AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If hecouldwant a relationship with me, but he’s here… in the middle of the night. That counts for something.
“We could see if a bar’s open,” he says in a musing tone.
“I can’t drink… since I’m such an immature little kid, remember?”
He reaches over, squeezing my thigh, with none of the uncertainty of the first time. I bite down as a pleasurable tingle climbs up my legs.
“That’s not what I said. You keep on with that sassy tone, and you might wake something up in me. Anyway, I don’t drink either.”
“You don’t?” I say.
I always knew he didn’t drink much. At all the family engagements I’ve been to, ever since he first cast my hand, I’ve watched my man and saw that he went for the soda options or just plain water.
I never knew he didn’t drink atall.
“No,” he says gruffly, his hand tightening on my leg.
It’s like he wants to tell me to stop asking questions or find other ways to shut me up. That gets my sex sizzling again, memories of earlier—or yesterday, technically—pounding through me, making me ache, making me want to grab his wrist and guide him closer.
I’m hungry for information about my man, as hungry as I am for his body.
“Why not?” I ask.
“It’s depressing,” he says, removing his hand, the place on my leg feeling the absence keenly.
“Maybe I’m not as sensitive as you think.”
He glances at me with those eat-me-up eyes. “I know, Harper, you’re my firecracker, aren’t you? Nineteen going on ninety.”
I slap him playfully again, both of us laughing. His voice is deep and comforting in a strange way. It’s as though, with his laughter, I never have to worry about anything, never have to doubt myself, doubtus.
Adam’s face is out there in the wintery dark somewhere, made of mist, watching, but it’s easy to dissipate it when it’s just me and Bryson in the warmth of the car.
“Being mature doesn’t make me ninety.”
“I’m kidding. You don’t look ninety.”
“No. How do I look, then?”
“Like a sexy, beautiful, excitable nineteen-year-old. Like a woman who makes me crazy thinking about what we did and all the things I want to do.”
I press my hands together as though that will make his words easier to handle and believe. I’m getting torn up inside, wondering how I could respond to him, trying to summon the sassiness I dreamed I’d possess.
“You’re changing the subject,” I say after a pause.
“Ah, alcohol,” he murmurs.
“You don’t have to tell me why, but you don’t have to hold back, either.”
Twistedly, I almost ask him if he had conversations like this with Eva. Did they speak about deep issues?
Did they drive through the dark streets when Adam was sleeping?
What the hell am I doing? I should make this stop, but my obsession won’t let me.
“I’m not sure how much Adam has told you about my childhood,” he says.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly, “but I’d like to know if that’s okay?”
