Chapter 21 A Gentle Touch
A GENTLE TOUCH
Meredith couldn’t sleep.
The day was finally catching up with her.
The vandalism of her home.
The uptight dinner that she’d cooked while Clay was on his computer and barely talked to her.
The sounds of their forks hitting the plates as they both more forcefully than necessary stabbed the chicken she’d baked.
Not one part of this night was going the way she thought when he’d told her he wanted her to stay with him.
How the hell was it possible she was in Clay’s spare room in the dark and staring at the ceiling?
She’d been in bed at least two hours, maybe longer.
She turned and grabbed her phone off the bedside table and checked the time.
Okay, been here four hours, as it was past one.
She didn’t normally get in bed at nine, but it was uncomfortable sitting in Clay’s living room watching TV with the silence between the two of them.
She wanted nothing more than to have him sitting next to her on the couch, his arm over her shoulder, her head on his chest.
None of that happened.
He was in his recliner with his feet up. The fact he didn’t have shoes on was the only thing different. He didn’t even appear relaxed to her.
There was no reason for that in his own home, so earlier than normal she said she was getting ready for bed. She even thought she’d fall asleep with the events of the night.
She heaved out a sigh, threw the covers back, and padded to the bedroom door as quietly as possible since she was next to Clay’s room.
With her hand on the knob, she turned it as gently as she could, as if time were standing still, to not make a peep in the home's silence.
Her shoulders relaxed when the door clicked and she pulled it open as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Phew, no squeaking.
There was no light in the hall, but one in the kitchen, so she followed it in a straight line knowing she wouldn’t bump into anything.
Her feet moved faster than she opened the door, but not like she did in her own home.
Some of it had to do with the surrounding ache in her big toe from stepping on the glass.
She groaned when she had a flash of him holding her bare foot, then cleaning and bandaging it.
For such a rough guy, he had a gentle touch.
She grabbed a cup out of a cabinet. The house was old, she knew that.
Obviously Clay had done some work in here. The kitchen was updated, new cabinets and countertops. Appliances too. Not the modern light and bright motif, but more earth tones. Browns and greens. She liked it.
What she liked even more was the cabinet didn’t make a noise when she opened it, but she swore under her breath when it slipped out of her fingers and she thought for sure it’d slam shut.
Nope, she forgot it had the soft close.
She barely got half of the water down when she heard, “What’s wrong?”
She swiveled around and dropped her cup in the sink. Thankfully, it didn’t break. The way her luck was going it’d shatter on the floor for her to step on again.
“Oh my God. You scared me. Did I wake you?”
“You’re making enough noise,” he said.
She couldn’t hear anything other than her own breathing while she moved around.
“No,” she said. “Not possible.”
“Then how did I hear you?” he asked.
He moved out of the hallway toward the kitchen. Oh shit.
She was staring.
It was hard not to.
All he had on was a pair of athletic shorts riding low on his hips.
Dreaming of his body for weeks had nothing on the real thing.
Taut skin over sculpted muscles.
Not just his arms, which had biceps as big as a grapefruit. A large grapefruit.
His chest was so defined, she wondered how it looked as if he had the outline of squares.
Abs? Was it possible for more than one set of a six-pack?
And that V dipping into the waist of his shorts? It actually does exist!
Everything was a fantasy come true until her eyes landed on his right hand.
“Why do you have a gun?” she shrieked.
“Because trouble follows you around closer than your shadow.”
“For a glass of water?” she asked. She picked up the cup she’d dropped and set it aside.
He turned and walked back to his room.
She didn’t know what she expected. It was more conversation than they’d had tonight.
The cookies on the counter caught her eye. Might as well have a snack since she was up and she wouldn’t worry about waking him.
She was munching away on chocolate chips when he came back.
“Everything okay? Can’t sleep?”
It was the soft tone he’d used that had her mouth stilling, her eyes filling, and her bottom lip quivering.
She nodded her head, but he didn’t seem to believe her.
Maybe she was happy he hadn’t when he came closer and stood in front of her.
A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“You should be,” he said, matching her tone.
Not what she wanted to hear.
“It’s all hitting me at once. I think I convinced myself it was Fredrick and Lana and not a big deal. A nuisance more than anything. It could still be them, right?”
“Ford will find out,” he said.
She blinked her eyes and put the cookie down. “Will you hold me? Please? You don’t believe it’s him, do you?”
She didn’t like the nagging feeling that things weren’t adding up.
He pulled her into his arms, the heat of his half naked body no match for her thin oversized T-shirt with no bra on.
She let out another moan before she could stop herself.
He stiffened and she didn’t care.
She was tired.
Tired of playing games.
Tired of pretending.
Even more tired of Clay pretending.
She lifted her head and looked up to see his eyes on her.
“This is the first you’ve shown any signs you’re upset over it.”
“Because I carry it well doesn’t mean it’s not heavy,” she said, blinking the moisture out of her eyes.
She could handle a room full of screaming kids who were hot, hungry, and waiting for the bell to ring with a smile on her face.
She practiced patience for years. Or pushing off her frustration and annoyance until it evaporated on its own.
But this just wasn’t drying out. The things happening around and to her weren’t vanishing.
There was no way to keep it in any longer.
And that also meant what she was feeling for Clay.
If all it was, was a physical release between them, she’d accept that. She just needed something.
Anything to feel as if she had some control of her situation.
He ran his hand over her head. “Yeah.”
“You know what that’s like,” she said. “Holding it all in and shielding those around you.”
His eyes were searching hers in the dim light of the kitchen, the sounds of nature not that far away outside.
“It’s better for everyone that way.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not. I’m exhausted from it. I need to be swept away. I need you to take me away from it.”
“What are you asking me?” he asked.
“I’m not asking you anything. I’m telling you what I need. What I want.”
“You’re going to regret it,” he said. “I don’t want that.”
“Regret in itself is toxic. Why fight what your body needs to possess?”
“This is your last chance to change your mind,” he said. His voice was rougher than it’d ever been. Hoarse as if he was forcing out each word and trying to make a point for her to walk away.
It wasn’t happening.
She was in his arms and not leaving them anytime soon.
“I’m not changing it,” she said. “If you’re trying to be a gentleman, just stop. I can’t get any clearer than telling you to take me to your bed.”
He picked her up under the arms, her legs going around his waist.
Oh geez. The skin of his belly was scorching her inner thighs.
“The last thing I am is a gentleman. Don’t confuse me with lovers in your past.”
“Now you’re trying to scare me. You should know by now it won’t happen. I’m not afraid of you, Clay.”
She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him.
“You should be,” he said, his mouth invading hers.
They were moving now. He was walking and she didn’t care where he brought her as long as he stayed next to her.
She hit the mattress, him on top of her. She had shut her eyes and opened them to see it wasn’t the room she’d been staying in.
Oh, thank God!
His hand went under her T-shirt, cupping her breast, her back arching.
His thumb found her nipple, a callous grazing it.
Had she ever felt something that rough on her before?
Nope. And she wanted more.
She bucked up against him, his mouth not coming up for air, his hand in her shirt just the opposite of the direction of his mouth.
He wasn’t moving fast there. Just teasing her.
Taunting her.
Letting her know the multiple layers of the man on top of her.
She wanted to know more.
She needed to know it all!
Her hips lifted more, grinding against his stomach.
He didn’t get the hint, only brought his other hand under her shirt as if he was playing dueling banjos and her nipples were the strings.
With the way her lady parts were dancing and twitching, she’d call him a pro.
“Clay,” she groaned. “I need more.”
Her shirt was whipped over her head, his mouth replacing one of his thumbs.
Yep, even better.
His tongue had some action going between swirling and swiping. Her mind couldn’t process much other than the tip of his dick was close to the waist of his shorts and with all her squirming, she’d felt it.
Her hand went between them seeking it out. Just copping a feel.
He grabbed her fingers before they could reach their target and pinned her hand over her head.
“Don’t even think of it.”
She let out a frustrated growl. “Are you seriously just going to leave me hanging here?”
“No. You wanted me to bring you here and you’re going to get it the way I want to give it to you.”
Her lower lips just melted. At least it felt that way with the gush of fluid that escaped.
All she could do was nod her head.
There was a time to throw the towel in and take what was dished out.
She was gladly going to let him win this round because in the end, she’d be winning right along with him.
He stayed at her breasts, moving side to side for what seemed as if it was an eternity. The more she wiggled around, the worse he got.
She was ready to complain again, but he started to kiss his way down her ribs, her belly, to her hips.
His hands slid into her little white panties and inched them down in front as if to peek.
She expected him to rip them off of her.
Or yank them fast.
Instead, he was kissing her little mound that she’d kept nice and trim.
Only in the front. Everything else was shaved clean. She thought it was cute.
The way he was paying homage, guess he did too.
His hand glided up her inner thigh now, torturing her until a finger slid under the edge of her panties touching the most intimate part of her.
“Christ,” he said. “You’re soaked.”
“I’m going to be even more when I come without you if you don’t hurry it up.”
And that was when her panties were yanked off of her.
If she thought he’d fill her then, she had another thing coming.
He hooked his arms under her hamstrings, lifted her in the air, his face diving into her.
His tongue was out and tangoing around her lips below as it had her tongue earlier.
She couldn’t even move with the way he had her pinned to the bed, forcing her to lie there and accept it.
She did. And she wanted more.
He latched onto her swollen bud, his lips pulling it in, sucking, then licking and sucking some more.
“I’m going to coooooommmmme,” she shouted.
It was all the warning she had in her.
She was throbbing before the last syllable left her mouth.
There was pulsing. Twitching. Trembling, then shivering.
Her limbs were going numb as all the blood rushed to the spot Clay was devouring.
She was heaving out large mouthfuls of air as the orgasm released all the tension in her body.
When he pulled back, she wanted to yank him forward again, her body cold and missing his contact.
All he did was move to a dresser, open a drawer, and pull out a condom.
Thank God for the moonlight coming through the window so she could see some of what he was doing.
His shorts went down, the condom on, and he was pouncing on her on the bed.
Meredith barely had time to open her legs wide for him again before he was thrusting in deep.
And that was exactly what she’d been waiting for.
Her body hit overdrive and went almost wide.
For as strong as the orgasm she’d just experienced was, she was craving a second.
Much harder.
Much faster.
She was bucking against him, trying to keep his pace.
The bed was moving, sweat building on her body, her abs screaming at her to slow down.
And then those sensations she’d had earlier, they gathered between her legs and raced to the finish line, their arms in the air as if chanting over their completion.
She came again, her head on the bed, her back arched like a bow, her feet planted and legs spread wide welcoming the slamming of his body into hers.
He was a man on a mission, and she was the endgame.
He let out a few grunts, then collapsed on top of her and rolled quickly so she was on his chest.
“Are you okay?” she asked him. “It’s like you were exorcizing a demon.”
He laughed. A truly joyful sound. Just for a second though.
“Yeah, something like that.”