I’m feeling a little guilty about my outburst by the time I get back home. I try to push it aside, but when I walk in to find Adam folding my laundry, it knocks me for six. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I forgive you,” he replies, giving me a pointed look.
I blow out a breath and march over to him, snatching the black thong from his hands before he can add it to the pile of folded clothes. “Stop showing off. I already feel crappy.”
He slides an arm around my waist and tugs me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, which only makes me feel more flustered and confused. “What if I like folding your underwear?”
I scoff. “Yeah, of course you do.”
Reaching for a shirt off the clothes horse, I join him folding the last few things, pushing down those pesky feelings.
“I like your underwear.”
“Yeah I know, you perv.”
“I mean I really like it. Always have. Maybe I try it on sometimes when you’re not home.”
I almost drop the blouse I’m folding, and I have to look around to make sure he’s not fucking with me. “You—really?” I’m trying not to laugh, but I never picked Adam as the sort to try on ladies’ underwear. Then again, I never picked him as the sort to enjoy chastity, but maybe I’ve had him wrong all along.
The slightly darker color to his cheeks and the way he’s watching me intently, as if he’s searching my face for my reaction, tells me this is genuine. “Really?”
Since I went out, he’s dressed in a pair of jeans, neglecting to put on a shirt, which I appreciate since it lets me keep my view of his amazing pecs and chiseled abs. Now the corner of his mouth lifts, and he tugs down the waistband of the jeans. I have to resist the urge to drool over the deep V leading down to… a pretty set of leopard print knickers I definitely recognize.
My mouth drops open. “Oh my god. Those are mine, aren’t they?”
“Maybe.”
“Why you sneaky—” I give him a little push, and he just grins down at me. And then I’m laughing, all the tightness in my chest gone, all the heaviness of our argument forgotten.
“How long has this been going on for?”
“I used to do it while you were at work sometimes.”
Oh my god. I guess there’s lots about him I never knew.
We’re standing close, both watching the other intently. That now-familiar energy sizzles between us, reminding me of everything we’ve shared over the past twenty-four hours. My nipples tighten, straining against the fabric of my sports bra as if they’re aching to be closer to him, and I’m on board that train.
I think I’ve had him wrong all this time.
When I jump into his arms, he catches me up like he knew I was going to do it. My legs are wrapped tight around his waist, and he stumbles back onto the sofa as our mouths meet. I don’t even hesitate when I feel us falling, too wrapped up in the need to test this connection once more. Am I searching for the weak point, for the crack that breaks us apart again, or hoping this feeling I’ve been getting is right and maybe there is a chance for us?
He holds me close as I push my tongue into his mouth, still searching for god knows what. He meets my energy, lips and tongue moving against mine, remembering, reclaiming. We stumble back and land on the sofa with me in his lap, right where I want to be. I don’t stop kissing him. I just use the new position to grind on the growing bulge in his lap.
Adam groans. But when I reach between us, he breaks away from the kiss. “Not yet. I want to hold off a bit longer.”
I should listen. Back off. But the part of me that needs to test this feeling needs to know what will happen if I push him to breaking point. Will he allow me to focus on his pleasure? Will he go back to taking and demanding without thinking about my needs?
Has he really changed, or is this just an elaborate act?
Leaning back, I pull off my top and bra, exposing my breasts for him. Immediately he pulls me close again and dips his head to lavish attention on each breast. He closes his warm mouth around first one aching nipple then the other. Then he pushesthem together so he can swap quickly between licking and kissing both.
The longer this goes on, the more the tightness builds in my core. He’s not making it easy to stay focused on my goal of getting him off. Lifting off his lap, I lie on my back, drawing him between my thighs for more heated kisses, a firmer press of our bodies together.
Increasingly restless, I raise my hips to tug off my tights and he helps, tossing them to the floor along with my wet panties.
His gaze drops to my pussy, and he lets out another low, appreciative groan as he leans in close and inhales. An answering throb threatens to rob me of my self-control, but somehow I manage to thread my fingers through his hair and tug. “Come here.”
He’s still wearing the jeans, but he settles himself against me as he obeys. The seam of his fly rubs in the most delicious way against my naked pussy, and I roll my hips chasing more. He groans into my mouth. “Fuck. You’re not making this easy, Jen.”
