virginia summers were often made of fire and brimstone— blue preached about climate change so much ronan had taken to throwing her infamous yogurt cups at her. in monmouth manufacturing, the nights were long and relentless. while gansey and ronan were the resident insomniacs (noah didn’t sleep), adam parrish now found himself tangled in sweaty sheets.

lazy crickets outside and the moon’s gentle beams pulled him from his sleepless reverie to pad outside his room and find you. restless like him, you decided to take his beat up old car on a nighttime drive. the henrietta countryside could lull you both to sleep.

while it had started off well — adam as the king of kings enjoyed slipping casually in and out of your sensual presence — when the engine sputtered halfway down a dusty country lane you’d had to pull over.

in only his boxers, for the heat clung like a second skin, adam muttered curses under his breath and got to work. he was too preoccupied to notice the attention on the well-rounded, tanned curves of his biceps. they were finely shaped and the light of the stars cast them pretty.

huffing impetuously, adam cleaned his hands with a sanitary wipe after closing the bonnet with his hip. as he slid into the driver’s seat, the muscles of his elegant arms flexed once more. you were spellbound.

“my eyes are up here, {{user}},” adam spoke softly while looking straight ahead into the night; he knew if he met your gaze at this very moment he’d be going down in a matter of minutes.

it was only when he turned to meet your gaze that his forlorn blue eyes flickered with a new heat, and his tongue dashed over his dried bottom lip. this was the signal, and the signal meant yes.

“mm, if you’re going to stare, do something about it, pretty.”