The Fifth Lesson (The Bay Boys #2) (11 page)

“She’s…” Christie prompted patiently.

Fuck it.
 
“She’s struggled with depression in the past,” he confessed.
 
“She hasn’t relapsed for about a year now, but…I let her think what she wanted because I thought it would be good for her to focus on something else.”

“Oh, Adam,” Christie said softly, sympathy in her tone.
 
At least it wasn’t pity.
 
“Of course I’ll come.
 
I would’ve come regardless.
 
You’re still a good friend of mine, you know.
 
Despite these lessons.”

“I know,” he murmured, relieved.

“I probably should’ve met your parents a long time ago,” she added.

“I’m not so sure you want to,” he said dryly.

“They can’t be that bad.”

He sighed, knowing she was right.
 
A lot of people had fucked up relationships with their parents.
 
Adam’s was probably pretty tame compared to some people.
 
“So, I’ll pick you up around 5:30?
 
I can pick you up from the gallery if that’s easier.”

“No, just come to my apartment.
 
I’ll want to freshen up after work.”

“Okay,” he said softly.
 
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” she said, that damn smile still evident in her voice.
 
“Oh, and Adam?”

“Hmm?”

She lowered her voice, “I had a dirty dream about you last night.”

He let out a strangled noise that was a mix of surprise and desire.

Christie just giggled.

TEN

Christie was adjusting her earrings when a knock sounded on the door of her apartment.
 
5:30.
 
Right on time.

Her heart gave an uncomfortable—and unfamiliar—little lurch of anticipation and excitement before she fumbled for the knob to reveal Adam standing in the doorway.

She couldn’t help the grin that sprung onto her features.

“Hi,” she said, her voice husky, as she moved closer and kissed the edge of his lips.
 
His skin was warm as she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the doorway.

He looked handsome in his dark green sweater with the sleeves rolled up and tan slacks.
 
She looked for the little rumple in him that she loved and found it: a little lock of hair stuck up at an odd, yet endearing, angle.
 
The sight of it did funny things to her stomach.

The light in her apartment made his eyes look more brown than golden.
 
His gaze dropped down, taking in her outfit slowly and leisurely, making her feel like she was gloriously naked, posing privately for him.
 
Her fitted, knee-length skirt was cream colored with beautiful lace detailing; her blouse was a bright chiffon pop of peach.
 
It left her arms exposed and the slim leather belt she added cinched her at the tiniest part of her waist, making her curves more apparent.
 
It was classic and conservative, for his parents, with just a touch of sensuality for Adam’s benefit.

She’d obsessed over her outfit, the way women do, all day.
 
But seeing his awed look made it all worth it, a thousand times over.

And she saved the best part for last.

“I need some help with my heels,” she told him, swaying over to her couch.
 
She heard the door click shut behind him but she could feel his hesitation permeate the air.
 
So, she tossed him a ‘come-hither’ look over her shoulder and sank down into the couch, letting her skirt intentionally ride up the smooth skin of her thighs.

Christie didn’t know why she liked teasing him so much.
 
Perhaps she needed to see him come apart at the seams.
 
She’d seen a hint of it on Sunday and she wanted more.
 
For once, she wanted to see the ever-calm and collected Adam Thornton lose his mind, just for a moment…and just for her.

She grasped her gorgeous, strappy three-inch heels from the floor and offered them up to him, dangling them from her fingertips.
 
Adam had yet to say a word, but he kneeled down in front of her, taking the heels.
 
His eyes locked on her own for a brief moment.
 
Christie read something in them that made her stomach flutter and her cheeks flush.
 
He only broke their gaze when he focused his attention downward.

Adam carefully slipped her left foot into her heel, but his fingertips lingered on the sensitive skin of her ankle.
 
His touch was so light that it was almost a caress.
 
It sent pleasurable shivers racing up her spine, made goose bumps break out over her delicate flesh.

She loved being touched.
 
Craved it.
 
It was funny what simple human contact could do, but it made her deliriously happy.

A moan began to bubble up in her throat, but Christie bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from surfacing.
 
She feared if she made any sound at all he’d stop.

His fingers began working on the straps.
 
He drew them over the top of her foot and around her ankle.
 
He easily slipped them into place and threaded them through the golden, delicate clasps.
 
When he was finished with one heel, he paused.
 
Christie felt his hot gaze roam from her foot, up her calf, to her exposed thighs.
 
They lingered there before he took in her cinched waist, the outline of her breasts, her lips.
 
The intensity of his eyes stunned her when they finally found her own.

Desire.
 
Need.
 
Longing.
 
Awe.

His eyes revealed everything.
 
She’d never felt so feminine, so sensual in her entire life.
 
The way he looked at her…it was powerful.
 
The weight of it thrilled her.

Christie’s bare foot moved delicately up his knee, up his thigh.
 
He silently watched her from his position on the floor.
 
That mischievous look she loved started to burn bright…and she was the one stroking the embers.
 
Reserved Adam Thornton disappeared.
 
In his place was a sinfully handsome man daring her to explore him further.
 
Begging her.

He was hard under his slacks by the time she reached the junction of his thighs.
 
God
, how she wanted to moan in satisfaction.
 
She’d
done this to him.

She caressed his length almost lovingly.
 
Even though she’d yet to see him in the flesh, she knew he was mouthwateringly thick.
 
His slacks couldn’t hide his arousal and she’d fondled him enough on Sunday to know.

Christie heard his breathing turn ragged, watched as his jaw clenched tightly.
 
A smile floated over her features.

Suddenly, Adam snagged her foot away.

He immediately slipped her foot into the remaining heel, as though it was a wild animal that needed to be caged.
 
She was half-amused, half-aroused as she watched him.

But his next words doused her in ice cold water.

“It’s not Sunday, Christie.”

His tone was disapproving and she could see a small frown working its way onto his features.
 
The hazy spell that perfumed the air a moment earlier dispersed and Christie was left with a feeling like shame.
 
And embarrassment.

It’s not Sunday, Christie.

As though he only had use for her on one specific day of the week.

As though she wasn’t good enough to be an everyday kind of girl.

Why couldn’t she touch him?
 
Why was it so wrong?
 
Instead of feeling feminine, and sensual, and powerful…now, she just felt slutty.

What am I doing
? she asked herself, staring down at her lap.
 
What the fuck am I doing?
 
She’d dealt with men like this before.
 
She didn’t care to again.

Christie remembered the insecure girl she’d been in high school.
 
She’d been alone, looked down on by girls for her looks and objectified by the boys for her body.
 
She’d partied and snuck out late so she could avoid being at home.
 
So she didn’t have to see the man her father had become.
 
To erase the pain and the shattered shadow of a girl who longed for her mother when she shouldn’t.

She’d learned a long time ago not to let men walk all over her.
 
It started with her father and ended with a toxic string of boyfriends.
 
Hadn’t it been Andrew who told her she was amazing in bed, but wasn’t relationship material?
 
Hadn’t it been Kyle who told her that he strung her along simply because he loved fucking her?

And here she was…letting Adam take the same liberties.
 
Hell, she’d
agreed
to it, had damn near begged for it.
 
Apparently, she hadn’t learned a thing.

But he’d helped her.
 
He’d saved her job, her
career
.
 
She’d agreed to his terms and she was always a woman of her word.

She had to suck it up.
 
Three lessons to go.
 
Three more weeks.

Adam had just made it clear that she was only his Sunday girl.
 
That this wasn’t anything more than an agreement.
 
Now, she understood why he hadn’t wanted to have sex with her.
 
He probably thought she wasn’t good enough to take his precious virginity.

He probably
did
have another woman in mind for that job.

Stop it
, she chided herself silently.
 
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Christie drew herself up.
 
Adam had finished putting on her heels so she stood from the couch.
 
Crossing the short distance to her kitchen, she snagged her deep fuchsia clutch off the countertop.

She hardened her heart the way she’d always done.

If he didn’t think she was good enough, then that was his loss.
 
Because Christie loved the woman she’d become.

Three weeks
.

And then they could go back to being friends who only saw each other at bar meet-ups, and mutual friends’ birthdays, and the occasional weekend barbecue.

Then, she would find a nice guy who didn’t want her solely for sex.
 
Or maybe just swear off men forever…

But for now, she was meeting Adam’s parents.
 
She would put on a bright smile and pretend, for the sake of his mother, that he hadn’t just cut her deep.

Christie spun around to face him and plastered on a fake smile.
 
“Ready to go?”

*
   
*
   
*

Adam had fucked up somehow.
 
He knew it.

The vineyards of Napa flew by as Adam raced down the highway.
 
Christie was silent in the passenger seat.
 
They’d made polite small talk for the first twenty minutes or so, but Adam could feel a blanket of tension filling the small space.
 
There was always tension between them, but it was more sexual than anything.
 
But this felt different.
 
This felt foreboding.

Was she mad he’d rejected her advances?
 
He’d pulled away because he didn’t want her thinking he expected more than what they’d agreed on.
 
They were still friends and he hoped that once this arrangement was over, they would
still
be friends.
 
There was no need to complicate it.

They’d agreed on Sundays.
 
Only Sundays.
 
So he couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt like the world’s biggest asshole.
 
Christie was obviously upset, no matter how valiantly she tried to hide it.
 
But he didn’t understand why.
 
Was she having second thoughts about meeting his parents?
 
Was this just added pressure to an already messy situation?

God, was this why his friends were driven to drink whenever they got into a fight with their girlfriends?
 
Not that she was his girlfriend or anything, but she was certainly the closest thing to it right now…

Her silence began to grate on his nerves.

They were only about five minutes away from his parents’ house, but when he saw a wide shoulder on the side of the highway, he pulled off quickly and shifted his Mercedes into park.
 
Adam half-turned in his seat, but kept his hands on the steering wheel in case he was tempted to reach out and touch her.

Christie regarded him quietly from the passenger seat, which was odd.
 
Something was definitely bugging her.
 
He’d imagined she would make a suggestive joke about roadside debaucheries or, at the very least, ask him what the hell he was doing.
 
But if she was startled by the sudden change in plans, she didn’t show it.

“You’re mad about something,” he guessed quietly.

It was still light outside—summer was making itself known—but the sun was steadily lowering on the horizon.
 
A shaft of its rays hit Christie’s blonde hair, making his chest squeeze.

So goddamn beautiful
.

Her soft lips parted, momentarily distracting him.
 
He had the strongest urge to lean over the console and taste them again, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate.
 
Especially when he’d stopped her earlier.
 
There needed to be a clear line between them.
 
He didn’t want her to think he was taking advantage of their situation.
 
No matter how much he wanted to…