15. Chapter 15 – Lucy
T he humor slipped away, leaving his expression open and unguarded. That was the part that undid me. Not the flirtation or the sexy grins, but the way he let me steer. Gently. Consistently. No pressure.
After the haircut, I’d half-expected distance. Frustration. But he didn’t retreat or guilt me. He just went with the flow, matching my pace.
It shouldn’t have surprised me. That was who Clay was, consistent in a way I never knew I needed.
And tonight, watching him pretend to be nothing but a laid-back date while his hand settled warm and steady at the small of my back, I realized something: I wasn’t scared of him anymore. Just… scared of what wanting him this badly might mean.
But fear wasn’t going to make this decision for me. Not this time.
I wanted to take the next step. And I wanted him to know it was because of who he was, not in spite of what I’d been through.
Clay deserved the truth. Giving him all the information to decide what worked for him was the fair thing to do. Even if the idea of him rejecting me made me quaver inside. I was stronger now. I could take it.
“Do you mind if I put the last of this in your freezer?” I held up my unfinished carton.
“Sure. I can take that for you.”
He scooped up my ice cream and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later empty-handed. Clay dropped down next to me on the couch. I was instantly aware of his big body, the heat of his thigh pressing against mine as the couch cushions bowed, bringing us closer together.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a while.” I blurted it out before I could think anymore.
Clay’s expression was neutral, but he reached for my hand, tracing a finger over my knuckles. It gave me the courage to keep going.
“My last relationship wasn’t very healthy.” Beside me, he stiffened, his fingers clenching mine. “It’s taken me a long time to rebuild. And sometimes… sometimes things take me back to a bad place.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do.” He said it softly, but the sincerity was there in his deep voice as he held my gaze.
I sighed, closing my eyes to gather my courage. “It wasn’t physically abusive or anything, but he cut me down verbally, and I let myself become smaller. Take up less space.”
“I hate him already.” Clay’s dark tone, his stiff posture, communicated his feelings clearly.
“I used to lie to myself. Lie to him. About my feelings, my body, all of it. When we finally broke up, I swore I’d never do that again.”
“I like to think I can handle your honesty.”
“The reason I didn’t want you taking off my shirt the other night is because I was embarrassed. I have a birthmark. A big one.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously.
“Christopher used to encourage me to keep it covered. Wear a shirt to bed or cover it with makeup, that kind of thing.”
“Did the birthmark say ‘Christopher sucks’? Because A. it’s true, and B. that’s a birthmark I’d like to see.”
I chuckled, the sound more than a little watery. “You’re a menace.”
“But not an asshole. Skin pigmentation isn’t a deal-breaker or a turn-off. It’s just skin.”
“Mine is vaguely shaped like a continent. I warned you it’s huge.”
He looked intrigued, and I steeled myself for what he’d say next.
“Like the classy guy I am, I’m going to skip the obvious joke about size not mattering and go straight for the goods: I can’t wait to explore your peaks and valleys and travel every inch you’re willing to share with me.
” He eyed me, the hint of a smile shadowing his features. “Including going Down Under.”
I held a fist to my forehead. “Clay. That’s like five kinds of inappropriate.”
“Take me on a world tour, honey.”
“ Clay .” I shook my head. Trust him to take my serious admission and turn it into a joke. But oddly enough, his attitude pushed all the right buttons. The horny ones.
“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” he offered, eyes dancing.
I snorted. “What do you have that’s so interesting?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, grinning broadly.
“Tell me.”
He pouted. “I’d rather show you.” I glared, happy to wait him out. He huffed. “Fine. I may have a few strategically placed moles.”
“What makes them strategically placed?” I asked.
“If you play connect the dots, they spell something.”
“What?”
“I’m not telling,” he said piously.
“Why not?”
“It’s your reward. When you finally trust me enough to get naked, you’ll find out. Consider it the prize at the end of the game.”
“And in this metaphor, you’re the prize, Robertson?”
He grinned, eyes dancing with humor. “Exactly.” He spread his arms wide, fingers spread. “You just let me know when you’re ready, honey.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.” I clasped my hands on top of my head, twisting slowly from side to side.
I’d shared my darkest secrets, and he’d turned them into another game. One I desperately wanted to win. It was like he saw through the doubt and insecurity, zeroing in on how to destroy my misgivings.
“That’s easy, honey. The answer is anything you want. We can go fast… We can go slow… You’re in control.”
“What if I don’t want to be in charge?” I challenged, not sure where the idea came from.
“You can ask for that too.”
How had I gone from fear of rejection to wanting to tackle him to the ground? Part frustration, part eagerness—he knew just how to get me in the game.
“I have a few questions first.”
He flipped his palms up, elbows at his sides. “Ask away, honey. I’m an open book.”
“What do those freckles spell, exactly?”
He tsked. “No cheating. That’s a prize for later.”
I crossed my arms, frowning. “Fine. I’ve already told you it’s been a while for me. I’ve done all the testing, but I still believe in wrapping it up. What’s your situation?”
His lip twitched, like he was amused by my euphemism. “I haven’t been with anyone since Jen. But I also haven’t been to the doctor.” He shrugged. “You know men. We’re invincible. I bought condoms recently, so we’re covered.”
I narrowed my eyes. “ How recently?”
“The day after I met you.”
Something in me turned to mush. Even if his intent was just sex, I couldn’t fault his timing. The chemistry between us was hard to ignore. Maybe he saw something in my eyes, because he asked, “Have you stocked up recently?”
I shifted, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”
He leaned in, capturing my chin in his palm. “What happened to honesty, Luce?”
Huffing, I leaned back, breaking our connection. “The market may have had a run on condoms that day, okay?”
He chuckled, the sound low and long, ruffling my feathers further as it stroked along every nerve.
“Honey, we’re quite the pair. Are you ready for me to take you home?”
I bit my lip. In the last ten minutes, I’d laid my soul bare. Sharing my past. My insecurities. Clay had accepted everything I dished out, smoothing over my blunt admissions with sweetness and his horny sense of humor. Nothing I did fazed him. He was an absolute menace. A menace to my tender heart.
I dangled on the edge of the precipice. Standing so close to the abyss made me dizzy, but something about the sincerity in his gaze made me want to take the leap.
Swallowing to ease my dry throat, I held his gaze. “I’m ready for my reward.”
“You sure about that?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
“Is this a ploy to get me naked?”
“Absolutely.” I added a grin. “But I’m willing to play too.” With a shaky breath, I pushed off the couch, extending my hand.
He led me toward his bedroom, clicking on the bedside lamp. It cast the room in a gentle glow, softening the sharp edges of the dresser and headboard.
A kiss would have broken the tension, but instead we stood a foot apart. Still. Maybe both afraid to make the first move. I gathered my courage, turning to present him with my back.
“Help a girl out?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, his body drifting to shelter mine, giving me his body heat. He slid big palms over my hips, dropping a kiss on the back of my neck.
I shivered, even that faint caress enough to make me tighten inside.
He fumbled with the zipper at my nape, drawing it down tooth by tooth, until I bit my bottom lip to avoid rushing him.
For each inch he exposed, he paused, dropping a soft kiss on my spine.
Each brush of his lips sent a fresh flutter of sensation crowding my nerve endings with signals. Heat. Affection. The burn for more.
My dress clung to my shoulders, even as it gaped in the back, exposing the top of my underwear. Clay ran a finger along the waistband to my hip, gripping me tightly. I whimpered, loving the hint of strength in him. The possessiveness.
“Do you know what I thought when I saw you in this dress tonight?” he whispered.
I shook my head. His lips traveled up my spine, nuzzling my neck.
“I thought you looked like a vampire hunter. Fierce and beautiful, ready to slay the day and turn me to dust beneath your hands.”
He bit gently at my nape, the edge of his teeth sending a spike of heat pulsing, gooseflesh pebbling my skin.
I whimpered, arching back to wrap my hands around his head, tilting my neck to allow better access.
Letting desire distract me from what he was seeing: the dappled edges of my birthmark, stark against otherwise creamy skin.
I held my breath, braced for hesitation. A pause. A flicker of confusion, of pity, or worst – disgust. It had happened before.
Instead, he licked and nibbled, peeling my dress down over my shoulders and letting it pool at my feet, until I stood in my bra and underwear.
Exposed. At his mercy.
His hands roamed down my sides, over my hips, tracing up over my belly and cupping my breasts like they were something precious. Still no pause. No falter. Just worship.
Something in my chest cracked wide open.
I’d spent years hiding. Covering. And here he was, touching me like I was art. As if my birthmark was just another creative flourish on the canvas of me.
His scruff scraped at my neck, anchoring me in sensation even as my thoughts threatened to scatter.