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Chapter 8
Jayce
Ifelt him before he entered the room, and once I saw him, something in my stomach clenched.
He was in my hoodie. He was in my hoodie, and somehow seeing him with the long, lean lines of his legs exposed burned through me more than watching him earlier on the deck.
I’d felt a lot of things in my life — anger, rage, a deep-seated sense of self-preservation every time I was in a room with Marcus Holden. I knew what it felt like to face down death, and what it felt like to kill a man.
But in that moment, looking at Clay as he brought himself up on tiptoe to reach a glass in the top of my cabinet, exposing the long line of his hip and the edge of my boxers…
All I could feel was him, and it seemed like I was really feeling for the first time.
My knuckles went white gripping the edge of the couch, and I was on my feet before I had time to think — I followed him as he walked to the coffee maker like he didn’t know what he’d done when he dug through my closet until he found the most worn, comfortable thing he could.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I couldn’t think around the sight of him leaning this way and that, giving me a perfect view of his bare legs trailing around the kitchen, and the way the hoodie hit him mid-thigh.
He wasn’t small, but he looked almost delicate wrapped in my clothing. Wrapped in the black fabric.
Wrapped in me.
I’d made my way around the counter before I realized what I was doing — I was standing so close to him, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out. Softly. Slightly.
My fingers brushed the edges of his curls, and he froze beneath my touch. I didn’t know if it was intentional, because he’d certainly been aware I was there. He’d had nothing but a perfect view of me when I stood and stalked toward him.
“What are you wearing?” I didn’t realize my voice was going to come out in such a low rumble, but now that it had, I couldn’t really stop myself. I couldn’t do anything but keep touching him — nothing but step closer.
The intermingled mixture of our scents, his and mine, was almost enough to make me lose my mind.
I’d been so fucking good — so fucking good since he’d arrived. So good while I was watching him.
So good while he threw himself at me, because I didn’t want him to think he had to — because I didn’t know if he wanted to.
But I didn’t know if I could be good anymore. I’d never actually been a good person. I was pretending.
I was so fucking tired of pretending.
“I found it in your closet. It was just… hanging there.” Clay turned, and his eyes were wide innocence. The expression was over-exaggerated, and he bit his lower lip while he looked at me through his lashes. “Is it okay? I can take it off…” His fingers found the bottom of the fabric and he lifted it enough to expose his thigh, boxers, the bulge between his legs, the jutting angle of his hip, and —
My hand moved without my permission, grabbing his wrist in a sharp motion — I managed to stop myself from squeezing too tight, but that was all I could do. I held him there, with the hoodie hovering, showing that blissful slice of his hips, the trail of soft golden hair that led into his boxers.
Fuck.
“Jayce.” His eyes were wide, searching my face, but he wasn’t trying to pull away.
No… I didn’t think I could be good anymore.
My fingers on his wrist tightened a fraction, and the whimper that pooled low from his chest wasn’t in protest. Clay actually swayed forward, like he was drawn on strings to my presence in front of him.
I couldn’t keep playing this game — I couldn’t keep guessing if he wanted me or if he was just doing what he thought he had to in order to keep himself safe.
I didn’t know how to figure it out other than to test it. I’d always been good at reading people — maybe I was having trouble with him, but then again…
Maybe I just hadn’t tried hard enough.
My grip on his wrist made it easy for me to maneuver his hand. I wanted to touch him, but for now, I just watched the way his eyes widened and his breath hitched when I shifted his arm down and pressed his fingers back against his cock.
I didn’t have to touch him to feel how hard he was.
