Page 30 of Outspoken Hearts
I shatter around him, my body clenching in waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever. He follows moments later, his release driving him deeper as he groans my name against my neck.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. James's fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear.
"I never want to move," I murmur, completely boneless with satisfaction.
He laughs softly. "We might need food eventually."
"Overrated."
His arms tighten around me. "I love you, Eva Miller."
The words still send a thrill through me. "I love you too, James Adams."
We stay like that, drifting in and out of conversation, trading gentle touches and soft kisses. Eventually, hunger does drive us from bed, and we raid his kitchen in various states of undress: me in his t-shirt, him in just his boxers.
As we sit at his kitchen island, eating leftover pasta and drinking wine from mismatched glasses, I'm struck by how right this feels. How comfortable. How real.
"What are you thinking about?" James asks, catching me staring.
"Just... this." I gesture between us. "How natural it feels. Like we've been doing this for years, not weeks."
His smile is soft, unguarded. "I know what you mean. Being with you—the real you, not the careful version—feels like coming home."
"Even when I'm being too much?"
"You're not too much, Eva." He takes my hand. "You're exactly right. For me, at least."
The certainty in his voice, the steady warmth in his eyes, finally silences the doubtful voice in my head—the one that's always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"So we're really doing this?" I ask. "The whole package? You in Boston part-time, me visiting when I can, building something real together?"
"If that's what you want."
"It is." I squeeze his hand. "I want all of it. The messy, complicated reality of loving you while we both pursue our dreams."
"That's what I want too." He pulls me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me. "No more either/or choices. From now on, we find the 'and.'"
"The 'and,'" I repeat, liking the sound of it. "I can work with that."
Later, as we lie in bed again, James's arms around me and his breathing deep and even in sleep, I think about the strange, winding path that brought us here. From that first committee meeting where I dared to contradict him, to the partnership that turned into something neither of us expected.
If someone had told me two months ago that I'd be falling asleep in James Adams's bed, secure in his love and planning a future together, I would have laughed in their face. But here we are.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not waiting for it all to fall apart. Not bracing for the moment when someone decides I'mtoo much. Because James doesn't just tolerate my intensity. He cherishes it. He sees it as strength, not weakness.
With that thought warming me from the inside out, I snuggle closer to him and close my eyes, ready to dream of our "and"—the future we'll build together, no holding back, no careful editing.
Just us. Real and imperfect and exactly right.
CHAPTER NINE
I straighten my tie, checking my reflection in the mirror of my Boston apartment. Six months ago, I wouldn't have believed this life was possible—splitting my time between Meadowbrook and Boston, juggling my role at Westcott with community commitments, and somehow managing to be happier than I've ever been.
"You look fine," Eva calls from the kitchen where she's pouring coffee into travel mugs. "Better than fine, actually. Extremely handsome and important."
I smile, watching her in the reflection. She's wearing one of my dress shirts over leggings, her hair piled messily on top of her head. Even in her most casual state, she takes my breath away.
"Nervous?" she asks, bringing me a mug.
