Adam curled me into the side of his body, and I detested how quickly I relaxed into him. How I molded into his skin as if we were one being.
“Okay, so it was Chelsea who called,” he admitted. I looked up at him in surprise at his honesty. Huh, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Then why didn’t you just say so?” I tried not to sound accusatory, but when it came to Chelsea, it was difficult. Old patterns and all.
Adam kissed the top of my head. “Because I don’t want her ruining this. I don’t want the mention of her name to taint what we have in this room together.”
“Well, she is your wife—”
“Soon-to-be-ex-wife, you mean,” he interjected.
“Right. Soon-to-be-ex-wife. You have to deal with her. She’s in your life. It’s how it is.”
Adam rolled me onto my back, leaning over me, his hands framing my face, his gorgeous eyes looking into mine. “She’s not in my life. She’s been hassling me about the terms of our divorce. She’s playing games like she always does. You know she means nothing to me, don’t you? That there’s only one woman I want. She’s nothing, baby. I promise you.”
There was that word again. Baby.
Things were getting too intense. I looked away from him, needing a breather. “You’re crushing me,” I rasped, and Adam moved, giving me some much-needed space.“It honestly doesn’t really matter, Adam. I’ve got to focus on finishing the mural. That’s where my head is,” I lied through my teeth. Because my mind was most definitely not focused on the damn mural.
He ran his hands through my hair in a soothing gesture that did nothing to release the tension running through me. “I get that. How much longer? A month? Two?”
“Probably only another week,” I said and felt his hand fall away from my hair.
“Only a week?” he asked, other questions implied.
“Yep,” I retorted. I knew where this was going, and I had to head it off at the pass.
“So, when you’re done with that—”
I sat up suddenly, pulling away from him. Adam’s expression was startled. “We’re not doing this, okay,” I told him sharply.
His brow furrowed. “Doing what? I’m just asking what your plans are for when you’re done with the mural? Can’t I do that?”
I got up and grabbed my clothes. I tugged on my panties and then my bra, which had somehow become hooked over his bedside lamp. “No, you can’t, Adam. We agreed we wouldn’t do this.”
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I wouldn’t be leaving his house tonight, and I suddenly needed distance. But I also needed him to hold me. To kiss me. I wanted it so much I could burst with it.
I was one huge contradiction.
He had gotten out of bed and stood to the side, watching me. “We agreed it would be sex. No strings attached. I don’t see how my asking what your plans go against that.” He sounded hurt. Damn it.
I quickly pulled on my shorts and T-shirt before putting my hair up into a ponytail. “Because it’s what couples do. They talk about the future. We don’t do that,” I reminded him even if it felt like a knife to the gut to do so.
Adam remained silent as I gathered my things, most of which I had strewn around the room in my haste to get out of my clothes. I found my keys on the floor beneath his bed. How did that happen? When I got back to my feet, Adam was there, all up in my personal space.
“I have to get home, Adam,” I protested.
“Stop it, Meg. You’re being silly,” he admonished. He put a finger beneath my chin and lifted my face so that I had no choice but to look at him. I both hated and loved it when he got bossy.
He hadn’t bothered to get dressed so was still in all his naked glory. It was very hard to keep my attention on the words he was saying and not on that big, beautiful cock that he wielded so expertly.
Despite the horny haze that had descended over me, I bristled at being called silly.“I’m not being silly; I’m being practical. I don’t want things to get confused.”
Adam’s eyes hardened. “When have I ever been confused about what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know; why don’t you tell me, baby,” I spat out.
Adam closed his eyes with a groan. “Are you kidding me? You’re getting your panties in a twist because I called you, baby? And you say you’re not being silly?” he scoffed incredulously.
“I just don’t want lines to be blurred—”
He kissed me to shut me up. I knew the tactic well. “There are no lines being blurred. I’m very aware of where I fit in your life and where I don’t,” he assured me. Was I imagining the sadness that crept into his tone?