Chapter 19
NOVA
His words leave me throbbing.
I need him, even if it’s wrong.
How can it be wrong when it feels so good?
A shiver of anticipation runs through me.
“Do it,” I whisper.
His lips claim mine, rough and a little agitated. Our bodies are still cool from the lake, but a fire burns inside us. My fingers thread into his hair, pulling him down so I can press my lips to his.
It’s on.
Me.
Clay.
A twin bunk bed.
The sound of campers outside.
Who is this girl? I have no idea.
He groans against my throat.
“I think about this every second,” he says.
“Are we in the top or the bottom bunk when you think about it?”
He chuckles against my skin. “We’re everywhere.”
He reaches for the back of my bathing suit top, unclipping it deftly. Clay’s head bumps the bunk overhead.
I want him so badly I can’t remember a time before I wanted him.
“The Kodiaks’ all-star is going to have a concussion, and it’ll be my fault,” I say.
He grins as he drags the top down my arms and tosses it behind him. “Worth it.”
Clay’s attention burns a hot trail from my face down my body, lingering on my breasts before returning. His eyes are dark with intent and approval.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says.
The way his gaze runs over me is like I’m in the Victoria Secret fashion show with wings sticking out from my back.
My nipples grow hard as his fingers tease along my ribs before cupping the swells of my breasts.
I arch my back, pressing myself into his touch.
He’s already shirtless, and my fingers run over the smooth expanse of his skin, the expanse covered in tattoos. He’s living art. I could look at him every day and never get enough.
I run my fingers over the ridges of his chest and abdomen. “You use these muscles for… cutting? Guarding?” I try to remember the words Brooke told me at the game.
His lips twitch, but he pushes me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head.
“I’ve never hooked up with someone who didn’t care I’m a basketball player,” he says. “I like it.”
My gaze snaps to his to find Clay’s warm eyes full of appreciation.
“I’m gonna show you how much.”
His body is wide, muscular, a living sculpture carved from stone. The stark ridges of his abs run to either side of his navel and disappear into the waistband of his shorts.
When my attention continues downward, I swallow a gasp.
His erection is a huge, thick outline under his shorts.
It can’t be that big.
There’s no actual way he carries that around all day, not to mention that it would fit inside me.
I feel like I should have heavy equipment training to even touch what’s between us.
He rolls to his side to graze my collarbone with kisses. I moan as he skims over my breasts and then circles my nipples with the tip of his tongue. His hands are huge, but they’re gentle.
He works his way down my body, pausing over my navel to blow on it softly, making me laugh out loud. I’m still wet from the lake, but he makes sure every inch of my skin is warm and covered in his touch.
We don’t fit in this bed. He doesn’t seem concerned.
His fingers hook into the sides of my bikini bottoms. His warm hands press into the flesh of my hips, reaching around to the small of my lower back to tug me forward.
The heat from his palms burns through the fabric of my bathing suit.
He nudges at my thighs until they part, and he slips between them, his hard body against mine.
He presses a kiss to my temple, holding himself there briefly before moving down toward my mouth.
His breath is on my skin when, finally, he speaks again.
“I almost kept you underwater. But I want to find out if you taste as sweet as you look. I remember thinking with your pink hair, you’d taste like cotton candy.”
Holy.
Every thought evaporates. All that’s left is a throbbing need.
The need to be seen and touched. The need to be safe from judgment, like I am with him. Only with him.
Clay takes his time drawing the wet fabric down my hips. It sticks to my skin, making me squirm as he drags it down past my knees and ankles.
My body feels heavy and languid and warm, like molasses sliding through summer heat.
Suddenly, I’m naked in this bunk bed. There’s nothing between us except want and need, and it’s overwhelming.
He rocks back to look at me, inhaling sharply. “Fuck, Nova. You know I’m gonna think of you like this all the time now.”
The words light me up, sending little spirals of pleasure through me.
I could say the same for him. His body is a work of art, and that’s before the tattoos. Miles of tanned skin, smooth and rippling.
When I hone in on the bulge in his shorts again, there’s a thrill of excitement blending with the fear.
He spreads my legs wide, and I shut my eyes tight at the sensation of his breath along my sensitive skin.
He runs a finger along the inside edge of my thigh, millimeters from where I’m wet and needy.
Nerves lace through me, and my toes flex.
Damn. His mouth is dangerous enough when we’re talking.
The idea of him using his lips, his tongue, to—
“Nova.”
I blink my eyes open to see him staring down at me. His expression is a mask of concerned intensity.
“What’s wrong?”
Shit. Was it that obvious?
Of course I went and made the hottest moment of my life awkward.
“I just haven’t done this a lot,” I say, but it comes out more like a mumble.
He glances toward the window, then back at me. “How much is 'a lot'?”
Oh God. This is not how I wanted this to go.
Normally, he’s good at making me feel like there’s not five years of adult life experience between us. Right now, though, it’s painfully obvious.
“A couple of guys, Brad, and… You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I don’t need names, Pink. I want to know why you went stiff on me.”
Clay seems genuinely intent on knowing, so I give him the most honest answer I can.
“I was just thinking how every guy I’ve been with turned out to be an asshole, but it was nothing like this with them,” I rush on as his expression darkens. “It didn’t feel like this. You make me feel so good I can hardly stand it.”
He stills.
“Give me your fingers,” he says.
I do, and he takes them in his mouth, swirls his tongue around them. It’s sensual and filthy, the way he sucks with his eyes on mine, and I could watch him do it all day.
Until he releases them with a pop.
He spreads my thighs again and waits.
“Oh, no, that’s not happening,” I say.
There’s no way I’m getting myself off while he watches. He might think it’s considerate, but it dials up the performance pressure another level because I literally am performing—for him.
“Because you don’t want to, or because you’re afraid?” he asks.
I watch him over me like an animal about to pounce on its prey. He’s so big and intimidating and powerful, even like this.
He must see something on my face because he shifts up my body so that his hips are cradled between mine. My thighs spread even wider, as if they have a mind of their own, which they might as well because I am now putty in his hands.
“Don’t think about me. Touch yourself,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Yeah, you can. I bet you’re good at it, too.”
Between his words and his lips, breathing is impossible.
“I’ll wait,” he goes on between kisses. “But I can feel how bad you want it. And pretty soon, you won’t be able to hold out.”
I brush my fingers over my clit, and my hips snap up.
His groan of encouragement lights me up. “That’s it. Good girl.”
My shower fantasy rises up, only it’s so much hotter in person.
He grips my hip, his thumb pressing next to my hipbone while his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass.
I give in to the sensations coursing through me and arch against the hand—my hand—between my legs.
Any self-consciousness slips away at the delicious pleasure of it, the way he growls his approval when I moan into the silent room.
“That’s it, Pink.”
I twist my face against the pillow. It’s too much. It’s everything.
“Need a taste.” He grabs my hand and sucks my fingers into his mouth. “Knew it. Cotton candy.”
Shit.
He’s so hot, but more than that, he makes me feel hot.
Like when he guides my left index finger back into my core, as if he can’t stand that I’m empty for another second.
I gasp as I am pushed all the way in, my knuckles bumping my entrance.
“Clay,” I whisper, but the word is cut off by another moan as he slides another finger inside. I am full and tingling, and I’ve never felt like this before.
“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” His murmured praise against my hip bone sends a shiver down my spine.
He works my fingers in and out of me, the heel of my hand grinding against my clit.
My hips tilt and roll as my fingers hit the little spots inside me that make me moan.
“Harder,” I say because my whole body is arching, twisting, and burning for more.
His eyes squeeze shut as he brings my fingers in hard and fast.
“I’m so close.”
My fingers are working me, he’s working me, and it feels like we’re creating something incredible together.
He drags me down the bed, grabs my other wrist and pins it flat against the sheets.
A tremor racks my body.
“More?”
I nod.
He slides back, taking my fingers from me, and I want to cry in protest. I thrust up my hips, trying to catch both our hands, but he pulls away. “Don’t come yet,” he orders, his eyes searching mine for confirmation that I will obey him.
“Why not?” I breathe out a laugh at the absurdity of his command.
“Because I like watching you too much.”
His thumb presses against my hip bone, matching the force of his words.
I gasp. My orgasm is already there in the pit of my stomach.
“Nova…” he warns.
I can’t help it. I feel too good, and he’s too hot, and I’m too turned on.
He must know what I’m feeling because with a curse, he plunges my fingers back inside me.
I’m needy and full and desperate. I squeeze my eyes closed, but I still feel his attention on me.
“Come, Pink,” he murmurs. “Come all over your fingers so I can lick it off.”
His thumb rubs across my clit, and I cry out from the pressure.
I fall over the edge, waves of pleasure racking my body.
Every ounce of feeling is amplified by his presence, his arousal, like I’m coming for both of us.
I can’t move. It was too much. It was too good.
When I finish, I push up onto my elbows to see him watching me, his expression reverent from the pleasure he seems to take from watching me come undone.
He takes my fingers and sucks them into his mouth. It’s outrageously sexy and surprisingly sweet at once. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I flush with pleasure.
Noise outside drags me back to where we are.
He notices, too.
We scramble out of bed, him moving gracefully and me tripping.
He tosses me my shorts, then tugs on his own.
I work them up my hips. “Ever?” I prompt.
“Mhmm.”
I arch my back, grinning as his gaze lands on my breasts.
“Sexier than Kodashians sending you naked pictures?”
“By a long shot.”
There’s no time. I grab for my bag and drag a T-shirt on.
“I like knowing I’m good at something,” I say. “I want to tell the world.”
“Tell the world about your other skills. Not this one,” he warns, pocketing my bikini top.
We run for it, tripping over one another.
“Why? You want to keep me for yourself?” I tease.
When I reach for the door, his hand covers mine.
Clay grabs my neck from behind and pulls me back against him, tipping my chin up for a hard kiss that feels as good as the orgasm.
I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“Yeah, I fucking might.”