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“Anyone?” he asks. There’s a tiny fissure of uncertainty in his tone, and it kills me. I did this to him, and I have no one to blame but myself. He needs to know, needs to understand I only want him.
“No. Only you.”
With that he takes a step toward me, and I slide back up the middle of the bed. He crawls over me, bracketing my head with his hands, and he stares down at me, blond hair falling over his forehead.
“Only you,” I tell him again, and with that he drops down to fuse his mouth with mine, lining himself up and pushing all the way in with one go.
A sound escapes me at the sheer wonderfulness of this, him, how he feels inside of me, and he swallows it. His weight settles, his hands wrap around my face, and keeping true to his word, this isn’t sweet or slow. There’s an edge, a need that’s palpable, and I hang on as he gives and takes what he needs from me over and over and over.
I thought I remembered what it was like to be with Clay, but I was wrong. It’s so much more. He’s so much more.
“Are you all right?” he asks against my neck while sliding his hands under my butt and lifting.
“I’m better than all right,” I whisper into his hair as I lock my ankles around his waist.
“This isn’t going to last too much longer.” His teeth are clenched as an indrawn breath turns into a long, uneven exhale.
“Good. I want to watch you come undone for me.” My arms band around his back, locking us together.
He lifts his head a little and looks at me. His forehead is damp, his eyes are slightly wild as they’re so into this moment, and his lips are deliciously swollen. “You first,” he says as he picks up the speed and intensity with which his hips slam into mine and his forehead falls against my face.
And that’s all it takes. I fall into a state of complete euphoria as I revel in the stretch and feel of him, his smell, and the pounding of his heart against mine, and I fully give myself to him. He feels the change, the moment, and his lips drag across my skin to find my mouth where he kisses me so passionately I know I will never be the same after tonight.
Who am I kidding? My very being was altered the first time, almost eighteen months ago. I only pray we get to a point where he is mine, because I am one hundred percent his.
He squeezes me tighter, his fingertips digging into my skin as a sound pulls from the back of his throat and I inhale it. His hips fasten us together like a lock and key as he pushes in one last time and then lets go.
I am in love with him, wholly and completely.
Tears prick my eyes, but I hang on tight because I never want him to let me go.
27
CLAY
Over and over Emma and I came together last night. We were insatiable. Either we couldn’t get enough of each other, or we were trying to fit almost a year and a half of lost time into one night, one night that ended too quickly and carried us into the next day.
What is it about this girl that has me completely losing my mind? It’s never felt like this with anyone, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried it would never feel like this again with anyone else—not that I want there to be anyone else. I just don’t know where this leaves us or what’s next.
“Do you need to get back today?” I ask her as the late morning sun streams into our room past the curtains we forgot to close. Emma is lying on her stomach with the sheet just covering her waist, and the light is tracing her skin, just like I am. I’m lying on my side with my head propped on my hand, and my fingertips are slowly memorizing the feel of the bumps of her spine and the softness of her skin.
“No, I guess not. Cora and I were going to have a jam session once we got back, but she’ll understand. What did you have in mind?” she asks, her drowsy, relaxed eyes opening to look at me.
“We didn’t get to go on our date.”
Slowly, her lips form a small smile, an expression that says I’ve made her happy.
“I did promise you food.”
My fingers leave her back and move to her face. Her brown hair is everywhere, and I tuck what’s loose on her face behind her ear so I can see her more clearly.
“I could eat,” she says.
“How do you feel about an ultrafeast?” This time my whole hand smooths her hair over her head. I never want to stop touching her.
“What’s an ultrafeast?” she asks, rolling to her side to see me better.
“Where we don’t eat at one place but at several. Austin is supposed to be known for great food, so why stop at one spot when we can eat at a bunch?”
