His hands went to her chest, squeezing and massaging her breasts. His eyelids drooped low, gaze dark. “That’s right, work it. Fuck, you feel so good, Luce. Look so fucking perfect up there riding me.”
She felt perfect, too. Adam made her feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet. No one had ever looked at her like he did, like no one else, no other woman, had existed before her or would after this moment. She dropped her hands to his chest and rolled her hips, keeping him deep so he hit that spot, the one that made her head drop back and her muscles tremble.
She ground down and her orgasm slammed through her before she was fully aware it was going to hit. Her mouth dropped open and she screamed. Adam ab-curled suddenly, sitting up. His hands went to either side of her face and he didn’t take his eyes off her, hot gaze moving over her face as she flew apart. She was still shuddering against him when he groaned, rolled her to her back, and ground his hips into hers. He buried his face in her neck as he joined her, shaking and growling as he came.
They lay like that for a long time, neither one moving. His harsh breaths had slowed and were warm, tickling the spot just below her ear.
Finally, he said, “How long has he been harassing you?”
She swallowed the lump that formed instantly in her throat. “Since I ended it. He says he’s still in love with me, that he’ll leave his wife if I come back to him.”
“You don’t want that?” His voice sounded impossibly deep.
She shook her head, stomach in knots. “I cared about him, but I never loved him. Then I found out about his family and I couldn’t even like him anymore. You can’t love someone you don’t respect.”
Adam stilled, and lifted his head, eyes boring into hers. “No, I don’t suppose you can.”
Chapter Nineteen
An uncomfortable feeling settled low in Adam’s gut.
Did she respect him? She’d thought he was a manwhore, an asshole, out for what he could get with no interest in more than what went down between the sheets. Jesus, was that how she saw him still? And how could he blame her if she did? That’s what he put off, all to avoid a deeper connection with anyone who might try to get close.
God, he hated it.
He didn’t want Lucy to think about him that way anymore, but if that’s what he wanted, it would mean telling her the truth, the real reason he’d never even allowed himself to imagine having more—a relationship, a family.
He shook off his thoughts. This wasn’t about him; this was about Lucy, and whatever he could do to help her.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” He was using the word “talk” lightly. He’d be more than happy to convince this asshole to back the fuck off with his fists.
Lucy stilled. “I can handle it, Adam. Thank you, though.”
“Ignoring his calls and texts isn’t handling shit.” He lifted up so he could see her face, but couldn’t help shifting his hips against her soft heat, keeping her thighs open and wrapped around him. “Not to mention his wife. She’s directing her anger at the wrong person. You should go to the police. It’s harassment, Lucy. It needs to stop.”
She shook her head, her sexily rumpled dark hair falling over one side of her face. He brushed it back before he realized what he was doing. Her throat worked, eyes getting glassy. Shit, was she going to cry?
“Luce?”
“No, I’m not doing that. She has a right to be angry. I—”
“Yeah, she does. At her goddamn husband.” He cupped the side of her face. “He doesn’t deserve her and he sure as fuck never deserved you.” He shook his head. “You need to drop the guilt, baby. It’s not doing you any good. He’s taken enough of your time and energy. It’s time to let it go, and the only way to do that is to make the calls and texts stop.”
“You’re right. I’ll change my number again. Someone gave it to him the last couple times, but I’ll be pickier about who I give it to from now on.” She bit her lip and dragged in a sharp breath through her nose. “I’ve got this under control, Adam. You don’t need to do anything, okay?”
There was more to this. She was keeping something else from him—he could see it in her eyes. The damn shutters had come down. That wasn’t Lucy. She’d always worn her heart on her sleeve. Everything right there in her eyes for him to see, killing him every damn time he looked into them and saw the way she truly felt about him. Or at least the way she used to feel.
Not now, though. She was holding back, hiding something, something big.
“Is there another reason he’s so desperate to talk to you?”