Chapter 20
Claire
For the next week, I lost myself in research on the life of Lily Carmichael. Aside from Dad’s daily check-ins, I felt myself hardening into a Claire-shaped mass hunched over the keyboard. Some nights, as I worked late into the night, Levi was there in his workshop, blaring weepy indie rock. My favorite nights.
I text him occasionally, but without anything important to say, it felt like desperation.
“The bird is back,” I texted him one morning.
“I’m starting to understand his language.”
“He said, ‘Put the slingshot down, lady.’” I sent in my patented rapid-fire series of texts.
“Lol,” he replied.
“Oof,” I said to Ripley, who was at my side. “El oh el, no punctuation. Even I can read the subtext in that.” I stopped texting after that. Maybe I had my answer.
I couldn’t even use Ripley as an excuse to text or visit because as we worked and throughout the days, she’d wander between Big Cabin and Little Cabin when attention became too lacking. I tried not to get stuck in the circular loop of why Levi ran so hot and cold. It did me no good.
When my phone buzzed with a text this morning, I’d had a moment of hope, thinking it might be Levi, at least checking in.
It was Kevin.
Instant stomachache.
He was all moved into his home in New York. It was swanky indeed. I knew that because he sent a grinning selfie of a luxurious-looking apartment with skyscrapers in the background window and a caption that read. “Never thought I would make it.”
I didn’t really think we were to the “sending selfie updates” phase of our breakup, so I left the message on read.
A few minutes later, he sent another message asking me how the article was going. I genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being passive-aggressive, looking to see if I was failing or actually interested in my status. Regardless, I continued to ignore him.
My stomach churned. I had finished the edits and sent the final story out. It would be printed before Christmas. I will have done my job. Then I would start the next phase of my life. Whatever that may be. I thought of my stuff in storage and lugging it back to my childhood home. It was the best plan because it was the only one. But with each passing week, I regretted committing to it.
I’d feel better once the story was out. One step at a time.
I stood staring at how happy Kevin looked in the selfie, debating with myself until I heard the crunch of Levi driving away. I made it to the window in enough time to see him driving with Ripley. He turned onto the road heading in the direction of town.
I rubbed the knot amassing between my neck and shoulder blade. The guest shower was small and often freezing, even after warming up for ten minutes. The gorgeous deep-seated, clawfoot tub in Levi’s bathroom. He said I was welcome to use his shower anytime. Surely, that extended to the bath too. I imagined lighting some candles and looking at the foliage from the massive bathroom window.
The dust in the road was still settling from where his tires had kicked it up.
“I would easily have an hour,” I said to my reflection in the glass. “Even if he’s just going to town, the round trip will be at least an hour. If not all day if he’s doing a job.”
“I could take a good half-hour bath, and he’d never even notice,” I said.
I frowned at my reflection. “I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.” My reflection stuck out her tongue.
I grabbed some bath essentials and made my way to the Big Cabin, sprinting because the weather had officially turned and it was chilly. Also, my nerves made me jittery and rushed.
Levi was never gone less than a few hours when he left. There wasn’t anything nearby that necessitated quick trips so when he left it was an event.
Nevertheless, as the filling tub clouded the bathroom with steam, I wiped the condensation from the window and kept watch to make sure there was no sign of his return. I lit some surrounding candles and poured some lavender bath oil “to help relaxation” according to the bottle.
I smiled to myself, thinking of this big, gruff man pulling out all the stops to have such a luxurious bath.
The sky was gray with clouds, but that only emphasized the color-changing trees. I dropped my clothes and stepped into the tub.
As soon as the silky, warm water ran through and over my body, tickling and teasing the areas so rarely touched, a heat burned through me. Instantly reminded of that incendiary kiss. My hand went to my collar to trace over where his short facial hair had rubbed. It moved to my neck, where he had laved my skin with his lips and tongue.
It was those hot, ragged breaths of his as he tried to compose himself that were burned into my mind. I heard them whenever I closed my eyes. He was always so quiet, so tightly wound. Hearing that lack of control was like glimpsing a secret. I kept hearing his harsh, barely tethered breathing repeat in my mind, wishing I could hear all his sounds.
It was so incredibly, thigh-clenchingly hot.
I replayed that kiss for the thousandth time. Kiss didn’t even feel like enough of a word for what our bodies were doing. With Levi, it was like being pampered or cherished by his mouth and hands. That rawness when he broke away from me, putting space between us because he was wrecked. I had wrecked him.
All I wanted was to be fully wrecked in return.
My hand ran over my knee and traced down into the water. I had taken off my clothes in front of him before. I had caught the stare we both pretended not to notice. What would he think now?
What would he do if he watched the way my fingers slipped below the water to explore myself? Heat burned across my chest, the hot water and desire making the air stiflingly warm. I was lost to the momentum of my touch. I burned with shame, but I couldn’t stop now. I was so far gone, so tightly coiled a few more brushes of my fingers, and I would release.
The quiet sounds of water splashing filled the peaceful space, soon matched by my breaths picking up as my hand moved under the surface. I sighed deeply, letting my head fall back. My right leg slipped over the lip of the tub, balancing behind the knee, as I rocked my hips up to get a better angle.
I groaned. My cheeks burned from the heat and shame at what I was doing.
I imagined him walking into the room. Finding me naked and sprawled out before him for the taking. He would take me rough and greedy or maybe torturously slow. He would leave my skin splotched and tender from his strong hands. My eyes closed tight, imagining every way he would use me, tease me. The way that same tongue would lick all over, lavish me, his gorgeous mouth sucking on my breasts and lower. He would bury his head between my legs and adore me for hours.
Levi had the confidence of a man who knew how to go down on a woman.
“Levi,” I gasped out his name, luxuriating in my devious fantasy.
“Claire,” he groaned.
God, it was like I could hear him in this room over my panting and moaning.
“Claire,” Levi said louder, choked and short.
I gasped my eyes open, my leg slipping back in the water, causing a large splash of water over the edge. My hands flew out and gripped the sides of the tub. My heart that was already racing so fast, was out of control now.
“Oh my God!” I shouted.
I was no longer alone. Levi stood on the edge of the room. His pupils were blown out and locked on my face. Red bloomed on his nose, cheeks, and the tips of his ears. Bits of mud were splattered across his arms and face and in his hair. I hardly noticed the dirt when I was dirty enough for both of us. His neck and shoulder muscles were strained, and he was wrapped in a white cotton towel, gripping it at his hip like it was holding him together. His cock was tenting the material into the air, a very large area, out and up almost to his belly button.
My mouth went dry.
We stared at each other. I sank deeper into the water but didn’t bother covering anything at this point. If anything, I fought the desire to arch my back and press my breasts up with every passing moment.
I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t come up with a single coherent thought. I felt embarrassed at being caught, but only mildly. Mostly, I felt like I had manifested him. I created this. I wasn’t even entirely sure it wasn’t still part of my fantasy.
Just how long had he been watching? Why did the idea of him watching me make me clench around where I wanted him to fill me? Maybe this had been my plan all along. Perhaps a perverted part of me wanted nothing more than to be discovered.
Even with his features frozen in shock, he was fucking gorgeous. All hot masculine energy, he practically throbbed with it. In the muscles of his shoulders and the smattering of hair on his broad chest to his solid core flexing a six-pack. His waist was narrow, the hair leading to his length.
I looked away to his still-shocked face. Then looked back. His bulge twitched when I looked again.
His free hand moved to cover it. Not like I could even see anything. Not really. And I was really looking. His large veiny hands and forearms covered enough but not the flexing of his thighs and definition of his calves not covered.
He was beautiful.
Couldn’t we both give in to all the thoughts and fantasies?
After what could have only been years, he shifted on his feet, muffling a swear.
He said, “I wasn’t—I didn’t know you were in here.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you,” I said at the same time.
I nodded, my chin dipping into the warm water, eyes locked on his. A creeping sense of understanding filled me. Whatever was happening here was too far past the point of no return. We wouldn’t be able to brush this off or ignore it like when we kissed. Maybe I just wouldn’t let us.
“I’ll just go.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Or …” I suggested. “You can stay?”