He opens the cooler and takes out a sandwich. He looks at me and then hands it over before grabbing another for himself. “I was just going along with you. You didn’t talk to me, so I didn’t talk to you. Thought that’s how you wanted it.” He takes a big bite and looks out into the distance as he chews.
“No, it’s not how I want it. I want things to go back to normal between us. I mean, one little kiss shouldn’t wreck our entire friendship, should it? Can’t we just forget about it and act like it never happened? Go back to how things were?”
He doesn’t answer, and his back and shoulders stiffen, like he doesn’t like being reminded of our kiss.
“What if I don’t want to forget it?” he asks, finally turning and looking at me. His eyes are hooded and filled with heat. The look he gives me causes my lungs to halt in my chest. My mouth hangs open, but no words come out. “You can try to forget about it all you want, Autumn, but I never will. I enjoyed spending that time with you too…more than I should have. I don’t know what you’re running from, but I know who you can run to.” Without another word, he stands up and walks back into the house.
I take a deep breath and look out over the property. I watch the grass sway in the breeze. I watch the birds fly overhead, all while thinking over his words. He doesn’t want to forget. What does that mean? Does he want to take things further? Does he want to date? What about the woman he was with?
10
Clay
I can’t believe I just said all of that. To be honest, being here and seeing her, but not being able to touch her, all while thinking about that fucking kiss we shared, has been total hell. Fuck, I’ve never had it this bad for a woman before. It’s so goddamn frustrating, and yet, exhilarating. I can still feel her pressed against me. I can still taste her on my lips. All I fucking want to do is pull her to my chest and kiss the fight right out of her. I wish I knew what she was running from, why she keeps herself so guarded. At least then I might have an idea of how to break my way through. She keeps herself locked up tight, and I don’t know how hard I need to push to make her see through her past, to see me.
I’m afraid that if I push too hard, she’ll just shut down and pull away. But if I don’t push a little, she’ll never see what could be between us. So here I am, stuck in the middle, just waiting for her to push me away or pull me closer.
I pick up the crowbar and get back to work busting out the tiles in the bathroom. I’ve already removed the toilet, vanity, and tub. All that’s left is to rip out the tiles and floor and I’ll be able to build this bathroom from scratch. I’m lost in my own thoughts, thoughts of her, when she appears in the hallway.
“Why don’t you want to forget?” Her hands are on her hips, back straight, and chin held high.
I drop the crowbar and it clatters to the floor. “Let me take you out. Go out with me one time. If you still want me to forget after that, then I’ll forget.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m not going out with you. I just told you this can’t happen. You’re already seeing someone. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
Damn it. I want to pull my hair out. I never knew that liking a woman could drive a man so crazy. “I already told you, I’m not with her. We’re friends.” Friends with benefits, but still.
Her eyes stretch wide as her brows skyrocket. “Friends don’t hold one another like that, Clay. And that’s besides the point. I’m new to town. I have a son. I can’t just leave him alone to go on a date with you.”
I shrug. “Bring him.”
Now she’s squinting at me. “I’m not going to bring my son on a date. I don’t have time for dates. I don’t have time for anything but getting this house done so we’ll have a place to live. Please, do us both a favor. Just forget. That’s it. That’s all I’m asking you to do. Okay?” With that, she turns and walks away.
Anger floods my body, and embarrassment burns my face. I’m not one to ask a woman out, but I’m defiantly not one to be turned down. When I ask a woman to dinner, I always know the answer will be yes. But Autumn is different. She’s a challenge. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll show her that I can be there for her, if it means as just a friend. I’ll make her see that I’m what she needs.
I’m in the truck heading to town before the sun has even risen. There’s only one thing on my mind: making her see how much she wants me, needs me, how she can’t live without me. I have no idea how I’m going to do that though. It’s not like I’ve had this all planned out. Hell, up until a week ago, I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life alone. Right now, all I can think about is her. I don’t know if I’ll ever change my mind on marriage and the whole family life, but I do know that I don’t want to let her slip between my fingers. She blew into town like a storm, and I know she can leave it just as quickly.
I grab a couple coffees and a box of baked goods: donuts, muffins, homemade biscuits with fresh jam, and croissants, and then I head for the farmhouse. The day is humid with dark clouds hanging low. It wouldn’t be surprising if we saw a summer storm today. I cross my fingers, hoping it can hold out for one more day. Today will be a busy one. I’m planning on stripping down the kitchen cabinets. They need to be sanded, stained, and sealed to make them shine. That’s a shitty job to do indoors, especially since we finally got the painting and floors done in the living room and entry way.
When I pull up to the house, her van is already sitting in the drive. I climb out of the truck and take the breakfast items in the house, setting them down on my makeshift table.
“Hungry?” I ask, passing her a cup of coffee.
She seems surprised and taken aback. After our talk yesterday, we haven’t said a word to one another. But I’m hoping to put that behind us. I won’t forget, but I can ignore for a little while.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the cup. “Donuts?”
I nod, then list off the items in the box. “But, if you try a biscuit, you have to try it with my homemade strawberry jam. Fresh from the garden,” I add.
Her mouth drops open, then the corners begin to turn up. “Seriously, you can make jam too?”
I shrug. “Last summer I had so many strawberries I didn’t know what to do with them all. So, I made jam. This is the last jar.” I set the jar on the table.
She smiles slightly, reaches over, and takes the jam. Slowly, she opens it. “It smells amazing. Super sweet.”
“Try it,” I urge her.
I take the plastic knife out of the box and hand it over. She spreads some across her biscuit and takes a bite. Her eyes close, and a moan escapes her lips. My dick twitches. “This is wonderful,” she says, nodding.
I smile at her approval. “Keep it. I’ve had my fill.” I grab a donut, then motion toward the door. “I’m going to get started on these cabinets.” Without another word, I head outside to the side of the house where I already have them waiting.
The kitchen is rather large. I have fourteen cabinets to work on. I took some pictures and measurements and sent them to my buddy, Lewis, to make a few new doors for the ones that were too rotted to use. I have my earbuds in and the electric sander going when the sky opens up and sheets of rain come pouring down. I quickly shut the sander off and toss it to the side. Quickly, I grab some cabinets and rush to get them to the porch so the wood doesn’t get wet and swell.
I place two down and run back for two more. Autumn notices and runs out to help. After only a few minutes, all the cabinets are under the roof. I walk into the house and yank my soaking wet shirt over my head. I hang it over the faucet in the kitchen sink, letting it drip. I run my hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. Autumn walks in giggling as she shakes the water from her arms. Her eyes land on me, and they’re smoldering. Her long dark hair is stuck to the sides of her face, and her clothes are clinging to her body.
She laughs as she pulls her soaking wet hair away from her skin. I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen, watching her. She looks up at me, and I see her eyes take me in. They start
on my face and slowly make their way down my chest. She licks her lips seductively. I go to step toward her, but I hold myself back, not wanting to scare her again. Without warning and with her eyes on mine, she closes the distance between us in seconds. The next thing I know, her lips are pressed to mine. My hands pull her closer, squeezing her ass, moving up her back, and tangling into her hair. God, I love the taste of her. She’s like a warm summer day after a year of constant winter. She’s like the first breath of air after drowning. She’s too fucking good to be true. And I know, at any moment, she could pull away again. But this time, I won’t make it easy for her. This time, I’m going to make her want me. I want her shivering with need and calling my name, begging me to claim her.
I pick her up against me, and her legs wrap around my hips as her arms tighten around my neck. Our kiss deepens, her tongue demanding more from mine. I give her what she needs, kissing her harder, faster, completely unabashedly. I press her back against the kitchen wall, freeing up my hands to travel her body. They move up from her hips to her sides. One lowers, squeezing her ass while the other rises, caressing her breast. I brush my thumb across her hard nipple, and she moans into my mouth.
That sound is the cause of my undoing. I’m completely fucking lost in her. I’m like an addict—addicted to only her. One little taste was all I needed. I tug at her shirt, and she raises her arms above her head, allowing me to pull it off completely. My eyes fall down to her chest, I watch as it rises and falls with her breathing. Her white bra is soaked from the rain, becoming so sheer, I can see right through it. I move my mouth to her neck, kissing, sucking, nibbling my way down to her chest. I lick the water up as I go. Reaching behind her, I unclasp her bra. The straps fall from her shoulders, but the material is wet and clinging to her breasts. When I pull it away, they bounce freely.
Greedily, I move my mouth to her hard nipple, sucking it into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. She lets out a moan and arches her back, giving me more of her.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” I whisper, moving from one hardened peak to the other. Her fingers lace into my hair, pulling it but also keeping me in place.
Afraid that she’ll pull away again, I want to get her to the point of no return. I unbutton her shorts and slide my hand down the front, finding her wetness. My fingers glide with ease between her folds, and she lets out a sigh of relief from the contact. Suddenly, her arms fall from around my neck, and I’m afraid she’s going to push me away again, but to my surprise, her hands fall between us where she starts unbuttoning my jeans. Her legs let loose, and I slowly put her on her feet, pushing her shorts down her legs until she’s completely bare for me. Her hands push my jeans down my hips until I spring free. I only have a moment to worship her glorious body because the next second, her mouth is back on mine and her arms are around my neck again.
I pick her back up against me, pressing her back to the wall as I take myself in hand. I rub the tip against her clit, spreading her wetness and causing her to pant and shake. I’m damn near too fucking excited. I feel like I could explode the second I slide into her.
“Clay, please. Fuck me,” she begs against my lips.
With her words, I push into her, filling her completely. She lets out a cry that makes every muscle in my body tense with excitement. Holding her by her hips, I pull out and bury myself inside of her all over again. She’s so damn tight around me, so hot. So perfect. I’ve never felt this feeling before. It’s something that starts in my gut, making it almost cramp, but it tingles and waves of the sensation wash over my entire fucking body. Goosebumps prickle my skin and every hair raises. It’s like I’m being dragged underwater by a strong wave. When I fight my way to the top, I only get one little breath before the next wave hits and pulls me under again. If every time with her is like this, I will need this again many, many more times.
I can feel her muscles beginning to tighten around me. I know she’s close to coming undone. Her nails dig into the flesh of my back—I know she’ll leave marks and a part of me likes that. It’s like being claimed by her, being marked. And I’m completely okay with that because now, she’s mine in every fucking sense of the word. With each thrust, the wall behind her back creaks. I can’t hear anything but her calling my name, my erratic heartbeat, and the way my skin is smacking against hers. I’ve completely left my body as I ride out this wave with her.
She calls out my name and squeezes around my dick so hard, I forget to breathe. My release explodes to the surface, washing over me like never before. I can’t think. I can barely move. Without warning, I empty myself into her, enjoying every last twitch, shiver, and shake.
I lean my weight against her and the wall, needing a moment to right myself. I’m still floating up in the atmosphere somewhere. Her head is resting against my shoulder, and she’s trying desperately to catch her breath. It takes several long minutes before either of us can lift a finger. Before pulling out of her, I cup her cheeks with my hands and look deeply into her eyes. “Try forgetting that, sweetheart,” I say, pressing my mouth to hers one last time.
11
Autumn
I’m laying wide awake in bed. Bryce is dead asleep in his bed, and I’m all alone, staring at the ceiling as a Clorox commercial plays on the TV. I can’t think about anything but Clay. I’m angry at myself for doing the one thing I said I wouldn’t, but looking back on it, feeling the passion and need flowing between the two of us, I don’t stay mad long. I can’t. Not over something so…right. I can still feel his strong hands touring my body. I can feel his lips on mine. I can taste him, sweet and salty. I can smell him, woodsy with a hint of citrus. I can still hear his words. Try forgetting that, sweetheart.
When I looked up and saw him standing there, shirtless with his wet jeans clinging to his hips, water beading up and rolling down every hard muscle of his six pack, something inside of me snapped. I had to have him. I didn’t think of all the ways this could be bad. I didn’t care. I just wanted him.
God, why is he so perfect? And why can’t I just let myself fall in love with him? It would be so easy too. I’ve always loved a man who knew when it was time to be sweet and when it was time to be demanding. And today, I saw Clay’s demanding side. He never even had to say anything. I could feel it by the way he touched me, claimed me. There was no stopping him today, not that I even wanted to. He was like a wild man that took what he wanted. He ravished me in ways I’ve never been ravished. With Glenn, even back then, it was always short, sweet, and to the point. There was never any touching, teasing, caressing. With Clay, it was almost like he was branding me as his own, searing my skin with a red-hot rod iron. As much as I wish I could, I can never forget. Not that. Not him.
My only question now is: what will we do tomorrow? Will we go back to being friends and talking easily over work and lunch? Will we go back to that awkward kiss in the pond phase where there’s little talking and no eye contact? Or will things be different? Will he look at me differently tomorrow? Will he feel differently tomorrow?
All these thoughts keep me wide awake. Not only that but picturing the way he held me in his strong arms as he slid into me has me ready for round two. Dampness gathers between my thighs. Why do I need more of him already?
I tell myself that everything I’m feeling is just a product of my life being uprooted. My emotional state is a little out of whack, my stress level is up, and my period just ended a couple days ago—my hormones are still recovering. All of these things are sure to make any girl feel a little crazy. I tell myself to just sleep and see what tomorrow brings, and that’s exactly what I do. I sleep like I’ve never slept before.
When I wake in the morning, I’m excited, but also nervous. I find myself nitpicking my appearance when before I just threw on some clothes and ran out the door. I’m not sure what’s on the schedule as far as work goes today, but I don’t want to wear anything I could possibly ruin. I put on my favorite pair of denim cut-off’s—they sit low on my hips and hug every curve perfectly
—and a white tank top with a colorful bralette underneath. I braid my hair and leave it hanging over my shoulder before finishing off the look with a red baseball cap.
“You ready to go, buddy?” I ask Bryce when he steps into my room.
“Yeah! Quinton and I are going to work on our fort today!” He runs toward the door, leaving me to quickly grab my things. I lock the door behind us, and we load up in the van. I drop Bryce off at daycare and head for the house. There’s something about today that puts me in a good mood. The sun is shining, it’s warm but not too hot, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. It doesn’t hurt that I’m a little sore between the legs from Clay ravaging my body.
I park the van in the empty driveway and let myself into the house. It’s really coming along nicely. The living room looks perfect with its sandy-colored walls, dark floor and trim, and bright white ceiling. The fireplace is the beautiful centerpiece that ties it all together. I can’t wait to start going to flea markets and swap meets to find the exact right pieces to fill the room. Walking back into the entry way, I start to imagine where I’ll put everything. I can see a console table by the door, a place to put down my purse and drop my keys. Maybe it will have a little shelf on the bottom so Bryce can put his shoes away since he has to remove them as soon as he gets in the door.
I look up at the ceiling and imagine a chandelier hanging in the center, something classy and fitting for this style of house. I walk into the kitchen, and it’s still a mess. The cabinets are stripped from the walls, and the tile lays broken in pieces on the floor. The island in the center is gone and being refinished as well, leaving deep scars along the floor. Even though it’s a mess, I already envision how it will look. I’m imagining white rectangular tiles for the backsplash and a little breakfast table in the front by all the windows. I dream about serving breakfast at that table and being able to look out those windows and see Clay bringing a horse out of the barn. That stops me in my tracks. I never pictured Clay being part of the bed-and-breakfast’s future before. Why now? Is it because I slept with him? I have to stop thinking about this. This isn’t something you just decide on a whim. Plus, I haven’t even seen him yet. Yesterday could’ve just been a casual fling for him, something he does all the time. I suddenly feel hot and breathless. I wish there was a place to sit down in here. I walk out of the kitchen, straight into Clay’s hard chest.
Baby Secret (Slade Brothers Book 3) Page 7
