Just His Type (Part One) by Victoria June Page B

wetness between my legs begin.
     
    "Three years," Adam said softly. There was an echo of hurt in his words which he didn't try to hide.
     
    "And you've been working in restaurants ever since?" I prompted, trying to distract him from the topic of France, which obviously wasn't an easy one.
     
    "Pretty much," Adam said sharply. The cutting tone hurt me a little; I drew back from his touch to the edge of the sofa and turned to face him. A million more questions bloomed instantly in my mind, but I could see the faint outline of Adam's profile in the darkness and the hardness of it silenced me. The first thing I learned as a journalist was when to ask questions; the second thing I learned was when to stop. I stopped.
     
    "Your turn," I said with a small, wobbly smile. I could see the whites of Adam's eyes in the darkness, but couldn't read what was reflected in them.
     
    "Why do you separate yourself from your family?"
     
    Adam's question hit me hard and made my mind reel.
     
    "That's not fair," I muttered mutinously, pushing away Adam's hand as it travelled back to my breast. "You don't really know anything about me or my family."
     
    "I'm trying to," Adam said earnestly, grabbing my arm as I attempted to rise from the sofa. "Lilly," he wrapped his arm back around my waist before brushing my hair from my eyes. "They're a cool bunch of people, I don't get it."
     
    I snorted. "You wouldn't," I muttered. "On the outside I'm sure everything looks peachy. But unless you grew up in a large family you can't understand it. Nothing was ever enough to please my father. Joe was always watching me, judging me. Mom and Dad are team, Joe stands alone, Matt and Chuck are practically twins they spend so much time together, and Vi was the perfect, darling little after-thought that completed my parents' happiness. I was just Lilly: awkward, dumpy, not quite clever enough Lilly. Never noticed except when I failed to live up to someone's expectations."
     
    Adam was silent for a moment while he considered me. "You know, growing up I would have killed for a big family, a family like yours filled with love and craziness. It was just me and Kat when we were kids. My parents were divorced and we were shunted back and forth between the two of them for years.
     
    "Then one weekend Dad didn't show up to take us for a visit and we never saw him again. Mom didn't care and when I was in high school she got remarried. That was the summer both Kat and I moved away from home. She went to Montreal; I went wherever I could get work until I left for France. I haven't spoken to my Mother in a decade and I don't even know where my Dad is.
     
    "So yeah, your family might be a little wacky and they might drive you crazy, but at least they love you and it shows. You might not want to admit it, but at least you have them to fall back on. Why do you fight it?"
     
    I don't know when the tears started or who they were for: me and my lonely childhood in a house filled with people, or Adam and his lonely childhood in a cold, broken family.
     
    "Oh Lil," Adam crooned as he brushed a few tears from my cheek. "It's okay. Please don't cry."
     
    I couldn't stop though as all my frazzled nerves, fears, and frustrations from the past few days bubbled to the surface. I was weary and overwhelmed and Adam held me tightly until the tears subsided.
     
    "Better now?" he asked softly.
     
    I nodded into the warm, comforting wall of his bare chest. "Thank you," I mumbled, tasting the salt of my tears on his skin.
     
    "Any time," Adam teased. He tilted my chin up gently and kissed me, just a little. It wasn't enough.
     
    I think my aggression as I deepened the kiss surprised Adam because he tried to push me away, but I followed until he was backed against the sofa with nowhere to go.
     
    "Lilly...," he ground out when I emerged for air. "What the hell are you doing?"
     
    "I would think that's fairly obvious," I said with a giggle, running my hands up into Adam's short, dark