Chapter Twelve
Madison clung to Adam’s hips and pressed her face against his back, fighting tears and trying to breathe through the tight knot in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt him, but knew it was too late for that.
How could he just ask her to marry him out of the blue like that? And why had it shocked her so much? She was still trembling.
They just needed to talk through this. Marriage was a huge step and while she wanted to settle down someday, she wasn’t sure now was the right time. She didn’t want to rush into something so monumental. She’d had no idea Adam had even considered marriage as an option. And while her heart was vying for the chance to call Adam her husband, she couldn’t seem to ignore the doubts placed there by everyone who didn’t think they stood a fighting chance to maintain any relationship, much less one as important as husband and wife.
And then there was the fact that he didn’t want kids. And had never discussed the topic with her. He never discussed anything with her. How could they make a marriage work if he kept things from her? Important things. At least they were important to her. He blew them off as if they were frivolous.
By the time they reached the hotel, she had almost calmed down enough to think. She still wasn’t sure what to say to him to make things right. She wanted to be his friend, his lover, his woman. But did she want to be his wife? The reckless part of her that Adam had awakened wanted to forge headlong into the future and accept his proposal right there, but the ingrained part that always held her back with fear wanted to retreat.
Adam parked the bike and just sat there.
“Adam?” she said after an unbearably long minute of silence.
“Get off.”
She scrambled from the back of the bike, using his arm for stability. She removed her helmet and waited. The sinking feeling in her stomach and her heart was almost too much to bear.
“We can talk about this,” she said. She wanted to talk about it. So she could figure out what was in his head before attempting to tackle what was going on in hers.
“Can you go up to the room alone?” he said quietly. “I need a minute.”
“Adam, it’s not that I—”
“Please.” His voice sounded thready. Desperate. She’d never heard him sound like that before.
“Okay,” she said. “But we need to talk.”
She tried to hand him her helmet, but his hands tightened around the handlebar grips, so she set it on the ground near his heavy leather boot.
“Soon,” she added, before turning away. “We need to talk soon.”
She headed through the parking garage toward the elevator, hoping he’d call after her saying he was ready to talk now. Praying she hadn’t destroyed the bond between them.
She stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Just before the door slid shut, she saw him remove his helmet and wipe at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Her heart shattered as the doors slid shut.
She had to make this right. Or at least make him feel confident in her feelings for him until she could make a sound decision about their future. She knew he wasn’t ready to talk. It would take time for him to open up. She knew that about him. And she could be patient. But how could she keep him from pushing her away when she’d hurt him so profoundly? First last night and again today.
She needed time to sort through it all, but Adam had never been a patient man. He was used to taking what he wanted, and if he couldn’t attain it, he moved on to the next thing. She didn’t want him to move on to the next thing. She loved him too much to let him get away.
She let herself into the empty hotel room, checking the hallway in both directions in hopes that he’d caught up with her before she closed the door.
They always connected best on an emotional level when they were connected on a physical level. So maybe if she could get him into bed, he’d realize that she still loved him, still wanted him, still needed him, and that maybe after she reflected on the idea of being his wife for longer than five seconds or even an hour, she’d want to marry him. But she wasn’t going to make any promises she didn’t intend to keep, no matter how much she wanted to spare his feelings.
She shed her clothes and climbed into bed, curling her body around the tangle of sheets. Her mind raced through a thousand possibilities of what her life would be like as Adam’s wife. Where would they live? Would her family accept him? Would the world accept her—a nobody—as the wife of a guitar legend? How often would she get to see him? Could she tag along with him on the road? Would she even want to? It seemed such an unsettled life, if fun. At least for a while. Would he change his mind about wanting children? Having kids was important to her. Having stability was important to her. As much as she loved him, could they forge a future together that satisfied them both? And how would she know the answer to any of these questions if she couldn’t get him to fucking talk to her?
Patience, understanding, and listening when he was finally ready to talk had worked with him before, but this situation wasn’t only about him. It was about her as well.
She growled in frustration and threw a pillow across the room. Her breath caught when she heard the door open.
He stood on the threshold for a long moment with the door wide open. Madison tucked the sheet around her bare hips and watched him, afraid to say anything because she was sure if she did, he’d leave.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Odd that he’d ask. It was his hotel room.
“Of course.”
He approached the bed and stood at its edge. His gaze moved over her face, her bare shoulder, the curve of her hip beneath the sheet. He sucked in a breath and lifted his eyes to stare toward the window on the far side of the room.
After a moment of watching him and finding his expression entirely unreadable, she asked, “Are you ready to talk?”
He shook his head. “Still too . . . raw.”
“You might like what I have to say.”
“But I might not.”
He was such an unusual mix of strong and sensitive. She hadn’t realized that she had such power to hurt him. Since his mother had left, he hadn’t given anyone that amount of power over him. He’d trusted her with his heart, and she hadn’t been careful enough with it.
“Can I touch you?” she asked.
“If you don’t, I might very well die.”
Madison rose to kneel on the bed, the sheet falling to pool around her legs. She slid both hands up his T-shirt, drawing the soft fabric upward as her palms bumped over the hard contours of his muscular belly and chest. Impatient, he yanked the shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. She planted a row of gentle kisses down his belly, her fingers working at his fly as she made her way toward her final destination.