Flawed Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #1)

Chapter Forty Eight

Bobby and Tara's presence in my life again partially filled the gap that opened, but left empty was the part where my parents would be. That part of me ached hollowly. I wished I could be like Adam and ignore the feeling, but it wasn't something I was accustomed to. Adam grew up always knowing the evil of his parent's ways, always knowing he would never be enough—but me? I was always able to hide my imperfections from them. I was always on the same page as them—even if I didn't agree with them—or more likely, Mom. We never really saw eye to eye on the Beckerson boys. Maybe it was because Vickie was her best friend, and she didn't want her to explode about me and either one of her sons. I think Mom always silently favored Bobby, too. He was the golden boy after all. Adam was always more the rebel, despite a 4.0, he always had a guitar or some musical instrument in his hand. God only knew where that talent came from.

I glanced over at him as he drove up the abandoned parking garage. Boston just past midnight was amazing—the normally bustling city streets died until it was so quiet you could hear the buzz of the light poles. It was the perfect time to just lose yourself in thought, and when we couldn't sleep we sped off into the night to enjoy the serene silence. Tonight was one of those nights, and we knew each other well enough that we hadn't spoken a word to one another. Adam slid out of bed and grabbed the keys from the dresser, looking over at me with the soft smile that made everything bad disappear.

He parked on the top level of the garage before leaning into the backseat and grabbing two gigantic down blankets. It was unseasonably warm for December in New England at fifty five degrees, but the down would make it feel like it was summer again.

I got out of the car as he laid the thick quilted one down and sat, pulling me into his arms and wrapping us in the other.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, kissing my head.

I looked up at him. "Right now?"

He nodded.

"How happy I am with you."

"You didn't seem too happy in the car," Adam said as his eyes raced over my face.

I leaned my elbows on either side of his body and looked down at him. His hand slid up my arm to cup my face as his thumb traced my jaw.

"I'm happy now...this is perfect, even if it is a bit flawed," I said.

He leaned up on his forearms so our faces were only inches apart.

"Are you trying to say I'm flawed?" he whispered as he cocked his head at me.

I smiled and let my fingers run over his scar and to his lips where he cupped his hands over mine and kissed them.

"Beautifully flawed," I replied as my heartbeat slowed.

His eyes continued to search mine as he leaned forward and let his lips grazed mine. "You torment me with your perfection," Adam whispered into my mouth.

"I'm not perfect," I replied as his mouth trailed down my neck, and he tilted my head.

"Every time I look at you I think to myself that I've found perfection," Adam said as he shifted his weight over me.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Now that's flawed perfection."

He shook his head and slid my shirt off my shoulder so he could kiss it.

"Never," was his reply as his hands moved to my hips and his thumb traced the skin of my belly.

My back arched at the pleasure of his soft caress, and I could feel him smile as his face buried in my neck. His arms slid around my back to hold me tightly against him as I sighed.

I let my hands slip under his shirt and pull it over his head before I buried my fingers in the muscles of his shoulders. His kisses burned, leaving a trail over my skin and down my chest. I could feel the goose bumps rise over his skin under my kisses.

"Are you cold?" I asked as I pulled the blanket that slipped down to his waist over our heads.

"Not at all," he answered as he pushed my arms over my head and let his fingers glide down them again as he lifted my shirt over my head.

"Are you cold?" he repeated into my ear as my skin had the same reaction to him.

I shook my head as his hands found my inner thigh, and my back arched again. My hands slid to his pajama bottoms, and I pulled them off as he hovered over me, my lips stroking his bulging arm muscles as he held his weight.

He lowered himself to me and his mouth found mine, breathing life into me as he stole my own breath away.

The hollow ache slowly dissipated as he held me to him—every moment with him slowly healed the pain.

"All I've ever wanted is you," he sighed, his breath hot in my ear.

"You'll always have me," I replied, breathless as his hands entwined in mine.

His answer was a soft moan into my hair as I wrapped my legs around his and pulled him tighter into me.