I nod and take his hand, silently following the lion into his den.
Foreplay has no purpose here—need wants what it wants. Adrian’s expert moves take me away from everything that’s happened over the last few weeks. Thankful for the pitch-black room, I blink a few tears out of the corners of my eyes.
“Harder, Adrian,” I whisper into his ear.
Make me forget ...
*
A gentle nudging of my shoulders pulls me from a deep, sex-induced sleep. I peel my eyes open and groan at the sunset peeking through the bedroom curtains.
“Hey, babe, your phone’s ringing—it’s Monica.” Adrian places the phone in my hand and I blindly answer.
“Hello?” I yawn.
“Hello? Hello? Where the hell are you? Hello...God ...” she scoffs into the phone.
I pull the phone away from my ear to see it’s just after eight, and Monica’s just putting together that I didn’t go back to the hotel last night.
“I’m in Boston—” I don’t have time to finish before she launches in on her tirade.
“Boston? Ember what the christ are you doing?”
“What am I doing? I’m lying in Adrian’s bed, pushing the image of Ainsley kissing Bo on his front porch out of my head—that’s what I’m doing.” I hiss into the phone so Adrian can’t hear from the kitchen. I replay the scene, detail by gory detail, for Monica.
“So you’re with Adrian for the specific purpose of getting over Bo?” She asks unapologetically.
“No, I’m not. But last night, it became clear that Bo and I are too toxic to even be friends, let alone anything else. So why not actually be happy with someone who lets me be me?” I pace into the kitchen wearing only my panties and one of Adrian’s undershirts.
“Ha! Lets you be you? OK, we’ll see how long that lasts. You forget—I was around last time Adrian was, Ember. You were the furthest thing from being you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I stop and Adrian lifts his head from his iPad with an arched brow.
“I mean you turned into a giant snob when you dated him in college, and I really don’t want to put up with that again.” Her tone is blunt and unforgiving.
This revelation is news to me. Further, it’s irritating that she’d cast how we may have acted several years ago onto the people we are today. I spew a frustrated goodbye into the phone and begin pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“Not a pleasant call, I take it?” Adrian spoons cereal into his mouth and chews while waiting for my answer.
“Monica’s had a rod up her ass for weeks now. She isn’t keen on the idea of us being together.” I perch on the stool across from Adrian and roll my eyes as I sip my coffee. Adrian swallows his cereal as a Cheshire grin swallows him.
“Together, huh?” He bites his bottom lip in the way that drives me wild.
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I shrug and return the grin.
Adrian’s gaze breaks from mine and his grin disappears. My stomach plummets.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with what’s been going on with Cavanaugh, does it?” Gut punch.
“Adrian...” I slide off the stool and pace toward him, while his eyes remain fixed on the floor. I slide hips between his knees and force him to look at me. “What are you talking about?”
“If we’re going to do this, Ember, it’s going to be the real deal. I want you—all of you. I screwed it up once before, and I’m not going to do it again. If you need more time—” He shakes his head slightly as he tucks my hair behind my ears.
In the refreshing light of a new day, last night seems so far away and even more ridiculous. Adrian doesn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated him last night. I used him. He at least suspects that, which is why he’s hesitant to move forward. Who can blame him? That was a shitty thing to do. Bo can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, but I’ll be damned if that will affect my actions. Studying Adrian’s reserved expression, I realize I don’t want to lose him. I care for him and everything we can have together. And, no matter what has happened or will happen between us, he would never pull what Bo pulled last night. Not in a million years.
Or a thousand lifetimes.
“Hey,” I grab his wrists and bring his knuckles to my lips, “I don’t need more time for anything. Things with Bo are going to be complicated until we’re finished working on the collaboration. Then I can go back to my permanent office on the Cape and only deal with him a few times a year.” In theory, seeing Bo a few times a year sounds like too much. The words, however, are somewhat difficult to say. “That’s another thing,” I continue, “you live here. I live on the Cape ...”
“Listen, you keep coming here on Fridays after you leave Concord—stay the full weekend when you don’t sing at Finnegan’s—and I’ll stay at your place Sundays and Mondays. Sound good?”
The apartment brightens with the return of our smiles.
“You’ve given this some thought,” I tease.