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It was a tender whisper, so different from the usual way he talked to her in bed. Leaning over him, she began trailing soft kisses over his chest. He reached down and gently threaded his fingers through her hair.
She rubbed her cheek back and forth along his taut abdomen,breathing in his essence, then gripped him and let her lips and hands and body tell him what her voice could not.
Adam
Leaning on the dock railing, Adam took another satisfying swallow of Blake’s twenty-five-year-old Dalwhinnie, watching the moonlight reflect over the black surface of the lake.
Sleep had evaded him, even with Eve’s tender ministrations. After she drifted off and he was sure she was asleep, he’d slipped out of bed and headed to a certain liquor cabinet. It hadn’t taken long to find the seven-hundred-dollar bottle he sought, which only had a little left. But it was enough. He’d grasped it by the neck, taken a lowball from the rack, and headed out into the night.
It was Blake he wished he had by the neck. Though he’d agreed with Eve’s wise words, he still wanted to grab the bastard by the throat. Jannie had not shared anything about the state of their relationship, which led him to believe things were not good.
He turned his thoughts to Eve and what she had told him tonight before giving herself to him unreservedly, as she always had, even from day one.
He felt like a liar and a hypocrite, even if the situation wasn’t entirely under his control. For years, he’d let the problem slide because he was content to spend his time with escorts and hadn’t needed freedom. The truth was, he hadn’t cared.
Now his apathy and procrastination had come to bite him in the ass.
A gentle hand on his back made him start. He looked over his shoulder to find his mother, a stemmed glass in her hand.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her voice, as always, was soothing.
“It’s OK.”
She gave him two gentle pats, then came to stand beside him.
She said nothing; she just took a sip of her drink. The breeze brought the scent of red wine to his nostrils. Interesting. Mom rarely drank.
Adam took another swallow of scotch. Part of him wished shehadn’t found him. Mom had a way of making him see and face things he wanted to avoid, and he sensed this would be one of those times.
“What are you drinking?” she asked.
Adam lifted the bottle from where he’d balanced it on the railing.
She took one look and laughed.“Finishing off Blake’s stash?”
“Not the only thing of Blake’s I’d like to finish.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“First of all, I know your heart. Second, you know she loves him. And that’s why I know you don’t mean it.”
She had the most annoying way of being right.
“Everything will work out, Adam. Wait and see.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt and tried a change of subject.“Does Dad know you’re out here?”
She swirled the wine in her glass.“He sent me.”
Well, then.“Oh?”
She nodded.“I thought we should both come out and talk to you, but he said that would be too much.”
“Too much what?”
“Even when you were little, you needed to be alone sometimes.”