Adam, Enough Said (This Can't be Happening) (11 page)

Did I put those there?

I lifted a little and read the time. Seven in the morning. Thank
God, it was only Sunday.

I swiped a hand down my face to clear it
, waited a minute and then sat up. My stomach rolled again, but I managed to keep it under control. I stood up, walked to the bathroom and silently wondered how in the hell I’d gotten out of my clothes. I took care of business and then took a shower.

By the time I got out, the bathroom was fogged and I felt only slightly better, but at least I was fresh. I wrapped a towel around my waist, walked back to my room and froze in front of my dresser.

What the hell?

I grabbed the small
, white, feminine tennis shoes, eyed them suspiciously, dropped them on the floor and picked up the jeans that sat folded underneath the shoes. I immediately wondered who the hell was supposed to be in them. I glanced around the room and didn’t see anyone. I dropped the jeans to the floor, opened my drawer, pulled out a pair of shorts and slipped them on.

I walked out
of the room, down the hall, into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks, because there she was. The owner of the chick jeans and shoes was laid out on my couch sound asleep. And, I might add, wearing my favorite red t-shirt and gray sweats. They swallowed her.

I walked closer until I towered over her
, and then I knelt down.

Fuck...

She was gorgeous and I made her sleep on the couch
?

Way to go
, asshole.

She was on her side facing me. Her hands were tucked under the pillow, under her cheek. Her red
hair fanned out across the pillow and her pink, heart-shaped lips were slightly open. I lifted my finger, ran it across her bottom lip and her lips pressed together. Then she shifted and I pulled back automatically and wondered what the hell my problem was. Why would I touch her?

I watched
in fascination as she pulled up her knees and brought them to her chest. Her arms slid from the pillow and her hands snaked between her thighs as if warming them up. I touched her check and she shivered.

H
er skin was freezing.

I kicked her out of my bed and didn’t give her a
fuckin’ blanket
?

No fuckin’ way.

I shook my head at the thought. She had to have moved out here on her own. I’d never have kicked this face out of my bed. In fact, if my memory would come back clearer, I was pretty certain I made her stay with me...tucked into me...or me tucked into her until I passed out.

I drank in her features quickly once more
, before standing and slowly making my way back to the bedroom; I still felt light headed.

I yanked the blanket off the bed a little more forcefully than I should have. 

Oh my God, something smelled delicious. I stretched, but my body stiffened when my hands came in contact with something soft over my head. I knew instantly I was on a couch. My heart picked up speed, my eyes flew open and I scanned the area quickly. Luckily, my memory of the night before came back fast and sharp.

But why am I covered with a blanket?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a deep voice said and my eyes shifted to the direction it came from. My already fast pumping heart went into overdrive as I watched a shirtless Adam walk out of the kitchen and head my way. I sat up, pressed my back against the arm of the couch, and quickly tried to wipe the mascara from under my eyes. I crossed my legs just as he sat down in front of me.

Our eyes met.

“Good morning," I muttered, trying hard to let as little of my morning breath escape my mouth as possible.

"Mornin
g to you too, Freckles," he muttered and the corners of his mouth tipped up into an annoyingly handsome smile, one that said he was trying really hard not to grin. I narrowed my eyes and he couldn’t hold on any longer - the grin broke free. I didn't know what was so funny. Clearly, he was gorgeous and knew it and, without a doubt, he'd woken up to stunning women many times in his life - one of which I wasn't.

But he didn't have to rub it in.

"Am I that funny looking to you?" I snapped and his grin vanished, but it was instantly replaced by a frown.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, exasperated.

I blinked. "No, I'm not kidding. I know I probably don't live up to bombshell status, or your requirements for bed banging privileges, but I'm still cute. You just caught me at a bad time. Mornings and my hair don't go well together."

It was his turn to blink.

I sighed. “While we're on the subject of looks, can you please put on some clothes? More specifically a shirt? It’s too early to look at a hot guy, and there's too much of you to concentrate on before coffee.”

His grin grew blinding
and I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe I’m not wearing a shirt because I want to wear the one you have on.”

I quickly glanced down at the ginormous red t-shirt I was wearing. Then, I glanced down further. “Did you cover me with the blanket?” I asked, ignoring his comment.

His grin
disappeared and he countered with a question of his own, “Why’d you come out here to sleep on the couch? I don’t remember all that much about last night, but I definitely don’t think I did anything inappropriate,” he pointed out.

He also sounded disappointed
, which I thought was odd. Was it because he didn’t touch me inappropriately or because I came to sleep on the couch? I wondered. I also supposed he didn’t consider rubbing his hand all over my stomach, throwing me in bed and holding me down “inappropriate”.

“No, you didn’t really do anything wrong
. I just wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same bed with you.”

His frown deepened as he studied my face. I could feel the red that I hated creeping up my cheeks.

“You mind if I get up so I can change and brush my teeth,” I asked softly, because the staring was starting to become very uncomfortable.

He shook his head and suddenly stood up, looking extra-large towering over me with no shirt on. How did a guy
get to be that big? I mean, he was tall, but I’d seen plenty of tall guys before. Shit, I was five-three, so most women were taller than me, but lover boy here was tall, and his body was wide, and his stomach was ripped, and his shoulders were broad, and he had that v-thingy at his hips, and...

“Mia!” he called out for like...the third time and my head craned upward.

“What? I heard you the first time, but I was checking you out. Jeez! I told you to put on a shirt,” I snapped back because I was a tad bit embarrassed he caught me ogling him, but since he had caught me, there was no reason to hide it. Plus, I’d wanted to look longer and he interrupted me.

“Jesus, you’re cute,” he
said through a chuckle.

“Well,
again, I’m only
cute
because you’re seeing me first thing in the morning and I’m in your baggy ass clothes. Otherwise, I’m drop dead gorgeous.”

“Tha
t you fuckin’ are,” he growled.

M
y heart skipped a beat.

“I was kidding,” I whispered.

He ignored me.

“Your clothes are in the dryer,
Babe. Why don’t you just hang out in what you’re wearing, or get naked for all I care? Actually, I’d much prefer you naked, but I highly doubt you’re up for that yet. So, just hang out, make yourself at home while I finish cooking us breakfast. I don't have a TV, but I have a laptop that I can bring you if you want to use it... You have anyone you need to call to let them know you’re safe?”

No
TV? Who the hell doesn't have a TV?

Chapter
Eight

Adam Bryant

I watched a million different emotions play across Mia’s face, but the expression she settled on was surprise.

She held up a finger.
“The fact that you have no TV is just plain weird...possibly even creepy. Do you play with dolls or something?"

The fuck
?

She held up another finger before I could respond. "L
et’s get one thing straight. I’m never getting naked in front of you, behind you, with you or anything involving
you
.”

Yeah, okay.

She added another finger. “Thanks for washing my clothes.”

She added another finger
, making it four now. “Are you a good cook or will I get food poisoning?” She paused and I spoke when I realized she was actually waiting for me to answer.

“I’m making crescent rolls from a package and scrambled eggs. I’m pretty sure I can handle it,
Babe.”

She sighed before nodding in approval
. “Good, because I’m starving.”

She dropped her hand. “And to answer your last question, I do have someone I need to call, but he can wait. I’ll call him when I leave.”

I stiffened.

“A boyfriend?” I asked, immediately and unintentionally heated.

Is that the reason she left me and came to sleep on the couch last night?

I crossed my arms over my chest, her head tilted to the side, red hair spilled over her left shoulder and she regarded me
with suspicion before her heart-shaped lips moved.

I couldn’t take my eyes away
from them.

“No, he’s a friend. Not that it’s any of your business,” she snipped.

“A friend you’re having sex with?” I demanded to know, and again, I didn’t mean to sound like such an asshole, but the thought of her with another fuckin’ guy was pissing me off. I didn’t want to imagine those pretty, pink, heart-shaped lips touching anyone else’s lips but mine, which of course was insane.

I swiped a hand
over my head and down my face.

I really need to eat. I’m losing my damn mind
.

Her eyes narrowed and I knew whatever she was about to say was not going to make me happy and would only piss me off more, so I held up my hand.

“I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business, I know. Just...do whatever you want while I cook. I need to eat something.” I turned and walked the few steps it took me to hit the kitchen. I took the eggs out of the refrigerator, grabbed a bowl, found the Tony Chachere Seasoning and I did my thing.

I did a one-eighty, turned from the back counter against the wall to the counter facing the living room, bowl in hand
. As I beat the ever-loving shit out of the eggs inside, all I wanted to know was
who in the fuck this guy was that she needed to call
.

Mia stood
up from the couch and caught my attention. Not that my focus wasn't already consumed by her. I watched as she looked down at herself and tugged at the shirt she wore with annoyance, but I had no idea why. She looked sexy as hell in my damn clothes, even though they swallowed her.

She lifted the hem of the shirt, brought it to her neck and held it up with her chin. I froze when I saw her bare stomach
, her belly button ring, and a clear view of her generous hips and ass. She grabbed the drawstring of the sweats, untied them and then retied them, probably tighter.

She rolled the waist
band three times over before letting go of the shirt, bending down at the waist and rolling up the bottom of each leg a few times. She lifted, grabbed the shirt hem again, twisted it at her hip, tied it in some kind of chick knot and tucked it under the side of the shirt.

Her
fair skin peeked out just above the waistband of the sweats at her hip bones, and I didn’t know if it was just the fact that she was in my clothes, or the fact that she looked fuckin’ hot standing in my living room, or both, that had me feeling like I was a fifteen-year-old boy.

She looked up, our eyes met and I went back to beating
the shit out of the eggs.   

“Do you need some help?” Mia asked as she walked toward the kitchen
, and I shook my head.

“Nah, I’m good. There’s only three minutes left on the timer for the rolls, so help yourself to coffee, or there’s orange juice in the fridge. Other than
that, that’s all I have to drink.”

“
Coffee. Thank you.”

After I showed her where the cups were,
I finished cooking the eggs and we sat down at the breakfast table. I realized how weird, yet oddly comfortable everything felt. I’d never had a chick stay for breakfast, especially a breakfast that I half-ass cooked for her. Chicks had stayed the night here, sure, but I tried to get rid of them as fast as I could.

“This is delicious,” she said through a small smile after her first bite, and I smiled back at her dreamy expression. She sounded like she hadn’t eaten in years.

“I’m glad you like it. So, what are your plans for the day?”