Chapter Nine
Clay
The silence sinks deeper once she’s gone. Her door closing feels final, like the sound of something breaking.
I stay where I am, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
The room still smells like her—all sugar and warmth, like it clings to everything she touches.
Her blanket’s thrown over the couch, along with the pillows she had tucked around her earlier.
The space where she was a minute ago already feels empty.
I drag a hand over my face and let out a heavy exhale that doesn’t help.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Should’ve let her believe it could’ve meant more, at least for the night.
But no, instead I had to remind us both what we already know comes next.
When the storm’s gone… We both know how messy it could get.
The second I said it, I knew I’d lost her.
She looked at me like she saw it coming, like she’s been waiting for me to ruin the moment. Maybe she’s right, but it doesn’t make the regret hit any less.
The room’s too quiet, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. I sit there a while, trying not to replay every word, but it loops anyway. Eventually, I get up and start down the hall.
The floor protests under me. Her light’s off, door closed. I stop in front of it, flexing my hands like that’s going to help me figure out what the hell to say. For a second, I think about turning back, but I don’t.
My knuckles brush the wood in a knock. I tell myself if she doesn’t answer, I’ll leave it alone. Truth is, I don’t know what I’d do if she did.
But she doesn’t answer. The place is too still to tell if she’s asleep or just done with me. Either way, I probably deserve it.
I back off, rake a hand through my hair, and head for my room. The bed feels colder than it should. I last maybe ten minutes before I’m restless and on my feet again.
Bare feet hit cold floorboards. I stop at her door, hand braced on the frame, already knowing it’s a bad idea. I knock anyway.
Nothing.
“Tessa.” Her name comes out like something between a warning and a plea. “Open up.”
The door cracks open just enough for her to look at me. “What?” she asks. Not rude. She just sounds tired, and I can’t say I blame her.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that.” No excuses. It’s the truth.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
She lifts a shoulder. “You weren’t wrong, though.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Clay?” She sighs, the sound sharp enough to cut. “We can’t even talk without it turning into a fight.” Her arms fold tight across her chest, more defense than defiance. “I can’t keep up with your hot and cold.”
“That makes two of us.”
Silence presses down like a weight.
“I keep trying to handle this the right way,” I admit. “Keep us out of trouble. Keep it from turning into something it shouldn’t.”
A short, humorless sound slips out of her. “How’s that goin’ for you?”
“About as well as you’d think.”
She looks at me like she’s trying to read a book with half the pages missing. “Then why are you at my door?”
My hand’s still on the doorframe, like that’s the only thing keeping me steady. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. About you asleep on that couch, and the way you looked when you saw me sitting there. Like I was both the problem and the answer, and you didn’t know which one to choose.”
Her breath falters. She lifts her hand, trying to cover the sound, but I catch it.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I say.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be,” she agrees, her voice softer now. “But you are.”
“Yeah.”
She shifts, the braid she must’ve tied since coming to her room rests over her shoulder. My eyes follow it, taking in her creamy skin, before I force myself to look away.
“Clay.”
“Tess.”
Her name comes out rough, like it’s been sitting in my throat too long. Something shifts in her eyes before she steps aside.
“Come in,” she says.
I do. The room’s small and warmer than the hall. It smells like her, familiar enough to make my chest tighten.
She lets the door fall shut and stays there with her back against it. I’m only a few steps in, but it already feels like I’ve moved too close to something that’ll burn if I touch it.
“I don’t want to fight,” she murmurs.
“Me either.”
“I don’t want to feel stupid.”
“I don’t want you to either.”
“Then stop making me.”
It stirs something in me, but I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my mouth. “Working on it.”
“Work faster.”
I let out a short laugh. “Okay.”
We stand there, close but not close enough. The air feels heavy between us.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I say, because admitting I wanted to touch her is too close to the truth.
She watches me. “Why?”
I shrug. “You looked peaceful,” I say. “And I don’t seem to be the one to give you that.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if that’s good or if I just made this worse.
“Tess,” I say, quieter now. “Tell me to go.”
She swallows, her fingers curling against the door behind her like she needs something solid to hold on to. “I don’t want to.”
The floor might as well shift under me. Two steps and I’m standing in front of her, close enough to see the freckles on her nose and the flush in her cheeks. Her braid tugs the neckline of her sweatshirt lower, like she’s seeing how far she can push before I break.
“Okay,” I say, and my voice sounds rougher than I meant it to. “Then I’m going to kiss you.”
She nods once, and that’s all I need.
I don’t rush it. Maybe because I’ve spent too long pretending I didn’t want this, and I want to feel the moment that lie gives out. My hand finds her jaw, her skin warm under my palm. She exhales quietly, and it hits me harder than it should.
I kiss her.
It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough either. It’s what happens when you finally release the ropes holding you back. She meets me halfway, like she’s been waiting for it just as long. My other hand finds her hip, solid under my fingers, and the door gives a dull thud when her shoulders hit it.
She tastes like mint and heat and everything I’ve been missing. I try not to think, but it’s pointless. Every thought keeps dragging me back to her mouth and the sound she makes when I pull her closer.
“Clay,” she says against my mouth.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. It’s the only thing I can give, and somehow it’s enough.
Her hands slide under my shirt, fingers warm against my skin. The sound that escapes me is more of a low growl, sending a shiver down her spine.
We move toward the bed, stumbling a little. The frame hits the back of my knees, and I sit before I go down. She follows, one knee on the mattress, one hand still gripping my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
“I kept telling myself I was fine,” she says, breath catching. “That I didn’t care.”
“How’d that go?”
“Terribly.”
“Same.”
There’s no space left for hesitation. My mouth finds the line of her throat, tasting skin and heat. She arches into me, a quiet sound breaking free that makes my control slip. My hands find her hips, gripping tightly, pulling her closer like I could keep her there forever.
“Clay…” Her fingers twist in my shirt, tugging until I pull it over my head and toss it aside. The feel of her hands on my bare skin nearly takes me out. She traces across my chest, like she’s trying to learn every inch.
“You’re burning up,” she whispers, a little dazed.
“Not just me,” I mutter, sliding my thumb under the hem of her sweatshirt, skimming her stomach. She shivers hard enough that I almost stop, but instead, she lifts her arms in a silent invitation.
I pull the sweatshirt over her head, slow, like the moment deserves it. The sight of her bare shoulders, her hair falling loose, flushed cheeks—it knocks the breath out of me.
“Tess…” It’s supposed to sound like a warning. It doesn’t.
Her smile is shaky. “Then stop holding back.”
That’s all it takes. The last line between us disappears.
I kiss her again, deeper this time. She meets me with the same urgency, knees bracketing my hips, grinding closer until the sound that leaves us both doesn’t belong to either one of us. My hands find her back, her waist, the curve of her thigh. Every place I shouldn’t have memorized but did anyway.
She gasps when I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. Her hand drifts down my stomach, bold, testing. I cover it with mine and press it harder against me. “Feel what you do to me,” I growl.
Her eyes lift to mine, dark and sure, and then she pushes me back. She climbs on top, straddling me, strands of her hair falling around us. The sight alone wrecks my control.
My hands grip her thighs, sliding up as she grinds against me. Every shift pulls a sound out of me that I don’t bother hiding.
“Tess,” I rasp, voice rough, “if I don’t stop now, there’s no going back.”
She leans down, her mouth hovering over mine, eyes locked on me. “I don’t want you to stop, Clay. Never stop.”
Something in me snaps, and the part that’s been pretending this isn’t everything I want is gone.
I flip us, her back hitting the mattress, the blanket twisting beneath us. She lets out a startled laugh that turns into a moan when I kiss her again, harder this time, hungrier.
My hands slide up her sides, feeling the curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin beneath my palms. She arches into me, breath catching.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” I mutter, more to myself than her. “Like a fuckin’ angel.”
Heat flushes her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “Touch me.”
I do. My palms cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until her head tips back, a sharp gasp breaking from her lips. My mouth follows, closing over one, sucking gently, teeth scraping just enough to make her writhe. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
“Clay—” It’s half warning, half plea.
I trail lower, kissing down her stomach, until I reach the waistband of her leggings. She lifts her hips without me asking, and I peel them down slowly, taking her underwear with them, until she’s bare to me, legs trembling.
I pause, because I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll drown in her. “Tell me again you want this.”
Her eyes are dark, with a glazed look. “I want you. All of you.”
That’s it. I’m a goner for this girl.
I settle between her thighs, kissing the inside of her knee, the soft skin high on her thigh, until she’s shifting restlessly.
Then I finally taste her, my tongue sliding through her slick heat, slow at first. Her cry echoes around the room, her hand flying to cover her mouth until I pull it away, lacing our fingers together against the mattress.
“Don’t hide from me,” I murmur against her. “I want to hear you.”
Her answer is a broken moan when I suck her clit between my lips, circling with my tongue until her hips buck. I slide a finger inside her, then two, curling just right, and she’s gone. Her body trembles, her back arching, and my name falls from her lips like a prayer she can’t stop repeating.
I don’t stop until she’s trembling, whispering my name between ragged breaths. “Please… Clay… please.”
I kiss my way up her body, catching her mouth as she’s still coming down, letting her taste her release on my tongue. Her hands are frantic on my skin, tugging at the waistband of my sweats until I shove them along with my boxers down, my cock pressing against her stomach.
She reaches for me, wrapping her hand around my length, stroking once, twice, and I groan into her mouth, nearly coming undone.
“Condom,” I manage, voice rough as hell. I start to move, not even sure if I packed any. She’s already reaching past me, rummaging through the nightstand. A second later, she holds one up, breathless with a smug grin.
I tear it open with shaking hands, roll it on, and then I’m back between her thighs. Bracing myself with one hand, I guide myself to her slick entrance with the other. I push in slowly, fighting every instinct to slam home, wanting her to feel every fucking inch.
Her eyes flutter shut, mouth open on a gasp. “Oh God, Clay…”
“Look at me,” I rasp, and when she does, it hits like a punch to the chest.
I bottom out, buried deep, and stay there a beat, breathing hard, my forehead pressed to hers. She’s tight, hot, and so damn perfect. It takes everything not to lose it right then.
“You okay?” I ask, voice rough.
She nods, her fingers sliding into my hair, a soft sound breaking in her throat.
“Please,” she whispers, barely audible. “I just need you.”
I move, slow at first, then deeper when her hips lift to meet mine.
Every sound she makes pulls me closer to losing control.
The storm outside fades to nothing. All I can hear is her—every breath, every moan—and the way we fall into the same rhythm, like we’ve been holding this in for years and finally let it burn.
“Tess,” I breathe, pressing my forehead to hers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her legs lock around my waist, keeping me there, her cries building with every thrust. She tightens around me, and I know she’s right there on the edge.
“Let go, baby,” I rasp, my hand sliding between us so my thumb can circle her clit. “Let me feel your tight pussy grip my dick. I’ve got you.”
That does it. She breaks apart beneath me, body tightening around mine, pulling me right over the edge with her. I drive into her deeper, chasing that last bit of control before I come hard. Her name tears out of me, rough and wrecked.
I collapse onto my side, pulling her with me, not willing to let her go. She curls against me, sweaty, trembling, heart pounding in sync with mine.
“Terrible idea,” she murmurs, a low laugh escaping her lips.
“Yeah,” I breathe, kissing her hair. “I already know I’d do it over and over again.”