WEEK TWO

ADAM WALKER—JOURNAL ENTRY

Definition of bad timing…meeting a gorgeous brunette, complete with adorable Southern accent, who has the habit of spying on me when I skinny-dip. I came here to come to terms with my damaged heart, but after a week she already has me second-guessing everything I thought I knew for certain. Maybe she’s just what the doctor ordered, although I’m pretty sure she would be the last thing that Anna would prescribe. She’s a writer and she’s asked for my help. It feels good to be needed again.

EVIE RIVERS

The words seemed to be flowing, thank goodness, all except for the sexy scenes. I knew where I wanted them to be and how I wanted them to play out. I could picture them in my mind when I closed my eyes, always with Adam as my leading man, and I had his notes to refer to on positions, so logistically I was good—I just couldn’t convey the physical feeling and the emotion behind them. Instead, where I wanted something hot and steamy to happen, I wrote SEX SCENE in big bold capital letters, then highlighted them in magenta for extra emphasis, and planned to go back to them at a later date.

As had become our ritual, Adam went for his morning swim and I stayed behind watching, only not so sneakily anymore. I would rise just before the sun, shower, and dress in a warm wooly sweater, jeans, boots, and a beanie, then sit on the deck with a steaming cup of coffee and wait for Adam and Max to appear on the sand, strip off, and hit the surf.

I was just sitting back down, about to start my second cup, when I saw them coming toward me from the point. Max as usual was running ahead through the shallows, chasing seagulls. Adam was laughing and calling him back, trying to get him to heel but failing miserably. It was such a beautiful sight to behold, Adam’s tall, lean body moving gracefully as he jogged easily along the wet sand, his deep rich laugh carrying all the way along the beach.

“Good morning,” he chortled once he reached my back steps that led down to the sand. “I hope you’ve got one of those waiting for me inside.” He indicated my coffee. “The water will be freezing today.” Then he laughed. “It reminds me of summer in England.”

The water may have been cold, but the weather was glorious with clear skies overhead, and I was enjoying just being outdoors. There wouldn’t be too many more days like this before winter really set in.

“Good mornin’ to you, too, Sugar. The fire’s lit, and the coffee’s on, just waitin’ for you.” I took a sip of my own drink, eyeing Adam’s firm body admiringly as he stripped off the layers until he was down to just his shorts.

“Sure I can’t tempt you to come in with us?” He grinned, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Leaning back in my chair, I made myself comfortable with my feet resting on the railing. “I’m snug as a bug right here, actually.” I raised my cup to Adam, then took another sip, my eyes never leaving his face. It was such a perfect face, all rugged and handsome with a childlike hint of mischief in his startlingly blue eyes.

His smile broadened as he watched my expression. “Well, okay, then.” His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts and he started to lower them, and my eyebrows shot up. “No peeking,” he told me with the most adorable grin, and I reluctantly closed my eyes. I so wanted to look. The temptation was overwhelming, but I squeezed my eyes tighter until I heard Max barking and the splashing of them entering the water.

A feeling of contentment washed over me as I watched Adam dive under the waves, then leap back up again, his hair spraying water around him. I was happy. In this place, at this exact moment in time, I felt the happiest I think I had ever been in my entire life. We hadn’t even kissed yet and maybe we never would, but I wanted to, boy did I want to. Just the thought of his soft lips caressing mine, his hard body pressed against me as his hands tangled in my hair had the butterflies in my stomach taking flight.

As Adam and Max ran back up the beach, I grabbed the robe from the chair beside me and met them at the foot of the stairs. Wrapping the fluffy robe around Adam’s shoulders and rubbing his rock-hard biceps to warm them, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over his taut, muscular body.

“Maybe I should have let you look earlier,” he puffed, trying to catch his breath. “My dick’s not always this tiny, I promise.”

And there it was. A hint that maybe what I was feeling for Adam was reciprocated, and he was thinking about what could come, reassuring me that what he would be giving was worth taking. His eyes scanned my face, trying to read my expression, and try as I may, I couldn’t keep my mouth from tipping into a broad grin.

“That’s okay, Sugar,” I said, diverting my eyes from his intense gaze. “I saw it before y’all went in the water the other day.”

I so wanted to add, “I know what I’m in for,” but that would have been too presumptuous, to assume that I truly knew his intent. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, and he would never be mine, not even for this winter. He was probably just embarrassed that it had shrunk and was trying to blow his own trumpet with no intention of me ever experiencing it.

“Good, I’m glad we cleared that up. I’d hate for you to be put off.” He bit his top lip, his eyes never leaving my face.

I was so confused. Did he like me or was he just having a grand old time making me squirm?

Hooking his hand behind my head, he leaned down, his icy lips cooling my heated skin. “Thank you for the robe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my forehead as he spoke.

My heart thumped against my chest as his closeness consumed me. I couldn’t raise my eyes to meet his. Instead I focused on his mouth and on his beard, the droplets of water descending his jaw. I raised my trembling hand to his shoulder to straighten the lapel of the robe, and watched as a drip of salty water ran down his neck to his chest until the soft fabric soaked it up.

I wanted to lick that neck, bite that jaw. The temptation to roughly scratch my fingernails through his beard was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. This wasn’t me. I was the good girl with the naughty secret past that I gave up when I left college so I could marry straight-laced Charles and live out my dutiful existence serving our community.

Now here I was with a dripping wet, nearly naked man wanting to tackle him to the sand.

“Ah, would you like to…there’s coffee if you…do you want?” Oh my God, what was wrong with me? For someone who called herself an author, I couldn’t string a fluid sentence together.

Adam’s fingertip ran from the nape of my neck around my jaw to my chin, leaving an electric current in its wake. He tilted my head, forcing me to meet his eyes, the blue so deep it was like looking at the depths of the ocean.

“Yes to all of the above.” His voice was barely audible, his breath slightly labored.

I tried to kid myself that his heavy breathing was because of me, but it was more likely that he was still coming down from his swim in the freezing ocean. But what was my excuse? Because I was panting like some animal in heat.

We entered the spacious living room, him leading me in by the hand. It suddenly felt too small as this specimen of masculinity filled the space, taking all the oxygen and converting it into delicious pheromones. I was giddy in a way that was reminiscent of my childhood, when a boy I liked punched me in the arm, and I’d skipped home to tell Mimi that I thought he liked me too.

Adam took his clothes to my bedroom to finish drying off and get dressed. That thought alone sent me into a tailspin as I pictured the robe dropping to the floor and him toweling himself off. I was in the kitchen, happily imagining the towel reaching all those hard-to-get places with a big goofy grin on my face, when Adam came back out in his low-slung jeans and fitted lightweight black sweater. He looked mouthwateringly good.

“Penny for them,” he said, noticing my grin.

I frowned. “A penny for what?”

“A penny for your thoughts.” He chuckled. “You look like you’re miles away.”

No, just in the next room.

“Oh, umm…I was just thinkin’ through my story line.” It was a wonderful excuse. Every time I allowed myself to think of Charles and scowl, it was because of a problem I had with my story. If my mind wandered, as it often did, to Adam and how amazing his body would feel above mine, pressing my back into the mattress, I was just thinking through a scene for my book.

“So where are you up to?” he asked, coming over with his eye fixed firmly on the coffeepot. He reached around me for a mug as my lower back hit the counter. He seemed to be taking an incredibly long time to get that mug—not that I was complaining. As his chest brushed against mine, my nipples instantly leapt to attention, having not been anywhere near a man in months.

He paused, still standing lightly pressed against me, one brow cocked questioningly.

“Wha-what?”

He smirked, eyeing our closeness and the fact that his chest was still pushed against one of my breasts, making it bulge at the top of my V-neck sweater.

“Seems your cup is overflowing, Buttercup.”

I glanced down, realizing a wardrobe malfunction was imminent.

Chuckling at the flush in my cheeks, he took his sweet time fetching the coffee. “Very nice,” he mumbled, running his free hand up my side until it came to rest only a whisker away from the swell of my breast, then licked his lips.

I nearly dropped on the spot. Not to my knees—well, okay, the thought had crossed my mind more than once in the last week, but no—rather I nearly fainted from all those darn pheromones surrounding me.

“So can I read what you have so far?” He stepped away and I slumped, needing to brace myself against the counter, not having realized I’d been standing tensed and not breathing. “Promise I won’t grade your work.”

It was risky. Apart from the lack of sexy time between the characters, it was just a draft, and he was an English teacher. I knew he’d be reading it with his metaphorical red pen, correcting my work as he went. But it also might be a great opportunity to get a different perspective on the story. Although it was primarily aimed at women, would it hurt to get a male’s point of view?

I shrugged. “I guess you can read it, sure.” I plonked myself down in the chair by the computer, needing to steady my legs after our chest-to-chest contact. Hesitating, I looked around, trying to figure out the logistics. “You’ll have to read it from the screen, seein’ as I don’t have a printer.”

I went to stand but he raised his hand to stop me, indicating that I should stay seated.

“I’ll just lean over your shoulder, if that’s okay with you?”

Before I had a chance to tell him absolutely it was okay with me, he had placed his coffee on the table beside the laptop and was leaning his forearms on the back of my chair, his hot, coffee-scented breath fanning my neck and cheek.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep calming breath and counted to four, then exhaled slowly. Nervously, I scrolled to the top of the first page; then, not knowing what to do with myself, I leaned awkwardly to the right to get out of the way.

“Relax.” His hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed, guiding me back to the center of the chair. I waited for him to remove his hand, but he didn’t. Instead it stayed lightly in place, his long fingers brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear.

How could anyone relax under these circumstances? I was a big ball of goo and heaving bosoms under his touch.

As he read softly to himself, I followed the story, scrolling the pages at the appropriate times. At the point where the main character met her suitor, he squeezed my shoulder and brushed his whiskered jaw against my hair. “Hmm, I like that bit,” he commented, pointing to the paragraph he’d just read.

I relaxed, resting my head back against his broad chest. So far, so good. Then it came into view, the first of many SEX SCENE magenta sections.

“What’s this?” he queried, indicating to the placeholder that was like a neon sign.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I saw his furrowed brow, and sighed. “I ain’t feelin’ some of the scenes, so I’ve tagged ’em for later.” Truth was, I was feeling the chemistry between the characters—I just didn’t know how to express what I was feeling in words that would do any justice to the scenes I wanted to write.

He grunted, but didn’t offer any advice. Instead he kept reading until the end of what I had written to date.

“This is really good,” he finally commented, still leaning on the back of my chair. “I particularly liked…” He reached forward and took control of the mouse to find the favored paragraphs, and in the process, completely encompassed me in his arms.

I felt faint. He was way too much man for me to handle. He smelled too good, all earthy and salty from his swim, and his body was just too hard and, well, perfect. But by God, I was willing to give it a try.

He found the part he enjoyed the most and read it again. “This part is especially good.”

Finally he stood, and the space around me felt cold and empty.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I know my old stories were hilarious.” I threw my hands in the air, mimicking his reaction when he first read them.

He chuckled. “I’m not surprised at all. I think you have quite a gift for crafting a story.” He pulled out the chair beside me and pivoted it around on one leg so he could straddle it backward. “I am a little disappointed, though, that the main male character is a fireman. I was hoping for a schoolteacher.”

If that was his only complaint, then I was beyond happy.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the books I’ve been readin’, it’s that the male lead has to be somethin’ that women fantasize about. Someone strong and heroic, who at first may seem unattainable or broody and broken. Women love a man in uniform, too. It’s a universal weakness we have,” I said matter-of-factly. “If I wrote ’bout the guy who stacks shelves at Walmart havin’ a blisterin’ affair with an accountant, no one would be interested.”

“So schoolteachers aren’t sexy enough?” he challenged.

My eyes swept over Adam. Oh, some schoolteachers were too sexy for words.

“The teachers at my school weren’t sexy, but it seems teacher/student stories are popular. Readers eat ’em up.”

He screwed up his face. “I’m sorry, but that would be totally unethical and just damn wrong.”

I laughed. “I mean college-aged students fallin’ for the hot English teacher.” This was out of my mouth before I had time to remember that Adam taught English.

He smiled playfully. “So English teachers are hot?”

“Only if they teach students over the age of eighteen.”

“Maybe I need to change schools,” he pondered.

He was hot regardless of the age of his students. In any profession, at any time of day, Adam was sexy and smart and funny, and did I mention sexy? I’d seen enough of his body to know that it was flawless. His chest was defined, and his shoulders broad and muscular. He had muscles in his arms that popped and bulged with the slightest movement and his abdominals were crazy. Were schoolteachers sexy? Hell yeah, this one certainly was.

My eyes had been sweeping over Adam’s body and eventually made their way back to his face, where a knowing grin graced his perfectly bowed lips.

“Maybe my next book can have a schoolteacher?”

“And an author,” he added. His strong bearded jaw clenched, and his vivid blue eyes grew dark. “Would that be sexy enough for you? A teacher and a writer getting all hot and sweaty together?” He sucked his bottom lip in while his eyes darkened.

Heat rose in my cheeks as his intense gaze swept over my body.

His chin rested on his forearms that were crossed on the back of the chair. “I think it would be extremely hot.”

My lady bits clenched at the thought and I let out an involuntary whimper. I was in way over my head with this conversation and needed to back out, pronto.

“So, are there any suggestions you can make that would improve the manuscript thus far?” That was better. Back to business and on even footing.

“Yes, you can stop saying ‘thus far,’” he teased. “It’s good for a draft, but I’d like some sex now.”

Oh, me too…

“So I think we need to work on you getting into character and feeling what you need to feel as the female reporter in your story when she initially sees the fireman.”

Okay, this was good—a bit of role-playing to picture myself in the scene as the reporter and, of course, Adam as the fireman to draw on my emotions. I could write it easily enough if I was to revert back to my old ways. Her moist clam would feel heated with desire at the sight of his fire hose. His chiseled cheekbones coated in black soot from the raging fire he had just extinguished. But how did I put that into the twenty-first century? I reached for my lists, one for acceptable words for penis, the other of substitute words for vagina. Maybe I could come up with something that wasn’t going to have Adam rolling on the floor in fits of laughter.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, sitting up straighter in his seat so he could see the lists over my shoulder.

I was still scanning my options, tapping my chin, deep in thought. “I’m thinkin’ ya like pussy, right? And I’m quite partial to rigid length. Maybe they could go together?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t hear me? I raised my eyes to see if he was pondering what I’d just suggested.

Deep blue eyes were fixed on me as his mouth parted and the tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip.

“Whatcha think?” I asked again, excited that maybe these sex scenes weren’t going to be the challenge I had first thought. “I mean, if she’s turned on by a first glance of her man in uniform, then I could write somethin’ ’bout her pussy becomin’ wet and a warmth radiatin’ through her body at the thought of his rigid length penetratin’ her.” I stopped, not quite happy with how that sounded. “Oh, I know, not rigid length, maybe his hard-on inside her?”

Adam’s head tilted to one side, but his examination of my face continued. “Tell me, how does a girl so innocent and pure have a head full of smut and not even realize it?”

My face flushed as I looked anywhere but at Adam. “Makin’ up stories was somethin’ I always did when I was growin’ up. After my parents were killed and I went to live with Mimi, makin’ up stories was what got me through some of the tough times when I felt so alone.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Adam’s eyes were full of sorrow and I appreciated it, but I didn’t want his pity.

Shrugging it off, I continued. “It was a long time ago. I was only seven when it happened.” I fidgeted nervously. I hated talking about my childhood. “So anyways, makin’ up stories became writin’ stories; then in college my best friends and I started writin’ erotica. At first it was just for a laugh, but people actually wanted to read it, so I kept goin’.”

“You must have had a pretty…active social life in college?” he said with a mischievous wink.

I rolled my eyes. “I just tried to write what people wanted to read. It doesn’t mean I wrote from experience. Charles and I never…we didn’t…until we were married.” My hands fidgeted again in my lap and I dropped my gaze to watch them.

“You mean you were a virgin when you married the monk?”

I nodded, but didn’t raise my eyes. “I know, pretty lame, huh? I bet you were at all the frat parties, sowin’ your English wild oats like nobody’s business.”

A low deep rumbling from his chest erupted into laughter. “I had some fun at college, can’t deny that. There were some oats sown.”

“What about now? Do you still have lots of fun?” It was definitely none of my business, but I wanted to know if he was a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy, especially since he’d had his heart broken by that bitch Annabel.

His warm hand wrapped under my jaw, lifting my face so I was looking into his eyes. “I get my fair share of offers, but I’m very, very fussy about whom my throbbing sword parties with.”

Now I was laughing at his throbbing sword reference. “Well, bein’ here with me must be a huge shock to your system, then.”

“It is, but in a good way. You are a rare find indeed, my dear Evie.”

  

Christmas was in two days’ time, and I was planning on letting it slip right by without so much as a blip on my radar.

After my chat with Adam about the elusive sex scenes in my novel, I had decided to give it a try and immerse myself in the characters, trying to feel what they were feeling and then articulate it well enough to touch people in the heart or gut or slightly lower, depending on the mood I was trying to evoke.

Sitting at the dining table, tapping away at the laptop had become extremely comfortable to me, and I was flying through another chapter when my phone buzzed. I’d had limited contact with the outside world, other than Adam and a few locals since I’d arrived, the idea of living like a hermit becoming more and more appealing as the days went by.

“Hiya, Ang, how ya doin’?” I asked as I answered the call.

“I’m great, hon. More importantly, how are you doin’?” There was an edge in her voice and I knew why. She had stuck her neck out for me and if I failed to deliver something on time and worth pitching, it would look bad for both of us.

“Things are goin’ well, don’t worry. I even have a rather delicious helper.” My eyes wandered to Adam as they quite often did, his tall, lean figure outside on my deck dressed in his old paint-splattered, torn jeans and ragged T-shirt, painting to his heart’s content.

“No, really?” she gasped. “Tell me everythin’. I need to know who’s helpin’ you with those smutty scenes and if you’re writin’ from experience now.” She burst out laughing, her husky tone making me laugh right along with her as it always did.

Adam must have sensed my eyes burning into the back of his head. He turned and a beaming smile lit up his gorgeous face when he saw me staring at him. He gave me a wave and I waved back, pointing to the phone at my ear before reluctantly tearing my gaze from his smile and turning my back to him so as not to be distracted.

“No, there’s no action goin’ on here, Ang. A little flirtin’ maybe, but nothin’s happened. Maybe I need to write a book where the heroine is desperate and dateless, droolin’ over a hot guy who isn’t interested in her. I could write that one from current experience.”

“Ahem…”

I squeezed my eyes closed, not wanting to see the man who had obviously slipped through the door quietly and was now standing behind me.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, and he chuckled lightly as he went to the fridge and pulled out a jug of sweet tea.

I needed to see his face so I could gauge from his expression how much he had actually heard. From the swagger in his step as he moved around the kitchen as if he owned the place, he’d heard enough to know I was getting hot and flustered every time he was near me. He leaned back against the counter, ankles crossed casually as he sipped his tea, watching me with that damn sexy crooked smile.

“Ya still there?” Angie asked. Reminding me I was in the middle of a call.

“Yes, sorry. Adam just came in and distracted me for a second.” I removed my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose, a splitting headache taking hold.

Strong hands were on my shoulders before I knew Adam had moved from the kitchen. He teased the knots from my neck, then ran his fingers to my temples, massaging in a circular motion that made the pain ease.

I closed my eyes and moaned softly as the tension melted away.

“Are you moanin’? Was that a moan I just heard?” Angie asked. “What’s goin’ on over there?” Delight raised the pitch of her voice at the thought that anything at all was going on.

Smiling, I answered, “Adam’s just massagin’ my temples.”

His hands moved back down my neck.

“Hmm, now he’s rubbin’ my shoulders,” I said dreamily.

He was chuckling behind me but I didn’t care. It felt heavenly just to be touched by a strong, vibrant man, regardless of how many layers of clothing I had on.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to check in with you and wish you a merry Christmas, in case I don’t get time on the day. I’ll let ya get back to whatever it is you’re doin’. Remember there’s a deadline, so do try to get a little bit of writin’ done in between the moanin’ while you’re there.”

She was gone before I had a chance to correct the image her dirty mind had conjured up.

I could have sat in the chair with Adam rubbing my shoulders for all eternity. His hands were so strong, the pressure just right, and he seemed to know where every knot was hiding and cast it out within seconds.

I sighed. “That feels wonderful. Keep doin’ that. Ah, right there. Don’t stop.”

Hot breath tickled my ear as he bent down and whispered, “You need to write down what you just said and use it for one of your sex scenes.”

My eyes bugged open. “Whatcha mean?” I hadn’t realized I’d said anything remotely sexy.

“Evie, you’re a beautiful, sensual woman. You just haven’t realized it yet.” He paused before adding quietly, “But you will.”

  

“I’m cooking you dinner tonight. What do you fancy?”

Raising my eyes from my manuscript, I watched Adam move around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. The way he made himself at home here, rather than spending his time two doors down, made me feel as if we had set up house without realizing it. He looked in the fridge, then gave up and closed the door again.

“Woman, you have no food in this house again. If I wasn’t here to look after you, you would wither away and die sitting in front of that laptop.”

I removed my glasses and stretched out the kinks in my neck. He was right. I’d never known anything else that could keep my butt glued to a chair for hours on end like writing did. I forgot to eat, I forgot to sleep, and there were days when I realized I hadn’t peed. If not for Adam’s presence, I probably wouldn’t have showered and changed out of my sweatpants and buttercup-yellow sweater, but knowing he would be coming over had my personal grooming high on the list of priorities.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” I said, smiling. “We can get pizza from Nick and Toni’s.”

He shook his head, and came toward me, his hands once again resting on my shoulders to rub out the tension. “I want to cook for you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to cook for, and I find it relaxing.”

My head flopped forward as his hands worked their magic.

“Besides, I feel like in some small way I’m contributing to what I know will be a bestseller.”

“Well, you’ll certainly get a big mention in the acknowledgements.” I groaned as he worked on a particularly stubborn knot.

His hands stopped. “Will I? Huh, how about that?”

I could tell by his tone that he was delighted, and it made me happy to think that I’d done something to make him smile.

“Of course you will.” I turned in my seat to face him, holding his hands in mine. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your patience and tutelage.”

His eyes glazed over as he realized I was being sincere. “I’m going to have my name in a book.” He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the top of the head. “That calls for celebration. Now I’m definitely cooking dinner.”

Half an hour passed before Adam returned with a bag of groceries and a cheery whistle. Max had been sleeping by the fire but jumped up and gave a halfhearted growl when he heard the key in the door.

“Come here, boy,” I said, calling him over with a pat on my thigh. “It’s just your dad coming home.”

Boy that sounded strange, and comforting. Strangely comforting…and extremely scary.

“What are you growling at, Max?” Adam said with a smile. “Are you protecting the lady of the house?” He scruffed Max’s head. “I thought you were supposed to be my dog.”

Max’s tail wagged so hard his entire body joined in before he trotted back over to the fireplace to resume his position on the rug.

Watching Adam unpack groceries as he hummed to himself gave me a sense of peace I’d never felt before. It was normal; it was so normal that I could be forgiven for feeling as if this was meant to be. We had both come to this place for different reasons, from different walks of life, and somehow found each other. And without complicated discussion, we’d eased into each other’s lives, but there was still one part of the equation missing. We were still just friends. Sure there had been some flirting and even some touching, not to mention a lot of ogling on my part. My eyes ran down the length of Adam’s back to his firm ass. Yes, there had definitely been ogling.

“You’re watching me, Buttercup. I can feel your eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.”

I smirked. “Oh, I ain’t lookin’ at the back of your head, Sugar.”

He swung around with a broad grin plastered on his face. I shrugged and gave him a naughty wink before returning to my manuscript. I needed to push this “thing” that was happening between us a little further to gauge if Adam had any feelings for me other than friendship. First, the glasses needed to go; then I pulled my hair from the messy bun that seemed to be my standard go-to hairdo, and raked my fingers through it until the natural curls sprang back to life.

Standing, I walked as casually as possible over to the kitchen. “Can I give you a hand?” Leaning up against the counter, I tried to subtly pull my shoulders back, accentuating my C-cup breasts.

Adam’s gaze lifted from the chopping board, loaded with vegetables. “Is your neck sore again?” he asked, frowning. “Your shoulders look tense.”

I slumped. Obviously my feeble attempt to look sexy just made me look like I was in pain.

“I can give you a proper massage after dinner if you like. I’m sure I saw some scented oil in the bathroom cupboard.”

Now that sounded more promising. I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck to feign sore muscles and furrowed my brow. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Preparation needed to be made, so I excused myself for a moment and dashed into the bedroom. Slinging underwear from my drawer, over my shoulders like a madwoman, I found my best matching black lace bra and thong and slipped them on in place of the granny panties I’d been wearing for comfort. This was not a time for comfort—this was a time for string rubbing between my butt cheeks. Quickly running my hands over my legs, I was pleased I’d spent a little longer in the shower that morning, shaving them so they were silky smooth. Redressing in the same clothes I’d been wearing, I checked myself in the mirror, fluffed my hair, and pouted my lips, then strolled back out to the kitchen to help Adam with the rest of dinner.

He was a marvel in the kitchen and in no time had whipped up chicken breast, stuffed with sundried tomato and Brie, with greens on the side. Meanwhile, I felt pretty useless in the kitchen, having lived mainly on a diet of packaged salads and frozen meals since leaving Charles. So I opted for setting the table and deciding between the two bottles of wine Adam had bought, one a light red and the other a dry white.

Conversation flowed easily as it always did between us, as I tried to subtly get the string from my thong to sit comfortably. When dinner was over and most of the bottle of wine had been drunk, Adam offered once again to rub my stiff and sore shoulders.

“Where’d you like to do it?” I asked in my best suggestive purr.

Adam grinned wickedly as he looked around the room. “I was thinking maybe the bedroom…”

My heart leapt out of my chest—Yes!

“Or perhaps we could get cozy on the floor by the fire, if Max will get out of the way.”

I could work with that. While Adam disappeared into the bedroom to grab some blankets, I called Max off the rug, then dragged it over to the corner. He seemed to understand that this was now his place, as he curled up on his rug and settled back in.

Should I undress? No, that might be a bit embarrassing, to be sitting here waiting in my underwear. But then if I wait fully clothed, I’ll have to undress in front of Adam once he comes out. I decided on a compromise and kicked off my shoes and removed my sweater, leaving a thin long-sleeved tee and jeans.

“Great, I see you’ve managed to move Max,” he observed before spreading out the blankets and tossing a few cushions from the sofa onto the floor. He reached into his back pocket. “I found this.” He held up a bottle of Massage & Play 2-in-1 oil that apparently doubled as a lubricant, making my heart do a little dance in my chest. “We can use it for the massage.” His eyes flared. “The play can come when you’re ready.”

We stood there watching each other, neither one moving.

“So, should I…” I imitated lifting my top over my head.

Adam smiled. “It will be hard to massage the oil in through your clothes.”

I felt like such an idiot as I waited for him to divert his eyes, but he didn’t. They stayed fixed firmly on me, or rather, firmly on my chest, waiting for my top to unveil what lay beneath.

Suddenly, a wave of uncertainty washed over me. What if he was disappointed in what he saw? Maybe I should have left the other underwear on instead of going all out with the black lingerie. It was too obvious, trying too hard.

“Do you need some help?” His rich voice was soothing as his head tilted to the side. “You can leave it on if you’d feel more comfortable. We don’t have to use the lube.”

I gave myself a mental slap. I was a twenty-nine-year-old woman, for goodness’ sake, and was acting like a teenager. Still, as my hands took hold of the top and began lifting it over my head, I instinctively turned my back to Adam.

“I guess the jeans are staying on, then?”

I heard him move behind me.

“Here, this may make you feel more comfortable.” The iPod was turned on softly; then the lights were flicked off, leaving only the light from the fireplace to illuminate the room.

As fast as I could, I unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, tossing them to the side. It was a quick movement and I was only standing in my lingerie for less than a minute before I dropped to the floor and lay on my stomach under a blanket. But it was long enough to hear Adam, still behind me, suck in a sharp breath before exhaling slowly. My stomach fluttered at the thought that he had been watching and had liked what he’d seen.

Flicking my hair out of the way, I turned my head to face him. He was adjusting himself, his usually loose, low-slung jeans looking uncomfortably tight around the groin.

He caught my eye, and a cheeky grin crossed his lips. “What can I say? I’m only human.” He dropped to his knees beside me, still with the most adorable smile plastered on his face.

“I know, I’m hard to resist,” I said, laughing. I think the wine was taking effect because my usual filter between my brain and mouth had deserted me.

“Yes, you are.”

“Hmm, that’s why you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

Man, I needed to shut up. I was way too relaxed and I needed to zip it, lock it, and throw away the key.

There was silence for a few minutes as Adam warmed up the oil in his palms. Finally, his strong hands began gliding over my shoulders.

I was just closing my eyes, ready to enjoy the massage, when he asked, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

My eyes sprang open but I didn’t answer.

“I mean, would it be all right if I did? I don’t want to rush you. You’ve only just ended your marriage.”

Would it be all right? What a silly question. Heck yeah.

Instead of answering, I reached around and unhooked my bra, then pushed the blanket farther down my back to just above my thong.

“Knock yourself out,” I murmured into the cushion.

He chuckled softly as his hands slid to my lower back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The fire was getting hot, heating my skin uncomfortably down one side. “I need to move a bit,” I told Adam, lifting my upper torso from the floor and looking around at him.

He moved away so I could maneuver myself and find a cooler position.

Sitting up, I flung the blanket from my legs and went to stand, before realizing my bra was undone.

“Um…”

I looked at Adam, whose eyes were firmly glued to my chest and the bra that was hanging loosely over my shoulders but not actually supporting anything.

“Did you want to fix that?” he asked, indicating to the bra. “Not that I’m complaining. You could lose it altogether if you wanted.”

I looked down and in a bold, wine-induced move, wrapped one arm across my bust and slipped the bra straps from my shoulders. That was better, and Adam seemed to agree as his brows rose, his eyes still glued to my now discreetly covered boobs.

We moved away from the fire and I lay back down, quietly cheering myself on for now only being dressed in a thong. I waited for the warm, slippery hands to recommence their magic, kneading my flesh. Seeing movement from the corner of my half-closed eyes, I looked around to see Adam removing his sweater. The dim glow and shadows from the flames highlighted the peaks and valleys of his torso as my gaze took in every ripple down his abdomen. As my eyes reached his jeans and now undone button, Adam grabbed hold of the bulge in his pants, adjusting himself once again.

Leaning down, he lightly kissed my temple, his hot breath sending a wave of goose bumps along my skin.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, as he straddled my backside, lightly sitting on me.

Nodding, I grinned into the cushion so he couldn’t see.

His hands worked over my heated skin, rolling, rubbing, and manipulating until I was like Jell-O. Every so often, his hands would glide up my sides, just skimming the curves of my breasts, or down just a fraction lower than usual to grip my hip bones. It was torturous, but it was the most turned on I’d been in years, never knowing when that sly touch would happen or how far he would take it the next time. Finally, after about an hour, he climbed off and lay beside me. I rolled onto my side to face him, looking straight into his eyes, my arm once again shielding my chest.

“Thank you. That was wonderful.” I sighed. “I feel so relaxed now.”

“I’m glad you’re relaxed.” The corner of his lip curled up into a half-smile. “I feel like I need to go for a swim to cool off.” Leaning forward, his hand cupped my jaw as his lips pressed to my cheek. “I’d better head off home.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “You look much too tempting lying there covered in oil and nothing else.”

The rise and fall of his chest had quickened, as had mine. Reaching out, I placed my hand on his cheek; then, unable to resist, I lightly ran my nails through the short whiskers of his beard. His forehead came to rest against mine as he huffed out a breath.

“Jesus, Evie. You need to put some clothes on.” Hot lips pressed softly to my forehead and I closed my eyes, leaning into the kiss. His warm hand glided down the side of my body to my hip, where he squeezed, wrapping the thin lace band of my thong around his fingers. “Fuck, I need to go.”

He jumped up, running his hands through his hair while looking for his sweater. He snatched it up from the floor and tugged it on over his head.

Did I do somethin’ wrong?

Wrapping the blanket around me, I stood, too, not wanting to be lying on the floor any longer. I was so confused. I’d thought things were moving forward. Had I really been out of touch for so long that I couldn’t read the signs?

Adam was at the back door. He called Max from his slumber, then held the door open, waiting for him. Shuffling over, the blanket still wrapped around my chest, my arms and shoulders bare, I stared questioningly at him. The look in his eyes took my breath away. They were so dark and wild, I knew our evening hadn’t come to a sudden halt because of something I’d done—it was because he needed to stop things while he still could. But why did he feel he needed to?

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” I said, sidling in between Adam and the doorframe. “And thank you for the massage. You have wonderful hands.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You have wonderful…everything. You’re going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?” His voice was husky as he spoke, his accent intensifying every thought, every feeling tenfold.

“I hope so,” I stated. I wanted him to want me, and I wanted him to be trouble for me. The kind of trouble where you can’t get out of bed all day because the only thing you want to do is lying there, beckoning you back in.

“You make it very hard for me to be a gentleman around you, when all I can think about are the ungentlemanly things I want to do to you.”

His hand went to my hair and I leaned back against the doorframe, needing to steady myself. With one final look, Adam brought his lips down to mine. It was the kiss to end all kisses, and the only true kiss I’d ever had. This is what I had longed for my entire life. To feel so totally swept away that everything else faded into oblivion. If I could remember this, the feeling, both physical and emotional, and do it justice in my book, then I would have something to look back on in years to come. The taste of his soft lips as they melted with mine, the feel of his hard body and the heat radiating from him made my head spin. His tongue slowly coaxing my mouth open had me leaning into him, my hand going to his cheek. As I wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, he trembled, sighing into my willing mouth. It was epic.

As soon as he left, I raced to the laptop, still wrapped in the blanket. My lips were tingling and I was sure I had a goofy grin on my face, but I needed to let everything I was feeling pour out.

  

A persistent knocking on the glass doors woke me at sunrise. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I looked around the room, disoriented for a moment before remembering where I was, the rain pelting against the window. I hadn’t set my alarm, my natural body clock usually waking me every morning in time for Adam’s swim, but I’d been up late the night before, writing about our kiss, trying to get it just right.

Shrugging on a robe, I went to the door. I knew the only person it would be was Adam, so I raked my fingers through my mass of wavy hair and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Adam held up a soaking wet grocery bag and smiled warmly as the raindrops ran from his flattened, drenched hair into his eyes. Apparently his penchant for cooking included breakfast, so I quickly let him inside.

He lit the fire and put on coffee while I scurried to the bathroom to fetch him a towel, then left him to cook breakfast while I took a quick shower and dressed. By the time I returned to the living room, the smell of bacon was wafting from the kitchen, making my tummy rumble and my mouth water.

There was a buzz in the air after the previous night, both of us taking sideways glances at the other and giggling nervously when we were caught. Sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar, my chin resting dreamily on my hand, I watched Adam serve up bacon, eggs, and waffles. Reaching for the plate closest to me, I went to slide it over, but he moved it away.

“You need to kiss the cook first,” he teased. “That’s the rule of the kitchen.”

Leaning over the counter, I tried to give him a peck on the cheek but he pulled away, disappointed. “Are you kidding me? After last night’s kiss, that’s the best you can do?”

“I can’t perform on an empty stomach, Sugar,” I retorted.

He laughed. “It’s the chicken or the egg, isn’t it? Is it food required before a kiss, or a kiss to get the food?” His eyebrows danced as he waited for my response.

“The more food ya gimme, the more kisses you’ll get.” I grinned cheekily.

“How can I refuse a beautiful girl who’s also logical?” He slid the plate in front of me. “You win. Eat first and then you’ll owe me.”

We both sat at the breakfast bar while we ate, intermittently watching each other, stoking the fire in my belly with every glance. It made me feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush, only this crush was on the hot jock, the coolest guy in school, and he seemed to be crushing on me just as much.

I soaked up the last of my egg yolk with the bacon and sat back, my stomach full.

“Finally,” Adam said, spinning my stool around to face him. His lips were on mine as his hand slipped into my hair, pulling my head lightly to his. I leaned into it, wanting to feel the connection with not only our mouths, but also our entire bodies.

Adam’s free arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into him until I was standing between his open legs, our kiss heating up until a soft moan escaped me and was captured in Adam’s parted lips.

“That’s more like it.” He sighed as we came up for air.

Yes, that was more like it. That was the sort of kiss I would never grow tired of. The kind that I wanted to write about and sing songs about.

I giggled; I couldn’t help it. Being with Adam made me feel lighter, light of spirit, and light of heart with not a care in the world.

“I wrote my first kissin’ scene last night,” I told him hesitantly. “I used our kiss as inspiration. Hope that’s okay.”

The broad grin on Adam’s face told me it was. “Can I read it?”

Adam sat by the computer while I pulled up the chair beside him.

“It’s at around page thirty-six.”

He hit the Page Down key until he found the beginning of the scene, then cleared his throat while I sat there nervously chewing my lip. Then, to my surprise, he began reading it aloud:

“I move until I can go no farther and my back is pressed against the doorframe, not because I want to get away from him, but because I’m trembling and know I need to brace myself for what’s about to happen. He steps closer, bridging whatever small gap there is between us, leaning in painfully slowly until I can’t help but raise my head, trying to meet him halfway. Warm breath fans my cheek and it reminds me that I need to breathe as I feel as though every part of my body is on pause, waiting for his next move. The sight of him this close, as well as his intoxicating scent, is too much, and I close my eyes briefly to steady my racing heart.

“He is perfection—every part of him brilliantly crafted from my fantasies and brought to life just for me. His hand lightly touches my hip and I gasp as his fingers travel up my side, tracing the curve of my waist. I lean my head back against the doorjamb and again close my eyes so my entire focus is on the sensation of his tender touch. My breathing is ragged and I feel as if I’ve just run a race, although I’m standing perfectly still.

“All this and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.”

Adam’s eyes flicked up at me and locked with mine for a moment, before returning to the story.

“As one hand hooks behind my head, holding me at just the right position, I look deep into his eyes. The brilliant blue is no longer present—instead they are black pools of desire. I’m transfixed by those eyes as they drop to my parted lips momentarily, before his intense gaze rises again to my own. As he leans in, I hold my breath. Soft, full lips press lightly to mine and as they pull away, I follow them, not wanting to break the connection. He exhales and again our eyes meet, but only long enough for us to show what we both want.

“His mouth once again comes down on mine, but this time it’s firmer, more forceful, and I relish the taste of him as his tongue parts my lips and delves into my mouth. The whiskers of his beard are prickly and tickle the sensitive skin on my chin and around my mouth as our heads move to find the best angle. His body is hard against mine, every muscle tense as his torso moves slightly downward, then slides back up as he pushes against me. The hand at the back of my head is now fisting my hair and the other is wrapped around my waist, pulling me as close to him as we can possibly be. I slide my hands up his broad chest and over his shoulders, lacing my fingers at the back of his neck.

“Our lips part briefly for air and a moan escapes my throat, my breathing completely out of control, my heart hammering against my ribs. As I run my hands back down over his shoulders to his torso, I can feel the erratic percussion in his chest.

“The kiss continues but I lose track of time, as nothing else in the world exists but these lips and this man as I stand sandwiched between two rock-hard objects, one cold against my back, the other warm but just as hard against my chest. As his tongue continues the dance with mine, his hips press forward so his arousal pushes into me and I grind my own hips forward, wanting to shed the layers of clothing between us to feel skin on skin.

“He draws back and my mouth tingles from the pressure of his. With a parting sigh to signal the kiss is over, he descends the steps at a jog, turning one final time to look into my eyes, before disappearing into the night.

“It was fireworks, the elusive fireworks that I had dreamed of my entire life, and all from one kiss. But not just any kiss—it was the kiss that could make you forget every other that had come before it.”

Adam was silent for a full minute as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, his gaze holding mine captive. Finally he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Wow,” he puffed. “All that from one kiss.”

Smiling, I tried to divert my gaze but couldn’t. His hold was too strong. “Artistic license plays a big part, of course,” I said casually, feeling anything but casual.

“It was fireworks, wasn’t it?” His eyes glazed over, and I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt that something major had transpired the night before when we’d kissed.

Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“So you could feel how hard I was?” he asked with a crooked grin on his perfect lips.

My face flushed as I nodded.

“Good, so now you know what you do to me. The ball is in your court.”

  

Removing my glasses, I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned. I’d been burning the midnight oil trying to keep ahead of my deadline, and it was now close to 3:00 a.m. It was quiet, too quiet. The iPod had run out of juice hours ago but I had been too engrossed in what I was doing to get up and charge it. The fire had also gone out, and there was a chill in the air.

The solitude consumed me as I sat alone in the silence, a melancholy sweeping over me. My eyes began to blur with silent tears. I knew they were partly because I was dead tired, but there was something else gnawing at me.

Looking at the bottom corner of my laptop screen, I checked the date—it was Christmas morning. This would be the first Christmas I would be without any sort of family. I had only known my parents for a short time before they’d passed away, but I had lived with Mimi for ten years and she’d always made Christmas as special as she possibly could. After college, I had moved back to Charles’s hometown and his family had embraced me instantly. Every year the entire extended family would come together. We would attend church and sort through all the donations of toys that had been made, distributing them to the less fortunate. It was one of the things that really made me feel like I was contributing to our town, and seeing the children’s faces always brought a tear to my eye. But that was in the past. There would be no more Charles or his mother, who loved to fuss around in the kitchen all day. I would never see his uncle, who always ate far too much and then fell asleep on the sofa with his pants undone. There would be no pumpkin pie this year, or any type of pie for that matter.

“Well, you left him,” I muttered to myself. “This is your doin’ and nobody else’s.”

I wiped my teary eyes and decided to call it a night. Dumping my clothes in a heap on the floor, I climbed into bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  

Loud banging on the bedroom window startled me awake, and I jumped out of my skin, squealing when I saw a ham dancing along the windowsill. I closed my eyes and rubbed them, certain I had imagined the dancing ham. Daring to look through partially opened eyes, I checked again. Nope, still there. Adam’s grinning face sprung up from below the window and he blew me a kiss, then signaled to the back door.

What was he doing here so early? I checked the time. Oh, it was 10:30 a.m. My late night had meant a late start to the day.

Sliding the door open, I stepped to one side and marveled at the armful of bags of food Adam was carrying.

“Sorry to frighten you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, the shopping balanced precariously in his arms. “I was out here knocking for at least fifteen minutes. I finally had to wake you up.”

He placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter before swooping back over and literally sweeping me off my feet and into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Buttercup.”

Flinging my arms around him, I buried my face in the warmth of his neck. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Sugar.” I squeezed tight, so grateful that I had Adam in my life.

He must have sensed my relief and nuzzled my hair. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend the day alone, did you?”

I shook my head, but didn’t lift it from his broad shoulder.

“And you know how much I enjoy cooking. We’re going to have a feast!”

Tears prickled my eyes and I dried them subtly on Adam’s shoulder. When I stepped away, he studied my face.

“We’re both away from our families for the holidays, but we have each other, right?”

God, I was so selfish. Of course Adam was away from whomever he usually spent Christmas with, because he was here with me. He had told me all about his parents, his two older sisters, Kathleen and Melanie, and his twin brother Will, all of whom still lived in England. But it had never dawned on me that he went home to be with them at this time of year.

“Why didn’t you go home to see your family for Christmas? What would y’all normally do?”

He gave me a half-smile. “I spent the last few months back in England with them. I needed a break.” He pulled me back in for a hug. “They were driving me fucking crazy.”

“Too much of a good thing.” I laughed, and he nodded before giving me a pat on the backside and sending me to the bedroom to get dressed.

By the time I came out, dressed in my last half-decent top that didn’t need washing, Adam was deep in chef mode. He looked to have everything under control, so I went to the laptop to start writing again. Before I’d had a chance to open the file, coffee and a bagel with cream cheese were placed beside me.

“I could get used to this,” I said as I took a huge bite of the bagel.

Adam smiled and went back to work in the kitchen as if waiting on me was nothing at all, which made me sure he didn’t realize just how much I appreciated it. Back in Mississippi, I had been the stay-at-home wife and had been expected to do absolutely everything. Charles would no sooner make me a cup of coffee than fly—that was considered woman’s work to take care of while the men did important things like talk politics and religion for hours on end.

I was deep in thought, working through a scene, so I didn’t realize that Adam had stopped the food preparation and was watching me.

He cleared his throat, then waited for me to look up. “So, I was wondering…” He hesitated and seemed to draw in a deep breath for courage. “It’s getting quite cold outside on the deck, and the view from your bedroom window is pretty impressive.”

I knew where this was going, but it was a rare occasion that Adam wasn’t brimming with confidence, so there was no way I was bailing him out. Instead, I decided to have a little fun with it. “Hmm, as you would know from this mornin’, when you were peerin’ in like a Peepin’ Tom.”

He chuckled. “I meant the view out of the window…although the view in was pretty breathtaking too.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t help smiling at his remark.

He smoothed the whiskers on his chin. “Um, do you think it would be okay if I moved the easel into your room and set up in there? If I moved the chaise from under the window, there would be plenty of space.”

Tilting my head to one side, I considered his proposition carefully. At least, I pretended to. I already knew what he wanted and that of course it would be okay when he was only halfway through asking.

“Well, I don’t know, Sugar.” I dragged it out. “There are things to consider before allowin’ a man into my bedroom.”

His smirk made my heart skip. “Such as?”

“For starters, does that mean I’ll have to pick up all my dirty clothes from the floor, especially the underwear, before you enter?”

He sauntered over, more than willing to play along. “You can leave your knickers wherever you like, love. I’m quite partial to black lace thongs.” The playful wink at the end of the statement was the icing on the cake.

“What ’bout if I need to get changed for any reason?”

He chuckled. “I promise not to drop my paints all over the floor while I perv at your arse.”

Biting my top lip, I tried to keep a straight face. “And if I need to have a little nap in the afternoon?”

His hand went to my hair, smoothing it down my back. “I can stroke your hair and help you fall asleep.” He continued caressing my hair lightly and I leaned into it like a cat, fighting the temptation to purr.

“But…” His hand stilled and I pouted, making him laugh. “I have to warn you that I like to paint in my old, ripped up jeans…if anything at all.”

“If anythin’?”

He leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered, “Sometimes they don’t make it on either. I am quite partial to painting naked.”

“I’ll grab the easel. You go move the chaise.” I jumped up, nearly tipping the chair over behind me. This was the next step in our relationship, from painting outside for a better view to moving indoors. Adam was slowly inching his way into my life. My mind raced with a million questions of what this meant to Adam, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Maybe it meant nothing more than it was cold outside, but perhaps we were finally moving forward.

  

Adam watched me eat the entire time with a huge grin on his face. He’d spent most of the day in the kitchen preparing a feast that would feed at least a dozen people, the whole while singing away to whatever song came on the iPod. He seemed so at ease slicing and dicing, the knife tapping out its rhythm on the chopping board. He diligently basted the ham and made the pastry for the pumpkin pie. And now he was watching the fruits of his labor be devoured by one very grateful girl.

“Oh my God, this is the best pie I’ve ever had,” I told him, forcing the last morsel from the plate into my crammed mouth. My stomach was so full I was about ready to pop; I had to secretly undo the button on my jeans, making me once again think of Charles’s uncle sleeping on the sofa.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he said as he stood and began clearing the plates away.

Placing my hand on his forearm, I stopped him from stacking any more dishes. “Please, you’ve done enough. I’ll get this while you relax.”

“If you’re okay doing that, I’ve got something else planned that I need to set up.”

I stopped what I was doing, my eyes narrowing at Adam. “Whatcha plannin’?”

He winked cheekily. “It’s a surprise. I’ll be back soon.” He raced out the door, leaving me standing there wondering what was coming next. Surely he hadn’t shopped and bought me a gift. We’d only known each other a couple of weeks, and the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind to buy presents.

I was just finishing up in the kitchen when Adam came back in, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Okay, let’s go,” he said with a knowing grin.

“Go where?” He seemed to be waiting for me to go outside but it was late and freezing.

“With me,” he replied, taking my hand and leading me through the door to the deck.

Looking out toward the ocean, I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped as I was confronted with the oasis Adam had created. There were tea-light candles flickering in glass holders, completely surrounding a warm, inviting bed overflowing with pillows and cushions. Closest to the house and on the uphill side of the sand was a bonfire, its dancing flames casting a romantic glow.

“This is our own private island.”

Tears blurred my vision as I tore my focus from the romantic setting to gaze adoringly into Adam’s eyes.

“I can’t believe you did all this. It’s perfect.”

He seemed to relax as soon as I voiced my approval, as if what he had arranged would get anything but shocked awe.

“I thought we could do some stargazing and have a few drinks to keep us warm.”

As we tucked ourselves into the blankets and I arranged the pillows, Adam poured two glasses of brandy.

“Bottoms up,” he toasted as he handed me one of the glasses.

“Bottoms up?” I queried.

He laughed, then threw his drink down in one gulp. “Yep, the bottom of the glass goes up, as the drink goes down.”

The brandy burned my throat and I shuddered, but the glass was refilled, and I was downing that one, too, before I knew it. By the third glass, my body was pleasantly numb, my lips, warm and tingly. Two drinks later and I was a sloppy mess.

We snuggled together, lying side by side, gazing up at the clear, star-filled sky. Turned out, Adam knew his constellations. He pointed out different shapes and told the story behind the name of each, his hand inching over, finding mine and pulling it toward him until my hand was resting against his chest.

Shifting to watch Adam as he spoke, his thick British accent seeming thicker the more he drank, I marveled at how something as simple as gazing at the stars could fill me with so much joy. I couldn’t take my eyes off him—his profile was so strong, his lips so tempting. Adam must have felt me staring at him because he turned his head to meet my eyes.

For the longest time we lay under the stars, captivated by each other’s eyes, until Adam rolled onto his side, his face inches from mine. Soft lips touched my cheek, brushed along my jaw, and down my neck.

My whimpering would have been embarrassing if I wasn’t hammered. But there was no one else around except Max, who tilted his head, ears cocked like I was trying to communicate with him, so I went with it. Every sound, every movement that my body wanted to make, I let it. His teasing was finally too much. Fisting his hair tightly, I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him hard on the lips. I knew it was a clumsy kiss because of the brandy, like a teenager who had only ever practiced on a poster of her favorite rock star, so I tried to reel my tongue back in a little. With my breath coming out in short gasps, I chanced a look into his eyes. They were wild and damn sexy. As his mouth lowered back to mine, his hand ran up my hip, under my sweater, until it found my breast.

Our bodies, still fully clothed, albeit disheveled, writhed together on the sand in our makeshift oasis. The taste of him as his tongue caressed mine, the feel of his hard body against me, and the sound of the ocean filled my every sense. I wanted to savor every moment, but with my foggy head and horny body taking over, I gave in to the heated passion and just went with it.

As I repositioned my body for a better angle, the large bulge in Adam’s jeans pressed against my hip. Pulling back from his lips in surprise, I ran my hand down his torso, feeling the definition of his chest and abs before reaching the button on his jeans. I wanted to be bold and flick that button undone, shove my hand down the front of his boxers and take charge. Instead I hesitated, running my finger around the inner edge of his jeans but going no further.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, kissing my hair. “All in good time.”

“Don’t ya want to?” I asked, disappointed, tilting my head into his soft kisses.

He held my cheek, turning my face toward him. “Don’t think for one minute that just because I’m taking it slow, I’m not dreaming about being buried balls’ deep inside you. But you’re not a one-night stand, Evie, and I don’t want to do anything that either of us will regret. I need to get clear in my mind what this is, and how far it can go, because the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”