11. Clara
Chapter 11
Clara
T here goes my “talk to Walker” plan.
He’s gone before I can think of a reason to call him back. I mean, besides, “Hey, you look like you’re stuck in the rain and there’s a hole in your umbrella. Is it because I’m a shitty lay?” Yeah. That’s peak awkward.
That opportunity missed, I focus on RJ fiddling with his tablet. Maybe I can fix one thing this morning. I extended my olive branch to Walker and Jansen. It’s time to do the same with RJ.
It’s not like he and I are going to fall into bed today—because really, I’ve probably done enough of that in the past few hours to scandalize polite society—but I miss him, and I want to spend time with him. I need to open the door and see if he still wants to walk through it with me .
Planting a kiss on Jansen’s cheek, I push myself upright in the middle of the couch. “Say, RJ, are you headed back to bed?”
He looks up, blinking a few times. “I thought I was, but now I’m awake. Why?”
“Um, would you like to go for a run with me?”
He nods slowly. “Sure. Now?”
“How about in half an hour?”
RJ stands up, his tablet tucked under his arm. “Sounds good.”
He scans the front hall and front porch with a device he pulls from his hoodie pocket that attaches to the tablet, leaving Jansen and me alone in the living room. Flopping back down onto his chest, I tuck my nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his clean laundry and sandalwood scent. I stay there, warm and comfy, as Jansen spins my curls through his fingers, his phone holding his attention in his other hand.
After a while, I peek up at him. “Say, Jansen?”
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“Am I part of the team now?”
Jansen chuckles. “I think you’re on probation, or maybe an intern, if I’m reading Trips right. We’re trying you out.”
I push back from his chest, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You’re trying me out? Is that what we did this morning?”
Jansen drops his phone onto the coffee table, wrapping both of his arms around my waist. “That wasn’t part of the job description, but if it’s on the table, I’d love to negotiate for more of that experience. ”
I laugh before kissing him, his lips soft, eager. “Maybe it’s my turn to interview you. How else am I going to figure out if this position has adequate benefits for me to pursue?”
He answers by trailing his lips down the side of my neck, one hand sliding under the waistband of my pants to clutch my ass. I dig my hand into the cool strands of his hair, the long length slinking over the backs of my hands.
The kiss is slow, luxuriating in the stolen moment alone, the heat of his palm on my ass searing, the coaxing of his tongue mesmerizing.
Just as I’m ready to drag Jansen back to my room, my phone jingles. Barely kicking my brain into gear, I remember I asked RJ to go for a run.
My God. What is wrong with me today? Did a few weeks of avoiding the guys dam up my hormones or something?
I pull away from Jansen, creating a sliver of space between us, his palm still warm against my ass. “Hey,” I manage.
Jansen’s green eyes catch mine, a smile curving one side of his lips. “Hey.”
“I, um, I should probably go get ready for my run.”
“You should?” His eyes twinkle as his fingers trace the crease between my ass and thigh, leaving a trail of tingles across my skin. With a glint in his eyes, he dips those damn fingers between my legs from behind, stroking my folds. Surprised, I rub myself against him, my body and my mind running on entirely different programming. Grinning at my lack of self-control, he sneaks his fingers inside of me, his lips stealing the moan that slips out of my mouth.
Damn him. He’s not going to make this easy for me. I want him, but being finger fucked on the couch when I told RJ we were going for a run? Yeah. Not cool. I may know nothing about trying to balance a bunch of relationships, but even I know that’s an asshole move.
“Jansen. We need to stop. I should, for sure. Stop to get ready, that is,” I stammer.
He pulls his finger out before pressing it back in. It takes all I have not to moan and turn into a puddle. But I manage it. Barely.
My limited reaction has him checking to see if I’m serious about stopping. I am. Or at least, I’m as serious as I can be at this point. With a groan, he gives up, getting to his feet and helping me to mine. Once I’m steady-adjacent, he digs into the couch for my phone, handing it to me with a kiss.
“Later,” he whispers, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear, the move leaving me with jelly legs. I watch his ass much too closely as he walks away; I’m wishing I’d asked RJ for an hour. At least.
Fuck me. Maybe literally. But as that isn’t going to happen just now, I guess I’m just going to have to run it off.