Chapter 11
Kayla
Coming home after a shift at the bar is one of the best feelings in the world.
I can take my boots off, strip down to an oversized shirt, and remove the minimal makeup I wear.
I can just be myself. Tonight was a long night, and there were a lot of people there to see the local band Rogue booked. My brain is running on fumes.
Opening my door, I step inside and look around.
Something feels off, though nothing looks out of place at first glance.
I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I know someone has been inside my loft.
From the front door, I can see every part of my apartment except inside the bathroom, and the door is open.
I walk across the room and flick the light on, finding it empty.
There’s no one here, and nothing is out of place.
I sit on the edge of my bed and look around the room, telling myself that I’m just tired and on edge. It’s been three years almost to the day that I left Aaron, yet he still gets inside my head.
Despite trying to reassure myself, the feeling remains, so I head downstairs and knock on Mabel’s door.
I know it’s late—or early—but I have to know if anyone came here.
She is normally awake until I get home, like the grandmother I never wanted but the universe granted me.
She takes a minute to open the door; she probably didn’t hear the first knock since her television is at a deafening level.
“Sorry to bother you, but has anyone been in my loft today?”
“No, is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, I just thought I left a window open, and it’s now closed. I’m probably just tired.”
“You work so hard,” she says with a small smile. “You need to rest.”
“I will, thank you. Have a nice night.”
Mabel waves me off, and I go back upstairs.
When I walk back inside, I see it. The chair at the table is pushed in perfectly, but I never push it back in. It’s always left how it was when I stood up from it last. Someone was here and my hands instantly turn clammy.
I pull out my phone and bring up Vero’s number, but think twice. If he wasn’t the one to come here, it might cause him to spiral if he thinks I’m in danger. Reluctantly, I bring up Clay’s number, as he is no bullshit, and that’s what I need right now.
“It’s a bit late for a booty call,” he says as he picks up.
“Clay, I—”
“What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
“Kayla, fucking say something. Are you okay? I’m on my way.”
“I’m okay, but I think someone was in my loft.”
“Shit, I’ll be there soon.”
The time he takes to get here feels like an eternity, but he stays on the phone with me, reassuring me that everything will be fine. Dread pools in my stomach that I will have to tell him why something this simple has freaked me out.
When I hear him pull up, I end the call and meet him at the door. He places his hand on my shoulder and looks me over.
“Do you think Vero would have come here?” I ask hopefully.
Clay shakes his head. “You know Vero. If he came here, he wouldn’t be secretive. You would have known about it.”
I look over at the chair, and he follows my line of sight. “Something feels off,” I say as he takes my hand in his. “The chair isn’t sitting right.”
He releases my hand and walks over to it. “Let me look around just to make sure.”
He walks around the loft, though really he wouldn’t see anything more than me since it’s an open space. When he slides out from under the bed, he has something between his fingers.
“What is it?”
He shrugs. “Nothing, just a piece of broken chalk.”
I feel like an idiot. Freaking out over a chair and making Clay of all people come and check.
“I want you to come to the island tonight.”
“Clay . . . I—”
“I’m not asking because I think someone was here, but you are clearly freaked out about it. The island doesn’t scare you this much, so I want to check the place properly, and I can’t do that right now,” he says, crossing his arms. “There could be bugs.”
I glare at him. Really? We have gone from someone breaking in to bugs? “I don’t have bugs.”
“Not those kinds of bugs—I mean listening devices. I need to get the equipment and come back.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I would rather feel like an idiot and it be nothing than stay and worry myself sick all night.
I pack a bag and Clay waits. This time I grab a spare toothbrush.
“Ready,” I tell him when I’m done. Then I lock my door, and we head outside.
“I need you not to say anything to Vero or Brawley tonight,” he says as we get into his truck.
“Why?”
“Vero has just come out of an episode, and I don’t want to give him something to spiral over. He won’t let it go if he thinks there is a threat to you. And Brawley can’t keep a fucking secret to save his life when it comes to Vero.”
“It’s why I didn’t call him before I called you. No offense, but you were not my first choice.”
“I was still your second call, so I will take it,” he says with a smirk.
“I’m probably on edge—this time of year does that to me.”
He glances over at me from the driver’s seat. “What time of year?”
The panic crawls up inside me. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him—I can’t. I still carry so much shame and fear. “I’m not ready.”
He nods and doesn’t push me for more information. “All right.”
We drive the rest of the way to the island in silence, and I can’t help but wonder if I am losing it. When he pulls up to his house, he grabs my hand.
“Trust your instincts and never doubt yourself. If you feel like someone was in your loft, I promise I will find out who it was. And trust me, it won’t be pretty when I do.”
“Thank you, but you can’t hurt someone on my behalf.”
Clay chuckles. “You don’t get it. If anyone tries to hurt you, Kayla, I won’t just hurt them. I will kill them. I don’t know what type of men you are used to, but I’m sure you have figured out by now we are not normal.”
“I appreciate your concern, but no one is going to prison for me. The police can handle it if you find anything.”
He makes an mmhmm sound and gets out of the truck. I slide out and follow him inside.
All the lights are off when we walk in, and I follow Clay upstairs and into his room. I haven’t been here yet, as I’ve either stayed in Vero and Brawley’s room or the guest room.
Clay’s room is just as I imagined: clean and organized, with no clothes thrown around—not even a laundry basket. There’s not even a little clutter on his dresser. Everything screams, I have no personality.
“You can have the bed,” he says.
“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom.” I flash him a grin.
“Don’t push it, or I will make you sleep on the floor.”
“Hah! I would never! I’d slip in between Vero and Brawley—they would keep me warm.”
“Then you would have to explain why you’re here. So why don’t you get undressed and lie down.”
“Such a gentleman, demanding I take my clothes off.”
“Don’t even pretend you wouldn’t get naked for me without me even asking.”
That makes me laugh. “How about we don’t start this again—I’m too tired. But you can sleep in the bed with me, since we are not children.”
“I sleep naked.”
“You’ve had your cock inside me. I’m sure I will be able to refrain from touching it.”
Clay pulls his shirt over his head. “Please feel free to touch it if you really want to.”
He throws his shirt at me and I catch it, then he goes into his bathroom.
I hear the shower turn on and I have a fuck-it moment; I’m not sleeping after a seven-hour shift without showering first. I don’t bother knocking, pushing the ajar door further open, and Clay rubs a circle on the glass door so I see his face through it.
“You’re keen. Couldn’t wait to see me naked, huh?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I smell like stale beer and have been on my feet since my shift started. Move over,” I say as I get undressed.
“You know we have more bathrooms, right?”
“I do, but you are not naked in them. While your personality may need work, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you are pretty to look at. Plus, it’s conserving water, so be a hero and help save the world, Clay.”
He slides the shower screen open as I shimmy my jeans and panties down my legs.
He watches intently as I step out of them, shuck off my shirt and bra, and slip into the shower.
The water is scalding hot, just the way I like it.
I don’t think I have ever met someone who likes the water as hot as I do.
I move past him and step directly under the spray, washing off the day.
Clay is behind me and I can feel him staring as I reach for the shampoo, but he takes it out of my hand and gives me a different bottle.
“That one was conditioner,” he says.
“Thanks. Maybe you should put labels on them, since they are both just black.”
“That one has a white lid.”
I wash my hair, and when I tip my head back to rinse it out, his hands lock onto my hips. I glance at him over my shoulder.
“If you keep looking at me like that . . .”
“Like what?”
He smiles at me and spins me around to face him. “Like you want to fuck me.”
“Maybe I do.”
He walks me backward until I’m pressed against the tiles, his body crowding mine, then he leans in and drags his mouth from my jaw to my throat. I tip my head back to give him better access.
“You drive me insane,” he says against my neck.
“Good, it’s my favorite pastime,” I murmur.
He smiles, and his hands roam over my body.
I like this side of him when he gets out of his head.
I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling every muscle.
Clay releases a rough sound from his throat as I drag my nails up his back, then he lifts my leg and I wrap it around him.
His forehead drops to mine, and I close my eyes.
“Fuck, Clay, I need you.”
“Look at me,” he demands, and I open my eyes to him staring straight into my soul.
I want him to see all of me, so I keep my eyes locked on his, and he holds my gaze as he lines up his cock and pushes inside me.
He doesn’t move straight away, just stays buried deep. “You fit me so fucking well,” he says against my lips, then rolls his hips. I lose my breath, needing this more than he knows. I never expected to feel safe with him, but I do.
“And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that,” he finishes.
I pull back just enough to see his face, and he doesn’t put his walls back up. He is giving me as much of himself as I am giving him.
“Then stop trying to figure it out and fuck me.”
He lifts me in his arms and presses my back against the tiles as he expertly works my body.
He doesn’t rush or get rough; it’s just us right here in this moment with each other.
And when I inevitably come apart, it’s with his name on my lips, and with his eyes still fastened on me.
I know his claim of “mine” rings true, and I have a feeling one does not easily walk away from this man.
I’m his, and I think I’m okay with that fact.
He follows not long after, his face pressed to my neck, and one hand braced against the wall above my head, murmuring my name quietly against my skin.
Neither of us move for a moment.
Then his hand slides down from the wall and presses flat against my ribs, and I stay where I am with my back against the tiles.
“Still tired?”
“Shut up and don’t ruin the moment.”
He tilts his head and kisses me before helping to steady me on my feet. Then, once he conditions my hair and washes my body, we both get out.
I’m grateful I could pack an overnight bag this time, but when I pull out my pajamas, he silently throws me one of his shirts.
I pull it over my head, and the smirk on his face when I turn around has me instinctively wanting to rip it off and tell him he is a smug bastard.
But when I see the look in his eyes, I climb into his bed without saying a word.
Clay gets into the bed naked, pulling the sheet over his body as I roll toward him. I was tired before, but now I feel like I could stay awake until the sun rises.
“I have decided that if you plan to claim me, I should know more about you.”
He rolls onto his side to face me. “There is no plan. I have already done it, but what do you want to know?”
“I know you have two sisters, but I’ve only heard you talk about Jess.”
“My other sister’s name is Meeka.”
“Is she older or younger?” I ask as he reaches out to trace the tattoos on my arm.
“Older than Jess, younger than me.”
“Are they close?”
He smiles. “Thick as thieves, and they always have been. You can’t get a word in when they are both in the room. They talk over each other the entire time.”
“I always wanted a sister.”
“It’s a nightmare. I wish I had a brother.”
“Who do you worry about more?”
He thinks about it for a second. “It depends on the day. Jess is more reckless—she doesn’t think before she acts. Though Meeka is more careful, she isn’t as vocal as Jess if she has a problem. That worries me a lot.”
“What about your dad?”
“He is a good man, works a lot, always has since our mom passed. He did his best to raise three kids by himself. I took on the parent role because he was always working, and I guess that has carried over even now that they are both adults.”
“That must have been a lot to take on.”
Clay shrugs. “I didn’t think about it. They needed me and I was there for them.” Clay wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
“Do they know what you do here after dark?”
His lips pull up at the corners. “Jess does—she calls them my kinky little night chases. I nearly had a heart attack when she first said it.”
I chuckle. “And what did you say to her?”
“I told her she was basically twelve and to mind her own business.”
“Something tells me she won’t mind her business much longer.”
Clay laughs. “She definitely won’t. Thankfully, Meeka doesn’t know the specifics. She only knows what happens during the day, and hopefully it stays that way. If either tells my dad everything, I’ll die.”
I smile. I really like this softer version of Clay. Who would have thought that under the dick persona is a decent human being? “You’re not what people think you are.”
His brow furrows. “What do they think I am?”
“An asshole who will throw people off the bridge.”
He laughs, and it’s more than a chuckle; it’s a full belly laugh. “I would definitely throw people off the bridge.”
“I don’t doubt it, but that is not all you are.”
He yanks the pillow from under his head and puts it over mine. “Go to sleep before you blow my cover.”
He pulls it off when I let out a muffled giggle. “I would never.”
But I roll over and face away from him, and he pulls my body back against his. As I snuggle into his warmth and the feeling of safety, my eyes fall closed straight away.