He must have forgotten about his pants, because he was on his knees at the side of the bed a moment later, his dark eyes intent on her. She felt his hands at her waist, his attention fixed on her skirt as he dragged the light wool down her body.
Sensation hummed in her veins and heated her skin despite the sudden cool air against her legs. Clay skimmed his fingers back up her calves to rest on her knees, edging his shoulders between them. Anticipation jumped in her pulse. She knifed to a sitting position so she could kiss him. Runher hands through dark hair that was surprisingly silky. He kissed her breathless and gently pushed her back down, trailing his mouth down her neck. Between her breasts. Along her belly and her hip.
Every sweep of his tongue pitched her fever higher, a restless hunger growing that only he could satisfy. When he cupped the tender flesh between her thighs, her breath quickened along with her heartbeat. He kissed his way along the hemline of her panties—a new and ridiculously pretty lace purchase she’d made with him in mind—until she moaned his name with ragged desire.
Only then did he slide the lace off and kiss the slick heat of her sex, slowly and thoroughly driving her higher. Higher. She gripped his shoulders one moment and twisted her fingers in the duvet the next, the sweet tension building until she wriggled her hips beneath him. Needing to get closer. Needing him right…
There.
Tender shudders racked her, a sensuous tremble that went on and on. He steadied her, teasing out the pleasure for long, delicious moments that left her breathless. At last, when the aftershocks subsided, he released her hips and peeled away the rest of his clothing. He found a condom from a box he’d stashed nearby days before. She could only watch, spent and yet still hungry for him. When he covered her body with his, she wound her arms around his neck, desperate to feel him all around her.
He looped an arm under one of her legs to make room for him, entering her in a steady thrust that almost sent her over the edge again. She tucked her forehead into his neck, clinging and not caring, needing this time with him to heal. To remember forever. She covered his shoulder with kisses and nips until she had to close her eyes and simply hold on.
“Gabriella.” He whispered her name like an invocation, cupping her chin to encourage her gaze.
The heat in his eyes licked over her and he rolled her on top of him. She let go of his neck to steady herself with her hands on his chest. His gaze never left hers, and she returned it, following the rhythm that felt best. The rhythm she hoped was right.
Yet soon, she didn’t even think about the correct way to take the sensual lead. She simply let herself go. Let herself feel the gift that he gave her of being in control.
And found her peak all over again. Fiercer. Harder.
And she took Clay Travers over that edge with her.
The joy of that—feeling his body tense and shudder all around her—soothed something inside her. She felt strong and beautiful. Happy. So much more than sexually fulfilled, although there was plenty of that, too.
Slumping over him, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the tumultuous pounding just below her ear. She pressed kisses there. Stroked a hand along the rigid muscle and hot, smooth skin. Tenderness for him flowed through her, stirring feelings that weren’t wise to have for a man who wasn’t ready for any kind of family—not even a sister.
Gabriella closed her eyes against those thoughts, not wanting to ruin a beautiful moment with the reality of how much she already cared for Clay.
Long moments later, after he’d slid her to his side and plumped a pillow beneath her head, tugging blankets over them both, Gabby tried not to think about the future. About how she might have finally healed her soul only to have Clay break her heart. She still had work to do after all. She needed to see Jeremy Covington behind bars. She needed to face her demons across the driveway.
Most important, she would make sure Mia was safe and happy.
“Gabby?” Clay’s fingers combed through her hair. “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure she could answer that honestly right now. Or maybe she simply didn’t know the answer.
“Just thinking about the trial and hoping it winds up soon.”
“I think the prosecution will rest with another day or two of testimony.” Clay shifted onto his side to peer at her in the moonlit room, his head lying on one heavy biceps as a pillow. “And I meant to tell you that I spoke to Sam and Amy Finley for a while at the reunion. Amy is filling out a victim’s impact statement. I wondered if something like that might help you, too. It would be a way to document how that bastard hurt you and make it a matter of public record.”
“Amy is filling one out?” She’d wondered about Amy’s presence at the Salon Night and assumed that the youngest Finley was there to support her sister Heather in giving testimony.
“The district attorney thought there was plenty of evidence without sharing something that happened when Amy was a teen. But Amy decided she wants to come forward in some way and she’s been working on a statement that could be read at the presentencing.” Clay’s fingers kept stroking over her hair, soothing. Kind.
“I could share my story.” She thought about it, wondering how it would feel to revisit those events again. She’d prepared a statement when Sam had asked victims to come forward to help build the case against Covington. But would she feel better about it if she wrote something that would be publicly shared?
“Sam said some people find it helpful tofeel that they’ve been heard.” Clay dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Something for you to think about if it might give you more closure on what happened.”
Curious to learn more about writing a victim’s impact statement, she promised herself to read up on it online in the morning.
A quick, electronic chime pealed noisily from the nightstand, where Clay’s phone screen illuminated with bright blue light.
“Sorry,” he muttered, turning away. “I hope it’s not the hospital.” He glanced at the screen for a moment before hitting a button. “It’s Mia,” he told Gabby. “Hello?”
Sitting up, Gabriella watched his face, aware of his sudden alertness.
“Slow down. It’s okay. I’m on my way.” He slid out of bed and wrenched on his boxers with one hand. “He’s doing better then, right? He’s coherent?”
