Chapter Fifteen
Clay
Kolmont must be desperate.
I try to keep myself distracted, catching up with the guys and trading old stories while pretending nothing’s changed.
My phone’s been buzzing on and off for the past few days with messages from Coach Sanders. With the holidays, we’ve been playing phone tag. The wait has been eating at me. I could use some good news right now.
The whispers are starting to get under my skin. It’s to be expected when you’re back in your hometown. But the second I spotted that sleazy reporter standing near the bar, my pulse started pounding in my ears.
I could already hear the wheels turning in his brain at whatever headline he’d write next.
Clay Barlowe loses it on a reporter at Christmas charity gala.
If I weren’t worried about wrecking what’s left of my reputation, or the job I’m still waiting to hear back on, I’d have given him what he wanted.
But I know how this all works. They only write about the times I crack and conveniently leave out what caused it.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, gritting my teeth until my jaw locks. Then a hand slides over into mine.
Tessa.
“Clay,” she says, her voice low against my ear. Her thumb brushes my knuckles, grounding me in a way only she can.
I don’t look at her right away. I can’t. My eyes stay locked on where the smug bastard disappeared.
“Don’t,” I rasp. “He’s right. We wouldn’t want anyone to see us together.”
She releases my hand. “Don’t let him win,” she says, her tone quiet but confident.
I nod toward the hallway, a silent cue for her to follow. “I just need a minute,” I say before turning and heading that way.
Past the restrooms is a smaller room used for storage. Extra boxes and decorations we brought for the event line the walls. I step inside and close the door behind me, needing a minute to breathe.
I stand in front of the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at the man looking back at me. Taking in my black suit and red tie, I look one word away from breaking.
I hear her footsteps behind me.
“Tess.”
I should’ve known better than to think coming to Briar Creek would be easy. This town only remembers the reckless kid who fell from grace. They don’t care about how hard he fought to get there.
“You should go back to the party,” I mutter. “The auction will be starting soon, and our moms will need you.”
“You need me,” she emphasizes. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”
I huff out a laugh. “Define ‘okay.’”
She steps closer. “You didn’t deserve what that asshole said.”
I finally look at her. And that’s my first mistake.
Because she’s standing there in that red velvet dress that clings like temptation itself. Her eyes are soft and worried, lips parted just enough to wreck me.
Something inside me snaps.
I reach for her before I can think better of it, my hand finding the small of her back and pulling her in until there’s no space left between us. Her breath falters, her hands pressing against my chest like she should stop me, but she doesn’t.
She never does.
“I don’t need you to fix it,” I growl. “I just needed…” My words falter, replaced by the thrum of everything I can’t say.
Her eyes search mine, and it’s over. Whatever control I have left slips.
I kiss her hard like I’m desperate to tamp out everything burning inside me.
Every word, every whisper, every headline—they all disappear the second her mouth meets mine.
She gasps, her nails digging into my chest, her hands like she’s trying to pull me closer instead of push me away.
God, the sounds she makes, the warmth of her body, it unravels me.
The anger that dragged me here shifts fast, turning into something else. Something worse. My hands find her hips, her waist, the back of her neck. She tastes like champagne and trouble, like the part of my life I’ve been pretending I don’t miss.
When she finally pulls back, her breathing’s uneven, her lips parted. “Clay…” she pleads.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp. My thumb traces her jaw, rougher than I mean for it to. “Say it, and I will.”
But she doesn’t.
She looks at me like she can’t. Like she’s too far gone with me, and neither of us has the strength to stop us. The whole world disappears, leaving it just her and me and the weight of everything we can’t say.
I move first, and she meets me halfway.
I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands tighten at her waist, pulling her in until I can feel every breath she takes. Her fingers bunch in my shirt, holding on like she needs the anchor.
“Tess,” I breathe against her mouth. Her name feels like a confession. “You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn't do this. Not right now.”
“Then tell me to leave,” she whispers.
I can’t. So I kiss her again. Harder. Until all those whispers swirling in my head finally shut up.
She pulls back just enough to breathe, eyes flicking over my face. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Never is,” I say, my forehead resting against hers. “But it’s the only thing keeping me from losing it tonight.”
Her breath catches, and instead of pulling away, she leans in. The tension between us tightens, making it hard to tell right from wrong.
She looks up at me, lips parted, eyes searching mine.
“What do you need, then?” she asks softly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
I drag in a breath that doesn’t feel like enough. I stare down her body. “Take off your panties and give them to me.”
Her eyes search mine, unsure but glazed with desire, as she nods. She reaches beneath the slit of her dress and tugs them down, balling up the lace panties and setting them in my open hand.
I’m tempted to lift them to my nose and inhale them, but I’ll save that for later. Instead, I tuck them away in my pocket.
“You want to know what I need, Sugar?”
She nods, her eyes searching mine. “Yes.” The word escapes her lips on a heavy exhale.
Reaching between us, I run my finger upward until I reach the apex of her thigh. Her body trembles uncontrollably. When I brush my finger through her wet slit, swiping over her clit, I growl.
“This.” I grit my teeth. “This is what I need.”
She sways on her feet, her hand shooting out to grip my forearm to steady her.
She’s so wet, she’s practically dripping in my palm. I want nothing more than to lose myself in her.
My finger dips into her entrance, and she exhales my name on a plea. When I push into her and curl my fingers, finding the spot, I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
I’m so addicted to her. I drag in a breath, my hand thrusting in and out, the slapping wet sound filling the space around us.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I whisper.
She tilts her chin, close enough that her lips graze mine when she answers. “Maybe I do. Maybe I know because I feel it too.”
“Kiss me,” I growl, and slam my lips against hers.
She grinds her pussy against my palm. When she’s close, she breaks the kiss and throws her head back, and I nearly follow her over the edge when I feel her come apart around me.
She soaks my hand before she collapses against my chest. I hold her until she’s steady on her feet again, sucking my fingers into my mouth.
If I wasn’t worried about someone coming to search for us, I’d pull my cock out and fuck her right here. But I know I’m not thinking clearly, so it’ll have to wait until later tonight.
Tessa presses her hands against my dress pants, feeling how hard I am. My dick strains against the zipper, practically begging for her touch.
I move in close, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Later,” I say, the word scraping out like a vow I’m already set on keeping.
It takes everything in me to pull away from her. I grab a few tissues from a box on the counter and help her clean up before holding out her panties for her to step back into.
If I wasn’t worried about the thought of another man smelling her arousal, I probably would’ve left her without them. The reporters here already have plenty of reasons to drag my name through the headlines. We don’t need to give them another.