CHAPTER 1 - TAYLOR
Less than four months ago, I was attacked by the crazy half-sister of my deceased husband for the money I’d inherited after his death. She wiped out an entire family to avenge the childhood she hadn’t gotten, for her father hadn’t recognized her as his own daughter.
As vicious as she was, I was saved from her malicious plans thanks to Adam. He and his deep and passionate love saved me from my possible downfall after learning the truth behind my husband’s death.
Now, I can’t help but feel the same deep, passionate love for Adam, the man who has loved me for years without receiving anything in return. Without even a miniscule hope that I might love him back. And, even when Jack, my deceased husband and Adam’s best friend, was alive, Adam didn’t give up on me.
On us.
I may not be fully recovered from my depression, but Adam’s love is keeping me standing. If I’m completely honest, though, it’s actually his skills in bed, the never-decreasing lust, that’s distracting me from the potentially hurtful thoughts. His tall, muscled figure, sun-kissed, hot skin, dark brown waves of hair that reach his shoulder would be enough to make a nun lust after him, but his allure goes beyond that. It’s his piercing eyes that promise to employ every mischievous tactic to rip dizzying climaxes, one after another, out of me and ignite fires in the depths of my soul after those mind-blowing orgasms.
Having shared Adam’s bed for several months, living under the same roof as lovers, I’ve actually started feeling truly and completely happy. So unbelievably happy that I find myself panicking each and every time I think of my future with Adam.
I wonder whether I’ll end up being his next ex, if he’ll drop me as soon as the next best girl sweeps him off his feet. After all, he left his ex-girlfriend of four years for me, although there wasn’t even a chance of Adam and me being together, as I’d been dating Jack at that time.
I had clinical depression after Jack’s death; I’ll probably end up in a psychiatric ward, if Adam leaves me someday.
Adam and I do the same thing every day. Sex, shower, breakfast— not always in that order—then work our asses off until late in the evening. He goes out jogging while I nap or read a book, then we cook our dinner and eat. It’s between ten and twelve at night when we retire to our bedroom, talking, making love, and talking some more.
Adam loves talking about his dreams and future plans. And , more often than not, those plans include having kids, catching a Lakers’ game with his kids, building a basketball area and a swimming pool for his kids in the backyard of our future home, taking the said kids to Disneyland and the San Diego Zoo, or anywhere else that has a picture of a cartoon or an animal on it. So much talking of children.
When I try and remind him my failure to conceive, he just waves his hand and settles himself between my legs. As if his penis can cure anything in its way.
Almost five months into our relationship, I leave for New York to help my sister, Lindsay, while she’s recovering from a broken leg. As much as I wish for his company, Adam stays in L.A. to prepare the bids for a major project we’re planning to take over.
When I step onto the plane, pain spasms through my chest; the result of thinking about the one week I won’t see Adam. It’s scary to feel so strongly for a man. So much more for a man like Adam. He’ll be without me and surrounded by all sorts of women. I count the days until the flight back to L.A., although I cherish each and every day I get to spend with my sister.
As soon as the plane lands at LAX and the seatbelt lights turn off, I jump to my feet and claim my space in the tiny isle of the plane. I consider skipping the baggage claim to throw myself into Adam’s arms sooner, but then I remember the gifts I bought for him. Gifts I hope will bring a smile to his lips.
Once I gather my suitcase, I pace
Less than four months ago, I was attacked by the crazy half-sister of my deceased husband for the money I’d inherited after his death. She wiped out an entire family to avenge the childhood she hadn’t gotten, for her father hadn’t recognized her as his own daughter.
As vicious as she was, I was saved from her malicious plans thanks to Adam. He and his deep and passionate love saved me from my possible downfall after learning the truth behind my husband’s death.
Now, I can’t help but feel the same deep, passionate love for Adam, the man who has loved me for years without receiving anything in return. Without even a miniscule hope that I might love him back. And, even when Jack, my deceased husband and Adam’s best friend, was alive, Adam didn’t give up on me.
On us.
I may not be fully recovered from my depression, but Adam’s love is keeping me standing. If I’m completely honest, though, it’s actually his skills in bed, the never-decreasing lust, that’s distracting me from the potentially hurtful thoughts. His tall, muscled figure, sun-kissed, hot skin, dark brown waves of hair that reach his shoulder would be enough to make a nun lust after him, but his allure goes beyond that. It’s his piercing eyes that promise to employ every mischievous tactic to rip dizzying climaxes, one after another, out of me and ignite fires in the depths of my soul after those mind-blowing orgasms.
Having shared Adam’s bed for several months, living under the same roof as lovers, I’ve actually started feeling truly and completely happy. So unbelievably happy that I find myself panicking each and every time I think of my future with Adam.
I wonder whether I’ll end up being his next ex, if he’ll drop me as soon as the next best girl sweeps him off his feet. After all, he left his ex-girlfriend of four years for me, although there wasn’t even a chance of Adam and me being together, as I’d been dating Jack at that time.
I had clinical depression after Jack’s death; I’ll probably end up in a psychiatric ward, if Adam leaves me someday.
Adam and I do the same thing every day. Sex, shower, breakfast— not always in that order—then work our asses off until late in the evening. He goes out jogging while I nap or read a book, then we cook our dinner and eat. It’s between ten and twelve at night when we retire to our bedroom, talking, making love, and talking some more.
Adam loves talking about his dreams and future plans. And , more often than not, those plans include having kids, catching a Lakers’ game with his kids, building a basketball area and a swimming pool for his kids in the backyard of our future home, taking the said kids to Disneyland and the San Diego Zoo, or anywhere else that has a picture of a cartoon or an animal on it. So much talking of children.
When I try and remind him my failure to conceive, he just waves his hand and settles himself between my legs. As if his penis can cure anything in its way.
Almost five months into our relationship, I leave for New York to help my sister, Lindsay, while she’s recovering from a broken leg. As much as I wish for his company, Adam stays in L.A. to prepare the bids for a major project we’re planning to take over.
When I step onto the plane, pain spasms through my chest; the result of thinking about the one week I won’t see Adam. It’s scary to feel so strongly for a man. So much more for a man like Adam. He’ll be without me and surrounded by all sorts of women. I count the days until the flight back to L.A., although I cherish each and every day I get to spend with my sister.
As soon as the plane lands at LAX and the seatbelt lights turn off, I jump to my feet and claim my space in the tiny isle of the plane. I consider skipping the baggage claim to throw myself into Adam’s arms sooner, but then I remember the gifts I bought for him. Gifts I hope will bring a smile to his lips.
Once I gather my suitcase, I pace
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