Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CLOVER
It’s as though my body has forgotten that it requires sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Terra’s face, hear her voice, feel her like a presence sucking all the air from the room.
I’m beyond counting now—it’s not working anyway.
“The Harringtons are going to skin me alive for this. You know that, right?” Rip grumbles.
I didn’t know who else to call. There was no getting out of the Hideaway Inn without someone with me. The Harringtons have people stationed every two feet around the property, so I told Rip he could either come with me or watch me go.
I kind of liked giving an ultimatum, if I’m being honest. It felt like I’d taken a tiny piece of control back.
“I’ll tell them you didn’t have a choice,” I say. We’re walking the three blocks to the Chug at two in the morning. He syncs his stride to mine while his gaze swivels around us.
Since the Chug is empty at night, Madi gave me a key for when my stories wouldn’t stop coming but I was scaling the walls of my house and needed somewhere else to work. I’ve just never used it until now.
Rip touches his ear. “Copy.” Shaking his head, he mutters a string of curses. “Incoming.”
Less than thirty seconds later, it’s Valen who matches my stride.
Of course he followed.
“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep. His hair is disheveled, and his sweatshirt’s on backward. He must have dressed himself while running out the door.
“Rip, meet Valen. Valen, meet your very capable employee, Rip.”
“You know what I mean.” Valen tips his head to Rip though. “I don’t care who you take with you. Where you go, I go.”
Unlocking the front door of the Chug, I muscle my way in and turn on all the lights.
“Watch the perimeter,” Valen says. “Get three more guys over here too.” He enters the building, pauses, then sticks his head back out the door. “Thank you, Rip.”
My bodyguard’s lip curls up, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.
Valen takes a seat in one of the oversized chairs that line the back wall while I pace the length of the building.
“Talk to me,” he says. His quiet demand dulls the needles prickling across my skin.
“I can’t shut off my mind.” I tug my zip-up hoodie around my middle. Funny, I hardly even wore extra layers on our road trip.
“Tell me what’s going on in your head, Honeybee.”
“Everything. Every what-if scenario. Every possible outcome. What if she gets away again? What if she wins? What if she hurts someone? What if—”
“Clover.” He stands, crosses the room, and takes my hands in his. “You’re spiraling.”
“I know.” My voice wobbles. “But I can’t stop it. Counting doesn’t work. Box breathing makes me hyperventilate. My foot won’t stop tapping, my fingers are bruised from twisting them together. I—”
His hands cup my face, forcing me to look at only him. “Focus,” he says. “On me.”
I try. I do. But my lungs have deflated, my vision is blurry, and my heart keeps entering triathlons without me.
“I can’t—”
“You can.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Focus. On. Me. Tell me three things.”
His voice works better than hypnosis.
“Your hands are calloused but gentle,” I whisper.
“That’s one. Two more.”
“The scruff on your jaw sparkles like tinsel in this light.”
The dimple on his right cheek winks at me. “That’s two. Come on, Honeybee. Give me one more.”
“Your lips look soft but are shockingly firm.” And now I can’t stop staring at them as they break into a full, sexy smile.
“That’s three.”
My heart rate has slowed, and my hands no longer tremble.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod against his forehead. “You’re like a freaking magician. How do you always know what I need?”
Both dimples appear now, and I go cross-eyed trying to stare at them without removing my forehead from his.
“Because I’m more in tune with your needs than I’ve ever been with anything in my life.
I feel them, experience them, live them right along with you.
There’s a connection here that’s stronger than the both of us, and I’ve decided to lean into it wholeheartedly.
” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You’re not alone, Honeybee. Not anymore.”
The air changes, becomes charged—it sparks with heat and wonder.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly our lips crash together. I grip his sweatshirt with both hands while all my fear and anxiety morph into something else entirely—something completely out of my control and destined to crash into us both.
Need.
Want.
Desire.
“Clover,” he breathes against my lips. His gaze darts to each corner of the room, searching for cameras, weak spots, anything that could leave me exposed, and I’ve never felt more cared for. “If you want to stop—”
“Don’t you dare.” I pull him closer, desperate and wanton. “Please don’t stop, Valen. Please don’t.”
Like a bungee cord pulled too taut, his control snaps.
One moment, we’re standing by a window, the next, I’m ushered into the smaller room and tossed onto the couch. He’s above me before I stop bouncing. His rough hands are everywhere, and it’s still not enough. His fingertips press into my waist, my hips, sliding under my shirt to skim my bare skin.
“I’m warning you now, Clover. You’re in control here, because I have none,” he murmurs against my neck. “If you need me to slow down, you’ll have to use your fucking words.”
“Valen.” I arch into his touch. “More. More. More.” I don’t even know exactly what I’m asking for, only that this is not enough. I need him to make me feel, help me scale the walls that hold me back, but there are too many layers, too many barriers separating his skin from mine.
He groans. “You’re perfect, Clover. And you’re all fucking mine.”
His.
Valen’s.
The contented sigh that slips through my lips is a vow, a promise, a declaration that we’re destined to be together—I’ve just been waiting for him to find me.
“I’ve always been yours,” I moan when his fingertips graze my nipple.
His laugh is dark and full of promise. “I don’t know how I could have ever forgotten you, but it’ll never happen again. You’re branded on my soul. A living, breathing piece of me that I’ve always known was missing but didn’t know how to find.”
His lips trail down my throat, across my collarbone. Every touch deliberate. Every kiss more intimate than the last.
“I won’t lose you again, Clover.” His hands slide beneath the waistband of my leggings, and he may as well be tattooing his name to my skin. His gaze is searing and wild.
“Does Madi have cameras in here?” he asks when my pants are hovering just above my pubic bone.
“Ah?” I manage. “I—I don’t—”
“We can stop.” But his fingers are moving, and stopping is the last thing either of us wants. “Or…I can erase their memory before we leave.”
It’s reckless. Intoxicating. So unlike anything I would ever do.
And maybe that’s what makes me a little feral. I’m ready to live.
“Don’t stop.” I pull him back down and kiss him hard. It’s clashing teeth and warring tongues. Violent in the combustion of us. And it’s perfect.
“Jesus, Clover.” He unzips my sweatshirt, then removes my long sleeve compression shirt and bra. “So fucking perfect.” His lips close over my nipple, and for that reason alone I may never wear a bra again.
I arch into him as his soft lips dance down my center, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
My hips jolt when he rips my panties down my thighs. The shredding of cotton is music to my ears.
Perhaps going commando wouldn’t be so bad either.
His touch grazes my clit, and I buck up into him. Hot breath mingles with my wetness, and I shiver when he presses his body into mine.
I make quick work of the button on his jeans, and then he’s kicking them down his legs. The thick, rounded head of his cock is glistening with pre-cum that makes my toes curl.
“Fuck me,” he groans after he swipes two long fingers through my folds. “You’re soaking wet, baby.”
He presses into me, curling his fingers, ripping a moan from my lips when he sucks on my nipple at the same time.
My body explodes with sensations, and my mind takes it as a challenge to keep up because I blurt, “Tell—tell me about the sex club.”
His forehead lands with a thunk against my ribs. He inhales three harsh breaths before lifting his gaze to mine again.
I probably should have asked him about this another time. I didn’t mean for him to stop, and now all I want to do is rub my thighs together to get that delicious friction going again, but his body on mine prevents any movement at all.
“You have the worst fucking timing, Honeybee.” But at least his fingers resume their exploration of me. “What do you want to know?” His tone is gruff but controlled, and I know he’s humoring me when it’s the last thing he wants to be doing.
“Was it—with other people, I mean—was it like this?” It was never about the sex club. It was always about us, and I can’t keep the vulnerability out of my tone. It makes me want to hide away and pretend I never asked.
My experiences with other men were never, ever this intense.
He spreads me with his fingers, then runs his dick up and down my seam. He never breaks eye contact. I do have the worst timing ever. How can I focus when he’s doing…this?
His crown breaches my entrance. “I can promise you, sweetheart, nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever been like this.” He spears me with one rough thrust. “If you want to know anything else, I’ll tell you.
” He draws his hips back, and my core clenches, trying to suck him back in.
“But for fuck’s sake, please don’t ask when I’m about to be balls deep in you. ”
Valen picks up his pace while rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. All I can do is hang on for dear life as he fucks me like it’s his first and last time.
“M-my…” His thrusts make my words choppy. “My timing is off,” I admit because I just can’t stop the word vomit as I lose control of my senses.