I was sure she thought I’d already gone out for the night when she jumped at my question. She gave some sarcastic answer, asked me why I was there, and then went back to her DVR’d episode of Sons of Anarchy.
“Don’t be a smartass. I’m going out in a bit,” I answered, studying her closely. She seemed to have lost a little of what made Amanda Amanda. When she’d walked away from Shane, she’d walked away from a part of herself too. “But by the looks of you, I actually don’t think I’m going anywhere. I’ve let this go on long enough . . . you, avoiding Shane . . . avoiding me . . . avoiding your own feelings. Let me take a shower. I’ll be out in ten minutes. You better be ready to talk then.”
Damn. Charlie Hunnam would have made one hell of a Christian Grey, I thought as I glanced at the TV before making my way down the hallway to shower. Just when I’d been hoping the size of his dick would have made up for his strange accent, he’d backed out of the role. Fantasizing about fictional characters? Christ, I’m becoming extra sexually frustrated lately. Maybe it was finally time to invest in that vibrator Tina had suggested last year.
***
Saturday morning I was up before the sun. I’d slept surprisingly well, despite the nervous energy I’d been feeling most of the day Friday. Even if my conversation with Amanda hadn’t opened her eyes, it had opened mine. As I’d spoken about Amanda, I’d spoken, too, about myself and the mistakes I’d made. I’d told her that everyone deserves a second chance, even a dumbass like her. I’d given my friendship with Max that chance. And now Adam was giving me mine. And if he thought I deserved it . . . well, then I guess so did I.
I put on one of my Under Armour ColdGear shirts and some sweats, and threw my hair up before heading out the door for a run. The brisk morning air woke me up, and I’d gotten in three miles before heading home to shower.
I’d somehow managed to keep my mind clear from thinking about Adam for much of last night and this morning, but as the hot water sprayed against my skin, the smell of my vanilla body wash brought me back to the last time I’d been with him. We’d made love by the couch in a way that made a silky slickness run down my thighs at the thought. Afterward, we’d been in this same shower together. And my mind filled with images of rubbing soap along his solid chest and down the length of his cock until he hardened again. My heart raced at the memory, and I bit my lip to replace the emptiness my mouth felt without him thrusting inside it.
I rubbed the loofah across my chest and around my neck as I let the water hit my face and make its way down between my legs. I needed this man. Physically, emotionally, I wanted all of him. But I would take the pieces as he’d offer them. At his pace. If he even offered them at all. For now, just the thought of him was enough. Dropping my loofah, I let my hands sweep across my slippery breasts until one hand drifted down to calm the ache between my thighs.
Instantly, my own hand became Adam’s fingers skirting my clit . . . teasing me with subtle pressure until I craved him inside me . . . his mouth sucking hungrily at my opening as his tongue slipped in and out in soft, deliberate strokes. This is what I imagined as I closed my eyes and rested my head against my forearm on the tile wall, working my way to a much-needed release.
My breathing quickened as I tapped gently against myself to thoughts of Adam’s lips on my throat, his long fingers urging me over the edge. I felt my legs get weaker, shaking with every roll of my hips. I needed this. But as much as I tried, I just couldn’t get myself there. Fuck! I banged my head toward the shower wall in frustration, thankful that my arm was there to take the impact. Yup, definitely going to need to invest in a vibrator. And preferably a waterproof one.
***
By 8:30 I had settled myself into a high-top table by the window of the coffeehouse. I wanted to make sure I was there early because, for some reason, I didn’t want Adam to be waiting for me. Even though he’d offered to buy my coffee, I’d ordered my own when I’d arrived, figuring I’d drink it while I waited and collected my thoughts. Then, when Adam arrived, I would have another.
I sipped on my beverage while I tried to wait patiently. But I was on edge, unsure of what the two of us would have to talk about. It was one thing to say a quick hello in a parking lot or exchange cute emails when each person had time to carefully compose their response. It was another thing entirely to sit there across from one another like everything that had happened between us hadn’t happened at all.
And it was probably even worse to sit there across from one another knowing it had.
“Morning.” I was awakened from my internal monologue by the sound of Adam’s voice. Good thing I was early. It was only 8:45. “You already bought yourself a cup,” he said, gesturing toward my coffee. “I thought it was my treat?”
“Uh . . . yeah, sorry. I thought I’d be ready for another one when you got here. I’ll have another in a bit though. Thanks.”