I spread my legs a little farther apart. I open myself to him. I whisper to him again that I’m sure, that I don’t want him to stop.
I gasp as he pushes inside me, his big body so perfectly suited for this—for leveraging his weight into thrusts that start slow but are still forceful, for giving me places to hold on to, for making me feel fully sheltered beneath him.
And myGod, do I feel like I know him. His weight, his heat, his sounds. His lungs a bellows, his heart a drum. His mouth busy and seeking, even though the difference in our heights makes it difficult. His focus when he moves us so he can make it better for us both, me on top again. His eyes watching me move, his hands gathering my hair and tugging when I move over him a certain way, when I clench tight from the inside to tease him.
I know when he gets close, his grip on me tighter, his gaze going unfocused.
I lean in, get my mouth next to his ear. I say
Yes
Yes
giving him the permission I know he needs, and then I feel him stiffen, drawing me close as he does—a hold so tight as he groans his release that in any other circumstance it’d be confining, stifling, intrusive.
But there’s nothing intrusive about Adam Hawkins, not when we’re like this, maybe not ever, really, and as he sags into me, head heavy on my shoulder as his breath slows and his body softens, I can’t stop thinking about how it’s been ten years since I’ve let anyone into my body, ten years since I let anyone know me in this way, and having it now makes me feel like it’s been more than ten years.
More than ten years since anyone’s known me in any way atall.
I wait for it to come, the fear I expect to follow this realization. All these years I’ve locked myself down and the man I give the key to works for a woman who wants a piece of my history I haven’t ever wanted to give out.
All these years and it’s not a one-night stand, someone whose last name I don’t know, someone who I’ll never call again and who’ll never call me.
It’s not scratching an itch, unless the itch is in my heart.
In my most private, protected self.
But there’s no fear yet. No thought of Mom or Lynton Baltimore or Salem and her podcast. There’s no thought even of Tegan at this moment, and that’s a first for ten years, too.
There’s only Adam’s strong arms, holding me together, keeping it all at bay. He presses a kiss to my sweat-slick shoulder and repeats himself, his voice thick and raw with exertion and emotion.
“You okay?”
So I repeat myself, too. My last one of the night, my last one of this trip, maybe.
I sayyesas if saying it will somehow keep us here forever.
The Last Con of Lynton Baltimore
Transcript Excerpt from Episode 8, “Winning Streak”
Baltimore:It’s boring to talk about.
Durant:It’s boring to talk about the things you stole?
Baltimore:Salem, you know me better than that. I never stole a thing. Let’s talk about you, instead.
:: long pause::
Durant:That’s not how this works.
Baltimore:::chuckles:: You’re a tough nut, you know that? Well, you can’t blame me for trying. I’m only human, you know.
Chapter 18
Adam
“All ready to go?”
