their emerald-green polish to her thighs, all smooth and lovely, to the hollow of her throat.
I ran my fingers over that spot, the divot in her neck. Such a vulnerable place on the body. Pressing a gentle kiss there, I answered her, “What made me laugh is how big our appetites are.”
She chuckled beneath me. “Come to think of it, I haven’t had dinner.”
I raised my face, set a hand on her stomach. “My fault. I’ll need to rectify that soon with paninis, melting cheese, and fresh mushrooms.”
She let her tongue loll out like a dog.
“But what I meant was—we raced through your list, Nina.”
“My God, we were ravenous creatures, weren’t we?” she asked, and seemed to fix on a smile, her voice turning more chipper than I’d expected in this moment. “I was just thinking about the list too. How we plowed through it.”
“We get gold stars for speed of execution,” I said, wishing we weren’t talking about the list but rather what comes after it. Or what could come after.
She tapped my nose. “No, Adam. I should give you gold stars all around. You made my dirty dreams come true.”
The moment turned surreal.
Seconds ago, she’d been keening beneath me, breaking apart, calling my name.
And now that was all it had been.
A dirty dream.
A filthy fantasy.
Her list was a bucket list, a project to shed her virginity so she could focus again.
And here on the other side of her innocence, we’d resorted to what we’d always been.
Pals.
Joking.
Talking.
Having fun.
We weren’t sharing sweet nothings or whispering confessions of unexpected emotions.
Get it together, man.
Besides, how the hell was I going to tell her what I wanted? Did I even know? This Mack truck of feelings had slammed into me from out of nowhere, and I honestly wasn’t sure how to sort them out.
Or, at this point, if I should.
Maybe we were well and truly done, with number nine under our belt.
Best to focus on that.
“You were a model student,” I said with a grin, because now wasn’t the time to let on that I wanted more than her list.
Or the moment to tell her that tonight never felt like a checklist item for me.
Yes, sure, technically we’d achieved her mission.
But, in doing so, something else had unfolded for me.
Something that wasn’t on my list, or hers.
That was the trouble. Falling wasn’t on the agenda.
And I didn’t have a detailed plan for how to deal with it, how to broach it, or what the hell it would mean for us.
I focused on number nine instead, because it was easier. Running my fingers down her arm, I asked, “What did you think of number nine, sweet girl?”
Her lips curved up. “I’m ‘sweet girl’ now?”
I dotted a kiss on her nose. “You’re always sweet to me.” There, that was honest.
She ran her fingers through my hair, nibbled on her lip, then said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For doing that for me.”
My brow creased. She was thanking me? I didn’t want thanks. I wanted her. Moreover, I wanted her to want me the same damn way.
Not in a thank you for your service kind of way.
I needed to devise a plan, to figure this out.
But how was I going to figure it out this close to her, when I was inhaling her sweet smell, drinking in her intoxicating scent?
“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, and I didn’t know where I was going next, but I was going somewhere. “I wanted to do everything with you.”
“You did?” Her tone pitched up, rising with hope like it had earlier when she’d asked if I’d liked going down on her.
Rap, rap, rap.
I blinked.
What was that?
The knocking sounded again.
She jolted out of bed, scrambling to her bureau, grabbing a T-shirt. “My door. Someone is here.”
“Just ignore it.” But as soon as I said that, the knocker called out.
“Mr. Larkin, it’s David from City Painters. Just need a tiny minute of your time.”
I groaned, my head falling back on the pillow for a long few seconds of frustration. I swung my feet over the bed, left the bedroom, and found my briefs, jeans, and T-shirt. In seconds, I was dressed, my phone in my pocket, and I answered the door.
David smiled proudly at me, his craggy face pleased. “We finished. Come see it. It looks fantastic.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Appreciate that. I can see it tomorrow.”
“No. You have to see it tonight. My men can’t clock out till the client gives approval.”
I gritted my teeth, sighed heavily. “I’ve no doubt I’ll approve