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God, she tasted so damn good.
She moaned as she grinded against my face. My hands slipped up under her ass, my fingers biting into her flesh as she started to orgasm.
I shifted away and was on top of her in one quick movement, plunging inside her as her body still quaked from ecstasy. Her hips bucked up again, and she groaned, clutching the comforter at her sides.
I pumped harder and faster—letting go of all my problems, only living in the moment as the world slipped fast away. My past seemed nothing more than memories from a movie I’d watched—they weren’t mine, they couldn’t possibly be, not with how goddamn good I felt right now.
“Adam . . .” She purred my name, and it rolled off her tongue, vibrating against my chest where her lips were pressed.
My body was slick with sweat, rubbing against hers. Her legs were wrapped around me, squeezing, hanging on tight as she rocked into another orgasm.
“Feck, Anna . . .” I growled as I came.
I collapsed off to the side of her, gathering a few deep breaths. “That was . . .”
“Otherworldly?” she prompted, which had me blinking a little as I came down from the high.
“Aye.” I folded my hands on my chest and stared at the ceiling. She rolled to her side and rested her hands over mine.
“Don’t fall asleep. I want more,” she whispered in my ear.
“I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you, love.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ANNA
I flicked at the crumbs on my chest. This toasted bagel smothered in Irish cream cheese tasted so much better than the ones I was used to eating in Kentucky.
Adam was on his iPad, typing an email to some important contact about a media deal he was working on. The sun had started to glint up from above the neighboring buildings; light pierced through the thin sheer curtains in the bedroom.
I ate the last bite of my bagel as I looked over at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to be discreet. His naked chest was on display. His jaw was in need of shaving—although he looked sexy as hell this way. And I’d desperately enjoyed how his stubble had tickled me when he’d gone down on me last night.
“I meant to ask you earlier this week,” he began, “but did anyone say anything to you at the office about the fight?”
“Yeah . . . they may have mentioned it.” A few times . . . I had done my best to dodge the conversation whenever possible.
“And?”
“The guys think you’re a hero and Kate thinks you’re, like, a god now. Apparently fighting is sexy?” I shrugged.
“Hm.” He set his iPad on the end table and shifted to better face me.
“But you were the sexiest to me when you were riding that horse—or maybe when you were roasting marshmallows with the kids.”
His hand slipped under the sheet, resting over the silk of my nightgown. He flashed me a smile. “You are always sexy to me.”
I swallowed, wondering if this was a line. I had no reason not to trust him. Then an annoying thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but ask. “How many girlfriends have you had?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Well, you know about me, and I was curious.” I blew a hair out of my face and nervously rushed my fingers to my chest, brushing at the last remaining crumbs that had fallen between the V of my silk nightgown. “We’re not official or anything, but I—”
He raised a brow. “We’re not? Was I supposed to make some sort of declaration of it? Because I’ll be damned if I’m okay with you dating another bloke.”
I smiled. “You’re totally pivoting.”
He showed me his palms. “Not at all.” Then he winked at me.
