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I took a step back, and his hand dropped to his side. My eyes were drawn to the tattoo on the inside of his arm, and I simply stared.
The ink. The veins there. His strength.
Without realizing it, I moved back closer to him. Right now, all I wanted were those arms, his strong and safe arms, wrapped around me. I needed something to calm the swell of fear that was brewing inside me.
His chest lifted up and down with slow, deliberate breaths as if he was attempting to control his emotions. “Why don’t you get undressed?”
Shocked, I blinked at him. That was not where I had thought this was going.
He smiled. “Sorry, love. I meant that you should get more comfortable and get some rest.”
I nodded, breaking away from his eyes, and he turned back into the bathroom. “Goodnight, Anna.” He tipped his head and closed the door.
My hands pressed to my face as I sank to my knees. Was I losing my mind?
Somehow, I still felt better than I ever had in the last year I’d lived in Kentucky. Adam brought something out of me that I hadn’t had in so long—my confidence. I didn’t know how he did it, or why it happened, but my shoulders didn’t shrink around him. In fact, around him, I was taller. And my words didn’t get jammed up in my throat out of fear. Although sometimes he had me tongue-tied for completely other reasons . . .
Was it Ireland or Adam that had put a little bit of a bounce back to my step? Or maybe it was that the person I had become around Jax was fading now that there was an ocean between us.
Trying to regain control of my emotions, I set about the everyday tasks of going to bed. I peeled off my clothes and went into the bathroom, locking the door on the other side so Adam wouldn’t accidentally come in.
I changed into my silk shorts and matching blue top. I stared at myself in the mirror. The blue of the silk reminded me of Adam’s eyes tonight. Then my gaze flickered to the door. The light was still on, but it had only been a few minutes since he’d been in my room so he was probably still awake.
My hand rested on the knob of his door. Shit, what am I doing? But before I could stop myself, I unlocked it and turned the knob. It wasn’t locked.
Was I nuts?
I pushed open the door and released a deep, nervous breath.
Adam was on the floor doing push-ups. He’d taken off his shirt, and his hard and muscular back was bare, except for the black tattoo on his shoulder. A light sheen of sweat had already gathered on his spine.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as his shoulder blades flexed, the muscles greeting each other in the center of his back as he lowered his body.
He finally looked at me, his body tense as he pressed up from the floor. “Anna.” He hopped upright. “You okay?” His gaze had dipped down to my bare legs, lingering there a moment, before meeting my eyes again.
“I need a favor.”
He closed the gap between us. My nipples hardened, and my stomach muscles tightened as his hand came down on my shoulder. Oh, how I wanted this man.
Scratch that—I needed this man. But we were down the hall from eight impressionable teenagers. What if they needed one of us in the middle of the night and knocked on the door while we were . . . No, I’d have to tuck my desire away, deep and safe where it belonged.
But maybe there’d be no harm in getting something else I needed. “Can you hold me?” I asked, my voice not weak or breaking as I’d worried it would.
His brows pulled together, and I could tell he wasn’t sure what to make of my question. I stepped around him and out of his grasp and walked over to his bed, which had a rich, burgundy bedspread on it.
I pulled back the covers, which hadn’t been touched, and sat down. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Jax’s text came back to my mind.
He dragged a hand down his face and throat before it settled on the hard planes of his chest. “I’ve never, um, just lay in bed with a woman before.” He gripped his throat a little, pulling at the taut flesh.
My focus shifted down to his chiseled abs before dipping lower. I pulled my knees together beneath the bedspread.
I wanted his hands on me, to cover every inch of me.
I hadn’t been able to erase the memory of how tightly he’d gripped me that night in my hotel room. The way he had held on with such intense need . . . God, I wanted it again. And again.
Not here. Maybe never.
He was scratching the back of his head now, and I could tell he was unsure about what to do. “There’s a first time for everything,” I said, scooting to the other side of the bed, offering him room.
