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I swerve toward my bedroom door, but Clay slips in front of me, and I bump right into him.
“I’m not tired,” Clay whispers and time slows down, for just a moment, as he stares into my eyes. I can feel his desire like a storm inside of me. He’s feeling things for me that he shouldn’t be. Things I came here to make him feel for other women.
I would be a big ol’ lying liar if I tried to pretend my interest in him is completely physical.
The truth is, when I look at Clay, I see a man filled with so much love to give, that he gives it freely. He cares for those around him and goes well beyond for them. Heck, he’s in this house for his brother. He doesn’t need roommates. He’s kind and artistic. He adores Cooper and treats him like he’s his second father.
Clay is a good man. A good man, that's looking at me like he wants to do very bad things to me.
“You should get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow.” I tell myself to step back. To put space between our bodies. But I can’t move.
“I do.” He nods in agreement, but rather than walking away, he wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me into him. “Spend the night with me, True.” His voice is low but firm. He’s not asking, he’s telling me. I try to shake my head, I try to say no. I tell myself to back away. To deny him and myself.
Instead, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his. It’s a sweet, soft kiss. The kind you see on movie screens and spend your life wishing for. The kind that makes you want to kick your foot up like you’re living through a rom-com. The kind that turns hungry, and curls your toes.
“Just once,” I whisper. I’m not telling him, I’m bargaining with myself. Just once, I’ll give in. I’ll let myself have this one little thing. But as the words leave my lips, they turn sour.
“No, not once.” Clay shakes his head as he pushes a hand into my hair, then tugs my head back, so I’m looking up at him. “Every night.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, and my eyes fall closed. I have to stop this runaway train. We desperately need to get back on the tracks, but the engineer is happy to watch us crash.
“I’m the nanny,” I murmur, as my eyes open, and I fail not to meet his. Such beautiful eyes. “You don’t like commitment,” I add, but I feel the change. The reason my flirtation magic failed over and over today.
Clay wants me.
“I don’t plan on fucking this up or moving out. We might need to be discreet, at first. Just so Coop doesn’t sound any alarms, and Milo doesn’t freak out, but I want this. I want you.” He cups the sides of my face in his large palms, stroking my cheeks gently with his thumbs. “Say yes, True. Say yes, and let me make love to you.”
Fuuuck. Those words are like crack for Cupids.
My reasons for saying no fly out the window, and my moral compass goes right along with them.
I’m going to beat myself up over this for years, but when he looks at me like this and begs me to say yes, like that? I’m a goner. I’m putty in his hands, and oh, does he have nice hands.
“Bath first,” he says, before scooping me up into his arms. I giggle as the nerves take over, but I don’t fight it. “Milo said you liked baths, so I got you some things,” he whispers in my ear, and when we make it to the bathroom, he pulls a basket out from under the sink. My eyes go wide.
“Have you been planning this all along?” I ask, wondering how long the couple’s bath salts, and… is that a candle?
“I would say hoping, not so much planning. I haven’t gotten you off my mind for weeks. Pretty much since the day you caught me bare bottomed, and didn’t tease me for my creative process. Or, lack of memory.” He blushes and shrugs.
“Just the bath oils for tonight?” I ask, and Clay brightens. I watch him fill the tub with water and throw the bath oils in. The scent is alluring, and my magic rises to the surface. I don’t need to add lust, though. There’s plenty of that between us already.
We watch each other, as we both remove our clothes, and step into the bath. I shiver, loving the heat, and sink low. Once he’s sitting across from me, Clay reaches for me, tugging my wrist, until I’m climbing onto his lap, straddling his thighs.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, grabbing a washcloth from his basket, and dipping it into the water. He lifts it, and I tip my head back, as he wets my hair. When he starts massaging the shampoo into my scalp, I bite my lip. The man knows what he’s doing because it feels fucking amazing.
He tortures me for what feels like hours, rinsing my hair and putting in conditioner, rinsing again, never touching my body. I’m still straddling his thighs, with my hands resting behind me, as I hold onto his legs for support, my breasts basically in his face. When he stops, I return the favor, taking my time as I wash his hair. When I’m done, he takes the washcloth from me and pours the body wash on it.
Finally! I mentally cheer, until Clay starts washing me, never once touching me anywhere I need him to. When he lifts my legs one at a time out of the water and washes me from toe to thigh, I nearly go crazy.
I’m ready to start begging when he drags the cloth across my chest, and the barest of touches over my nipples makes me moan. I grip his thighs behind me, and arch, as he repeats the motion over and over.
The cool cloth on my heated skin feels so good, and when he finally drops it, palming both breasts in his hands, I look down, so I can watch him touch me.
“Do you like it hard?” he asks, pinching and rolling my nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. “Or soft?” He switches to caressing them gently with the pad of his thumb, and I’m convinced I’m going to come just from his touch alone. “Or,” he leans forward, sucking one nipple, and then the other, his tongue swirling in slow circles.
“Fuck, Clay,” I moan, and when I can’t take it any longer, I push his chest back and kiss him hard. “I need you inside me,” I beg, making him grin.
“Soon,” he murmurs against my lips, and when I feel his hand between us, I lift my hips, thinking he’s about to give me what I begged for. Instead, he finds my clit, and presses slow circles, making me gasp against his kiss. “Come for me,” his fingers dip lower, and he pushes them inside me, using his thumb to rub my clit, and I can’t stop myself from bouncing on his lap, riding his fingers.
My head falls back, and as my orgasm consumes me, I scream his name. “Fuck, yes, Clay… Fuck…”
