13. Clayton
Chapter 13
Clayton
The hotel room wasn’t anything special, but having Kieran there with me made my skin sing. Every hair on my body stood on end. But now wasn’t the time to think about my neglected dick or my sad-as-fuck love life. Scratch that, my non-existent love life.
“I’m sorry about your truck.” Unable to keep myself on my feet for another minute, I went over to the bed, kicked off my shoe, and sat down. I chose the side I’d intended to sleep on, one that would keep my broken arm at the edge of the bed and not in the middle where it could get bumped. I felt Kieran’s eyes on me as I stretched out, not bothering to fight with the walking boot just yet.
“It’s just a truck. It’s not ideal, but I’ll live.”
“You’re way calmer than I would be.”
Kieran seemed glued in place. He’d barely made it three steps into the room. I couldn’t imagine him not being as worn out as I was.
“Why don’t you sit down? Or stretch out?” I patted the empty space next to me. “We can watch TV and relax for a while. Maybe the cops will find your truck.”
Kieran stepped out of his shoes. “It’s a nice thought, but I’ll be surprised if they do. And who knows what kind of shape it’ll be in.”
Somewhat tentatively, Kieran took the other side of the bed and grabbed the remote off his nightstand. Turning the TV on, he brought up the on-screen guide. “What do you like to watch? ”
“I don’t really have a preference, but I’ve never met a sitcom I liked.”
Kieran picked a home and garden channel that was running a Chopped marathon.
“I love this show.” His voice was tinted with apology, like he was sorry for liking something and subjecting me to it.
“It’s amazing what they can make with the most random things.”
“Right. Here, you have twenty minutes to make an appetizer out of squid ink and quail eggs.”
“Don’t forget the orange Jell-O and the deep-fried Oreos.” A shudder tore through me.
“They make it look… well, easy is the wrong word. But doable.”
“I can barely cook boxed macaroni, but I am an expert at microwave cuisine.” I watched Kieran from the corner of my eye. He was far more interesting than the contestants. And more attractive. I’d always thought he was good-looking, right from the moment I met him.
“Do you cook?” I asked because I’d do anything to keep him talking. I dreamed of his voice sometimes, low and soothing and so deep I could feel it resonate in my chest when he spoke.
“I can cook, but I don’t cook as often as I should. Cooking for one gets boring and then I always have leftovers.”
“You can cook for me.” I’d meant it to be a joke, but it didn’t sound that way. It sounded as needy and desperate as I felt. I’d gotten the feeling over time that Kieran was as lonely as I was, but for different reasons. Kieran was lonely because he kept himself too busy to notice. And I was lonely because I ruined everything I touched.
Kieran looked over at me. Unless I was going crazy or seeing things that weren’t there, his gaze was headier than usual. I’d had men look at me like that before, but none of them thrilled me the way Kieran did when he looked at me. It was probably a figment of my imagination, the tiny shred of attraction I saw in his eyes, but I’d hold on to the delusion for as long as I could.
“I don’t think I could do much with deep-fried cookies and quail eggs.”
“Darn. And here I had my heart set on that.”
“I’d make you something easier to digest.”
“I’d kill for a helping of good, old-fashioned shepherd’s pie. No quail eggs or squid ink required.”
“Good, because I’m fresh out. Oh, shit, she cut herself.” Kieran pointed at the contestant on the screen. With just a few minutes left on the clock, a cut could be disastrous.
“I hope she didn’t bleed on anything.” Sitting in a hotel room watching Chopped and talking like we were friends… the normalcy of it took my breath away. For months now, I’d felt like there was nothing normal about my life. Even before I was attacked, I’d felt like a little kid lost in an amusement park. But there were no parents for me to find. No one to take my hand and make sure I got out of there in one piece.
And everything after the attack had been this calm, serene, unreal experience. My brain often had trouble reconciling my new existence with my old one. I’d waited for months to feel any kind of normal, any kind of peace, and I found it watching Chopped in a hotel room with Kieran Taggart.
My attraction to him had grown to astronomical levels. There was no way Kieran would ever return my feelings because, despite my best intentions, I’d developed those too. Even though I knew I was an obligation to him. A project. A broken thing he worried would break more things.
As long as I was at Patricia’s, I wasn’t concerned about what would happen. It was everything that came after that worried me. Left to my own devices, I could imagine how easy it would be to fall back into bad patterns. Even though my therapist assured me that recognizing patterns of destructive behavior was a good thing, I couldn’t help but think that it just meant I’d know exactly how bad I was fucking up as it was happening.
When I’d taken the money from Archer, I believed I was doing a smart thing. That the money would be back the next day and no one would know any different. But it wasn’t. Because the only sure thing in gambling was that losing was inevitable.
Soon the cast would come off my arm, I’d have a job, and I’d have to go out and be on my own again. The prospect of it seemed lonelier than before. The idea of it made my skin itch. I wasn’t good on my own. Living with Patricia had been the best thing to happen to me. I was never by myself for long periods of time. There were house rules I had to follow. The structure helped keep me grounded and the idea of leaving it terrified me. The closer I got to being physically able to go, the less I slept.
Which was how I ended up falling asleep before dinner time. Somewhere between the entree and dessert round of the second episode of Chopped , my eyelids grew heavier and I gave up trying to keep them open.
Kieran’s presence trickled into my dreams. I wasn’t sure it was him at first, but his deep voice was embedded in my memory. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he sounded angry. Unable to take his anger, I tried to run away, but something latched onto me. It pulled my arms behind my back. Pain radiated up my side as the first strike landed.
Kieran’s voice grew louder, angrier the longer the attack lasted. Then the world tilted and shook. It must have been an earthquake. Everything shook so hard my teeth rattled.
Then Kieran’s voice changed, growing closer and louder.
“Clay. Wake up. ”
I gasped in the darkness. The first thing I was aware of was that there was no light in the room beyond a faint glow from the streetlights coming in the window. My chest squeezed painfully.
“Dark.” My voice was hoarse and as Kieran scrambled to flick on the bedside lamp, I became keenly aware of how gross I was. Drenched in an ice cold sweat, the stinking stuff of nightmares, my entire body felt like a clammy, nervous palm.
“Shit. Are you okay?” Kieran pulled me to him and I went, weak as a kitten. Shaking like a leaf.
“Yea—no. I don’t know.” I choked on my words, stumbling over them like I was drunk.
“Do you have nightmares often? Mom hasn’t mentioned anything.” Kieran wrapped his arms around me even though I shouldn’t let him. Finding solace and security in Kieran’s embrace was dangerous.
“I sleep with the light on.” Laughter got lodged in my throat and it came out sounding like a garbled sob. The laughter I’d tried to quell came out after. My half-laugh half-sob made me sound unhinged. “Like a scared little kid.”
I scoffed at myself and tried to pull out of Kieran’s arms. Mortification didn’t begin to describe the quivery, sick feeling that tugged at my stomach and made my face heat.
“You were attacked, Clay. You’re allowed to fall apart now and again.”
I didn’t miss the way he’d suddenly shortened my name. My stupid heart decided that it meant something. Calling me Clay made my name sound softer in his mouth. I hoped that meant his feelings toward me had softened as well. Part of me still thought he should hate me. Everyone should. But the bigger part of me, the part that was scared and lonely, didn’t want him to look at me with animosity anymore.
Kieran ran a hand up and down my back, soothing me. I gave in to the comfort he was offering and leaned into him. He took my weight like it was nothing. He even twisted around so I’d be more comfortable with my cast and my stupid walking boot. I could take it off now and then to sleep and to wash, but I hated looking at my ghastly pale leg.
The deep breaths I took to calm myself only meant that I was breathing in lungfuls of Kieran’s spicy scent. I’d been close enough to him a few times to get a whiff of his cologne, but never for this long. And his touch had never felt so warm and welcoming before.
“I’m tired.” The confession came out unbidden. A moment of weakness prompted by my shaky defenses.
“Do you think you can go back to sleep? I’ll leave the light on.” Kieran kept his voice gentle and calming, and I didn’t hate it at all.
“Not like that. Just… tired, you know. Like my soul is tired.” A bitter laugh escaped. “I sound insane.”
“No. You don’t.”
Unless my imagination was playing tricks on me, Kieran got close enough that his warm breath ghosted across my skin. Hope was a dangerous thing. At every turn, I’d tried to keep my expectations realistic. I tried not to have any at all. But Kieran was holding me like I was worth comforting. He’d pulled me closer like he needed me near.
I clung to him with my one good hand, knowing that I shouldn’t want him, but helpless to stop myself. Wrapped up in Kieran’s arms, still sweaty from my dream, but trembling now for an entirely different reason, I lifted my gaze. I let it linger on his mouth, memorizing the contours of his lips and the dark layer of scruff that surrounded them. Dragging my eyes away, I looked him in the eyes .
My chest wouldn’t expand enough for me to draw a full breath it was so tight from wanting him. Every fiber in my body had pulled taut. I tightened my grip on his shirt and urged him closer a fraction of an inch. Enough to tip my hand about what I wanted. As if he couldn’t tell by looking at me how openly I was admiring him. Studying him. Committing the expression on his face to memory in case I never saw him look at me this way again.
Kieran leaned in.
Everything happened in slow motion. Kieran leaning, me pulling away.
“We shouldn’t.” My protest was weak and cursory. A protest to say I’d said it. But I hadn’t meant it. Not even a little. I wanted Kieran more than I’d wanted anything. I’d worry about deserving him later.
“Says who?” Kieran asked and then his lips were on mine. Pillowy soft and sweet. Kieran started out tentatively, like he was trying to give me an out, a window of time to pull away if that’s what I really wanted to do.
Instead, I leaned in. I let him kiss me. My lips parted on a moan and I invited him into my mouth. His tongue danced along my lower lip, slowly exploring before delving inside. It was easily the best first kiss of my life. Kieran kissed me deeply and with purpose, but he was still gentle about it. Commanding, without being domineering, although I wouldn’t have minded that either. I didn’t think there was a single thing Kieran could do to me that I wouldn’t like.
And then he stopped kissing me. I whined, unable to stop myself. Okay, so there was one thing he could do that I wouldn’t like. And that was reject me.
“We shouldn’t…” I started to say, but Kieran cut me off with another brief kiss. The tender affection made my heart squeeze in my chest .
“I don’t think you mean that,” Kieran challenged, trailing his lips across the line of my jaw. Up to the shell of my ear.
If I were a stronger, better person, I’d have put a stop to whatever it was I’d started. I’d sleep in the chair if necessary. But I was weak, and Kieran was here, and I’d dreamed about him, ached for him, for weeks.
“I didn’t mean it.” I went with the truth and when Kieran smiled against my skin, I decided that any scrap of pleasure I could wring out of this would be worth whatever the fallout was.
Kieran’s hand skimmed up my shoulder blades and cradled the back of my neck. His thumb brushed up the side of my neck and I leaned into his touch. Before I could beg, because I would, he was kissing me again.
Whatever happened after this would be worth the memory of Kieran’s stubble against my skin.