According to my imagination, it was his mouth.
“Fuck,” I whispered harshly, squeezing my eyes shut for a second and opening them to find that Adam had caught my little moment from the door. Crap, I thought, our eyes locked as he broke into a little laugh before returning swiftly to whatever he was saying to Craig.
Okay.
So this is definitely flirting, I concluded, completely disturbed but also vaguely fascinated, because how the hell did this happen? For five years, there had been literally nothing between us. We were practically brother and sister. But suddenly here I was, staring in disbelief at my phone as I held off on texting Caspar about my pretend fuckfest with Adam.
Because it wasn’t to spare Caspar’s feelings.
It was to control my own.
I had denied it since last night, knowing that nothing I felt after all that chaos could be remotely trusted. But clearly, I wasn’t out of the woods today.
Because according to every fiber of my aching hot body, I wanted to fuck my boss.
Which was bad. Very bad.
This weekend was madness, yes, but anything I did this weekend would still have very real consequences on Monday. The kind that would affect the career I’d been busting my ass for since college, and any chance of respect I’d ever have in my industry.
Reminder: this isn’t even real, I told myself.
Yes, Adam Maxwell was objectively hot as sin, but I’d also spent an entire week hyping myself up for a night of wild, sweaty, all-night-long sex. I’d done my hair. Bought new lingerie. Got a frickin’ Brazilian. I’d gotten myself all worked up for absolutely nothing to happen—and then I found myself wearing lingerie in front of Adam.
Who definitely did notice my efforts.
So of course I had a case of misplaced horniness.
If it wasn’t an official medical term, it needed to be, because that was exactly my problem right now. To a tee. I had so much sexual energy pent up inside me and to make it worse, I was sharing a damned hotel room with Adam. To make it doubly worse, my ex was still wreaking havoc on my emotions, which meant I had no idea what exactly was going on in my head right now, but if there was any one thing I did know, it was this:
Under no circumstances would I be sleeping in the same room as Adam tonight.
I just wouldn’t.
Because for a million and one reasons, I couldn’t let whatever craziness I was feeling right now get any bigger. I couldn’t risk another night like last night.
And I most definitely could not fuck my boss.
No. Never.
Just not gonna happen.
8
ADAM
My history of arguing with AJ was a storied one.
We essentially bickered for sport, going back and forth often, over things we cared passionately about and things we didn’t care about at all. The topic of discussion was never actually the point. The point was just to win, so I blamed this mildly screwed-up aspect of our relationship for what I couldn’t stop thinking about right now, which was proving her wrong.
Specifically by draping her legs over my shoulders and making her come in twenty seconds flat.
“Christ, Adam. Stop,” Iain said, prompting me to blink hard and frown defensively, trying immediately to act like I didn’t completely forget I had him on the phone.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking about fucking her.”
“What makes you think I was—”