Page 32 of Not That Complicated

“Settle,” he told me.

Okay, now Adam was in trouble. I made a noise like an angry cat. “Listen, Junior—”

He ducked down and sucked a hard kiss on my mouth. “Don’t call me that.”

“Listen,” I gasped when he pulled back, eyes dark, “Junior. We need to get one thing straight.”

“Do not call me that, Ray,” he said.

“Or what?” I scoffed.

“I’ll spank you.”

My vision wavered. I heard a high-pitched whistling in my ears. Every cell in my body realigned itself with Adam as the magnetic pole.

I’d never been spanked in my life.

I’d never even thought about being spanked.

“What?” I said feebly. “You will not.”

“You’ll have to ask me very, very nicely.”

“Which I will not do! Ever!”

“We’ll see.”

“Ever! I have absolutely zero desire to be spanked by a...a…an adolescent.”

“That was weak.” He stroked a hand down the side of my heaving ribs and held my waist with a firm hand. “We both know I’m in my twenties.”

“Barely! By a matter of months!”

“Thirty-six, actually.”

“What?”

“Thirty-six months into my twenties, Ray.” He smiled. “Are you counting?”

I was trying.

“Oh.” I gasped when he rocked down into me, then smacked him on the shoulder. “I’m not in a maths headspace right now.”

“It was more logic than maths,” Adam said. “And you started it. Never mind. I hear your cognitive abilities begin to fade as you get old.”

I hitched a leg up and around his hip. He was moving with intent, flexing his spine and pushing rhythmically into me. And I was pushing back.

I’d stop him any minute now.

“I don’t want your pity sex,” I said.

“It’s not pity sex or guilt sex.”

“Then I really don’t know why you’re here.”

“You really don’t?”

“No,” I said.

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