Mayhem

He wanted me to ask him this last night, but I was too scared. I’m still scared—I’m freaking terrified—but I trust him. He said he wouldn’t hurt me, and I know he won’t. “Why do you want me, Adam?”

With one hand holding himself up and the other tenderly brushing his thumb beneath my ear, he stares down at me and answers, “Because I love you.”

His lips follow his words, kissing me hungrily as his hips press forward. A sharp sting breaks between my legs, and I gasp against his mouth and dig my fingers into his shoulders. Adam pauses, pulls back, and then kisses me so insistently that all I can feel is his lips bruising mine. The pain between my legs ebbs, replaced by the overwhelming crush of his lips, and he rocks back into me, a little farther this time while my fingers scratch between his shoulders. He continues easing in and out of me until he’s buried all the way inside and I’m able to loosen my hold on him.

“Are you okay?” he pants, but I’m still lost in the three words he said before he broke the last barrier between us.

“You love me?” I ask, happy tears welling in my eyes.

The concern on Adam’s face is replaced with a warm smile. “More than anything.”

He kisses me until the entire room is swirling with heat, and then he resumes rocking, the sting inside me gradually overwhelmed by sensations that leave me whimpering sounds of pleasure into the shell of Adam’s ear. His soft lips explore every inch of my body—my mouth, my chin, my neck, my breasts—until the flood inside me starts welling again, threatening to burst all around him.

I hold him so tightly that I’m surprised he can even move, but his hips are relentless. Our hearts pound against each other and sweat beads across our skin, and Adam thrusts into me over and over again, nibbling at my ear as I plummet over the edge. I call out his name as I fall, and the sexiest sound of surrender rumbles in his chest as he follows me over. His body grows heavier against me with each thrust, and I hold him tight against me, my pulsing matching his throbbing while I struggle to catch my breath.

When Adam lifts onto his elbows to stare down at me, I’m barely holding back tears. I thought I had loved Brady, but that was the love of a girl who barely knew herself. She didn’t know what she wanted out of life, and she didn’t know what she was capable of. My love for Brady was born of sacrifice—sacrificing my own goals for his, my own needs for his, my own self for him. With Adam, we’re both willing to give each other everything.

“Ask me why I want you, Adam,” I say, and he stares down at me with so much love in his eyes that I almost tell him right then.

“Why do you want me?” he asks, and a thousand reasons come to mind. I want him because of his eyes and his smile and his laugh and his heart. I want him because of his dreams and his goals and his sense of humor and his light. I want him because he made me promises even though he never makes promises, because of the way he looks at me like he looks at no one else. I want him because of the way I feel when I’m with him and the way I feel when I’m not. But all of those are really just one reason waiting to be said, and I’m not afraid to say it anymore, because I know he wants to hear it.

With Adam in my arms and in my heart, I finally say the words I’m no longer afraid to admit to him or myself or anyone.

“Because I love you.”

Epilogue: Adam

WHEN MY ALARM goes off that morning, two months after making things official with Peach, I ignore it, wrapping my arms tight around her so that she’s snug inside the curve of my body. I bury my face in her long blonde hair and breathe in her strawberry shampoo, hoping that if I just ignore the alarm, she will too.

“Adam,” she groans, her voice heavy with sleep.

I hug her tighter and squeeze my face into the space between her neck and pillow. The alarm keeps screaming.

“Adammm.”

When I continue ignoring her, a smirk already sneaking onto my face because I know what’s coming next, Peach grunts and starts rolling over. She rolls me onto my back as she reaches across me for the alarm. She can’t reach it—she never can, because I’m a brilliant strategist encouraged by positive reinforcement—so she crawls over top of me to hit the OFF button, and then she collapses on my chest, her face smothered in my pillow.

Seeing my opportunity, I brush her hair away from her neck and kiss her there—softly, knowing it drives her crazy. I’m rewarded with an involuntary squirm that makes me harden between us, and my fingers dip beneath her soft cotton top. I trace feather-light lines up her back until her skin goose bumps under my fingertips, loving how her body responds to me.

When her lips find mine, I’m the one who moans, which might embarrass the hell out of me if I wasn’t so busy concentrating on trying to keep my hands from literally tearing her thin top and adorable bunny shorts off her tiny little body. I don’t know how she does this to me, but she always does—makes me fucking crazy to be as close to her as possible. No one—no one—has ever made me feel so desperate. I’d probably hate it if I didn’t love her so damn much.

Three and a half seconds later, I’ve had more than I can take. I flip her over, and she lets me. I drop my lips to her neck, finding the spot that makes her moan even louder than I did, restoring some of my dignity. My fingers graze under her top, and her back arches when I trace my tongue across her collarbone, making her skin flush my favorite shade of pink. Her hands curl between my bare shoulder blades, scratching at my skin and threatening to steal what’s left of my self-control. If I don’t get inside her soon, I’m pretty sure those bunny shorts are done for.