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I sat on his lap, feeling him grow with each kiss and every touch, knowing that as much as I wanted this, wanted him, I needed to stop. I needed to control myself, and I needed to get a grip on what was happening.
But I didn’t want to break this moment. I didn’t want it to end.
I began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, pulling it free of his pants, completely wrapping his body around my hands. I wanted all of him. Memories began flooding back as the heat built between us. Our first date, our first kiss, our first time, every single moment that we had that I had forced myself to forget was back, and no matter how hard I would try to stop them, they were there. Every piece of Clay was back in my heart, and I wanted more.
But that small piece of reality kept talking in the back of my head. We needed to take things slow. We had time for this.
“Clay.” I stopped, giving my head a small shake to bring me back to reality. “As much as I want this—”
“Phe, you have no idea how much I want you,” he mumbled, his voice deep as he kissed me.
I moaned and trailed my fingers to his chest, feeling his abs flex with my touch. At this rate, Madeline was going to have to stay over at Milo’s because he wasn’t about to stop this. His hands raced up my back, finding the zipper to my dress and slowly he pulled it down, his other hand slipping past the fabric onto my skin. His fingers were cold, cold enough to make me arch my back. His touch was everything I didn’t know I needed.
“Clay.” I sighed again as he dipped his head, his mouth finding that right spot as the shoulder to my dress slumped. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to be gentle with the right amount of force. “I want this, I want you, but I think. . .” I gasped as he kissed my neck, his hands roaming over my bare back.
Heaving a heavy, lustful sigh, he fell back onto the couch. His lips were plump from my kisses, and his eyes were glazed over. His hair was a mess, thanks to me, and his breathing was slow. He looked sexy as hell, and I had to close my eyes to say what I was about to say.
“We need to take things slow,” I muttered.
“I really wish we didn’t have to.” He sighed, his hands falling from my back to cup my face. “I’ve missed this, missed you, so much. I can’t believe you are letting me kiss you, letting me touch you again.”
I wrapped my fingers around his wrists. “You can keep kissing me,” I whispered, which instantly sparked him to sit up again, his lips finding mine, “but not as hot and heavy as we were getting.”
Dropping his head on my shoulder, he sighed in defeat.
“Think about it.” I locked eyes with him as I lifted his face to me, kissing him gently. “We don't need to make up for lost time. We just get to start over, and most people don’t sleep together on their first date.”
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, his teeth tapping as he held his jaw tight.
“You did, huh?” I asked, thinking of all the years in Seattle he could have slept with numerous women. “Didn’t you?”
He took a deep breath and shrugged. “I didn’t really date in Seattle. I wasn’t focused on that.”
“But you had girlfriends?”
“Can’t I kiss you again? I liked that a lot better.” He gave me a slow, sexy smile, almost making me break, but instead, I arched my back away from him, still firmly planting on his lap his hands now on my legs holding me in place, his fingers slipping beneath my dress.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to rush this. I don't want to ruin anything.”
“Nothing is going to get ruined. I’m not going to let it. Sure, okay, yes. I had girlfriends in Seattle, a few of them, but none of them amounted to what you were, what youare,” he said, running his hands up my arms, a small burst of electricity following. “I promise I won’t ruin this. I want this. I want you, and I’m willing to do whatever you need to make it work.”
I wiggled my body against him. He dropped head on the back of the couch, a small moan leaving his lips. I grinned, knowing I still had that power to cause him to lose himself. “Does that include holding my pin cushion?”
“If anyone else ever holds a pin cushion for you, I’m out,” he said heavily.
I broke out in laughter, falling back against him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, taking his fingers to zip my dress up for me. I snuggled into him, feeling his heartbeat against my chest and the rise and fall of his breaths.
As if a switch flipped, Clay and I fell into a rhythm over the next few days. He would greet me each morning with an Americano and a kiss, some lingering more than others, and then he would sit at my desk with his laptop and papers from his new fancy job and type away. His clicking became just as needed in my studio as my music. He packed up when I did and made sure I was safe at Madeline’s before giving me a kiss goodnight, almost trying to get me to let him stay.
It was hard not to.
But we were going slow. And that was okay with me.
I wanted to savor these moments with him, knowing full well that in a few short weeks I’d be back in New York, and he’d be here. We’d make the long-distance work, though. It was a given. It was a conversation that we would have before I left, but we both knew that we were stuck with each other now, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
The day came for Madeline’s bridals soon enough, and we were packed and ready to crawl into her car and take her to a park. Carter insisted they all be outside. The store's Instagram page was still growing, reaching close to fifty thousand followers. I had been teasing these bridals for weeks now. I would show off the dress from multiple angles, showing that it was the first official Ophelia Fuller wedding gown (not to be sold elsewhere, of course), and it was creating so much hype.
None of this bothered Madeline as she played with the lace on the skirt and tried to adjust the bust one last time.
