#spiffing

For @spiffing.

At long last, Adam and the detective go all the way.

Excerpt -

“Are you certain?”

Three simple words. Words that had been far too long in the saying, but words that were still needed in this moment. Even after all this time, after so many wishes spoken aloud only to be denied, so many kisses stolen swiftly just to see his skin darken in a rosy flush, you feel yet another part of yourself melt at this new moment of uncertainty in Adam du Mortain.

Even now, pressed close together amid the disarray of bedsheets, guaranteed privacy by the simple fact that Nate encouraged Felix to take the rest of them out for the evening, his fear is given a moment of free rein. But only a moment, soothed away by the grip of your hands in the soft fabric of his t-shirt, the breathless arch of your neck, lips seeking his once again to taste the near shy curve of his rare smile. His hand slides from your ribs to your hip, and still lower with a jerk of motion that has your thigh hooked at his waist, dull flames roaring through your veins with the anticipation of ... everything. Not a single patch of unprofessional skin is uncovered, and yet you feel you might implode with just one more of these soft, demanding kisses. The man is the walking epitome of the slowburn trope; even when kisses, touches, longing warmth shared is undeniably on the cards, he still needs to hear you say it.

Your name falls tenderly from his lips, ghosting against the curve of your jaw before green eyes lift to yours, so intense, so focused, that you feel your head start to spin just from the power of his attention.

“Tell me,” he whispers, and there is the quiet desperation, the need to be certain ... to know that you are certain.

Spiffing Offices in Fremantle, Australia