Chapter 9
NOVA
“You fall asleep on me?” Clay asks as we turn in to Country Hills.
“Maybe.”
The entire drive home, I was aware of him filling the car with his big body and even bigger presence.
“Don’t make me carry you back up the drainpipe,” he drawls.
I laugh in the dark, my wrist throbbing dully in time with the bass from the speakers.
The pain is an afterthought.
Tonight, I ran through Red Rocks with the baddest guy in basketball, and I felt like a wild girl.
With him, I don’t have to pretend. Confessing what I’ve been holding in felt freeing.
Clay’s different than anyone I’ve met. I liked getting to know more about him and sensed he doesn’t talk to many people. For a man who lives his life in the spotlight, he’s so private.
“I’m sure you could carry me before your knee problems.”
“I could carry you now. You’re a hell of a lot lighter than what I lift.”
His gruff response thrills me.
I’m thrown back to when I was nestled between his legs, my hand on his chest through the thin T-shirt under his sweatshirt.
I didn’t realize how long it’s been since I was with a guy, not to mention since I was touched or held in a way that made me feel alive.
He must know the effect he has on me, but I want to believe it’s not one-way. For a moment in the dark, I could have sworn he wanted me, too.
His phone lights up on the console between us.
“Someone’s texting you…”
My voice trails off as I see the flesh-colored image.
It’s a woman.
Naked, or nearly, with a Kardashian figure and barely-there lingerie over huge breasts and a very waxed everything else.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to look,” I say, embarrassed.
Clay glances at the screen, his expression revealing nothing.
He flips the phone facedown.
This is probably normal for him. We’re from different worlds. He could have any woman he wants—glamorous, confident. I forgot it for a minute, but this is a blunt reminder.
We drive the rest of the way in silence.
“Don’t turn up the driveway,” I tell him when we reach the house.
Clay stops at the foot of the driveway, and I reach for my seatbelt, pressing the release button.
It doesn’t give.
I try again.
Over and over, until I’m slamming it with my finger.
“Dammit.” I slump against my seat, feeling the warmth emanating from his body as he leans in.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
He means now, in this car, but my head is still back at the park.
“When you said you were going to take me home, for a moment I imagined you meant with you.”
He stills over me.
We spent the last two hours talking under the stars, until the moment we heard those wild animals.
Instantly, he shuttered. The walls went up, the man I was with vanished like a ghost.
Clay pumped some intoxicating drug through my system, and now that I’m back for more, he’s nowhere to be found.
“Maybe it’s crazy to imagine you wanting to, but for a second…” I huff out a breath as I cradle my wrist. “It didn’t feel crazy.”
I half expect him to laugh, thinking of the picture message and the stunning woman praying for the slightest show of interest from the all-star next to me.
He doesn’t laugh.
He bends closer, the scent of wood and ash mingling into a heady aroma.
“I don’t do that, Nova.”
The blood pounds between my thighs, echoing the throbbing in my wrist.
“You don’t have sex,” I counter.
I swear I hear his teeth grind.
“Not the way you’d want to.”
“How do you know what I’d want?”
“You’re coming off a breakup,” he goes on, ignoring my question. “You should be handled with care.”
My head falls back in a helpless gesture. “Honestly? I just want to be handled.”
I’m in Denver for my sister, to prove that I have my life together—not to throw myself at a basketball star who’s probably visited more vaginas than cities.
But all I can think about since the plane ride is how horny I am. I’m aching for pleasure and connection.
The radio’s still on, playing an old Drake song. I want to reach for the dashboard and turn it up until it vibrates through every inch of me.
“Do you have Miles’ number?” My voice is steady. “Because I kind of thought we had a vibe in the kitchen and—”
“You’re not dating Miles,” Clay interrupts sharply.
“I never said date.” I let that settle between us. “Maybe he’ll take me to get my tattoo.”
Clay’s gaze drops to my mouth, lingering.
“Nova.”
My name is a warning, for him or me, I’m not sure. His hands are a weight against my hip, his warmth permeating my clothes.
“What?”
The drumming of my heart picks up. The air between us crackles with electricity, pulling us closer.
“Don’t pout,” he rasps, his voice the ominous roll of thunder. “I’m selfish enough to give you what you think you want.”
My heart skips.
What I want? What about what he wants?
Because the tight line of his jaw says he’s fighting himself.
We’re a breath apart, close enough to feel each other’s warmth. His woodsy scent fills my nostrils with a heady, dizzying aroma.
I’m a bound sacrifice tied up in front of a sexy monster. One that’s looking at me as though he can’t decide whether I’m entertaining or maddening.
I should be nowhere near this man, and yet here I am in a car with him, feeling strangely empowered by his presence.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “If I’m going to make a mistake tonight, better to make one that doesn’t leave a mark.”
I reach up to brush my lips across his.
At the first touch of our skin, a shiver of desire floods me, zinging through my breasts, my stomach, and all the way down to my thighs.
Clay’s mouth is softer than I expect. His closeness is a drug all its own.
He doesn’t kiss me back, but doesn’t pull away either. He’s a rock wall, firm and unyielding.
It’s an act. It has to be.
Even if he isn’t starved for me like I am for him, he’s attracted. Curious.
The music pulses and throbs around us.
My skin is ablaze everywhere we’re touching. I cling to him, as if he’s the one to put out the flames instead of the one to start the fire.
I kiss him the way I want to, not the way I think I should. Not the way the woman in the picture would kiss him, but the way I wanted to kiss the man who protected me in the dark with his body.
The one who doesn’t see that he deserves protection, too.
I reach up to thread my fingers through his hair and tug. When I exhale a trembling breath, his lips part.
I change the angle and let out a little sigh that’s lost in his mouth before forcing myself to pull back.
Clay’s half-lowered lids brush my cheeks.
“The fuck was that?” he murmurs.
My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t meet his eyes. “I wanted to know what it would feel like if you kissed me.”
He curses again.
I start to reach for my seatbelt, but his arms are a cage.
He grabs my chin and forces my gaze up. His eyes are glittering gems in the dark.
“That wasn’t it.”
Before I can react, his mouth slams down on mine.
He’s as rough as I was gentle.
His lips and tongue wreak havoc with my mouth, exploring every inch of me.
My pulse skyrockets as he tugs my earlobe between his teeth.
My body throbs, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch.
I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. I need more of this, of him.
If he’s trying to scare me away, it’s not working.
He strokes down my sides, one huge hand cupping my breast. My body swells, my nipples hardening and begging for his touch.
I arch toward him, my hand slipping beneath his shirt to land on smooth, muscled abs.
Clay groans his approval low in his throat, sending a delicious thrill coursing through me.
His thumb presses against my hip.
I reach around his waist, imagine the dark tattooed lines writhing beneath my —
Click.
The next second, his warmth is gone, and so is my seatbelt. He’s back on his side of the car, and the space between us is a chasm.
“Goodnight, Nova.”
Clay stares out the windshield, not meeting my eyes.
I brush my lips with a finger to make sure they’re still there.
I wait for him to say something else. Anything else.
He doesn’t.
My limbs are still heavy, but I force myself to move.
I grab the door handle and launch myself out, slamming it after me before I remember I’m trying to be quiet.
I sprint up the driveway without looking back. I’m halfway to the house before I notice the throbbing in my wrist start up again.
That moment of exercising my own power was a bad idea. Not because I touched the baddest guy in basketball, my brother-in-law’s troublemaking all-star, all while my sister thinks I’m engaged to someone else.
No, it’s because instead of being like every girl who wants to kiss Clayton Wade, I’ve moved into the slightly smaller pool of every girl he’s kissed who wants more.