CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

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WHOEVER SAID THE best sex was spontaneous hadn't spent an afternoon with Adam Stone on her mind.

Calder wiggled in her seat, anxious to get from point A to the point where she could rip the clothes off his mouthwateringly sexy body. Right now, she was stuck behind a delivery truck. No way forward, honking cars to the rear.

She understood their frustration.

The reason Calder owned her sweet little Porsche was that she enjoyed the adventure of New York City traffic. Unlike her sisters who used a regular car service—or in a pinch, public transportation—she preferred to be in control.

Tonight was the perfect example. If she were in the backseat, helpless, with nothing to do but fume? Her patience wouldn't last long.

Behind the wheel, Calder couldn't move any faster. However, all the options were at her disposal. She could honk the horn. Pound her hand on the dashboard. Roll down the window and scream her frustration.

Calder chose none of the above. Instead, she listened to the drivers in front and behind her spew words colorful enough to make a dockworker blush. And laughed. Lordy, she loved New York.

The chaos around Calder calmed her mentally—not physically. The need for Adam had reached a critical level.

Professional—always—Calder breezed through her meeting. She charmed. She cajoled. She wheedled. In the end, the man didn't know what hit him. A savvy businessman, Alton Stevens had greeted her with a smug smile, certain he would win the day.

An hour later, Calder had turned smug into stunned. She left Alton's office with a sweet smile—no need to gloat—and a hefty check in her purse.

Calder carefully packed a change of clothes before she left home. Something casually chic. Something alluring. And easily removed. After the lengthy meeting, she didn't have time to do anything but get in her car and head to Adam's apartment.

Traffic had been on her side, until now. With each block, each mile, she thought about tonight. About Adam.

He made her think. Feel. Want. He sparked a fire inside Calder she'd almost forgotten. Or, if she were honest, hadn't existed until now. She'd channeled her energy toward business. Happily. Sex was usually an afterthought.

Calder would have sworn nothing was missing from her life. She didn't live at the office. She was active socially. If the men she dated weren't terribly exciting, she put the blame on herself. She picked from what was available. Didn't force herself outside the familiar.

Honestly, Calder couldn't have said what she wanted in a man. She hadn't been interested in looking when out of the blue came Adam. Different from any man she'd ever met. Yet, somehow, wonderfully familiar. Dangerous and safe. Edgy and smooth.

Exciting. And exciting. And exciting.

"Come on!" Calder cried out, her eyes narrowed on the offending delivery truck. "Move already."

Grabbing her phone, Calder pulled up Adam's number.

"Calder." He never made her wait long before he answered.

"I'm stuck in traffic."

"Have to love New York."

As if by magic or the power of frustration, the truck pulled away, the cars started moving. And her anticipation skyrocketed.

"Finally." Calder hit the gas. "My ETA is five minutes."

"Perfect timing. I'll put the steaks on. Dinner will be ready when you get here."

"Hold off on the steaks."

"Why?"

Calder didn't want to explain over the phone. She wanted to show Adam what she had in mind.

"Because dinner will have to wait."

Five minutes turned into four. Foot heavy on the gas, Calder held her breath the entire way, praying she wouldn't be pulled over. She probably deserved a speeding ticket—okay, definitely—but she wasn't in the mood for another delay.

No police. No more traffic. Even the parking gods were on her side. Just as she approached Adam's building, a car pulled out. Calder took just enough time to grab her bag from the trunk.

The doorman greeted Calder with a welcoming smile.

"Miss Benedict?"

"Yes."

"Go right up. Mr. Stone is expecting you."

Calder's heels clicked as she crossed the lobby. She looked like any other young woman, home from a day at the office. Her outfit—one of Andi's designs—was a modern take on the power suit. Warmer than white. Not quite cream. The moment she buttoned the jacket, she felt confident. Ready to take on the world and win.

All Calder cared about at the moment, was one man. Taking him on would be a pleasure. If things went as planned, they'd both come out on top. And the bottom. And all positions in between.

The elevator ride was swift. Calder strode down the hall. She barely had time to ring the bell when the door opened. Adam smiled, his expression puzzled.

"You hung up so quickly I didn't have time to ask. Why does dinner have to wait?"

"Anything in danger of burning?" Besides me?

Shaking his head, Adam stood aside to let Calder in.

"Lock the door."

Bemused, Adam followed her instructions.

Calder dropped her bag onto the floor. As she slipped off her shoes, she placed her hand on his bare forearm for balance, just below his rolled-up sleeves. The feel of Adam's warm skin, the tickle of soft hair against her palm, the bunching of muscles, was a nice bonus.

Holding his gaze, Calder unbuttoned her jacket.

"Turn off your phone, Adam."

Awareness flared in his deep, blue eyes. No more questions, Adam turned into a man of action. In one compact, breathtaking movement, he swooped Calder off her feet.

"About damn time," he muttered.

"What about—?"

"The hell with the phone. I'll shut the door."

Calder didn't have time to enjoy the novelty of the moment. When his lips covered hers, everything else ceased to matter. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, slanted her mouth to a different angle. The taste of him was intoxicating.

Calder landed on his bed. Before she could do more than gasp, Adam covered her body with his.

"Too many clothes," she complained.

"Me, or you?"

"Both."

More than willing to help remedy the situation, Calder unzipped Adam's jeans. She fumbled with the button, but determination won out. Past the waistband, under denim and cotton. Just as she reached the curve of his butt, he moved, dislodging her hand.

"Hey," she protested.

"Soon."

Adam left her with an all-too-brief kiss. Quick and efficient, her skirt hit the floor. Then her jacket. The knit tank was next.

"Sexy underwear." He sighed, his gaze hungry. "My dreams didn't lie."

Dreams were good. In Calder's opinion, reality was better. Adam's shirt joined the growing pile of discarded clothing. She itched to touch his lean, muscled torso. Kiss his impossibly flat, rippling stomach.

A teasing glint entered Adam's eyes as if he could read her mind.

"Age before beauty, gorgeous."

On his knees, Adam rested her foot on his chest. He ran a hand up her calf in one slow, prolonged caress. The blue of his gaze intensified as he divided his attention between his progress and Calder's reaction to his agonizingly sensual touch.

Calder licked her lips, clutching at the bed. She entered the apartment ready for a fast, wild ride. Adam had something else in mind. When his hands made her feel so good who was she to complain?

The look in Adam's eyes was reverential. Worshipful. His touch? Pure sin.

"I could spend hours getting to know every inch of your legs. So strong. Do you run?"

"Every day." Calder let out a moan of pleasure when he found the sensitive skin at the back of her knee.

"I can tell."

Adam's lips replaced his fingers.

"So sexy. They go on forever. Then end at the perfect spot."

He left her, just long enough to remove the rest of his clothing. Adam lay beside Calder, his hand on the inside of her thigh, his lips pressed against the exposed curve of her breast. Through the layer of silver lace, he licked her hardened nipple, drawing the bud into his mouth.

She wanted these moments to go on forever. Yet, she needed more.

"Adam."

Calder didn't try to keep the yearning from her voice.

"I know. I know."

No more time for teasing. When Adam moved toward the bedside table, Calder wiggled out of her underwear. She watched as he rolled on a condom, and said a prayer of thanks. He wanted to protect her. Even when her brain was too muddled to protect herself.

Passion filled, yet infinitely gentle, Adam kissed her as he shifted positions. She twined her legs around him, welcoming the fluid thrust of his hips.

Breath rushed from Calder's lungs. Sex had always been fun. A welcome, physical release. She didn't know what she felt with Adam, but they'd traveled beyond fun. More than sex. She flew. Higher than she'd ever imagined. The burst of pleasure so intense, she swore she saw stars.

Adam collapsed onto the bed, chest glistening with sweat. Turning, he lay on his side, his face inches from hers. He touched her lips. Her cheek. He had the look of a man who'd ridden out a wild, exhilarating storm and lived to tell the tale.

"Sex? With you? My new favorite thing."

Smiling, flattered, and in complete accord, Calder smoothed back a lock of hair from his forehead.

"I say we go again. Soon. And often."

"Two in favor. And no dissenting votes." Adam's sigh held the sound of pure contentment. "The motion carries unanimously."

"You're a fool," Calder chuckled.

"And you're spectacular. Are you hungry?"

With more energy than she thought possible—all things considered—Adam jumped to his feet.

"If I plan to keep up my end of our endless sex pact, I need sustenance."

Calder enjoyed the view as Adam shamelessly paraded naked to the closet.

"I didn't say anything about endless."

Knowing she'd draw his attention, Calder stretched her arms over her head, letting the sheet fall to her waist.

"Wishful thinking. I—"

Calder batted her eyes. Hardly innocent, she took a deep breath. His gaze dropped to her breasts. In three long strides, he had her in his arms.

"What about dinner?"

"Later. Much later."

"But—"

Whatever she meant to say, Calder lost her train of thought the second Adam touched his lips to hers.

Adam brushed a kiss on her shoulder. Her neck. Her lips again. He met her gaze, his blue eyes heavy with desire.

"Dinner can wait. I can't."

 

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THEY ATE. EVENTUALLY. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her feet bare, Calder watched—thoroughly impressed—as similarly attired Adam prepared their steaks.

"You really do know your way around the kitchen."

"Why are you so surprised? People all over the world cook. Every day."

Calder wondered if her answer would sound pompous. Elitist. Probably. Facts were facts. She had a privileged childhood which continued into adulthood. She wasn't embarrassed. Nor did she like to flaunt the perks wealth afforded her.

When asked directly, Calder didn't shy away from the subject.

"I don't. Cook, that is. Neither do my sisters. Or my mother. Or our fathers."

"Because you don't have to?" Adam placed a filled plate in front of Calder. "Or you don't want to?"

"Both."

With a nod, Adam joined her. He filled their glasses with a deep-red burgundy.

"My mother loves to putter around the kitchen. Her words, not mine. Me? Not so much." As he sipped his wine, his gaze met hers over the rim. "Want to know the truth?"

"As often as possible."

"I eat out more often than not. Tonight? All an attempt to impress you." Adam waited as Calder took her first bite. "Well? What's the verdict?"

Calder slowly chewed the juicy, perfectly cooked piece of meat. She'd observed Adam's technique. Salt. Pepper. Butter heated in a sizzling pan. The process looked simple. She knew better. Nothing that tasted so good could ever be termed simple.

"Slam dunk. Too bad we already had sex, or I'd show my appreciation." Calder dug into the tossed green salad. "Mm. The dressing is outrageous."

"One of my mother's specialties," Adam said with pride. "If you think Mrs. Finch would like the recipe, I can text you a copy."

"She would be over the moon. If your mom wouldn't mind, have her call the house. Mrs. F. can talk food for hours."

"I warn you. Mom will grill Mrs. Finch for every piece of information she can get about you. Your childhood. Your intentions toward her baby boy."

Calder laughed so hard she almost spilled wine down her front.

"For the past few hours, I've made my intentions crystal clear. I say we spare Mrs. Finch and your mother the details."

"I agree." Adam clinked his glass against hers.

"Are you and your mother close?"

"We are." Adam's smile was warm, with a nostalgic quality as if the memories were only good. "My father died when I was a baby. My grandparents live in California. They still visit every other Christmas. Mom worked hard all her life. Did her best to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Obviously, she succeeded."

"For the most part."

Calder sensed Adam had tales to tell about his youth. Interesting stories she planned to ask about. One day soon.

"Why the Navy?"

"As opposed to the other branches of the military?" Adam shrugged. "My father served. Before he married my mother. He was a good man. I like to think he would have been a good father. Guess I decided to carry on the Stone tradition. My way of honoring a man I never knew. Silly, I suppose."

"I doubt your mother thinks so."

Surprise sparked in Adam's eyes.

"She never said."

"Perhaps she didn't want you to feel any pressure to follow in his footsteps. Be your own man. Find your own path."

Adam brushed his hand over hers. A brief, seemingly careless gesture. Calder's pulse stuttered. So quickly she thought she might have imagined the sensation.

"I like your reasoning. Why are you so wise on the subject?"

"Wisdom is easy when someone else is involved. If you asked about my father? Our relationship? I have no answers."

"How often do you see him? Sorry. If you don't want to talk about him, I understand."

Edwin Calder wasn't a subject she discussed outside the safe circle of her sisters. Different fathers, different dysfunctions. Same complicated father/daughter dynamics.

Calder shied away from questions she knew were about a desire for juicy details, not any real interest in her. Another one of those pesky trust issues she could never completely leave behind.

Adam had chipped away at Calder's defensive shell. Cracks were showing. But she knew he would never get all the way in unless she decided to let him.

"Edwin Calder isn't the most paternal man in the world." A massive understatement. "My existence is a fact. One he easily ignores most of the time. When he's in New York, which isn't often, we do the whole obligatory get-together. Usually lunch at a very trendy, very public place. My father loves to see and be seen."

Calder stopped when she heard the tone of her voice. Though she'd come to terms with her parental situation long ago, bitterness occasionally seeped to the surface.

"I can only give you one side of the story. I'm certain my father would—" Calder had no idea what her father would say. "He doesn't make excuses for his actions. Fault or virtue? I have no idea."

"I've never understood why some people think an apology equals weakness."

Because, you, Adam Stone, are a real man. Good and strong and, fingers crossed, trustworthy. Calder felt another crack in her shell—near her heart. A hopeful feeling. And damned scary.

"My father doesn't apologize for one simple reason. In his mind, he's never wrong."

"Never?"

"To my knowledge? No." Calder couldn't read Adam's expression beyond disbelief. "Not exactly Father Knows Best. I'd understand if you want to see the back of me."

"I'd rather see the front of you. But I'll take what I can get."

Calder appreciated Adam's attempt at a joke. Bad, but she'd heard worse.

"I haven't met your parents," Adam said as he cleared the table.

"Consider yourself blessed."

A plate in each hand, Calder followed him to the kitchen

"I have met the rest of your family. Your sisters. Mrs. Finch."

Adam couldn't know, but when he included Mrs. Finch, he earned himself a mess of brownie points.

"You're a formidable group."

"And proud of the distinction."

Adam laughed.

"I admire strong, independent women." He leaned with his hip against the counter. "I was raised by one. She taught me respect has to be earned."

Cleanup was quick. He shut the dishwasher, wiping his hands with a paper towel.

"Sounds like a woman worth knowing." Calder placed her hand next to Adam's. Close, but not touching. "I should thank you for dinner. Properly."

"Properly." Adam mulled over the word. "As in a handwritten note and a bouquet of flowers?"

Calder smiled when he wrapped his arms around her. Exactly where she wanted to be.

"I misspoke. I want to thank you improperly."

Adam backed from the kitchen, taking Calder with him.

"Tell me more."

"Stop." Calder picked up her bag. "I have goodies."

"Don't tease." He maneuvered them into the bedroom. "What kind of goodies?"

"Lotion."

"Sounds promising."

With a push, Calder had Adam flat on his back, onto the freshly made bed. He lay, hands behind his head, eyes alert, as she rummaged through the leather tote for treasure.

"A paintbrush?" Adam chuckled when she held up the item for his viewing pleasure.

"Left, unused, after your friends cleaned up." She straddled Adam's legs, pushing up the hem of his shirt to expose his flat stomach. She lightly swiped the bristles over his skin. "Very soft."

Adam let out a sound of pleasure from deep in his throat. When she loosened the waist of his jeans, tugging them past his hips, all kinds of wonderland were exposed. Slowly, she moved the brush lower, lower.

"What do you think?" Calder paused at the most interesting moment.

The glint in Adam's blue eyes told her she would pay for teasing him. Unconcerned, she showed no mercy.

"Well? Yes, or no?"

One light flick across his hard length brought a moan as his hips twitched, reaching for more. Calder sent Adam a knowing smile.

"I guess I have my answer."

 

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"YOU DIDN'T TOSS me out."

"Of the shower?" Adam handed Calder a towel for her hair then continued to personally and thoroughly dry her damp skin.

"Of your bed. You told me you don't sleep with women."

"You aren't any woman. You're Calder. A class all your own."

Somewhere. Under all the perfect, Adam had to have a flaw. Nothing major—fingers crossed. Perhaps he sang off key. Or left his dirty socks on the floor.

What amazed Calder? She wanted to be around long enough to find out—even if his great flaw was a tendency to leave the toilet seat up.

"Besides," Adam continued. "We didn't do a whole lot of sleeping if you recall."

"Sex on the brain. Typical man."

Calder hid her smile. Adam Stone was the least typical man she'd ever met.

"I didn't hear any complaints while you were on orgasm number five."

"You need to learn how to count."

"Four?" Frowning, Adam squeezed a healthy dollop of lotion into his palm. He started moisturizing Calder's legs. "I know the number was higher than three."

"Six."

Calder always gave credit where it was due. Adam's lips curved into a slow, self-satisfied smile.

"Sit."

Calder did as he asked. Adam dispensed more lotion, moving from her left foot to her right. He was very thorough. She kissed the top of his head.

"Thank you. Again."

"After your creative use of a paintbrush? I owe you. Big time." Adam winked. "Where did you ever come up with the idea?"

"Sex blog."

"You read blogs?" Adam sounded skeptical. "About sex?"

She turned onto her stomach so he could finish.

"I read many things. On many, wide, diverse subjects. Keeps my mind fluid."

"Calder?"

"Mm?"

"If you come across anything interesting, sex-wise? I'll be happy to act as your guinea pig. Experimentation keeps the mind extra-fluid."

"You don't say."

Adam lightly patted her butt.

"Flip over. I missed your breasts."

"You spent a good five minutes washing each one. How could you miss them already?"

"Not miss, smartass. Missed. With the lotion."

"Oh." Calder rolled to her back, arms over her head. The perfect position for what Adam proposed. "My mistake."

"Not a single thing about you is a mistake."

"No?"

"Absolutely not."

The lotion forgotten, Adam joined her on the bed. Eager, Calder welcomed him.