Fifteen
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Sunday 20 December, 8.40 A.M.
Adam hadn’t known it was humanly possible to cry that much, but he’d held Meredith on his lap through it all, whispering whatever soothing words he could think of as she ripped his heart apart. She’d clung to him, arms around his neck, her tears soaking his chest. But eventually her sobs stilled and he turned the water off.
That he’d contributed to the pain she’d so obviously stored up and shoved down . . . it shamed him. He pressed his lips to her temple. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.’
Her sigh echoed in the quiet of the bathroom. ‘It wasn’t just you. It’s been building for a while.’ She loosened her hold on his neck, her hands sliding down to flatten against his chest, and she began petting the soft hair there, just like she had earlier, when she’d caught him wearing nothing but a towel. The memory, combined with her soft touch, made him wish for more. A lot more. Now that the memory of her hands on his wet chest and her eyes on that towel was in his head, it wasn’t going anywhere, tormenting him with all the things he shouldn’t be wanting a few seconds after she’d finished crying her eyes out.
This was far from the best time. And what kind of man was he to be wanting her now? He shifted beneath her, moving her closer to his knees and farther from his groin because he was getting very hard, very quickly. I am the goddamn worst.
She was spent. And I still haven’t told her what she needs to know about me. But even though his brain knew these things to be true, his cock wasn’t on board. At all.
Her next words had him scrambling for focus. ‘I’m sorry too,’ she said. ‘I could have come to you. I should have come to you.’ She pulled back to meet his gaze, and even with swollen eyes and a red nose, hers was the prettiest face he’d ever seen. ‘Because you were hurting too.’
‘There were times I wished you would,’ he confessed. ‘Then I could say that it wasn’t my fault that I broke my promise to you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But you . . . you never promised me anything.’
‘Not that I told you about. Out loud anyway. But to myself, yeah. Every goddamn day. One year sober and I’d be knocking on your door.’
‘You were planning to come back?’ she asked in that same small voice she’d used earlier when asking Kate about the kettle and his chest grew painfully tight.
Because now he understood. He could still see all those small scars on her arms, and the two bigger ones at her wrists. He wondered how he’d never noticed them before. He wondered if any of her friends knew they existed.
He’d known her serenity was a mask, but he’d had no clue what it had actually hidden. The truth was almost too much to bear, so he set it aside to answer her question.
‘Yes,’ he said fiercely. ‘I told myself that I needed to be sober for one year and then I would have earned the right and I was coming back.’ He hesitated. ‘And then, if you’d have me, I was never leaving again.’
For a long, long moment she only stared at him and he didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling or planning to say. Then her smile – her real smile, not the zen one – bloomed, her green eyes growing dark with purpose. And desire.
He knew this look. He’d seen it once before, that very first night. He’d imagined it on the hundreds of nights that followed, nights he’d lain alone in his bed, missing her. Wanting her. He wanted her now. Right now. He wanted to pick her up and toss her on the bed and . . . have her. Give her everything he’d denied them both for the last year.
But he remained as he was, frozen, silent, because she was regarding him intently, her confidence back with a vengeance, and he couldn’t control the shiver that raced across his skin. Her hands came up to cup his jaws, her thumbs caressing his cheeks.
‘I’ll have you, Adam,’ she murmured, her gaze locked with his, filling him with bubbling warmth. It was joy and relief and contentment and . . . too many other feelings to parse. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so valued, in . . . God. Maybe never.
It had been worth it, he thought. Every damn day he’d said no to the cravings. Because he’d been saying yes to this. Yes to her. He could never tell her no.
Her hands slid up into his hair, a smile curving her mouth, sweet and provocative all at once. As if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. That she’d rendered him speechless. That she understood the power she had over him and would never use it to hurt him. ‘I’ll have you in my life.’
His chest hurt. But it was good hurt. The best kind of hurt.
She tugged his face down, gently brushing her lips over his and . . . God. He’d been hard before but now . . . God. It was all he could do not to buck his hips up into her like a savage. He balanced them on the edge of the tub, not daring to move because once he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.
‘I’ll have you in my heart,’ she whispered against his mouth, humbling him.
‘Meredith.’ It came out fervently. Like a prayer. Which it was. ‘I—’
She pressed her finger to his lips, which relieved him, because he was about to beg her for things he still had no right to. But then she licked her lower lip, then his, and his control shattered. ‘In my bed,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
He couldn’t have halted the upward surge of his hips or the groan that broke free from his throat, not if he’d tried. His fingers flexing, he dug into the softness of her curvy butt to keep her from sliding off his lap. He shoved his other hand into her hair, crushing his mouth to hers. Mine. Mine. She’s mine.
She moaned quietly, startling him by swinging one of her legs across his lap so that she straddled him. He rocked backward, nearly tumbling them both into the empty tub. He caught himself at the last second, propelling himself forward and up, gripping her thighs to keep from dropping her as he came to his feet.
Her arms wound around his neck and she hummed against his mouth. ‘Please,’ she whispered and he knew he should say no, knew he still had things to say, things she needed to hear, but God help him, he had no defense against the sweetness of her voice or the soft kisses she was pressing all over his face. ‘Please.’
Panting hard, he hefted her higher so that her legs wound around his hips, his erection finding a home between her thighs. She ground against him, her head falling back, her lower lip caught between her teeth. ‘Please,’ she whispered again.
‘Please what?’ he asked, his voice tight with strain because he wanted to back her against the door and plunge deep into her heat. ‘What do you want?’
‘You. Please. It’s been so long and I’ve missed you. I need you.’ She ground against him again and any blood remaining in his head fled south. ‘Please.’
Then she was kissing him again, breaking down his inhibitions, making him want. He staggered into the bedroom and ripped his mouth away from hers. ‘I need to be inside you,’ he said roughly, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. Rough and gruff and vulnerable. But he trusted her not to hurt him. ‘If that’s not what you want, tell me now.’
She met his eyes in the semi-darkness. ‘Yes. You. Inside me. That’s what I want.’
Thank you, God.
But she needs to know. She needs to know! He must have some conscience left because it was screaming at him, its words just barely breaking through his haze of want. He shook his head to clear it. ‘I need to tell you things.’
She tugged his hair, kissing him hard. ‘I know. But after. I need you now.’
I need you now too. Telling her his secrets was going to hurt. He’d take this moment of respite. He’d take it and hoard it and draw on it for strength when he turned himself inside out with confessions. His conscience bowing out gracefully, he carried her to the bed, pulled back the blankets, and gently laid her down, arranging her hair on the pillow.