Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VALEN
I’m drowning, and I don’t want to be saved.
I cup Clover’s cheeks, angle her face to the side, and fucking devour her. I’m a starving man, and she’s the only meal that will ever satisfy my hunger—I know that now.
Every stroke of her tongue against mine, every scrape of her teeth, every inch of her is trying to meld with me. It’s electric. Magnetic. Like every cell in my body has been waiting for this exact moment.
She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even hesitate. She just gives and gives until sanity deserts me.
With her, I don’t even need air. I don’t need anything except this—her mouth on mine, her hands fisted in my hair, her body pressed so close I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs.
This. Her. Home.
I’ve been searching for Clover Danforth.
Because she’s the only home I’ve ever known. I feel it as though it’s always been a part of my history, as sure as my blood type, as strong as my determination.
Her entire body shivers against mine, and reality seeps in. She’s freezing, so I pull back. One kiss. Two pecks. A final brush of lips, and then we’re both breathless, panting, desperate for oxygen that resides in the other person’s lungs.
I can barely form words.
“That was—” Her chest heaves.
“On your list?” I manage, my lungs working overtime. Nothing in my life has ever been like this.
“Better than my list.” She’s staring at me as though I’m made of starlight. Like I hung the moon just for her, and fuck me, don’t I wish I could. “Valen—”
“Don’t.” I brush her cheek with my thumb. “Don’t overthink it. Not tonight.”
Not ever.
“But—”
“I know your natural inclination is to fight, to question because that’s what you’ve had to do to survive.
But tonight, please, let’s just be two people without any secrets.
” I kiss her again. Softer, more civilized, but no less passionate.
I’m trying to show her what I can’t say aloud yet.
“We can worry about everything else tomorrow. But tonight—” I press my forehead to hers.
“Tonight, you’re checking things off your list. And I’m the lucky bastard helping you do it. ”
She buries her face in my chest, and I feel her words more than hear them because they sear into my heart like a brand. “I won’t survive you.”
My ribs crack. I’m raw and vulnerable, and it’s terrifying.
Because I hear what she’s really saying. Everyone leaves. You left once. You’ll leave again.
And she’s not wrong to fear it.
“Good.” My voice is rough, dry, mangled.
Wrecked. “You’re not meant to survive me.
I learned that the second you fainted in my arms.” I wait until she looks at me, needing her to see this.
To understand. But after tonight, I know it’s more than that.
I swallow hard. “You’re not meant to survive this world, Honeybee.
You’re meant to thrive, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that happens. ”
Even if it means breaking my own heart in the end.
As though she hears my unspoken vow, she cries, and we stand clutching one another, ignoring how the cold creeps into our bones and everything waiting for us in the days ahead.
Tonight, I kissed Clover Danforth and finally understood who I’m meant to be.
Hers.
Chief, the old fool, is smirking when he joins us in the parking lot. We’re cold, but calm and grinning like idiots drunk off endorphins.
“Have fun?” His question is wrapped in faux innocence.
“Like you weren’t sitting in there with your nose pressed to the window spying on us,” Clover shoots back. I love that she’s comfortable enough to sass him.
Chief hands me my jacket, and I drape it around Clover’s shoulders, then clasp both her hands in mine to warm them up.
“We should head back,” I say. “Get some—”
“Sleep,” Chief nods. His all-knowing expression is much too smug for my liking. “Long day tomorrow.”
Right. Tomorrow.
The walk to the motel is subdued, except for Chief humming a tune that sounds suspiciously close to the song Clover and I sang together, which means he’ll never let us forget that moment.
Wrecks howls from inside Chief’s room as we approach.
“Proud of you, Clover,” Chief says when we’re standing side by side at our rooms. “You did good today. Your girls are gonna be proud of you too.”
Her throat works. “Thanks, Chief.”
“Get some sleep. Both of you.” He winks with a wide, irritating grin. “Though, if the walls are rocking—”
“Chief!” Clover shrieks, her entire face flushing crimson.
He cackles and disappears into his room, leaving us standing in front of room thirteen.
The one-bed room.
“So,” she says.
“So,” I agree. Was I this awkward when we were teenagers?
“We should—”
“Yeah.”
But neither of us moves.
“I’ll take the floor,” I offer as I reach around her to unlock the door, even though the thought makes me want to throw things.
“We already discussed this,” she huffs when I open the door. “You’ll get a disease. Just look at this carpet. It’s brown shag. Do you know how long ago brown shag carpeting was popular?”
A laugh escapes before I can suppress it. I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her. It’s just this…situation. “Clover.”
“We’re adults who kissed in a dark parking lot.” She’s aiming for nonchalant and failing spectacularly. “I think we can handle sharing a bed.”
Reaching out, I rest my hands on her biceps and feel her shiver under my touch. Not from cold, from want, and my blood heats while need coils in my spine. “That’s—fair.”
“I’ll just change. Quickly.” She’s back to being a church mouse. Skittering around in near silence.
“Okay.”
Giving me a wide berth, she grabs clothes and disappears into the bathroom while I stand in the center of the room, trying to remember how to remain professional. How to maintain boundaries.
How to not kick down that door and—
No.
Get control of yourself, Stone.
The water turns on, and I picture her brushing her teeth…then I pace.
Three steps to the window. Three steps back. My body’s still humming from our kiss. From holding her. From the way she tasted like honey and everything I didn’t know I needed.
Waters sloshes against tile, and I try very hard not to picture her naked.
I fail spectacularly.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
I’m using her coping mechanisms now. That’s how far gone I am.
Finally, she emerges in pajama pants and a T-shirt that falls off one shoulder. Her hair is down, her cheeks flushed, and I forget every single rule I’ve ever made about client relations.
“Your turn,” she says softly.
If I speak, we’re both in trouble, so I slip past her, too close, close enough to smell her honeysuckle scent, and lock myself in the relative safety of this shitty bathroom.
I start my second shower of the evening. The water is cold. Freezing. On purpose.
It does nothing to calm me down, and I hiss with pent-up need when my fist wraps around my cock. Is this what it was like being around her as a teenager? Wanting her? Tasting her? And losing my goddamn mind because the very last thing I should do is fuck her the way I want to?
Her voice filters through the door, so I force my thoughts away from my cock and remove my hand. Pausing to listen, I know she’s checking in with her friends, but I don’t like the idea of her out there all alone either, so I rinse off and get out.
When I finally leave the confines of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, I’ve lost all hope of appearing casual. Especially when I find her already in bed, stiff as a fucking board.
“Hey,” I say to ease the tension that has no place between us.
My gaze zeros in on the column of her neck as she swallows. “Hey.”
I turn off the lights and plunge the room into darkness. Just the faint glow of the motel sign shines through the thin curtains, and she sucks in a heaving breath.
Fuck. The lights. Fumbling in the dark, I turn on the bedside lamp. “Sorry, I forgot about the lights.”
I climb into bed, leaving space between us, even as every instinct I possess screams at me to close the distance.
“It’s okay if you want me to switch rooms with Chief,” she says sadly. “No one can sleep like this.”
Her file said she didn’t have many serious relationships. Is this why?
“Honeybee, I’ve been through worse. If you need lights to sleep, then I’ll buy a sleep mask if necessary.”
She doesn’t respond, so we lie there, not touching but hyperaware. I’m fucking miserable.
“Clover?”
“Yeah?” She has the sheet tucked up under her chin.
“Thank you.”
I’m becoming addicted to her sharp intakes of air. “For what?”
“For today. For—” How do I explain this without sounding like a twat? “For giving me back one of my firsts.”
I keep my gaze on the ceiling, even when I feel her roll toward me.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember my firsts. First kiss.
First love. First time—” I run a hand down my face.
“The memories aren’t there. But tonight—” My throat tightens painfully around the words, as though it’s a sin to say them.
“Tonight, it felt like you gave me back an innocence I wasn’t sure I ever had.
The fact that it was you, both then and now, is more than I could have ever hoped for. ”
The silence is deafening as her mind works through my words.
“Thank you for encouraging me to do it,” she says.
But it isn’t enough.
I can’t stand the distance, so I shift to face her, and she smiles like she’s been waiting for me to join her.
“Valen?”
“Hmm?” I say, settling my head onto her pillow.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
I find her hip and rest my hand on it, pulling her a fraction closer. “Me too, Honeybee.”
Thoughts rattle around my brain—an internal chant with no off button. Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
She’s vulnerable, my conscience reminds me.
“Sleep, Honeybee,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
Her hand presses to my heart. “Promise?”
“Always.”
I wake to sunlight streaming through cheap curtains and Clover’s head approximately three inches from mine.
It’s the best fucking morning of my life.
Especially because somehow, throughout the night, we migrated even closer to each other.
Now, she’s using my bicep as a pillow. She’s on her back, spread out like a starfish, one leg thrown over mine, her other hanging off the edge of the bed, and she has one hand fisted in my shirt as though she likes being tethered to me.
Lifting my head, I wince at the contorted position of her dangling leg.
She’s still trying to plant one foot on the floor, and it looks uncomfortable as fuck.
I should move. I should give her space. She makes a small sound and burrows her face closer.
Fuck space.
I tighten my arm around her middle and allow myself to have this. Just for a few more minutes.
Her hair smells like cheap motel shampoo but is still as soft as ever. Her breathing is soft and even. The weight of her in my arms feels like the prayer I forgot to say.
She shifts, her leg that’s resting between mine inching higher, and I feel the exact moment she wakes up. The way her body tenses slightly, pressing her thigh against my groin. The way her breathing picks up.
“Hi,” I say quietly. Waking up this way is probably enough of a shock for her.
“Hi.” Her voice is rough from sleep and sexy as hell. “Sorry, I’m not normally a cuddler.”
“I’m not complaining,” I say. Though now I’m having murderous thoughts about faceless assholes sleeping next to my Honeybee.
She lifts her head slightly. Even with bedhead and puffy eyes, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“We should probably—”
“Get up,” I grunt. “Yeah.”
Neither of us moves.
“Valen?”
“Hmm?”
“About last night—”
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The regret speech.
“Yeah?” That hurt my throat.
“I don’t— I’m not good at this. At…” She gestures vaguely between us as she rolls into me.
“Whatever this is. And I know the timing is awful, and I’m probably going to have panic attacks about it later, but—” She sucks in air through her teeth, and it makes a hissing sound.
“I don’t regret it. The kiss. Any of it. ”
Relief crashes through me as though I’m standing on the brink of a natural disaster that diverted at the last moment.
“Good,” I sigh. “I don’t either.”
“Even though I’m a mess?”
“Especially because you’re a mess.”
She swats my chest. It’s playful. Fun. How mornings should be. “Rude.”
“True.” Climbing over her, I wrap both arms under her shoulder blades and hold her close. “Can I ask you something?”
She nods as her entire face is swallowed by a yawn.
“Why do you sleep with one foot on the floor?”
Her body locks up beneath me, and her fingers tap against my arm. A solid count of five, and then she does it again.
“When I was thirteen, you told me to always be prepared to run, even in sleep. Now it’s a habit I can’t break.”
“Fucking hell, Clover.” The rage boils up in my veins. I want to punch something, destroy everything that ever touched her, but I can’t because I can’t fucking remember any of it.
“You’ve always been my protector, Valen. Even when you weren’t around, I always kept you in my heart.”
A knock on the door makes me nearly swallow my damn tongue before I realize I recognize that annoying freaking lyrical knock, but Clover’s face pales so quickly I fear she might actually faint.
“You’re all right,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her ear. “It’s just Chief.”
“Y’all decent?” Chief chuckles. “We need to get movin’.”
Clover groans before burying her face in the crook of my neck. “There’s nothing like a reality check from Chief.”
“I can think of a few things that are much better than his reality check.”
Her lips part, and I feel the damp heat when she exhales against my skin.
I might kill the old guy myself.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“I hear y’all talking. Get up.”
“Coming,” I bark—just not the kind my body is aching for, and the twinkle in Clover’s eye tells me she likely understands the direction of my thoughts.
Then she raises a single brow, and I know we’re on the same page.