She smiled. “But still. Thanks.”
He took a drink of his soda, eyed her. “I think I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I think I can see myself leaving my little cabin to come visit you. Often.”
“That makes me happy.”
“Good.” He nodded, as if it was settled.
And she supposed it was. He’d come a long way in a short time, and she wasn’t going to ask him for more. Didn’t need more, for now. Knowing that he would come visit her, would welcome her visits to him, was pretty huge. Although, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to wait. It was his fault he was so damn good at sex. And cuddling. And napping in the sun. And entertaining her through a meal. His own damn fault.
She smiled to herself and reached to make another taco.
After lunch, she attacked him. Pushed him against the refrigerator and rode him down to the floor. Rode him to completion. They lay on the floor, spent, panting, his jeans dangling from one leg, her underwear sitting on the trashcan lid, his top pushed up to his shoulders, hers pulled down beneath her breasts.
They took another shower, managing to do so without sex, and she pulled him back downstairs into the library she’d spotted. Having seen all the books decorating his cabin, she figured she was safe in assuming he shared her love of reading. She wandered back and forth between the three bookcases, picked four novels, and joined him on the couch, where he’d stretched out.
He looked ridiculously sexy wearing only jeans and an old sweatshirt. Bare feet should not make a man look so good, but she apparently had a weakness. Still, they needed a rest, so she stretched out in front of him and offered the books.
“Pick one.”
She’d chosen a thriller, young adult fantasy, a lawyer mystery and a cozy mystery. She was going to have to discuss Peter’s library with him; she was fascinated by the single man’s variety.
Adam read the descriptions of each one, then held out the cozy mystery. She shouldn’t be surprised they were so in sync. Though she would have been happy with any of the choices, this one seemed best for whiling away a lazy afternoon. Plus, she was fairly certain there wouldn’t be sex in this one, and considering they were managing enough of that on their own, she figured it would be for the best.
She cleared her throat and began to read out loud. She attempted different voices for different characters, which had them both laughing. When she finished the first chapter, she handed the book to him. Snuggling into his chest, she listened as he continued the story. And she fell deeper into love.
How the hell could she resist this man? There was no sense in trying. She would just have to figure out a way to make it work.
Taking her turn on the next chapter, she pretended not to notice when his hand found its way to her breast and settled there. Or when his other hand began to trace a long pattern up and down her thigh. Her voice caught as he eased his hand to the inside of her thigh, closer to her center. And closer. She kept reading, wishing she’d worn her skirt instead of jeans.
He traced the seam and she thought maybe she was reading the same paragraph for the second time. Or maybe not. Who knew? She tried to spread her legs to give him better access, but there was no room. His lips found her earlobe, and she closed her eyes, her mouth open on whatever she’d been trying to say.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured. “I really like the sound of your voice.”
She forced her eyes open and started back at the top of the page, since she had no clue where she’d been. He maneuvered so that she was flat on her back, one leg hanging over the side of the couch, his body pressed against the back, and her. One of his hands was between her nape and the pillow, holding her gently. The other opened her jeans, slid inside her panties.
“Not fair,” she whispered.
“It’s your chapter,” he disagreed. His nose played along her hairline, his breath warm against her cheek. “Read,” he reminded her.
She picked a random spot, wondering how long it had been since she’d actually turned the page. She was never going to get to the end of the chapter at this rate. After a couple sentences that she couldn’t begin to recount, she remembered that she hadn’t actually agreed to follow any rules. She tossed the book to the floor, rolled off the couch and stood, facing him.
He was trying not to laugh.
“Jerk,” she pouted.
He opened his eyes wide in mock innocence. She backed up until her butt hit the desk, then eased her jeans off, kicked them at him. He caught them in one hand and tossed them onto the book as he watched her pull off her sweatshirt.
“Take your pants off,” she suggested as she eased herself up onto the desk. Spread her legs wide in invitation. He watched her as he followed her suggestion. When he was naked, he began to stroke himself, his gaze never leaving her. She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth as he got harder and bigger. He stepped forward, between her legs, one hand going to her hair, doing that little grip that made her weak. His other hand hooked behind her knee, pulling her leg up to rest on his ass.
She tilted her pelvis and he slid inside. His tongue traced along her neck. She brought her other leg up to cross her ankles behind him and braced herself with her hands on the desk. He smiled into her throat—her only warning before he bit the curve of her shoulder.
The shock of it, the bite that mates gave, without the mating, sent a shockwave of sorrow through her. She wanted him to be her mate, mourned that they didn’t have that ultimate connection.
He stilled, buried deep inside. She opened her eyes to meet his concerned gaze. Only then did she realize that a couple of tears had escaped. She shook her head.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
His hand on her nape squeezed as he searched her face for more answers. She pulled him into her with her legs, arched her back so her breasts pushed into his chest. He must have felt the truth of her statement, because he resumed his efforts, sliding into her slowly, then back out, kissing her neck, face, mouth, never staying in one place long.
