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“You hold me so beautifully, Clara.”

I’m in his head, not his heart. He needed this, not needed me. Meanwhile, I’m beginning to realize that I’ve always loved him.

“You always feel so right.”

No more dwelling. My body is lit with pleasure at the delicious drag of him. He splays his palm at the small of my back, delivering a round of shallow, teasing thrusts. He feels so big as he holds me there for his pleasure. As he gives. As I take. As he whispers filthy encouragements.

“You feel so fuckin’ tight. You’re gonna make me come so hard.”

His arm comes around me, sliding between my legs, fingers slippery on my clit. I begin to move with him, hot liquid pleasure spreading through my internal world.

“So perfect, Clara. So goddamn perfect.”

I wish, I think. I wish I could be perfect for him. “You feel so deep.”

“Fuck.” His rhythm stutters. It feels like the best kind of compliment as my body meets his thrust for thrust.

“I want you to . . . I want you to . . .”

“Say it,” he commands as he drives himself deeper.

“I want you to come inside me, Troy. I want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck! Fuck.”

Dirty talk, but make it rough as this thing between us builds and twists, driving us higher and higher with each collision. The moment feels elemental—a primitive need like hunger or thirst.

“You’re mine, Clara. All mine.”

God, I want to be.

With one final thrust, our bodies converge, no space between us. Light and heat begins to burst through my veins as, from behind me, Troy gives a shudder. But I’m already lost to the moment, falling into that blissful, throbbing dark as I cry out my love.

Chapter 44

Clara

It feels almost surreal as we sit on the couch in his office, tucking in to food that Troy ordered from an Italian deli. Endive salad with walnuts and pears and the best Sicilian pie this side of the isle itself, apparently.

He looks more relaxed than he did when I arrived—good job, Clara—though maybe still a little preoccupied. His hair is ruffled and his shirt kind of creased, and my heart gives a little ping like a guitar string at how handsome he is.

Handsome and wonderful and mine. If only for a little while.

“Excuse me.” I cover my mouth with a tiny, hiccuping burp. “How embarrassing.” But I guess I did almost inhale that slice.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. You worked up an appetite.”

“You did all the work.” I reach for a napkin and press it to my mouth, not quite believing I said that aloud.

“Well, I don’t mind being the brawn of this operation.” He leans closer and slides a hunk of hair behind my ear. “You’re the brains. And the beauty.”

Ah, me. There go my heartstrings playing sweet music again.

“I saw Hannah on the way up here earlier,” I say as he leans back into his seat.

“She does work here.”

A suffer a split second of indecisiveness before: “You didn’t tell me she knew about us. From before.”