirt on the sofa next to me and flopped down on it. “Because we’re roommates. Because we… I… because of last week.”
“Did something happen?” He lifted his gaze, and I was pinned by those bright blue eyes.
“Adam…”
He shook his head. “I thought something did, but then you’ve spent the past week all but running if I got within six feet of you. So I figure I must’ve imagined you looking up at me from my bed like a goddess while I tattooed you. I must’ve imagined earlier that day when your perfect mouth was—”
“Stop,” I begged.
His words stopped, but he walked over to the little table in front of the sofa and shoved it aside with his boot-clad foot. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me. It reminded me painfully of when he tattooed me right here.
I closed my eyes. There was no other option. I couldn’t say no if I saw how he was looking at me.
And then his fingertips brushed my skin as he eased my tank top up to expose my stomach. I swallowed. This was when I should say no, when I should tell him to stop. I knew it. This was a bad idea. He didn’t do commitments, and I couldn’t handle being the girl he fucked and left. He was my friend and my fantasy. I didn’t want to lose him. Not now. Not ever. I had to stop this before we were any more involved.
I just couldn’t say it yet… not when his lips were on my skin. He kissed my stomach, peppering my skin with the barest touches, and leaving me wanting more. It was gentle in a way that was wholly unfamiliar. Not that Tommy had been my first, but there hadn’t been anyone in my life who acted like this. I’d had sex that left me boneless and satisfied, but what Adam was doing wasn’t sex like I knew it.
“I have rules, Sash.” His words were a hot whisper on my stomach. “I’ve never broken them before, and I won’t now.”
“Rules?” I echoed.
“Mm-hmm.” His tongue flicked against my belly button. “No one has ever left my bed unfulfilled.”
“We were on a bike, not in your bed,” I murmured.
He chuckled, but his fingers were already unbuttoning my shorts. “You can play word games, but it won’t help, sweetheart. You know damn well that my bike is a hell of lot more personal than my bed, and you were in my bed when I tattooed you.”
Finally, I opened my eyes and looked down at the man I’d wanted for months. He was kneeling in front of me. My shorts were unbuttoned, but he’d made no move to peel them down yet. The question was there, but he left all of the control in my hands. I could re-button my shorts and push him away.
I should do that.
He watched me as he slid both hands over my hips and to my bare legs. Slowly, he traced the outside of my legs. His fingertips grazed my skin, touching so carefully that it was more promise than reality. I found myself holding my breath, wanting that touch desperately even while I told myself I couldn’t have it.
“You don’t need to—”
“I do,” he insisted. “I really do, Sasha.”
“I wasn’t asking for… anything when I did that.” I couldn’t look away. It would be so much easier to do the right thing if he wasn’t touching me like that, wasn’t giving me that tempting taste of what I could have if only I gave in.
“When you wrapped that soft hand around me,” he said. “Or when you wrapped those beautiful lips around me until I came?”
Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, wasn’t good for my self-control. “Either,” I whispered.
“I need to touch you. I’ve needed to for months.” His hands stroked back up my legs, pushing them further apart. And I let him. “I need to taste you.” He bent so he could kiss my upper thigh. “It was torture tattooing you last week. You looked like you were moments from coming, just because I was tattooing you.” His voice grew rougher as he added, “All week I’ve been unable to get you out of my mind. Touching me, then naked here in front me. I need to taste you.”
I whimpered.
“Tell me I can, Sash,” he murmured as he licked a line to the edge of my shorts. He bit me softly.
My mind was saying, no, no, no. You can’t do this.
“Yes,” I whispered.
I felt his lips curve into a smile while his mouth was still against my thigh. Then he pressed a kiss to me over my clothes. It wasn’t even my bare skin, but I couldn’t help myself. I arched against his face.
“Please,” I added.
It sounded like he said “Thank God,” but I couldn’t be sure because in the next instant he’d wrapped an arm around my back and carefully pushed me backward on the sofa and was kissing me, his hands stroking any exposed skin they could find. There was no rush to his actions, nothing but measured patience as he unraveled every last bit of resistance I had. When his hands strayed to the hem of my top, it didn’t even occur to me to do anything other than raise my arms and let him draw it off of me.
His gaze was hot enough to burn as he looked at me not with the eyes of an artist, but with the eyes of a man. He couldn’t miss the stunning artwork he had drawn on my skin, but his eyes were focused on my breasts as his fingers traced the edges of my bra. Goose bumps pebbled my skin. No one had ever touched me like that before, so tenderly, so reverently.
Then the bra was gone, its cups replaced by his hands. I arched my back, my breath coming in short gasps as need grabbed me by the throat. This was so wrong, but that didn’t matter to me anymore. Nothing mattered but the feel of Adam’s skin against mine, of his lips skimming over me. He trailed kisses down my body, his tongue flicking out to tease me with the promise of what he was going to do next.
I was naked before I knew it, my body aching with desire. Adam took one quick glance at my face, giving me one last chance to come to my senses and tell him to stop. When I didn’t, he lowered his mouth to me.
He was patient with me, teasing me to near madness and then backing off, making the pleasure and torment last. Like he could do this all day and he wouldn’t mind not coming himself as long as he pleased me. There were no expectations, no demands, no agenda. He left no doubt in my mind that this was all about me, and the intensity of his focus made me feel like the center of the universe.
When I stopped trembling in the wake of my third orgasm, I finally realized how terrible a risk I was running, how dangerously seductive it was to let Adam do this to me even once. I felt like I had to run. There was no way I’d survive trying to let go of Adam if we kept going down this path. I’d never been someone who had one night stands. I didn’t sleep with friends casually. We were sharing a tiny one bedroom, so I understood how our long-ignored sexual tension had turned into this.
“Stop,” I said weakly, trying to pull him up to lie with me on the sofa.
He stayed kneeling on the floor, his hand drawing absent patterns on my bare stomach. Even that was too much though. I’d never thought that the slow, gentle caresses could be as satisfying as the sort of sex I’d always had. Adam proved me wrong repeatedly over the past… however long it had been.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He made a sound of satisfaction. “My pleasure… one I’m happy to repeat as often as you let me.”
&nb
sp; My silence as I tried to come up with an answer was obviously more revealing than I wanted it to be because Adam’s voice grew tense as he asked, “What?”
“We can’t do this.” I covered his hand with mine, and then sat up.
“What can’t we do?” he asked, slowly pronouncing each word in that calm way that told me he was far from calm.
“This.”
Talking about not having sex while sitting naked in front of the man who had just made me buck and writhe and beg wasn’t something I wanted to do. I reached for my clothes, and without looking at him, quickly shimmied into my shorts and tank top. I didn’t bother with a bra. That could wait.
“I don’t want to lose your friendship,” I started.
He was still kneeling on the floor. It didn’t make things any easier. He made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand.
“This was…” I started and stopped. I simply didn’t have the words. The best experience I’ve ever had? Earth-shattering? Heart-breakingly perfect? I shook my head and settled for a word that didn’t reveal how incredible it had been. “Wonderful, but we can’t let it happen.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I should’ve said something before. I took advantage of you last week.”
He laughed, and not in the way that I liked.
“You’re lonely, and you’re stuck trying to take care of me,” I continued as if he hadn’t made a sound. “Maybe we need a bigger place so you can have, ah, privacy to bring girls home, or you need to go back to Rio Verde.”
Unfiltered & Unlawful (The Unfiltered Series) Page 11
