Page 25 of 10 Things I Skate About You

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl.” This time, for now, I am his girl.

I yelp when he pulls my legs up to rest my ankles on his shoulders and then lifts up my ass. My weight is on my shoulders, and I am so glad I’m flexible! “Awww, fuck! Baby. So tight.” He slams into me so hard and fast I have to hold onto my boobs because they’re jiggling all over the place. “Yeah. Play with your tits. Lemme watch you.”

That’s a great idea. I do that.

And then he does something. Shifts angles the tiniest bit and there’s this pressure. Deep and wide and full. I hate it. And then I love it. I never want it to end. Heat radiating from my belly outward. Contracting so tight around Adam’s cock. His grunts have gotten so high pitched, and he sounds frantic. This is the most I’ve ever felt in my body, but I also feel like I’m leaving my body.

“Baby, you’re milking my cock. You feel that?”

“Yeah. So good. You can come now.”

“I’m gonna come.”

“Yes! Adam! Yes!”

I reach for him. He grabs one of my hands so tight as his body tenses up. The falsetto note he hits is so beautiful. I know I’m not in love with him, but I don’t know what else to call this feeling I have for him right now. I love him. I love Adam Foley. I know it’s just a cascade of hormones and I know I’ll hate that I felt this way tomorrow, but…right now, I love him.

I stay on his bed while he goes to his bathroom to clean up. He brings a damp cloth in to wipe me between my legs. It’s humbling and erotic at the same time, like so much of what I’ve experienced with him tonight. He leaves and comes back again with a glass of water for me and sits next to me at the edge of the bed.

“I want you to stay the night,” he says. “I’ve got a brand-new toothbrush for you, and I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet. I want you to sleep in this bed with me, and I want to wake up with you in the morning and make you breakfast. If I wake up from one of my usual nightmares about you, I want you to be here so you can fuck me back to sleep. It’s a high-level fantasy I’ve had for a couple of years, and I always thought you’d appreciate the irony. Do you want to stay?”

“Yes. And I do appreciate the irony.”

“Good.” He leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “Are you mad that I made you feel so good?”

That makes me laugh. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Glad to hear it, darlin’. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He holds up his hand. I slap him five. “Fogueley forever.”

“Fogueley for now.”

“Baby steps, baby girl. Baby steps.”

12

ADAM

I’m not surprised that Red likes things hot, especially after last night. But the fact that she knows the exact right hot sauce to use on the migas I made her is quietly blowing my mind. I’ve only made this Tex-Mex breakfast dish for three people in Kenton—my billet parents and Kate. Howard and Frieda, God bless ’em, asked for mild salsa every time. I’ve got a carefully curated selection of six bottles of hot sauce on my breakfast table. She examined all of them and went for the Cholula. She didn’t pick the highest heat level just to prove she could handle it, and she didn’t go for the bottle I ordered from the guys in Fort Worth to be nice. She went with the mild heat to enhance the flavors of the scrambled egg dish without dominating it. Plus, she won’t burn her tongue so much she can’t taste the pour-over coffee I made again.

She takes a bite of scrambled eggs with fried strips of corn tortillas, onions, tomatoes, and jalapeños. No cheese. She closes her eyes as she chews and swallows. “God dammit. This is fucking delicious,” she says.

“Gracias. Our housekeeper, Carmen, taught me how to make this when I was ten.”

“Where do you get the tortillas? They’re perfect.”

“I make my own. This is a great town, but I refuse to buy packaged tortillas, and the ones they serve at What the Fajita are mediocre at best. I make fresh tortillas from scratch every week.” I take the seat across from her. This is how Frieda and Howard used to sit at this table. Across from each other.

“You hesitated when you sat down just now,” she informs me.

“I’m fine.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t fine.”

Jesus, we sound like an old married couple, and I fucking love it. “Put a little extra stress on my knee last night, in case you forgot.”

She blinks. “I reminded you not to, in case you forgot.” She puts her fork down and enjoys a few sips of my excellent coffee. “I know you didn’t ask, but I think you should do more single-leg stability work.”