To Hate Adam Connor

For a brief second, the fog in my brain cleared up enough that I remembered Aiden. Jolting up from the couch, I blurted, “Aiden? Where is Aiden?”

Adam stopped in his tracks toward the hallway. “We are leaving for Paris tomorrow, Dan, Aiden, and I. He is spending the night with his best friend.” He paused, his lips stretching into an unexpected smile. “One of his best friends, I suspect. He is at a sleepover, Lucy. You’re all mine.”

“He is with Henry? That British actress’ kid?”

“You know his best friend’s name?”

“Of course I know his name.”

“Don’t be so surprised, Lucy. Not everyone cares about those things.”

With that, he walked away.

Now what did that mean? And what about making love?

“What about the sex?” I shouted after him since there was no one else but us in the house. Plopping back down, I pulled my legs up, laid my head on the arm of the couch, and muttered to myself, “What about my lovemaking?”

Hesitantly, I raised my hand and rested it on my stomach. Why didn’t I feel different? Wasn’t I supposed to feel different? Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath and just let myself be still.

Before I could let my thoughts pull me to a place I didn’t want to go, I heard Adam’s footsteps. A second later, his fingertips trailed over my lips, and I parted my mouth.

I opened my eyes to see him standing over me. He looked just as hot when he was upside down.

“Are we doing it or not?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral. My eyes took notice of how his shirt wasn’t tucked into his pants anymore, and I almost, almost squirmed on the couch. I was about to have sex with Adam Connor. I couldn’t show him how much I was ready to get rid of my stupid pants. “If not, I have a—”

“Always the romantic,” he murmured, almost to himself. When I saw him lowering his head, I shut my mouth and let him kiss me upside down. As much as I adored that scene in Spider Man, it was weird being kissed upside down. Our teeth crashed, he bit down on my lower lip then slid his tongue in my mouth, and fuck me if the way he was kissing me didn’t make my toes curl. When he was about to pull back, I groaned softly, put my hands on his cheeks, and arched into the kiss.

Just a little more.

Surprisingly, he didn’t stop the kiss, but slowed it down. I guessed we were getting into the making love part. Nice and easy was practically the slogan for it, wasn’t it? I felt his hand on my stomach and my eyes opened. He must have sensed it, or my body had made it apparent I was surprised to have his hands on me, because his lips stopped moving, and he pulled back to meet my eyes. Breathless, I waited to see what he was going to do.

His hand slid down farther. Intrigued, I raised an eyebrow at him before I looked down to watch his big, beautiful hand. And that forearm…it was right in front of me, begging to be stroked.

Shit!

Why do you even have a thing for forearms, Lucy?

Thanks to the way I was lounging on his couch, I had a perfect view of his hand. I clutched at the cushion under me and watched his fingertips lift my shirt and go straight under my leggings.

This…this territory was what I knew.

I squirmed in place and felt Adam’s breath right next to my ear. Then his hand cupped my pussy, and he pushed two of his thick fingers inside me without even hesitating.

“So wet and ready for me, Lucy,” he muttered, his tongue coming out to leave a wet trail on my neck.

I let out a soft moan as I arched my neck. Almost shaking with excitement, I circled my hips, managing to draw those skillful fingers deeper inside me.

“You’re soaked, Lucy. My cock will slide right into you.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” I said dreamily.

He pulled his fingers out, and I let go of the cushions to clutch his arm.

He froze over me, and I waited to see what he’d do. Sure, I wanted his cock, but just in case he couldn’t manage to make me come, I wanted his fingers to do the job. He started stroking me. At first, softly, barely touching, his slick fingers ghosting over and around my clit. Them he dipped his fingers down and inside me, giving me a few deep thrusts as I practically hugged his arm like a koala. Then he took them out and repeated the torture.

“You’re playing with me,” I gasped out when he withdrew his fingers for the fifth time. “I don’t like it.”

I felt his teeth against my neck, my earlobe. “Oh? I thought you wanted me to play with you.” Another swirl around my clit and then three fingers entered me.

I groaned and let my legs fall open. “Is torture a part of making love? Either make me come or let’s skip to the good stuff.”

“You don’t get to make all the rules, Lucy. Either we do this my way or we don’t do it at all.”

“And you say this after you make me burn?”

“Your choice.”

He was crazy; it was the only explanation, and that was why I didn’t like him. I wanted him though, and it felt like I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. Hell, even my vagina had readied itself as if it were going to have sex with Henry Cavill.

“Fine.” I huffed and moaned loudly when he pressed hard on my clit and made my eyes roll back in my head.

That unbelievably sexy arm of his? It was still in my hands, and I was stroking it up and down, trying to rile him up just as much as he was riling me up, ghosting my fingers over the hairs on his arms, clawing at him when he got me a little too close to the edge.

“Please, make me come,” I begged, beyond crazy for the hot and heavy release that was dancing right at the tip of his fingers.

Despite all my objections, he pulled his fingers out of me and trailed my wetness on my stomach, dragging my shirt with it until it rested under my boobs. Then he pulled his arm out of my grasp and moved to my side.

My eyes followed his every move, and I did my best to keep my eyes away from his crotch area.

Wordlessly, he pulled me up from the couch and took off my shirt. My heart beating wildly, I let him take off every piece of clothing on me. When I was completely naked, his gaze moved over me and my entire body trembled from the inside just from the expression on his face alone.

“You have one minute.”

Without waiting for another offer, I walked the two steps that separated us and started to unbutton his shirt. It was the very thing I’d wanted to do when I was spying on him over the wall that first time. He lifted his arms up for me, and I unrolled the cuffs layer by layer. Before I pushed the shirt off him, our eyes met and a chill moved down my spine.

So annoyingly handsome. Hungry. Powerful.

Then I moved my hands over his broad chest and those strong shoulders. “You should work out more. You’re not quite there yet,” I said, the edge of my lip tipping up. He didn’t need to work out at all. He was perfect just the way he was, and it was annoying as hell.

“Every word out of your mouth…” He shook his head.

He reached out and twisted my nipple as an answer, making me groan. When those amazing lips went for my neck, sucking and biting as he played with my boobs, I finally went for his pants and undid the button. My hands were already shaking, too excited about what I’d find in there.

I trailed a fingertip down the zipper and felt something hard. That was all the time I had to feel though because he was lifting me up and dumping me on the couch.

“Time’s up,” he said through clenched teeth.