Unbelievably, she felt herself tighten again, and before she knew what was happening Adam slid a hand between her legs and she exploded around him. At her sweet cry of release he buried his face in her hair and came with her.
Neither one moved, just stood there, Adam draped over her and still connected, both of them waiting to come back down. Harper wished they never would. Wished they could stay here in her apartment, sharing their worlds, their fears, and their dreams.
“That was”—life altering, mind-blowing, a glimpse of what happily ever after felt like—“incredible.”
Adam nuzzled her neck, laying a few gentle kisses there, then lifted his head. His hair was standing on end and tipped with all the colors of her body. He looked incredible. And like happily ever after wrapped in a gladiator package.
“Sunshine, that was”—he kissed one cheek, then the other—“extraordinary.”
It was. And so was the fact that Harper was truly, madly, irrevocably in love. And there wasn’t an expiration on that kind of feeling.
It was dark when Harper opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was in her bed, nestled in a warm cocoon that was all biceps, sinew, and sleepy man.
Sexy sleeping man.
After cleaning up the front room, they’d come in to make a mess of the bedroom. Which they’d done a spectacular job of. There were blankets on the floor, sheets smeared with paint, and crumbs on the nightstand.
It wasn’t the thought of the last two double-chocolate-chunk cookies that had pulled her from the best sleep she’d ever had. It was something that Adam had said, a word really that kept rolling around in her head, pulling her from her sex-induced slumber.
Mine.
There was no reason for him to say that unless he meant it. Sure, they were in the heat of the moment, and things had gotten intense, but at that point she was a sure thing, leaving him no reason to make such a statement. Unless it was true.
When he’d said it, it had felt true. Possessive even. And Harper wanted it to be true. She wanted to belong to someone.
She wanted to belong to Adam.
His arms flexed around her, snuggling her close. Their bodies were plastered together, her face pressed into his chest, while he nuzzled her hair. “I know what you’re thinking about.”
She froze. “You do?”
“Uh-huh.” His hands slid down her back to palm her butt. “Cookies.”
She felt herself relax.
He lifted his head and laughed. “I’m right. It’s three in the morning and you want cookies.”
She offered a small smile. “Yup.”
“Don’t move.” He kissed her nose and climbed out of bed. Not concerned in the slightest that he was traipsing through her house butt-ass naked and painted like a gladiator.
Bed still warm, he slid back in, sure to lift the covers all the way and get a good view of her. With a groan, he hauled her up against him and offered a bite of cookie.
“God, those are good,” she moaned.
“How good are we talking?”
“Scale of one to ten, a nine-point-nine.”
“A nine-point-nine, huh?” He took a bite and frowned as though not sure how he missed that tenth of a point.
She tilted her head up to look into his eyes, and smiled sweetly. “The kind of cookies I was looking for are measured on the Oh scale.”
“I know,” he said, taking a bite of the cookie. “I was just preheating the oven. Because this next batch will blow your mind.”
And then he spent the rest of the night proving that when it came to cookies, Adam was her man.
It’s not even seven and already I’m sweating,” Shay said, fanning herself with a stack of paintings.
As always, Harper’s friends had come through. It was Saturday morning, the main day of the festival, and they’d shown up at the crack of dawn to help display the kids’ artwork at the park, even though they all still had a ton to do for their own booths.
Not that they seemed to be feeling the time crunch. Nope, they were both sitting on the stage, legs swigging off the edge, sharing a bag of kettle corn that the hunting club was providing, and staring out toward Main Street.
“Yup,” Emerson said, reaching into the bag. “Hot.”
Harper hung the painting in her hand, a sweet rendering of a firefighter holding a cat with an apple tree behind them, then sat down between her friends and—whoa!
Across the park, behind the first row of booths and headed their way, were three beautiful men in work pants and BEAT THE HEAT ball caps pulled low, working in tandem to carry a wood table. And there was sweat. Lots of glistening, sweaty muscles.
Jonah was at the back of the table guiding them forward, while Dax stood in the middle, muscling a good portion of the weight. Which left Adam, with his ripped abs, cut arms, and tight backside, negotiating the monstrosity of a table through the crowd—backward.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“Hauling out all of the chairs and tables from the town’s storage shed,” Emerson said around bits of popcorn.
Harper reached into the bag and grabbed a handful. “Don’t they know the high school football team is coming at eight to set up the eating areas?”