Adie placed her forearm over her eyes, convinced she’d expire from an overload of pleasure. Hunt teased her with his tongue, with his fingers, lifting her up to where she was sure she’d come, only to take her to the edge and leave her hanging.
Finally, when she was sobbing, begging for release, Hunt pushed into her. She was so close she needed nothing more than his gentle command to come and she did, pulsing and shattering and flying and sobbing.
Adie was dimly aware of Hunt’s hoarse cry, him calling her name, but all she could do was grip his shoulders as the world shattered, realigned and shattered again. This was the essence of pleasure, the origins of the cosmic bang. This was where light started, dreams were conceived and stars collided.
This was the majesty of the universe in action.
Nine
Hunt looked across his elegantly decorated apartment to where Adie stood by the Christmas tree, her head bent over the velvet-covered box containing Christmas ornaments. Deep in conversation with a tech giant’s wife, Adie lifted an ornament to the light, her finger spinning the glass.
The bauble shimmered and sparkled. As did Adie.
Hunt sipped his whiskey, his attention on her and not on his guests. He couldn’t believe that three weeks had passed so fast and that Christmas was just a few days away. Adie would be leaving soon and his apartment, and his life, would go back to normal...
If working fourteen-hour days, being empty of colorful conversation—being empty, period—could be called normal. He didn’t want her to go. Yet he couldn’t ask her to stay...
For the first time in his life, Hunt wasn’t sure what he did, or didn’t, want. He didn’t want Adie to leave his life, but neither could he ask her to stay in it. He didn’t want to stop sleeping with her, but how could they maintain a physical relationship when she was six thousand miles away?
He was in no-man’s-land, not wanting to lose her but not prepared to love her either.
They’d had fun, Hunt thought, but nothing lasted forever. He had proof of that. For the first few weeks or months after his mom left the psychiatric hospital, she was a decent mom, but being strong wore her out. Her inner demons always made a reappearance and sent her scuttling back to where she felt safe and protected. And him back to a new foster family or group home.
His friendship with Steve had ended with a car accident and Hunt’s marriage had burned hot and died as quickly. Nothing lasted forever...
Even if Adie was based in Manhattan, even if they gave it their best shot, it would eventually wither and die. It was how things happened and there were no exceptions to the rule.
But, crap, he wanted there to be.
He wanted to end every party he ever hosted or attended by taking her back to his bed, their bed, only to wake up with her curled up against him. He wanted to share showers and meals, space and time, conversation and children. His wealth and his world.
But if wishes were horses and all that...
He could wish up a storm, but those wishes didn’t translate into anything concrete. Dreams and hopes and wishes were for people who were optimistic and a little foolish. Pragmatists like him—and Adie—knew that everything ended and some endings were more painful than others.
The end of his marriage had stung, mostly because he didn’t like to fail. Steve’s death eviscerated him, and Hunt never wanted to experience grief like that again.
But if he let himself love Adie, only to lose her, he’d never recover. So it was simple. He couldn’t let this relationship continue and he most certainly would not allow himself to fall in love with her.
And if he did, he had no one but himself to blame.
He didn’t know why he was even thinking about this because Adie had told him she had no intention of deepening their connection. She’d chased down love and affection as a young adult and she’d been disappointed time and time again. She was now emotionally and financially independent, of her parents and of a man, and she didn’t need anyone else to make her happy or to give her life meaning.
Like him, she was just fine on her own.
In those quiet, early morning hours when his defenses were down and his heart spoke louder than his brain, watching her as she slept, if he had the odd thought of wanting to be the one who made her happy, forever, then that was his problem, not hers.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off her for a moment.”
Hunt turned his head to look at Kate and scowled. “If that was true then I would’ve face-planted a hundred times or more.”
“Stop being so literal,” Kate retorted, “you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, he did. And it was true, his eyes were constantly seeking Adie, needing to know where she was, and once he caught sight of her in that black lace dress, he fought the urge to kick out his guests and take her to bed.
Or leave the guests to their own devices and take her to bed. Either would work.
Kate thumping his biceps muscle broke into his fantasies around middle-of-a-party sex. “What?” he demanded.