Page 12 of Slide

Adam pulled into the garage below his warehouse and climbed out, ignoring his annoying neighbor’s shrill voice calling his name as she walked out of the laundry room. He was not in the mood to have his ass pawed at by that woman, dodging her grabby hands and not so subtle come-ons. Not after the shit-storm of a day he’d had.

After climbing in the elevator, he dragged down the cage, and hit the button for the top floor.

His skin still felt too damn tight and his mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Christ, he could still feel Lucy’s tits hot and soft against his chest, her tight little nipples poking into him, begging to be sucked, kissed, and licked.

He wrenched the elevator door open, strode to his door, and let himself in. He still didn’t know what had come over him, why he’d followed her out of the breakroom and dragged her up to her apartment. All he knew was he’d seen the tears in her eyes, the pain she was trying to hide, and every one of his protective, possessive instincts—a part of himself he’d been fighting around Lucy for the longest damn time—had roared to the surface.

He didn’t have the right to demand her trust. Why the hell would she talk to him when he’d done everything in his power to push her away time and again? Maybe he was seeing things, drama where there was none. Maybe it was as simple as Lucy feeling crappy for letting down her brothers. She put up a good front, but he knew there was a soft woman underneath. That girl who had tried, more than once, to get him to open up to her. That girl was still there.

Lucy and her brothers were close. Having Hugh so obviously pissed at her, knowing he and Joe were disappointed, had upset her. That had to be it.

Time to lock away the caveman and back the fuck off. Now.

It shouldn’t be too hard. He was his father’s son after all. Stop. Do not go there.

He growled as he tore off his shirt. His skin was too damn hot, and he was pissed at himself…and so fucking hard he thought he might explode if he didn’t get off right fucking now. Usually he’d go out, find some company for the night, let off some steam, but the thought of being with anyone else made him damn near sick to his stomach. Which meant he was pretty much fucked, since the only woman he wanted could never be his.

Looked like he had a lot of sleepless nights to look forward to. He didn’t do well at night alone. As soon as darkness rolled in, it was like being strapped into a seat at a movie theater in his own personal hell and being forced to watch and relive all the memories and other shit in his head, shit he did not want to think about. He couldn’t get away from it. So that’s why he went through the motions night after night. The small talk, the come-ons, the meaningless fucking—all so he didn’t have to sleep alone, so he could get some fucking sleep.

He was fucked in the head, messed up beyond repair. He’d come to terms with his screwed-up way of life. Now Lucy had shown back up and shaken the shit out of him.

He kicked off his boots, shoved his jeans down and off, and strode to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he climbed in before it had fully heated up. The cold might do him some good.

But then an image of Lucy slammed through his mind—her looking up at him, eyes wide, cheeks pink, lips so damn red he just knew they’d taste of cherries—and his hand went to his stiff cock.

In his mind, she hadn’t let him leave her apartment, but had moved closer.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you, Adam. Never.”

“You’re all I want,” he rasped, rough voice echoing off the tile walls.

Imaginary Lucy reached out, touching the side of his face. “Will you kiss me?”

He’d never wanted anything more in his life than to feel her mouth under his.

Both her soft hands were on his face, moving down to his neck. Adam gripped his cock harder, stroked faster. He could actually feel her fingers sliding up the back of his neck, into his hair, fisting it lightly. He groaned, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, sweetheart, let me taste you.”

God, this was wrong, thinking about her like this, but he couldn’t stop.

He pictured Lucy pulling him down, those soft cherry lips mere inches from his.

He thrust into his fist, slumping against the wall at his back as his orgasm slammed through him. He groaned through it, working his dick until he had nothing left. And just to prove how fucked in the head he was, the orgasm he had with his dream Lucy, as always, surpassed any he’d had with a real flesh and blood woman straining under him. He never got any further than Lucy asking him to kiss her. That’s all it took.

He never did touch his lips to hers, though, because even in his dreams he knew he wasn’t good enough for her.