Page 36 of Five Minute Man
Fuck yes.His inner caveman tossed aside his club and kneeled before her in absolute submission.
She renewed her efforts with great enthusiasm, claiming him as he had claimed her. He could have fought it, but why would he? She was right. Hewashers. And if she felt the need to prove it to him so thoroughly, who was he to deny her?
She owned him. Owned his cock, his heart and, in that moment, his soul.
Hours later, after three meals, two showers, and several more orgasms, Adam woke up again, but alone this time.
The room was dark. A brief look toward the window confirmed that it was well past sunset.
Adam rose, feeling both sated and needy. Physically, he was more than satisfied. Holly had seen to that. But there was another part of him now that would never be fully satisfied. That part needed to see her, to know that she was near and safe, to look into her eyes and feel that incredible rush of connection that made him think crazy, permanent thoughts.
He found her in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her laptop in front of her, the glow from the screen reflected in her eyes. Max was curled up at her feet.
She looked adorable sitting there, with her tousled curls and unmistakable just-fucked looked, fingers flying across the keyboard so quickly they looked blurry from where he stood.
He leaned against the doorframe, content to just watch her. A strange feeling came over him in those moments, like déjà vu, but just the opposite. Instead of feeling like he had experienced this before, he knew he was seeing his future. That there would be hundreds, if not thousands, of nights he would wake up and find her here, just like this.
She paused long enough to take a sip from the mug beside her, and that was when she spotted him. Her features softened, her eyes sparkled, and her lips curved into a smile that made his heart stop altogether.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he replied. “Writing?”
“Yeah,” she confessed. The creeping, rosy blush across her cheeks gave him a pretty good idea of what she was writing about. “I wanted to get a few ideas down while they were still fresh in my mind.”
Ideas that he had inspired? Oh yeah, he was all about the inspiration.
He pushed off from the frame. “Yeah? Like what?”
She watched him stalk across the kitchen, her eyes like brands as they scanned down his chest, his hips, his legs, and back up again. He loved it, loved the fierce gleam in her eye, the sense of being wanted like that by her.
“Feelings, mostly. Sensations. Stuff like that.”
“Hmmm,” he hummed. “You put that into your books, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, her voice slightly breathier than it had been only a minute earlier. He loved that he had this kind of effect on her, too. “Being able to capture that separates the good writers from the great ones. Readers can tell the difference.”
He stopped beside her, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “Is that so?”
* * *
HOLLY LICKED HER BOTTOMlip. Sitting as she was, her mouth was right in line with his hips. There was no mistaking the large bulge beneath the faded denim. She closed her eyes, remembering what he had looked like naked. The satiny steel feel of him in her hands, between her thighs, in her mouth.
“Yeah. Well, that and lots of research.”
“Research.” His eyes twinkled with amusement and something else. Something dark and hungry and possessive that had tendrils of heat licking up from her center. Again.
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Anything in particular you need to research?” he asked, dropping smoothly to his knees and turning her chair to face him. His big hands landed on bare skin just above her knees. She inhaled sharply, her body zinging with anticipation when she realized his intent.
“Um ...” She didn’t say it. She couldn’t. It was one thing to write about it, to imagine it, to dream of it, but to ask for it? With Adam, Holly had been bolder than she had ever been, but not even she could bring herself to speak of ...that.
The part of her that had so brazenly claimed him earlier was nowhere to be found. She was probably taking a well-deserved rest while leaving her sweet, docile alter ego in charge. If vocalizing that particular fantasy was a prerequisite for actually experiencing it, she would be going without.
Thankfully, Adam seemed to understand. He flexed and pressed his hands, guiding her legs open to wedge his big body between them.
“Relax,” he whispered, massaging her thighs when they tensed.
