Broken (5 page)

As with yesterday, they swam out way too far for my liking, and as with yesterday, I held my breath until they turned toward shore. But unlike yesterday, when Adam finally waded out of the shallows and onto the sand, he held his hands over his privates to conceal himself. Yes, he knew I was there and was no doubt well aware that a freezing cold shriveled penis was definitely not a turn-on.

His towel looked tiny as he draped it over his shoulders, shivering as the cold air blew across his wet body.

Without taking too much time to weigh my decision, I went into the bathroom and grabbed a warm, fluffy robe from the hook behind the door, then jogged out onto the sand to where Adam was drying off, his lips blue from the cold.

“You are probably the craziest person I've ever met,” I told him, holding the robe open while diverting my eyes, so he could slip it on. “I don't know why you do it to yourself.”

His teeth chattered as he clambered into the robe, pulling it tightly around him. “There's nothing like…that mo-moment when the fr-freezing water reaches your nuts. It makes you f-feel alive.”

“Well, I'll have to take your word for it, Sugar, seein' as I can't test your theory,” I said with a smirk.

He burst out laughing, the richness of his tone warming my heart. “I knew you were watching,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Oh, I know ya did. That's why you got all coy and covered your bits.” I may have been talking sassy, but I couldn't meet his eyes as I was doing it.

The breeze whipped my hair around my face. Adam brushed it from my eyes with icy fingers.

“Oh my goodness, your hands are frozen.” I clutched the two of them between mine and raised them to my lips, puffing my warm breath onto them. “I've got coffee brewed if you want some,” I said in between breaths.

Adam didn't answer. I looked to his face from under my lashes. His eyes were intense, watching me as I tried to warm his hands. “All of me's cold,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving my mouth.

Oh good Lord.
As images of warming Adam's body danced seductively in my mind, heat radiated from my belly.

“Maybe you need coffee,” I mumbled, quickly dropping his hands. I looked around for Max, finding him already up on the back deck, waiting by the door. “Do you wanna come up?”

“Are you asking me in for coffee?” Adam asked with a lopsided grin, immediately making me blush.

Squaring my shoulders, I refused to be intimidated just because he was gorgeous, and sexy, and naked under the robe. “I'm just offerin' to warm you up.”

Adam's jaw clenched, amusement lighting his eyes, and it took me a moment to realize what I'd just said.

“You know what I mean,” I said, trying to make light of it.

“I'm looking forward to finding out.” He ushered me ahead of him, grabbing his clothes and following close behind.

The fire was already lit and both Adam and Max made good use of it, warming their frozen bodies.

“I said it before and I'll say it again—you're crazy for swimmin' in that water. You could die of pneumonia. There ain't a hope in hell you'd get me out there.” Handing Adam his coffee cup, I saw that sadness flicker in his eyes again before he twisted his jaw in contemplation.

“That almost sounds like a challenge, and I do love a good challenge, Buttercup.”

The words seemed to be flowing, thank goodness, all except for the sexy scenes. I knew where I wanted them to be and how I wanted them to play out. I could picture them in my mind when I closed my eyes, always with Adam as my leading man, and I had his notes to refer to on positions, so logistically I was good—I just couldn't convey the physical feeling and the emotion behind them. Instead, where I wanted something hot and steamy to happen, I wrote
SEX SCENE
in big bold capital letters, then highlighted them in magenta for extra emphasis, and planned to go back to them at a later date.

As had become our ritual, Adam went for his morning swim and I stayed behind watching, only not so sneakily anymore. I would rise just before the sun, shower, and dress in a warm wooly sweater, jeans, boots, and a beanie, then sit on the deck with a steaming cup of coffee and wait for Adam and Max to appear on the sand, strip off, and hit the surf.

I was just sitting back down, about to start my second cup, when I saw them coming toward me from the point. Max as usual was running ahead through the shallows, chasing seagulls. Adam was laughing and calling him back, trying to get him to heel but failing miserably. It was such a beautiful sight to behold, Adam's tall, lean body moving gracefully as he jogged easily along the wet sand, his deep rich laugh carrying all the way along the beach.

“Good morning,” he chortled once he reached my back steps that led down to the sand. “I hope you've got one of those waiting for me inside.” He indicated my coffee. “The water will be freezing today.” Then he laughed. “It reminds me of summer in England.”

The water may have been cold, but the weather was glorious with clear skies overhead, and I was enjoying just being outdoors. There wouldn't be too many more days like this before winter really set in.

“Good mornin' to you, too, Sugar. The fire's lit, and the coffee's on, just waitin' for you.” I took a sip of my own drink, eyeing Adam's firm body admiringly as he stripped off the layers until he was down to just his shorts.

“Sure I can't tempt you to come in with us?” He grinned, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Leaning back in my chair, I made myself comfortable with my feet resting on the railing. “I'm snug as a bug right here, actually.” I raised my cup to Adam, then took another sip, my eyes never leaving his face. It was such a perfect face, all rugged and handsome with a childlike hint of mischief in his startlingly blue eyes.

His smile broadened as he watched my expression. “Well, okay, then.” His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts and he started to lower them, and my eyebrows shot up. “No peeking,” he told me with the most adorable grin, and I reluctantly closed my eyes. I so wanted to look. The temptation was overwhelming, but I squeezed my eyes tighter until I heard Max barking and the splashing of them entering the water.

A feeling of contentment washed over me as I watched Adam dive under the waves, then leap back up again, his hair spraying water around him. I was happy. In this place, at this exact moment in time, I felt the happiest I think I had ever been in my entire life. We hadn't even kissed yet and maybe we never would, but I wanted to, boy did I want to. Just the thought of his soft lips caressing mine, his hard body pressed against me as his hands tangled in my hair had the butterflies in my stomach taking flight.

As Adam and Max ran back up the beach, I grabbed the robe from the chair beside me and met them at the foot of the stairs. Wrapping the fluffy robe around Adam's shoulders and rubbing his rock-hard biceps to warm them, I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering over his taut, muscular body.

“Maybe I should have let you look earlier,” he puffed, trying to catch his breath. “My dick's not always this tiny, I promise.”

And there it was. A hint that maybe what I was feeling for Adam was reciprocated, and he was thinking about what could come, reassuring me that what he would be giving was worth taking. His eyes scanned my face, trying to read my expression, and try as I may, I couldn't keep my mouth from tipping into a broad grin.

“That's okay, Sugar,” I said, diverting my eyes from his intense gaze. “I saw it before y'all went in the water the other day.”

I so wanted to add, “
I know what I'm in for,
” but that would have been too presumptuous, to assume that I truly knew his intent. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, and he would never be mine, not even for this winter. He was probably just embarrassed that it had shrunk and was trying to blow his own trumpet with no intention of me ever experiencing it.

“Good, I'm glad we cleared that up. I'd hate for you to be put off.” He bit his top lip, his eyes never leaving my face.

I was so confused. Did he like me or was he just having a grand old time making me squirm?

Hooking his hand behind my head, he leaned down, his icy lips cooling my heated skin. “Thank you for the robe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my forehead as he spoke.

My heart thumped against my chest as his closeness consumed me. I couldn't raise my eyes to meet his. Instead I focused on his mouth and on his beard, the droplets of water descending his jaw. I raised my trembling hand to his shoulder to straighten the lapel of the robe, and watched as a drip of salty water ran down his neck to his chest until the soft fabric soaked it up.

I wanted to lick that neck, bite that jaw. The temptation to roughly scratch my fingernails through his beard was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. This wasn't me. I was the good girl with the naughty secret past that I gave up when I left college so I could marry straight-laced Charles and live out my dutiful existence serving our community.

Now here I was with a dripping wet, nearly naked man wanting to tackle him to the sand.

“Ah, would you like to…there's coffee if you…do you want?” Oh my God, what was wrong with me? For someone who called herself an author, I couldn't string a fluid sentence together.

Adam's fingertip ran from the nape of my neck around my jaw to my chin, leaving an electric current in its wake. He tilted my head, forcing me to meet his eyes, the blue so deep it was like looking at the depths of the ocean.

“Yes to all of the above.” His voice was barely audible, his breath slightly labored.

I tried to kid myself that his heavy breathing was because of me, but it was more likely that he was still coming down from his swim in the freezing ocean. But what was my excuse?
Because I was panting like some animal in heat.

We entered the spacious living room, him leading me in by the hand. It suddenly felt too small as this specimen of masculinity filled the space, taking all the oxygen and converting it into delicious pheromones. I was giddy in a way that was reminiscent of my childhood, when a boy I liked punched me in the arm, and I'd skipped home to tell Mimi that I thought he liked me too.

Adam took his clothes to my bedroom to finish drying off and get dressed. That thought alone sent me into a tailspin as I pictured the robe dropping to the floor and him toweling himself off. I was in the kitchen, happily imagining the towel reaching all those hard-to-get places with a big goofy grin on my face, when Adam came back out in his low-slung jeans and fitted lightweight black sweater. He looked mouthwateringly good.

“Penny for them,” he said, noticing my grin.

I frowned. “A penny for what?”

“A penny for your thoughts.” He chuckled. “You look like you're miles away.”

No, just in the next room.

“Oh, umm…I was just thinkin' through my story line.” It was a wonderful excuse. Every time I allowed myself to think of Charles and scowl, it was because of a problem I had with my story. If my mind wandered, as it often did, to Adam and how amazing his body would feel above mine, pressing my back into the mattress, I was just thinking through a scene for my book.

“So where are you up to?” he asked, coming over with his eye fixed firmly on the coffeepot. He reached around me for a mug as my lower back hit the counter. He seemed to be taking an incredibly long time to get that mug—not that I was complaining. As his chest brushed against mine, my nipples instantly leapt to attention, having not been anywhere near a man in months.

He paused, still standing lightly pressed against me, one brow cocked questioningly.

“Wha-what?”

He smirked, eyeing our closeness and the fact that his chest was still pushed against one of my breasts, making it bulge at the top of my V-neck sweater.

“Seems your cup is overflowing, Buttercup.”

I glanced down, realizing a wardrobe malfunction was imminent.

Chuckling at the flush in my cheeks, he took his sweet time fetching the coffee. “Very nice,” he mumbled, running his free hand up my side until it came to rest only a whisker away from the swell of my breast, then licked his lips.

I nearly dropped on the spot. Not to my knees—well, okay, the thought had crossed my mind more than once in the last week, but no—rather I nearly fainted from all those darn pheromones surrounding me.

“So can I read what you have so far?” He stepped away and I slumped, needing to brace myself against the counter, not having realized I'd been standing tensed and not breathing. “Promise I won't grade your work.”

It was risky. Apart from the lack of sexy time between the characters, it was just a draft, and he was an English teacher. I knew he'd be reading it with his metaphorical red pen, correcting my work as he went. But it also might be a great opportunity to get a different perspective on the story. Although it was primarily aimed at women, would it hurt to get a male's point of view?

I shrugged. “I guess you can read it, sure.” I plonked myself down in the chair by the computer, needing to steady my legs after our chest-to-chest contact. Hesitating, I looked around, trying to figure out the logistics. “You'll have to read it from the screen, seein' as I don't have a printer.”

I went to stand but he raised his hand to stop me, indicating that I should stay seated.

“I'll just lean over your shoulder, if that's okay with you?”

Before I had a chance to tell him absolutely it was okay with me, he had placed his coffee on the table beside the laptop and was leaning his forearms on the back of my chair, his hot, coffee-scented breath fanning my neck and cheek.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep calming breath and counted to four, then exhaled slowly. Nervously, I scrolled to the top of the first page; then, not knowing what to do with myself, I leaned awkwardly to the right to get out of the way.

“Relax.” His hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed, guiding me back to the center of the chair. I waited for him to remove his hand, but he didn't. Instead it stayed lightly in place, his long fingers brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear.

How could anyone relax under these circumstances? I was a big ball of goo and heaving bosoms under his touch.

As he read softly to himself, I followed the story, scrolling the pages at the appropriate times. At the point where the main character met her suitor, he squeezed my shoulder and brushed his whiskered jaw against my hair. “Hmm, I like that bit,” he commented, pointing to the paragraph he'd just read.

I relaxed, resting my head back against his broad chest. So far, so good. Then it came into view, the first of many
SEX SCENE
magenta sections.

“What's this?” he queried, indicating to the placeholder that was like a neon sign.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I saw his furrowed brow, and sighed. “I ain't feelin' some of the scenes, so I've tagged 'em for later.” Truth was, I was feeling the chemistry between the characters—I just didn't know how to express what I was feeling in words that would do any justice to the scenes I wanted to write.

He grunted, but didn't offer any advice. Instead he kept reading until the end of what I had written to date.

“This is really good,” he finally commented, still leaning on the back of my chair. “I particularly liked…” He reached forward and took control of the mouse to find the favored paragraphs, and in the process, completely encompassed me in his arms.

I felt faint. He was way too much man for me to handle. He smelled too good, all earthy and salty from his swim, and his body was just too hard and, well, perfect. But by God, I was willing to give it a try.

He found the part he enjoyed the most and read it again. “This part is especially good.”

Finally he stood, and the space around me felt cold and empty.

“Don't sound so surprised. I know my old stories were hilarious.” I threw my hands in the air, mimicking his reaction when he first read them.

He chuckled. “I'm not surprised at all. I think you have quite a gift for crafting a story.” He pulled out the chair beside me and pivoted it around on one leg so he could straddle it backward. “I am a little disappointed, though, that the main male character is a fireman. I was hoping for a schoolteacher.”

If that was his only complaint, then I was beyond happy.

“If there's one thing I've learned from all the books I've been readin', it's that the male lead has to be somethin' that women fantasize about. Someone strong and heroic, who at first may seem unattainable or broody and broken. Women love a man in uniform, too. It's a universal weakness we have,” I said matter-of-factly. “If I wrote 'bout the guy who stacks shelves at Walmart havin' a blisterin' affair with an accountant, no one would be interested.”