Rhynn keeps a list of the things that would make up Clarke’s perfect contract. A seat at the table for design and strategy decisions, a competitive salary, some degree of bodily and social autonomy. She’ll ask for those in negotiations, she will, but her priorities have evolved recently. “I’ve got a couple people who are going to be out of a job for helping me tonight. Can you make room for them at Enclave?”
Lennox laughs. “I certainly don’t want the people who helped you pull this off workingagainstme, now do I? I can’t promise endless hiring, but if we’re only talking a few, then—”
“Clarke!” Sara bursts into the room at a run, dashing up to the cot and flinging her arms around Clarke. “I was so worried!”
“Doeseveryoneknow where I am right now?” Clarke asks, returning the hug.
“I asked Amira,” Sara says, pulling back to look at Lennox. “You’re Lennox Redfoot, from Enclave Alpha.”
“I am,” Lennox says, looking entertained. “You’re the one with the videos.”
“Sara Cohen,” Sara introduces. “I could be way off base, but do you have ten minutes for me to fill you in on the plan for a post-season charity one-on-one between Clarke and Julian?Because I made sure all the contracts with the suppliers and venue are transferable, and I’d be willing to freelance to see it through because it’s probably my ticket to my next job, and—”
Lennox leans around Sara to look at Clarke. “This one of the people you want to bring with you?”
“Yep,” Clarke says. “And my race engineer. And a start crew engineer.”
Lennox says, “Done. What else?”
46
Julian’s apartment is dark. Hedoesn’t bother turning the lights on as they walk in, just leads Clarke upstairs to a guest bedroom. He kisses her at the door, slow and achingly sweet, and disappears into his own room down the hall.
Clarke is tired and wrung out and in dire need of a shower. She heads for the bathroom and stands under the water so long that she loses track of time. She wraps up in a towel when she’s done and looks at her torn dress, which she’d draped over the sink. This was not well planned. She should’ve stopped at her hotel for an outfit change, probably, but there’s a small pile of folded clothes at the foot of the bed when she emerges from the bathroom. An old T-shirt of Julian’s, worn and soft; a pair of his boxers; a sweater.
She gets dressed and sits on the edge of the bed, dropping her cuff on the charging pad built into the nightstand. Messages directly to and posts mentioning Clarke are rolling in at a speed she can’t even pretend to keep up with. When news of her moving to Enclave gets released on Monday, she’s going to have to mute her accounts entirely.
She should sleep. Sleeping would be the smart thing to do. She has a quick visit with her family tomorrow morning, then afull day in transit to Luna to grab some things from her house (Shit, she’s going to need to sell her house, isn’t she? Enclave’s Terran. She adds it to her ever-growing list of things to do) before shuttling to Earth and meeting up with the Enclave team for the first time. Sleeping should take priority.
She stands and walks to the door.
She hesitates with her fingers on the edge of the panel. Just because Julian said all those things about being in love with her and wanting her in his life, just because he whisperedCome home with me?in her ear before they were split up by their medics, just because they hooked up in his prep room last weekend—that doesn’t mean he intends for them to go any further. Maybe he’s in his head about how they’re going to make this work, too. Maybe he has doubts.
Only one way to find out.
She taps the panel. The door slides open.
She steps into the empty hallway, disappointment trickling through her. She’d thought he might be out here, too. She’d thought the door would open, and he’d be standing there with his hand raised to knock, and—
A door down the hall opens. Julian steps out.
He looks at her. She looks at him.
He’s wearing an outfit similar to hers. His hair is a mess. His face shows surprise, then joy-hope-pleased all at once, then goes carefully neutral.
“Hey,” he says. “Did you, ah, need something?”
“I’m in love with you,” she says. “Have been, will be.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he says, and strides over to kiss her.
She knows what it is to kiss Julian now, but she doesn’t think she’s ever going to get used to it. She hopes she never does. She goes from tired-but-jittery to heart-pounding arousal in thesecond it takes for him to sweep into her mouth with his tongue, all thoughts of doubt vanishing as he pulls her against him. His hands tighten on her waist, drift over her hips, skate up her back into her hair and down to the curve of her ass. Heat trails and persists everywhere he touches, embers he left glowing last time springing to life again.
Clarke lets her hands do plenty of roaming, too. Up his chest, across his shoulders, down his arms, feeling the flex of muscle and the restraint he’s exhibiting to keep himself in check. To not overwhelm her.
That won’t do.
She breaks the kiss. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
