Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Clover
I was going to bed for the second night in a row with Van in a small bed that fit only us and little more, and I couldn’t be giddier. This was just another night. No different than at home.
Yet as I wiggled around to get comfortable, I kept straightening my clothing and pushing my hair off my face. Van was in the bathroom, and the shower had just shut off. I had washed up earlier and blown my hair dry.
We weren’t watching a movie tonight. We’d hiked, and then we’d driven to Dickinson to visit the dinosaur museum and eat.
He’d never been to Montana, so we headed an hour in the other direction and stopped for a drink at Wibaux.
He had a beer, brewed not far from the restaurant, and then I drove us back.
We had explored a trail before we’d frolicked over western North Dakota and into Montana and back, so I was tired in the nice and worn-out way.
That was the part I missed about being a staff geologist. I wasn’t out in the elements, scouring the earth.
Tonight was the most fun I’d had since…last night.
This whole weekend had been the lowest-key, affordable enjoyment I’d experienced in a long time.
Easy and casual. The motel cost wasn’t even that bad since it was the offseason.
I was taking one night, and he was paying for the other.
He’d insisted on both, but I arranged with the front desk to split it when the shower first started.
His hair was spiky when he came out of the bathroom.
The way his shirt plastered against his chest should be illegal, but the real crime was how I stared at him.
Call me a stalker and lock me up. Only I didn’t have to stalk him when he was so close to me in bed that I wouldn’t have to reach far to touch him.
He paused at the foot of the bed. “Were you going to read or anything, or should I shut the lamp off?”
“You can shut it off.”
The room went dark, and the bed dipped when he climbed in.
The butterflies in my stomach rose in a cloud and veered all over.
I should’ve been building immunity to Van after so many nights sleeping next to him and not touching him.
There was a comfort between us that I hadn’t been able to sleep without last night.
But now?
My breasts grew tender, only it wasn’t pregnancy related. Hormones, yes. And stronger than ever. Licks of desire curled through my blood, tucking themselves in places that should be stone cold next to my ex’s brother.
A steady thrum grew between my legs, and I rubbed them together as if acting like a cricket would make me less horny.
“Can’t sleep again?” His deep voice so close to me didn’t help. “And here I thought I was a good luck charm.”
“No, it’s not that. Can’t get warm,” I lied, embarrassed I was almost caught. I flipped so my back was to him.
“I can turn the heat up.”
I would roast. “No, it’s fine. Baby hormones. I’m running hot and then cold.”
I curled in on myself. The way his smile lit up my entire day.
His avid interest when I was studying a rock.
He even inspected the claystone and shale like it was a valuable jewel.
The computer nerd was athletic. He asked what to look for and scaled the steeper part of the trail.
Once, he’d found two agates, and he’d traversed the trail a second time to return them.
Squeezing my legs together, I crossed my arms and grazed my sensitive nipples.
“Still cold?” he asked.
“I’m sure it’ll pass.” I hadn’t masturbated in a long time, but I might have to now. Not in this bed. Not next to him. I had some dignity, but I needed a release. I’d never been this horny. It was relentless. Was it the dry spell?
“Here, take my blankets.” The covers rustled.
Hot and turned on would be worse. “Thanks, but I’ll just run some water over my hands or something.” I dropped out of bed and scurried to the bathroom.
Closing the door, I left the light off. I flipped on the cold water and stuck my hands under the stream. It helped for all of three seconds until I thought of going back out there to Van in my bed.
I splashed water on my face. Again, only a temporary reprieve. The neediness roared back, along with the undeniable urge to do something about it. I could. Right here. Van wouldn’t know.
It seemed wrong, like an invasion of his privacy. I shook my hands and paced the two steps between the toilet and the door. The humidity from his shower hung in the air, wrapping around me like a seductive whisper. Yep, I had to get myself off if I wanted any rest tonight.
How did I do this? Sit on the toilet? Take another shower?
Ugh. I stopped and tipped my head back. I could not fail masturbating.
Waves of lust rippled under my skin, from my full breasts down my abdomen, and kissed over my pussy.
Could it just go away?
And what? Crawl back between the sheets with Van and get worked up like a horny teen? I wasn’t ever this hot and bothered during those years.
A quick orgasm and I could sleep. Van wouldn’t know. How could he?
I leaned against the edge of the counter. Palming a breast, I swallowed a groan. They’d never been this sensitive. Pregnancy was wild.
I slipped my other hand between my belly and pajama pants.
My top kept catching, so I whipped it off and dropped it on his shaving kit.
Tunneling deeper into my pajama bottoms, I reached my drenched clit.
I’d never been this wet either. A shiver rolled over me as I circled the tight nub, and a small moan slipped out.
“Everything okay?” Van called.
“Yeah! Sorry.” My eyelids fluttered. The last thing I thought to pack was a vibrator. I thought what had happened in Vegas and the baby had put a damper on my libido, but it was just tired of being shut down. Van’s presence had been gasoline. This trip was the match.
I was a lone bonfire in the middle of nowhere.
Shifting, I tried to open myself up more. My legs were too close together. I spread my feet apart, but they started to slide. Did I put one up on the toilet? On the counter? That might stretch my pajama bottoms too tight for my hand to maneuver.
I tried to prop a thigh on the counter. It slipped right off, and a little oomph left me when my foot hit the floor.
I kept my hand between my legs, keeping pressure on my clit.
Flashes of Van passed through my mind—Van standing in front of the window, Van towering over me right before he kissed me, and Van on the trail with me, smiling because I was enjoying myself.
Desire hummed, and I continued stroking myself while trying to find purchase.
My foot hit the toilet lid, but it was farther away than I thought. It dropped off and caught me off-balance. I teetered to the side, and my ass slid along the edge. I got a squeak out before my shoulder hit the light switches with a thump.
“Ack!” My shoulder stung, and I flailed at the wall to push myself off without sliding down.
The door opened, and horror flooded me, but still didn’t douse the desire.
“Clover?” He fumbled for the light switch, and dammit, he flipped it on. “Are you okay—shit.” His eyes were saucers. He spun around and whacked his nose against the door.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?” I ripped my hand out of my pants to check on him, but I stilled, just staring at my digits. Had he seen? Shame burned through me. No one was supposed to know, but I got busted in the act. How humiliating.
He covered his nose with a hand. “Your, uh, your…boobs…are out.”
Another gasp escaped me. I covered my breasts, but it was too late. He’d already seen them. Where did I put my shirt?
“I thought you were cold,” he murmured.
Grumpy that I didn’t get an orgasm and that I’d made things awkward between us, I gritted my teeth and located my top. “I wasn’t.”
“But you said—”
“I was horny.” I flipped my shirt open and searched for the bottom hem. It was inside out, but, oh well.
“You were what?” He spun around, caught his gaze on my boobs, and pivoted back, knocking into the door again. “Fuck me.” He turned again but kept his eyes closed.
Where was the damn opening? I kept flipping the flimsy material around. “You’ve already seen my boobs, and we’re both adults.” Indignation coursed through me. I couldn’t handle myself, and I got Van hurt trying to help me. “I should’ve been able to control myself and not... Well, you know.”
He went still and opened his eyes, pinning me with his emerald gaze. “You were masturbating?”
“Trying and failing,” I muttered. “I don’t know, must be these hormones.”
He trailed his attention down my body to my bare breasts. “Fuck, Clover.”
“I feel stupid.” My pajama top hung limp in my hands.
He jumped his stare up to meet mine. His nose was red where the edge of the door caught him, and his cheeks were still flushed from the rush, but his eyes were smoldering. “Why?”
“I should’ve controlled myself.” My conviction was weak against the intensity coming from him.
“Do you know how many times I’ve jacked off in the shower?”
My breath hitched, and his attention returned to my breasts, then dropped lower to where I’d had my hand shoved down my pants. “How did you do it?”
“Not well since I almost fell over.” My roller coaster of emotions didn’t need to take me down even more notches in front of Van’s eyes.
“Show me,” he said gutturally.
“What?”
“Show me how you were doing it.”
This was when I should’ve tumbled sideways.
Shock passed swiftly, leaving behind a sizzling desire to do what he told me to.
I flattened my hand on my belly, and he leaned forward, anticipation tensing his large frame.
His jaw was tight, and energy rippled over him, leaping between us in sharp jolts.
This time, when my fingertip touched my clit, I let the moan out, long and needy.
“Fuck.” He caged me in with his arms, his hands on the edge of the counter. “You sound so damn sweet.”
“Thank you?” I was so out of my element, but I wasn’t going to stop.
“You’re welcome.” The corners of his mouth tipped up before he glued his fervid stare to the spot where my hand disappeared into my pants. “How wet are you?”
“Soaked.”
His pupils crowded out his irises. “Your nipples are hard.”
“Yes,” I said on an exhale.
He caressed one with the palm of his hand.
A shiver shook my shoulders, but I arched my back. “Van.”
“I like when you use that name.” He closed his hand over my entire breast. “I like when you say my full name.”
“Sullivan.”
He groaned and lazily draped his hand over my breast. The scrape of his rough fingertips amped up my desire. My strokes grew faster, and that electricity zipping between us wound its way through me, caressing everything it touched.
“I’m close,” I whispered.
“Do you need to be filled?”
I nodded. My chest rose and fell faster; my heart pounded harder.
“I was trying”—I gasped—“that’s how I fell.”
“Can I?”
If possible, I grew wetter. “Yes.” Please.
He released the counter and, slowly, taking his time, pushed my pajama bottoms down.
The little suns on them were earning their smiles tonight.
Eventually, they were down far enough that they fell the rest of the way, pooling around my feet.
Instead of being shy about being bare, it was more like it was inevitable.
“Spread your legs but keep your hand in place.”
There would be no falling with him this close. Not only would he catch me, but he’d stop me from tipping in the first place.
I widened my stance, and a grunt left him.
“So fucking sexy.”
I’d never been called sexy before.
Before I could dwell on whether he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear, he covered my hand with his. The slight extra pressure was nearly enough to topple me over the edge, but he didn’t move. His longer fingers were on me, touching me, stroking me.
“Keep rubbing that needy clit of yours, sweet Clover.”
Spurred into action, I did as he asked. I couldn’t help myself. He towered over me, and it didn’t take much for him to curve his fingers and slide one through my seam. Then he pushed inside.
“Van!” My cry echoed off the walls, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Ecstasy built like a thundercloud. The moans and whimpers kept coming.
I fisted his T-shirt as I shook through the tremors. He pumped his finger in and out of me, and he held pressure on my hand, keeping my fingertip on my clit. Everything was perfect. The pressure. The stimulation. How close he was.
The lights. I blinked my eyes open. Nothing about this had been private. My shirt was still off, my nipples stiff peaks. His breathing was raspy, but he’d stilled his hand.
I tried to get a sound out that wasn’t wanton, but I had no idea what to say. “I…”
That prompted him to remove his hand. He crouched down to draw my pants up. Next, he found my shirt and did what I couldn’t do. He got it right side out and tugged it over my head. I was slumped against the counter, and he was dressing me.
Goose bumps rose over my skin, and he rubbed my arms. “You’re cold now?”
I nodded, chilly and numb. What did I do? How did we act around each other? What happened when we got home? “Van?”
I didn’t like how scared I sounded. How vulnerable.
He tipped my chin up. “Your hormones were raging, and you couldn’t get comfortable. I helped you relax.”
I got an orgasm. He got a weird evening and probably an uncomfortable morning. “What about you?”
He cocked a brow and tipped his head to look between us. An impressive erection pushed out from his pajama pants. “I’ll take care of it.”
But I wanted to touch him, feel him, make him feel even a fraction of what he talked me through? It’d be my pleasure. But maybe he was right. We should stop here.
“I don’t want this to change anything.” I dug my teeth into my lower lip. “I like you.”
He let out a long exhale. “I like you too, Clover.” He brushed his knuckles down my cheek. “It’s hormones, right? We’re here to help each other, and you needed me.”
Hormones. He was giving me an out. A get-out-of-this-awkwardness-free card. Would it be enough? I had to find out. Because I did not want to return to the cold Van from after our kiss. My nod was shaky.
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Let’s get you tucked in.”