Before our first stop, I gave him the forearm crutch I’d gotten from the fabled mobility-aid black market, and he gave me his best pointy smile, thanking me for it by holding my hand all the way to the end of the pier and then kissing me silly.
When we’d ventured into the community, it took no time for me to see that Adair was the same out in the world as he was here at Live Oak. Obliviousto the attention he got from others but heart-achingly conscious of me. He used his bulk to shield me, to get us through a crowd of tourists, all the while keeping my hand in his. No matter how many eyes lingered on him, he never noticed unless they were mine.
Smiling easily, laughing often.
No matter where Adair Jacks was, he wasgood.
The bed creaked under the weight of Adair’s knee, and I focused back on him, real and righthere. He reached behind himself and gripped the back of his neck, stilling with a faint frown. I studied him, about to ask him whatwas wrong, but then there was aswishof fabric against skin, and he pulled his T-shirt clean off.
My mouth dried out as I took in his bare chest.
Oh.
His hands twitched but stayed by his sides, his thumb nervously rubbing the skin between his middle and ring finger as I unabashedly looked my fill. I knew his instinct was to cover himself, but he seemed to want me to see that he wouldn’t, and damn if that didn’t make me want him even more.
Which should’ve been impossible.
His skin pebbled as I traced him from his waistband of his boxers to his throat. I found the top of the covers without looking away from him and pushed them off my body. He swallowed roughly as he looked, my body simultaneously relaxing and coming alive under his gaze.
Then he started to crawl toward me, and my body buzzed with anticipation.
When he was hovering above me, arms on either side of me and biceps flexing, I sighed in pleasure, mind racing with ideas. With deep wants I hadn’t known about until this moment.
“What is it?” he asked quietly, tilting his head to the side as he studied me.
Heart-achingly conscious.
I pushed his hair away from his glasses and held it there. “Just a little fantasizing.”
He leaned into my touch. “Oh?”
I hummed. “It’s your birthday, so why don’t you tell me yours?”
“Easy,” he breathed, blanketing me with his body and kissing me sweetly. “Whatever just made you look like this—” He brushed his hand over my cheek. “—is now mine too.”
He pushed his hand under my baggy T-shirt, and I gasped as his wide palm stopped just under my breast, fingers fanning over my ribs.
“You’re sure?” I asked, squirming under his touch. “What if it’s super weird?”
He chuckled. “Then I guess we’ll be getting weird.”
That sound did things to me, and I writhed on the bed, the anticipation mounting.
“I want you,” I said, my words slow and measured, “and I’m tired, Adair.” He tried to pull away, but I grasped his wrist, keeping his hand on me. “What I mean is… you might have to do most of the work.” I held his gaze, letting him see how I felt about him, then I gave him the words. “However you want me is how I want you.”
His hazel eyes darkened, the deep green overtaking the brown, but when he didn’t say anything or move, I fanned my arms out to my sides, showing him my surrender.
His brow furrowed, and I saw the calculation in his gaze.
He was quickly seeing thewhy, like he always seemed able to. A few heartbeats later, his hand flexed on my skin, and his gaze softened into such deep affection that I almost looked away.
“You don’t want to be in charge,” he said softly. “You need a break, Indigo Girl? A break from making the decisions?” He smoothed his hand down my leg and drew it out from under the covers, hitching it around his waist. “That’s your fantasy.”
My breaths stuttered as he tucked my hair away from my face.
This man.
“Yes,” I said, emotion clogging my throat. “That’s what I want.”
