Everything about this man was irresistible—his face, his body, his laugh, the way he moved, the way he looked at her. The way he kissed, the way his hands danced so skillfully over her. She didn’t even want to think about any issues lurking outside this cozy bed.
She just wanted to enjoy.
Her clothing proved little impediment. He didn’t even fumble with zippers or buttons before they fell away. He gave her no chance to be self-conscious about the changes time and pregnancy had made to her body, but caressed her with an obvious appreciation that made her forget any petty insecurities.
She thought he seemed a little more hesitant when she tugged at his shirt, but she made it equally clear his scars didn’t bother her, other than as a reminder of what he’d suffered. The evidence of his pain made her heart hurt, but he gave her no chance to dwell on the sadness. He lowered her into the deep pillows and settled against her, strong and pulsing and thoroughly male.
She ran her hands over his chest, stringing kisses along his jaw, his throat, his collarbone—any part of him she could reach while he explored her with equal enthusiasm. Her pulse raced, her breath escaped raggedly from her throat, her vision glazed as her other senses kicked into overdrive. Every inch of her ached and quivered with a need for release.
Adam drew away only long enough to don protection retrieved from his pants pocket, then returned immediately to her. She welcomed him with a sense of joyous familiarity, a feeling of rightness that, again, she felt only with him.
Maybe this was love. The kind she’d always hoped to find. However she defined them, her feelings for Adam were powerful, exhilarating, and...yeah, scary. And as she surrendered to mindless sensation, she knew that whatever she might call her feelings for him, whatever heartache they might yet bring, they weren’t ever going away.
* * *
JOANNA LAY TUCKED into Adam’s left side, his arm around her, his skin warm and damp beneath her cheek. This was his mostly undamaged side, so she didn’t worry about hurting him, but he didn’t seem to let his injuries hold him back much anyway.
He brushed her tumbled hair back from her face. “Hi,” he said when she looked at him.
She laughed softly. “Hi.”
“So, how’ve you been?”
Though she knew he was teasing, she thought about her answer. How had she been since she’d seen him last? She’d been busy. Deliberately busy. Almost frantically busy, anything to keep her from thinking about Adam. About how much she missed him. How challenging it would be to have him part of her son’s life—and in extension, part of hers—without reopening the cracks in her heart.
And here she was in bed with him again, having all but climbed him like a tree at no more than the touch of his hands on her cheeks.
How did he do this to her?
“We’ve never had any problems with communicating this way,” she murmured. “I’ve never had to ask what you wanted or what you needed from me in bed. Outside the bedroom—well, I don’t have a clue.”
“You’re not going to start calling me a stranger again, I hope.”
She flushed at his dubious tone.
He rolled to half pin her to the bed, waiting until she met his eyes before he spoke very evenly and precisely. “You want to know what I want? I want you, JoJo. I have since the first time I laid eyes on you. It was true when I walked away from you the first time, which I did because I thought it would be easier for you than seeing me off to a war zone. It was true when I was in that hospital, letting memories of you ease the pain during therapy sessions.”
“Adam—”
He continued as if she hadn’t even tried to speak. “I wanted you when you showed up again on that beach, looking as beautiful as the day we met, accompanied by my son, who you’d raised to be such a great kid. And the day I watched you leave without me.”
Her heart was beating so fast she had to force her words out. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because, as my friend Walt puts it so succinctly, I’m an idiot.”
Her smile was fleeting. The answer was amusing, but didn’t really tell her much.
As if sensing she wasn’t satisfied, he grew serious again. “There haven’t been many people I could depend on in my life. You get used to not expecting anything. To keep from getting hurt and disappointed over
and over, you learn to be the one to say goodbye first. You stop asking for anything. You tell yourself you’ve stopped wishing things were different. That you’re alone because you like it. And when someone gets too close, when they start making you want what you’re afraid to ask for—you run. But you tell yourself you’re moving on because it’s best for everyone involved.”
It was the most Adam had ever said to her about his past. It was a lot to take in, and yet he’d confirmed so much of what she’d already suspected. She just hadn’t been sure he’d been aware of those things. Perhaps he hadn’t been before now. Before he’d made himself stop pushing everyone away.
“What are you telling yourself now?” she asked quietly.
“That I’ve missed you,” he said. “Especially after having the chance to spend more time with you.”
It wasn’t exactly a romantic declaration. She noted that he hadn’t used the word love. But for Adam, this was major.