Adriana Locke

I stand and walk around his desk. The closer I get, the more of his cologne I breathe in.
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Wanna sit?”
On your face. Yes … maybe.

“I’m about to be really honest with you.” I lean forward so the other passengers don’t get an earful. “I think about fucking you every day. Every. Single. Day. I wonder what you taste like, what you sound like when you’re coming—what you’d feel like wrapped around my cock.”

Her body was made to be worshipped and I’m the lucky bastard that gets the honor.

“Hey.” He’s on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, with a book in his hand. “Hungry?”
I lift a brow. His abs hint at the six-pack that would be visible if he flexed. His legs are solid as hell and he’s barefoot—kill me now.
“You’re going to need to specify,” I tease.
His eyes darken. He closes the book and stands. “For food. A woman cannot live on dick and pepperoni.”
“I’d give it a try.” If it’s yours.

“The pigs represent determination and courage,” he says softly. “Beauty, even where it’s not expected. Wonder. Possibility.”
My insides turn to mush.
“You look at them and see those things,” he whispers.
I nod.
“That’s what I see when I look at you.”

“I didn’t say I’d be naked at your house,” I say. “I’d be there to read to you.”
“Oh, like you’re going to be at my house and make it longer than ten minutes with clothes on. Right.”

Moss: Mom and Dad stopped having kids because they got to the two of you and realized they’d hit rock bottom.

“Fine. But you promise me that you won’t drift away from me like you do everyone else because you don’t want to put the work in to building something real.”
I flinch. “I don’t do that.”
“No, you do. You’ve had so many women who would’ve loved to try something with you, and you just keep it so loose so they don’t get too close.”
I swallow. That’s not what I do. I keep them loose because they aren’t you.

She’s why I’ve never settled down. She’s why I’ve never felt anything with anyone else. She’s why I could never see myself married or with kids because it was never with her.

“Okay, seriously,” he says. “I know you had a great time because she’s awesome and you’re acceptable. I mean, you’re not me, but you’re not Jess either. You’re a good middle ground.”
I look at him and laugh again. He’s a nut.