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CLARA
When we got home, I turned to go shower in my bathroom and he grabbed my wrist and spun me around. I fell against his chest and his fingers buried in my hair.
His mouth grazed mine, hot and smelling like whiskey and Merrick.
“Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he murmured.
“To shower.”
I made to kiss him, but he pulled back until he was barely out of my reach. Denying me, teasing me.
“You can shower in my bathroom.”
“It doesn’t have my things in it.”
“Use mine then.”
“Sure, if I want to have a huge breakout tomorrow. I need my things, not yours.”
He relented and I ran barefoot down the hall and into my bathroom. It took me almost an hour to shower, wash my hair, do my skincare. Faintly, I heard him checking the locks and windows as he did every night.
His footfalls disappeared upstairs. I tied my hair up in a loose bun and dug through my clothes to find something nice to sleep in. Instead, I came up with one of his t-shirts. My fingers ran over the soft cotton and my stomach fluttered.
Breathing deeply, I pressed my face into it.
Dark, crisp oak.
My core clenched, roused. I pushed the t-shirt back into my drawer, wanting it to be my secret for when this was over. Instead, I put on a cropped tank top and ruffled shorts that barely covered my ass.
He seemed to like when I wore that combination.
I grabbed my little bag of nighttime things and padded down the hall and up the stairs. At the top, I hesitated, unsure.
What if he’d changed his mind?
Gathering my courage, I knocked on his door and he opened it. He was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. My breath caught as I looked him up and down, my eyes lingering on his groin.
I could make out the faint outline of him.
Even unaroused, it was sexy. Like a promise.
He hooked his finger under my waistband and pulled me into the bedroom and pushed me back against the door. My bag fell to the ground and his mouth found mine and consumed it.
Stars burst to life behind my eyelids and I squeezed them shut. My body melted into his hands, big and lean against my back.
He picked me up and we fell into bed in a breathless tangle. His cotton sheets were cool against my back and his bed smelled just like him. All smoky and sexy and male.
Hands shaking, we took what little clothes we wore off and tossed them over the side of the bed.
His naked body settled over mine, hot and lean between my thighs. We kissed slowly, our mouths tangled and our tongues tasting of each other. His hand was on my throat, barely touching my skin.
He didn’t need to. Just the suggestion of his warm, perfect hand was enough to keep me right where he wanted me.
We made out like we were starving until I felt drunk. My breasts heaved. I was aching and slippery between my legs. I needed the perfect stretch and heaviness of him inside me now or I was going to go crazy.
“Fuck me,” I breathed.
His jaw tightened and he gripped me and rolled onto his back. I swayed, but he kept me steady. Positioning me on his hips and taking his cock by the base. He slapped my clit with it once, smirking. Then he dragged the head over me, gathering my arousal.
