A/N: With this chapter, this story returns to its original R rating. This installment, as well as the rest of this story, is a collaboration between KateM and myself.We hope you enjoy it.
When Joan came up from the platforms beneath Penn Station, Adam was right where he said he'd be, under the large train schedule. Making her way through the crowd, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately until his laughter and her need for air forced them part. Adam took her bag and slung it over one shoulder while he grabbed her by the hand and tugged her to the subway. It was rush hour and the subway car was crowded. Adam tucked her bag between his feet and, with one hand securely holding the strap above, wrapped the other arm around her waist. Joan leaned into him, allowing him to support her as his legs had that stiff slackness that experienced subway riders had.
"I missed you," he said against her temple. She'd laid her head on his shoulder, absorbing the delightful sensation of holding him again.
"We've only been apart for two days," she said, laughing.
Adam shrugged and planted a playful kiss in the crook of her neck. "I still missed you. How was your trip?"
"Good. I love the train."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The seating's spacious. You can stretch your legs whenever you want. The food's better than airplane food, apparently. And, if there's an accident, you don't fall thousands of miles to your death."
"I can see where that would be an advantage," Adam conceded, making her laugh. "How are your parents?"
Joan smiled. She'd spent the weekend with her parents since she hadn't seen them in a while. "They're fine. Mom says hello."
"And your dad?"
"He asked me if I remembered the merry-go-round he used to take me to when I was little."
"What?" Adam asked, pulling back slightly to stare down at her face. "Why?"
Shrugging, she said, "He starts to reminisce whenever he thinks I'm on the verge of having sex."
A look of sheer surprise blossomed on Adam's face. "He knows that . . ."
"We decided we are…didn't we?" Joan replied, somewhat worried that she'd misinterpreted their conversation last week.
"Uh, yeah," Adam said hastily. "We did."
Joan shrugged. "I guess Dad just kinda picked up on it…" Her voice trailed off.
"Jane?"
"And maybe he overheard me talking to Grace."
"Jane!" Adam said loudly. Several people turned toward them and he lowered his head so his mouth was next to her ear. "Your dad is going to kill me," he hissed.
"No, he's not, Adam."
"He's a cop. He has a gun."
Joan laughed lightly and kissed him. "He's not going to kill you." Adam looked skeptical, but didn't argue the point. Resigned to the fact that she'd never convince him her father wasn't trigger-happy where she was concerned, she gave him a little squeeze and put her head back on his shoulder.
They spent the rest of the short ride in silence. When they reached their stop, Adam led her to the street, her hand firmly clasped in his as they walked the short distance to his dorm. Joan sighed as she took in the buildings on either side of her. This is what she missed most—the small touches they shared. Holding hands, hugging, having Adam's arm wrapped around her waist or shoulders. Just being able to touch him made her feel like everything was the way it should be between them.
"That's my building on the corner," he said suddenly, pointing at a plain, red brick building ahead. "I need to tell you something before we get there."
"Is something wrong?" she asked, slightly alarmed.
"No. I just need to warn you," he said. "About Corey."
"Adam, you told me all about Corey," she said, relieved that it wasn't something serious.
He shook his head. "He's gotten weirder." At her disbelieving look, he chuckled. "I know it's hard to believe, but he has. He's really into this role-playing stuff. Comes in at all hours. He used to be human or a hunter or something, but now he's a vampire."
"What?" Joan asked, positive she'd misheard.
"He thinks he's a vampire."
Joan's mouth dropped open and she began to laugh. "You're kidding, right?"
"I wish," Adam sighed.
When they'd arrived at Hayden Hall on Washington Square, Corey was nowhere to be seen. However, his side of the room was covered with books on vampirism, and oddly colored clothing, and Joan was quite certain that was a whip hanging off the side of his desk. "I told you," Adam said at her shocked look. "Come on, let me show you NYU."
As the sun began to set, Adam showed Joan various parts of the NYU campus including the space where he made his art. Joan was duly impressed, but she was also very hungry. When her stomach growled loudly, Adam laughed and they made their way to his favorite coffee shop.
"Hey, Adam," the cashier greeted as they entered. "You want your usual?"
"Yeah, thanks," he answered as they approached the counter. "Amy, this is my girlfriend, Joan." Joan smiled. She'd been introduced to everyone from teachers to janitors in the short time she'd been in the city. Adam, it seemed, knew just about everybody.
"Ah, the girlfriend," Amy said with a laugh. "What can I get you?"
"Uh, a mocchachino and a … blueberry muffin."
"Sure thing." Adam paid for their order. "The gang's in the corner," Amy said as she handed back his change. "They're waiting for you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Joan."
"Same here," Joan replied as she followed Adam's gaze to 'the gang.' There, in the corner booth, were two guys and a girl.
"Hey, guys, what's up?" Adam said as he steered them towards the group.
"Nothing much," the sandy-haired guy answered. "You guys wanna sit?"
Adam looked at Joan. She really didn't want to sit with anyone but Adam but these were his friends. She couldn't think of a better way to see what school was like for him then hanging with him and his friends. And it was only fair. He'd sat through all of her meetings and classes without a peep. So she smiled and nodded. They squeezed into the circular booth.
"This is…Joan," Adam said proudly. "Jane, this is Joe, Tyler, and Ashley."
"First time in New York?" Ashley asked.
"Um, yeah," Joan replied. It was an innocent enough question, but Joan was sure she heard condescension in the girl's tone. So what if this was her first time in New York? It wasn't like Arcadia was the sticks. "I'm looking forward to seeing everything. The Empire State Building, Broadway, Times Square, some of the funky clothing shops here in the Village…" At the smirks that the others were sharing, she stopped abruptly. "What?"
Joe, the sandy-haired boy who'd invited them to sit, shook his head. "Nothing, it's just that Adam has to do all the…" His nose wrinkled slightly. "…touristy stuff."
"We all do whenever relatives et al come to the city," Tyler added.
Joan glanced at Adam. "Oh. Adam, if you don't…"
Adam waved his hand. "It's fine, Jane." He turned to the other three. "The sacrifices we make, right?" he said jokingly. The conversation turned to one of their professors and Joan tuned out the conversation. The sacrifices we make? She wondered what exactly that was supposed to mean. Adam had been the one to suggest they see the sights so why was he dissing it now? Joan focused again when she heard the loud laughter and looked up to see Adam bang his hand on the table as he laughed. Since when does he do that?
"Now, Tyler, you need to feeeellll the art flowing through you," Adam said in a mock prissy voice. "Oh, Jane, you should have seen it. It was so funny."
"I'm sure it was," Joan said flatly.
Thursday found Joan sitting in Adam's art seminar as the professor droned on and on about…something. Everyone else in the room was listening raptly as Mark, as he insisted on being called, paced around the small classroom. He was dressed even more casually than most of the students. Adam sat forward in his seat, eagerly taking in the discussion. Normally, Joan loved when Adam was excited about something, but this…this just seemed phony.
She wanted to enjoy the whole experience, but after two and a half days of being subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, snubbed by his obnoxious friends and listening to his teachers wax poetic about art, Joan found that she was having a hard time caring. Now, she simply bided her time until she and Adam could be alone.
"Thus, art," Mark announced forcefully, turning Joan's attention back to the class discussion, "is the only way to explain the human condition and human emotions."
"What about philosophy?" Joan blurted out before she could control herself.
Mark's head swiveled toward her. "Excuse me?"
"Well, the whole purpose of philosophy is to explain the human condition and human emotions, isn't it? The meaning of life and all that. So isn't philosophy also a way to explain it?"
The entire room seemed to wait with baited breath for Mark's answer. Joan got the impression that this was the first time anyone had so much as asked a question, let alone challenged him outright.
"And you are?" There was that condescending tone again. It became more pervasive the longer she was in town.
"Joan Girardi," she said, not the least bit intimidated. Her chest began to tighten with the effort to bite her tongue, but something about Mark's demeanor made it harder and harder with each passing second.
"And you go to NYU?" Mark asked. Someone behind them snickered; Joan was sure it was Ashley.
"No, I'm…visiting."
"I see." Without another word, Mark turned back to the class. "As I was saying, without art, there would be no communication. Art is the only truth we have in life."
Joan gaped at him. He'd just dismissed her question as if she were some troublesome gnat too insignificant to be bothered with. In that moment, all of the little put-downs she'd endured for the last few days, the smirks and eye rolls Adam's friends thought she didn't notice, came to a head. "So you aren't going to answer my question? What about philosophy? What about sports and politics and science? What about actual human relationships?"
"Jane?" Adam asked quietly. Instinctively, she knew he was concerned about what was happening, but she ignored him. This was between her and his teacher.
Mark sighed, clearly aggravated with her. "What about them?"
"Aren't they all paths to truth?" she demanded.
"I'd hardly call sports a path to truth."
"Obviously," Joan said dryly, staring pointedly at his protruding stomach. "But sports create conversation just like art. Watching a football game can be just as emotionally charged, if not more so, than viewing some new piece from the latest hot artist."
"I fail to see the significance of our outburst to this discussion, young lady."
"Perhaps I haven't been clear," Joan retorted sharply. She could feel her blood pounding in her head and she knew her voice had risen. She was vaguely aware of Adam inching closer to her as if he hoped his nearness would calm her down, but she was sick of being treated like some sort of idiot because she was a non-artist who'd never been to New York before.
"People discuss politics because it involves the governing of society, of people and, therefore, is a way of understanding the human condition. They talk about science because it's an avenue to understanding the world we live in, which directly affect s the human condition. They do all of this without any prompting from art and, through it, seek truth. And none of it, art included, would mean anything is it weren't for actual human relationships and the way we influence each other. Thus, the significance of my outburst to this discussion is that you overstated the importance of art in the grand design. And don't even get me started on the subjectivity of Truth."
The silence in the small classroom resounded loudly in Joan's ears. A part of her knew she'd crossed the line. If nothing else, she'd embarrassed Adam. But a person could only take so much.
"Why are you here?" Mark asked coldly.
"I told you I'm visiting," Joan replied with equal coldness. "I'm Adam's…"
"Friend," Adam cut in. "Joan is a friend of mine." Joan's mouth dropped open at his description of their relationship.
"Well, I suggest you do something about your friend." Then, as if he hadn't made her sound like a wayward puppy peeing on the carpet, Mark returned to his lecture, overstated pronouncements and all.
Joan gaped at Adam. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something but couldn't decide what. With a disappointed chuckle, Joan gathered her things and left the classroom.
An hour later, Adam stopped beside her on the grass of Washington Square Park. She ignored him.
She heard him sigh. "Jane?"
"I really don't want to talk about it."
He sank to the ground and handed her a cup. "Mocchachino," he explained when she raised an eyebrow at it.
"Didn't you go for coffee with your friends?" She knew they normally met for coffee after seminar.
"I stopped by the coffee shop to pick these up," he said, holding up his cup. "Then I came looking for you."
Nodding, Joan thanked him as she huddled in her coat against the chilly spring air, her unseeing gaze fixed on the students rushing through the park before her. She knew she should apologize for the scene she'd created in his class, but she still felt a bit sensitive. This week hadn't gone at all the way she'd thought it would and her feelings were a little too scattered to rein in at the moment.
"Jane," Adam ventured as she sipped her coffee, "I'm sorry. I should have said something. I was just caught off-guard. Nothing like that's ever happened in seminar."
She laughed despite herself. Adam smiled slightly and slipped his hand into hers. "I wasn't trying to disown you or anything. I'm proud you're my girlfriend."
Determined to salvage this week…this relationship, she blinked back the tears flooding her eyes and waved her hand. "I understand, Adam. I wouldn't've announced you were my boyfriend in the middle of my stat class. Especially if you'd behaved the way I just did." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that."
"You wouldn't be Jane if you didn't have an opinion."
"Hey, there you guys are," Joe declared as he, Ashley and Tyler approached the two of them.
Joan looked questioningly at Adam who simply shrugged. "Hey," she said, mustering all the enthusiasm she could.
The trio nodded. "That was some . . ." Ashley began but stopped at the steely glare Joan gave her. Even more than Joe and Tyler, Joan disliked Ashley and she just wasn't ready to rehash the debacle.
They joined Joan and Adam on the grass. Soon the three of them began to debrief from Mark's 'brilliant' and 'insightful' lecture. Joan would have regretted not asking them to leave her and Adam alone if it weren't for Adam's hand clasped firmly around hers as he listened to his friends. Remembering her promise to herself, she focused on the conversation, making the effort to nod and smile in the right places. Occasionally, she threw in a very non-threatening remark. Thirty minutes later when the group broke up, Joan felt like she'd been granted a benediction.
Adam cautiously wrapped his arm around Joan's waist as they walked back to his dorm. "Thanks, Jane," he said sincerely.
"For what?"
"For…you know…everything."
She kissed him quickly on the lips. "No thanks necessary." She knew this week would work out.
"Try this," Joan pleaded, holding out a bit of chicken with her chopsticks. Adam looked at it skeptically and shook his head. Joan waved the chicken in front of his mouth with her chopsticks. "Open wide," she said like a mother talking to a toddler.
Adam laughed before opening his mouth and allowing her to feed it to him. She made "mmm" sounds as he chewed. "See? Isn't that good?"
He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before making a face. "I know you're kidding, Adam."
"How, Jane?" he asked.
"Because I know you," she replied mysteriously. It was just the two of them and several cartons of Chinese food scattered on the floor of his dorm room. She was so glad that the old Adam, her Adam, was back. "You are so lucky. I don't think we've had a bad meal since I've been here."
"Yeah, New York does have pretty good food," Adam agreed.
"Eric told me that we should try out this deli on Bleeker and 7th," she said, taking lo mein noodles from his container. Noticing Adam's grimace, something she noticed he did whenever Eric was mentioned, she paused. "Is something wrong?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head.
"Okay," she said, ignoring the sense that he was lying in an effort to keep the peace. "So what's on the schedule for tomorrow?"
"I thought we could spend the morning seeing some of the big sights you haven't seen yet. You know, Empire State, the Statue of Liberty."
"Are you sure it won't be too much of a sacrifice?" she asked snarkily before she could restrain herself.
"Jane . . ."
Joan shook her head, suddenly feeling tired. So much for keeping the peace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go there."
Adam scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "It was just a joke," he said softly.
"I know," she said. She did know, but it had been a joke at her expense. As contrite as he was now, she also knew that her Adam would never have done that in the first place. That's what made it so hard to forget. "So what about the afternoon?"
"Tyler, Ashley, Joe and I usually have lunch and go over our class notes or go to the requisite exhibitions. I think we have to see a showing in Chelsea tomorrow."
Joan wrinkled her nose. Aside from the massive doses of condescension she had to endure whenever she was around Tyler, Ashley, and Joe, she was sure that she'd see more of the new and improved Adam if she tagged along. She'd had her fill of him for the week. "Do you mind if I skip out on the study session?" Adam looked hurt. "It's just that I kinda want to do some shopping, maybe buy some souvenirs for Grace and my parents. I know you'd rather not be dragged into another secondhand clothing store."
He sagged against the side of his bed and let his head fall back on the bed. "It was just a joke."
Sighing, Joan turned toward him and ran her fingers through his hair to get his attention. When he looked up at her, she smiled. "You hate shopping, Adam."
"I know," he said, brow furrowed.
"That's why I figured you wouldn't want to go with me."
"Tomorrow's your last day in town. I thought we'd spend it together."
"We'll only be apart for a couple of hours," she pointed out. "I might even get a surprise for you."
"I guess," he agreed finally, shrugging.
Sorry that she'd made him sulk and determine to regain the lighthearted mood they'd had the entire evening, Joan propped her chin on his shoulder and snuggled against him. "I'll make it worth your while," she promised, letting her voice drop suggestively.
Adam snorted. "I've heard that before."
"And you sound as if you're doubting me, Mr. Rove?"
"Well, Jane, seeing is believing." He flashed her a grin and she had no choice but to kiss him. Her hand slipped slowly down his chest. Just as she got to his belt buckle, the door opened and she yanked her hand away.
"Oh, good, food," a male voice said.
"Hello, Corey," Adam said dryly.
She looked up to see the infamous Corey for the first time since she'd arrived, his lanky form clad in a black cape, leather pants and a burgundy shirt. He had dark, wavy hair, a dark goatee, and dark, morose eyes. He was much taller than she'd expected. "Jane, this is Corey," Adam introduced, his voice curiously toneless. "Corey, this is Joan."
"I thought you said her name was Jane," Corey said, dropping a bag on his bed. She was surprised to hear it rattle.
"It's Joan," she replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Taking a closer look at his face, she realized that he had black eyeliner completely encircling his eyes.
"Huh. Sure. I'm starving," Corey said, picking up a carton and pulling out a chunk of beef and broccoli with his fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he licked his fingers clean.
"Then it's a good thing we have so much food," she said, not sure whether she was amused or repulsed by him.
"Did you go to psych?" Corey asked.
"When was the last time you went to class?" Adam answered. Corey shrugged and dug out another chunk of beef with his fingers. He held the carton out to Adam and Joan who both shook their heads.
Before Corey could tell them exactly when he had last been to class, the door opened again. A girl of medium height with long, brown hair and extremely pale skin entered. "Hey, Adam," the girl said with a jaunty nod. Her brown, deep-set eyes trailed casually, almost intimately, over his body.
"Hey," Adam replied, pulling his knees up to his chest and blocking her view. "Caitlin, this is Joan, my girlfriend. Jane, this is Caitlin."
Caitlin, dressed in black from head to toe, shook Joan's hand. "Nice to finally meet you. Adam's told me all about you, but I was beginning to think you didn't exist."
"Really?" Joan said, arching an eyebrow at Adam as Caitlin turned toward Corey. Adam shrugged in response.
"Do you have everything?" Caitlin asked Corey. She stood by the door now, practically bouncing on her feet. "We're going to be late if you don't come on."
Flipping open a chest at the end of his bed, Corey began pulling things out and dumping them on the floor: a spiked dog collar; a thick, dog-eared book; a pair of black, four-inch stilettos (Joan sucked in her lips in an attempt not to laugh out loud. If those were Corey's then Adam's tolerance threshold was much higher than she'd ever thought. They turned out to be Caitlin's.); a long, black walking stick with a silver tip; and a sharp, black fedora, complete with red feather, which he put on.
"Is that his pimp hat?" she whispered to Adam. He almost choked as he hung his head and tried not to laugh. She rubbed his back.
"Well, I think that's everything," Corey said as he packed up his necessities.
"Don't forget the chains," Caitlin said. Joan hung her head as well and prayed that she would get through this encounter without laughing.
"Already in the bag. Hey," Corey called out to them. By some miracle, they managed to look up without so much as a smile. He motioned with the carton. "You guys want this?"
"No, you keep it," Adam insisted.
Nodding, Corey said, "It was nice meeting you, Joan. I won't be back 'til late."
"See you, Adam," Caitlin said as she followed Corey out.
Once the door was closed again, she gasped, "Oh, my God," and burst out laughing. He joined her, neither one of them able to get a hold of themselves for a good five minutes.
Finally, having caught her breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, Joan turned to Adam.
"What?" he asked. "I warned you."
"See you, Adam?" she repeated, mimicking Caitlin's husky tone and flirtatious perusal of his physique. "You didn't warn me about that."
"Jane, she's harmless," he replied.
"She wants you."
"So what?"
"What do you mean 'so what?'" Joan demanded. Surely he could see how having some girl with the hots for him hanging around would be a problem for her.
Adam nuzzled her neck before brushing a kiss on her cheek. "I mean you have nothing to worry about."
Joan stared at him skeptically. That may be true now, but what if this Caitlin girl managed to charm him while she was back in Maryland? Even though she was weird, she wasn't ugly. "Are you sure?"
"Jane, she's friends with Corey. Need I say more?"
"I guess not." She paused and fiddled with her fingers. In her heart, she knew Caitlin wasn't a threat, but her head was trying to convince her otherwise. Determined to ignore the part of her that wanted to worry and make a big deal out of nothing, Joan cleared her throat and glanced at Adam out of the corner of her eye. "So Corey won't be back until late?"
"We'll be lucky if we see him before the sun comes up."
"I see."
"Adam," Joan said breathlessly, wrenching her mouth away from his.
"Yeah?" His hair was tousled and his hands, those lovely, strong hands, were drawing circles on the small of her back.
Closing her eyes in an effort to think past the magic of Adam's hands on her skin, she asked, "Are you sure the door is locked?"
"Mmm hmmm," he replied, leaning up to kiss her again.
They were sprawled on his twin bed where they'd settled to watch a movie. About twenty minutes in, the movie was forgotten. Adam's shirt had become unbuttoned sometime in the last half hour and Joan's was pushed up exposing her stomach and back.
"No, Adam, I mean it," she said impatiently. "Is the door locked?"
With a quick kiss, Adam abruptly climbed off the bed. He picked up his desk chair and jammed it under the door. "Better?"
Joan nodded and, as he walked back over to the bed, took a deep breath before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Adam's eyes grew round and, in the split second before he said anything, she fought the urge to yank it back on.
"Jane," he whispered softly. Throwing caution to the wind, she dropped her shirt onto the floor. Adam sat on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor.
"A-Are you s-sure?" he stammered out.
Biting her lip, Joan nodded, knowing that she was as sure as she'd ever be. Adam brushed his mouth against hers ever so gently. But the pressure wasn't enough so she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. The kissing became deeper and longer. Finally, needing air, Joan broke away. Lowering her mouth to Adam's neck, she sucked lightly on the sensitive skin above his collarbone. When he gasped, she smiled against his neck. Her fingers impatiently pushed his shirt off his shoulders and arms. Soon, it joined her shirt on the floor. Perhaps they'll mate too, she thought with a giggle.
"Jane?" Adam asked, pulling back to look at her.
Shaking her head, she responded, "Nothing."
Adam pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, all the while staring into her eyes, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. "You know I love you, right?"
"I know," she responded, smiling. "I love you, too, Adam."
His hand slid down and, cupping her jaw, he leaned over and kissed her again, running his thumb over her cheek. After a few moments, however, the hand slid down her neck and hesitantly ran over her breast. Joan arched into his hand, increasing the pressure, and, this time, Adam squeezed lightly, thumb flicking over her nipple.
"Adam," she breathed out as her nails raked lightly over his back.
Pulling away from her kiss, he lowered his head to kiss her nipple through the cotton of her bra. He continued nipping and licking at her breast as his hand crept around to the back. Several moments later, he was still fumbling with the clasp. Frustrated, Joan's hands left Adam's back and went to her own. Within two seconds, the clasp was undone and the garment hung loosely around her breasts. Adam's eyes darted between her eyes and her chest. Joan slid the straps down her arms, still covering herself with the bra. This was quite possibly the scariest thing she'd ever done. Scarier than trying out for the diving team, scarier than singing in the school musical, scarier than not going to the same college as Adam. All she could think was what if he's disappointed? Adam reached out a trembling hand and gently massaged her shoulder. Slowly, the hand inched toward her breast.
Deciding that it was now or never, Joan cautiously lowered the bra and dropped it on the floor. Adam's eyes were now glued to her chest as his hand cupped her breast, as if he were testing the weight. His thumb, slightly calloused, swept across the nipple and Joan felt a wave of heat shoot straight to her groin.
"Is this OK?" Adam squeaked out. Clearing his throat, he repeated the question.
Joan, feeling the overwhelming urge to close her eyes, merely nodded. Right as her eyes slid shut, she saw Adam's head bending toward her chest. A moment later, his tongue, warm and wet, slid over her nipple and involuntarily she groaned.
"You are so beautiful, Jane," he murmured as his tongue began to stroke her nipple with increasing speed. He pushed her back until she was lying on the bed, Adam suspended above her. Wanting to see what he was doing, she managed to crack her eyes open. All she could see was Adam's dark head juxtaposed against her pale skin. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and bit it.
"Not so hard," she gasped out, feeling a tiny bit of pleasure mixed in with the pain.
"Sorry," he apologized as his tongue soothed. When he switched to the other breast, Joan again felt a wave of heat. As he kissed and licked her breasts, his hands moved lower. The snap on her jeans was undone and zipper lowered. Wiggling, she helped Adam take off her pants. They, too, joined the pile of clothes on the floor.
Adam drew back to look at her, breath ragged and pupils dilated. In silence, Joan watched as his eyes slid over her body. When he just continued to gape at her without speaking or moving, Joan began to regret not listening to her doubts. She knew that she wasn't hideous, but she also wasn't model material. She would never be in Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Issue. And maybe that's what Adam wanted. Maybe that's what all guys wanted. What was she doing…stripping down naked in front of Adam?
Just as she made up her mind to grab her clothes and cover herself, Adam came out of his trance with a gasp. "Jane," he breathed as he slid his trembling hand over her stomach. He traced her navel with his thumb before sweeping his hand over the curve of her hip. As he caressed the length of her thigh, he raised his eyes to hers. Joan's breath caught in her throat at what she saw in his gaze. His expression was akin to awe. A small smile played on his lips. "So beautiful," he whispered before lowering his head to kiss her neck, his hands toying with the edge of her panties as he sucked and nipped.
Joan felt like she was flying, falling and drowning all at the same time. When Adam's fingers slipped under the waistband, Joan stiffened for a moment, unsure of what he was doing. His fingers curled in the patch of hair between her legs and, releasing a shaky sigh, she relaxed slightly as he continued kissing her neck. As he touched her, Joan squeezed her eyes shut tightly enough to see black spots. He rubbed more insistently and Joan felt like a spring was being coiled in her belly. Her breathing changed, coming out in short rasping breaths.
"Adam, I'm…I'm close," she moaned out.
She was vaguely aware of Corey's voice shouting "Adam! What the hell is blocking the door?" from the hall, but she was too far gone for it to register.
As he slid one finger in, the spring snapped and Joan's hips rose off the bed. "Adam!" she cried.
"Oh!" Corey exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" His voice trailed off and Joan opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Grabbing the pillows off of Adam's bed, she quickly covered herself.
"Get out!" Adam shouted, leaping up from the bed.
"I just needed this," Corey said apologetically, blindly grabbing something from his desk. His eyes never once left Joan's body even as Adam shoved him out of the room.
Collapsing against the closed door and locking it, Adam turned apprehensive eyes to Joan. "Jane, I'm…"
"He saw me! He saw me! Half-naked!" Joan yelled, near tears as she thought about what Corey had witnessed. "Your weird roommate saw me!"
Adam put out a hand to reassure Joan. She shrugged it off and scrambled off the bed. Quickly rooting through the pile, she pulled on her bra, followed instantly by her pants and shirt.
"Jane, he's gone." Adam stood beside her, hand hovering in mid-air as if he was deciding whether he should touch her. "And I'm pretty sure he won't come back tonight."
Joan shook her head violently. "It doesn't matter, Adam. Because nothing is going to happen."