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Who am I kidding? That’s exactly what I did. Because of her.
Clara McDavid.
My little ball of sunshine and pure trouble.
Truth is, she scares the fuck out of me. I don’t even know who I am right now. Pining away after a girl who’s so much younger than me. Wanting all her time, her smiles, her body. I love how she makes my mind work overtime to keep up with her bratty self. No one has ever tried me the way she does. Usually, people run the other way, but Clara runs right for me—guns ablaze and a challenge in her eyes. She’s incredible.
She’s mine.
Fuck. The last time I thought that was with Peppa. As much as my insecurities over my past marriage weigh on my soul, I have to remember that Clara isn’t Peppa. I always felt like Peppa was hiding something from me. She was, but I didn’t know that at the time.
With Clara, I know what she’s thinking. I feel it deep within me. Plus, she’ll say whatever is on her mind without any hesitation. My baby girl is so damn responsive, too. One touch and she falls apart for me. I adore that about her. It’s a hell of a feeling, knowing she wants me. Knowing that I please her, that she enjoys what I give her. I don’t have to question it; it’s in her eyes.
She’s a fucking whirlwind, and I love the feeling of being knocked off my axis with her.
I just fear I’m diving in headfirst because, for the first time, I’m finally feeling something.
Alive. I feel alive.
As I light the candles at the bar, I hear tires on the gravel out front. I smile, and I can’t help but think it’s crazy how much I’ve smiled since she came into my life. I hear a door close as I pour two glasses of wine, and then I hear the dogs barking happily. As I put the bottle down, the door opens, and the boys come barreling in, Darcy hot on their heels. I greet my boys, even kissing Darcy, before I look up to find Clara grinning from ear to ear.
She has on the dress she was wearing earlier, her hair is down, framing her heart-shaped face, and her navy eyes gleam with hunger. I lick my lips as I stalk toward her. She reaches for me just as I get to her, and I wrap my arms around her, our lips meeting with so much passion, my heart races. I never had the need to kiss anyone until I met her.
Kissing her is as necessary as breathing.
She runs her tongue along the seam of my lips, and I open gladly for her. Our tongues move together as she tightens her arms around my center, my hands getting lost in the waves of her hair. When I pull away, out of breath, I cup her jaw, running my thumb along her chin. My other hand drifts down, grasping her ass cheek, and she hisses out a breath.
I grin. “Sore?”
“Yes. Some brute reprimanded the hell out of my ass.”
My eyes dance with her. “You loved it.”
She gives me a wicked little grin. “I did.”
I tug on her bottom lip with my finger. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes shine as she nods slowly. “Great.”
I kiss her again, and she leans into me. All her sweet, lush curves are flush against me. I nibble on her bottom lip as I rub her bottom. “Dinner is ready.”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
I roll my eyes as I take her hand in mine, threading our fingers. “Do I need to ask if you ate real food today?”
She gives me a bashful smile. “Define real food?”
“Not a smoothie or an iced coffee.”
She ponders that. “I plead the Fifth.”
I tap her ass softly, and she squeals before her laughter fills the space. God, I love her laugh. I lead her to the bar, and she sits as I head to the kitchen to get our food. I place two salads down before grabbing the pan of linguine to serve each of us. Her eyes sparkle as she takes everything in, her mouth parting just a bit. “This looks so damn good. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My ma,” I say as I go back for the bread. “She was an excellent cook.”
She pulls in her. “Was?”
I nod. “Yeah, I lost both my parents at nineteen. Car accident. At least they got to see me play in the NHL before it happened.”
