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This was starting to feel more and more like a relationship. Fuck buddies didn’t cuddle afterward. I knew I should get up, get dressed, and go home. It was well past midnight. But I was exhausted and way too comfortable.
Adam’s fingers drew lazy circles up and down my arm, causing goosebumps to break out along my flesh. “Marla came down to check out the mural this afternoon after you left,” he said, his voice heavy and tired. He had a full day tomorrow. I knew he was due in court at nine for the Taylor DUI case. He had been working on it all week.
Shit. I knew his damn schedule just as he knew mine. Why wasn’t I more upset about that?
“Oh yeah? And does my work meet her approval?” My stomach clenched. I was actually worried about what Marla Delacroix had to say about the mural. She was a mouthy woman, and if she didn’t like the painting, there was a good chance she’d throw a fuss, and I wouldn’t be getting paid.
Adam rolled me onto my back and leaned over me, softly pushing the hair out of my eyes. His blue eyes were warm and gentle. I felt unsettled when he looked at me like that. He kissed the tip of my nose. “She fucking loves it, Meg. I mean she didn’t say she loved it, but she had nothing critical to say.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. She might as well have tap danced. That’s high praise coming from Marla.” And it was the truth. She was the first to criticize anything, and I knew I was not her choice to paint the mural. She had made her opinion of it very clear to anyone who would hear her.
“But how could she not love it? It’s amazing, baby,” he murmured before capturing my mouth again in a languorous kiss.
Baby.
He called me baby.
When had we entered the realm of endearments and slow, sweet kissing?
His phone started ringing on the bedside table. The insistent vibration breaking the mood.
“Are you going to answer that?” I asked against his lips.
“Ignore it. Whoever it is will leave a message,” he murmured, sinking deeper into the kiss. He fit himself between my legs and had just eased himself inside me again when his phone started ringing again.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned.
I twisted out from underneath him and grabbed the phone, glancing at the screen. I immediately froze at the sight of Chelsea’s name.
Talk about a mood killer.
Pretending not to see it, I handed him the phone. “Answer it already.” I kept my tone light and airy. I didn’t want him to know what I had seen.
Why?
Because I wanted to see his reaction?
Because deep down, I didn’t trust him or this?
Adam blew out a noisy breath and took the phone. His expression was completely unreadable when he looked at who was calling. His eyes darted my way, but I pretended to be really interested in the hangnail on my thumb.
He pushed a button and then turned the phone off, throwing it back on the bedside table.
“Who was it?” I couldn’t help asking. What was I doing? Why was I playing games like this?
Adam moved in to kiss me again. “It was nobody important.”
And this was why I was hesitant with him. Because he didn’t tell me it was Chelsea on the phone. Years of insecurity reared their ugly head, and I moved away before his lips could find mine.
I slid my legs off the bed and stood up. “I need to use the bathroom,” I said hastily, making my way to the ensuite. I closed the door with a click, needing a few moments to myself.
These past three weeks had been almost too good. I had sworn that I wouldn’t fall for Adam, and I had held myself to that. I had kept my feelings carefully in check. Or so I thought. I could give him my body, but not my heart. I wished I could tattoo that to my freaking forehead. But sex was a funny thing. Because physical intimacy so easily became emotional intimacy. And when you least expected it, you were bringing him coffee just the way he liked it, and he was making sure to keep your brand of toothpaste in his medicine cabinet.
Yet Chelsea was clearly still in the picture. And he was still keeping her place in his life a secret, which was obvious given the fact that he didn’t tell me she was the one calling. The ghost of Chelsea Past hung a little too heavily over whatever this was, no matter how I tried to ignore her.
I splashed cold water on my face and ran my fingers through my hair. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was glowing. How annoying. When I felt a little more collected, I returned to the bedroom to find Adam looking at his phone, frown lines etched on his forehead. He put the phone away when he noticed me and beckoned for me to return to bed. I did so slowly and with some reluctance.
