“Our second chance at forever.” I finish his sentence, lying my head against his arm.
“You’ve been quiet since we left the gift shop, Paloma.” His voice has a sense of awareness to it, as if he’s preparing himself for something big.
I’m ready to give in to this love of ours, but it’s so damn scary. What if I can’t love him past this, what if this is just a honeymoon phase and I hurt him again. “Don’t run from me.”
“I’m not running, I just…” My voice catches.
“You’re running right now, Dove. Running in circles inside that beautiful head of yours. Get whatever you’re thinking out so we can work through this together.”
“You know I love you, right?” I ask, needing him to know without a single shadow of a doubt.
“But?” he questions. His hand is still gripping my thigh while his eyes remain on the road ahead of us. Even if he isn’t looking at me, I know there is a worry behind his gaze, and I want to remove it from his system forever.
I intertwine my fingers with his and look at him, needing to fullysee him as I say this. “No buts. I’m just scared of fucking this up, of hurting you so badly you won’t be able to see past the hurt, and I dont know what to do with that fear. Seeing our ornament made that little whisper inside my brain shout. I don't have any doubts, other than my own foolishness.”
He squeezes my hand. “You keep telling me. You tell me when you’re stuck in your head, when you're scared, when you're happy, when you're angry. Whatever it is, you tell me, because there is nothing you can do to hurt me except run.”
“No more running,” I say more to myself and then chuckle under my breath. “I didn’t think it was going to be this easy.”
“What do you mean, baby?”
“I didn't think it would be so easy to love you.” He lifts our hands and brings them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them just as he’d done earlier. My heart melts, and heat blossoms in my core.
The rest of the car ride home is quiet, and I can feel the tension of the unknowns. No matter how much Clinton tries to hide his concern, I could see the worry when he asked for the “but.” It’s not that he wants one, but he wants to stay far away from anything that could pull us apart. Those feelings will linger until my consistency outweighs what I did.
The streetlamps highlight his face within the shadows of the car. He’s so handsome it hurts. Pulling my hand free from under his arm, I reach over and gently rub my hand along the back of his head and neck. I run my fingernails through the shortened hair along the sides and back, licking my lips as I do.
His warm palm climbs up my thigh slightly, giving it a few reassuring squeezes, and I think about how I wish it was a few inches higher. I press my thighs together at the thought.
Clinton must notice how my legs clench because he flexes his fingers, pushing my legs apart slightly and anchoring his strong hand against my thigh at the apex of my core. When he pulls into the garage, he parks the car and walks around to my side before opening my door and offering me his hand. His movements are so smooth, there’s no rush behind them, but there is something primal behind the way his arms flex beneath his shirt. Like he’s holding himself back from chasing me. I almost consider running to see if he would act on the chase.
When I take his hand and step out, my gaze flicks up to see his eyes are locked on me. I can’t wait to be devoured by this man.
Walking to the elevator is almost painful. My core throbs with anticipation, from the electric pull I feel coming off the both of us. It’s as if the vulnerability from earlier pushed us into this level of intimacy. He pulls me into him as the elevator doors close, his dick presses against my back.
I want to turn around and climb him, but I follow his lead. The very moment we make it inside his condo, Clint's hands cup my face as we both make attempts to undress the other at a furious pace. Teeth clash, and our tongues fight for dominance over the other.
“You feel so fucking good.” Clint’s voice is gravel and velvet all at once. His hands are everywhere, groping my ass and massaging my breasts. His calloused fingers send me into overdrive as I struggle to remove his shirt.
“Can you just be naked already? God, this shirt,” I groan, kissing him again before I finish with the last button and roughly push his shirt off his shoulders. Between each rushed kiss, he backs me into the bedroom, his hands never leaving my body.
Nipping at his muscled chest, he fists my hair pulling my head back at an almost painful angle. I love how this man undresses every singlepart of me, how he peels back all my layers. I’m fully clothed still, and somehow I feel naked, vulnerable even.
“Clint.” I don't know what I’m begging for, but I need more of him everywhere.
“I want you to ride my face,” he says, and my breath catches in my throat. He tsks at me. “No you don’t. Don’t go running into that pretty head of yours, bring your sexy ass back here with me.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“Do you want to?”
“I’m heavy,” I respond, eyeing him.
“That’s not what I asked you,” he says. I could say no, and Clint would still make me orgasm until I lose count and forget my own name. He won’t get upset if I say no.Fuck it.If this is how Clint wants to die, then so be it.
My answer is a breathy moan, needing to feel his tongue deep inside me. “Fuck yes.”
“Then let's get these clothes off and have you come sit on your throne.” I think my eyes may have just rolled back.
