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“So then, what’s his deal? Is he”—Kenna’s voice lowers to a whisper as she glances at the adjoining door to the suite—“is he, like, asexual?”
Adam looks at me, then back at her. His face gives nothing away.
“Why don’t I…talk to him about it?” he hedges, waiting to see what her reaction will be.
His face is stiff, but his fingers are still claiming my hip, and I’m trying to rein in my breathing.
She seems to be satisfied with this, nodding. “Don’t tell him…you know, that it’s me asking,” she rushes out, hopping off the bed.
She turns back to confirm his agreement, but his attention is elsewhere.
I’ve dipped my face down into his cotton-covered chest, breathing in his scent. He’s all man, a big cocoon of testosterone and muscles. The last few guys I slept with were mostly scrawny, always smelling like smoke. His skin is glowing with health, and I know not a single nicotine stick has ever touched his lips.
I hear the faint click of a door in the distance, and we are alone. The air is thicker, our hearts beating too fast for a normal Sunday morning.
Callous fingertips are grazing over my skin, tracing every dip and curve, memorizing me. His mouth is on my collarbone, lips and teeth nibbling. I want to crawl further into the bliss of this moment.
“All I want is your skin,” he says, voice deep and husky.
The temperature under the sheets is scorching. My thigh is squeezed right under the knee, then pushed upward. The sensitive space is filled with his hips pressing into me, his hardness right against my soft.
“You can…take it all, Adam. I’m ready,” I whisper, my hands equally violating his form.
His panting breath is on my bare shoulder, and I know he wants it more than anything. His body is stone—everywhere. He seems to need a nudge from me to be able to fully commit.
I pull back from him, and his eyes are wide, swirling with emotion. His breath is coming out in tiny, short bursts. I stare at his hungry eyes as I sit up enough to remove my shirt. I didn’t sleep in a bra last night, and his breath sucks in at the sight of me. This must be his first time to see a woman topless, and I love that I get to introduce him to this part of life.
That does it. He takes the reins from me, and I gladly relent. Work-strong hands are gripping my flesh. Damp underwear and shorts are pushed down. His shirt is nearly shredded from his torso with jerky movements, and I’m reminded that he looks like he was chiseled by a Greek deity in an old fable. Muscles flex on top of me, delicious golden skin shiny with a hint of sweat in the morning light.
A switch has been flipped, and he’s not hesitating at all.
We let out twin sighs as he begins. I immediately feel the relief of tension, the turning point of our dynamic into lovers, and the joining of our bodies and hearts as one. My skin is pale and inked, contrasting his golden and pure.
I’m deliciously overwhelmed by his weight, and his face is indescribable ecstasy. He watches me, our eye contact never breaking. Sweat is beading up on his skin, and I love the feel of it.
I’m not sure how I’ve ever done this with anyone I didn’t trust like I do Adam. This vulnerability with a lesser man would be repulsive.
He draws my ear into his teeth, pausing to gently suck on my skin. He reaches a hand to cup my breast, fingers pinching the sensitive tip that sends a beacon of excitement straight down. My body is quivering underneath him, and I’ve never felt so undone and treasured at the same time. It’s never been this way before.
He’s exploring, discovering all the joys of what he can do with me in this position. He’s taking care of me, even through this monumental first experience. He’s whispering in my ear, checking on me, asking me what I want. I tell him, and he overenthusiastically complies as his thumb finds my center. He gapes at my immediate, open-mouthed response.
“You’re such a beautiful creature, Harley, the most incredible sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” is just one thing he whispers, strong hands driving me wild as they grip my thighs while he moves over me.
His abs flex with each movement, and I’m unable to look away.
His strength and stamina are fully unprecedented, but I’m not complaining. His amber eyes are wide, focusing on my face. His lips capture mine, our tongues dancing. He’s commanding my attention, moving my body where he wants it. We’re one, molded together. He bites my earlobe harder this time, drawing a moan from my lips that only encourages his movements.
We’re in a capsule on another planet, worshipping each other.
He retreats and pauses for some reason, and I take the opportunity to flip over. He doesn’t press into me again, and I turn around to see him staring at my backside, a look of complete awe on his face.
“What?” I ask.
He looks up at me before saying, “Like this?”
I nod, encouraging him to keep going. He complies; after a few awkward positioning moments, he finds his rhythm again, and I know he’s happy about the switch. He leans forward as he grips my hips, fingers exploring me. I hitch out a moan as he makes contact with the right place.
I realize at the last moment that it’s too late. I’m in love with him. I have to swallow the words down, forcing myself not to tell him.
