Something in the way he asked, the quiet hesitation behind it, sent a shiver through her.Finally.A slow smile spread across her lips as she leaned in, giving him her answer without words.
His kiss was gentle at first, contradicting the intensity simmering between them. His beard was softer than she expected, the scratch of it against her skin adding to the thrill.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Slipping her hand beneath his hair, she grasped the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He groaned against her lips, a sound that sent a tingle down her spine. When she parted her mouth his tongue met hers in perfect rhythm—slow, deliberate, devastating.
Her body melted into his as he slid a hand to her lower back, pressing her forward until there was no space left between them. The kiss deepened, shifting from hesitant to needy, from exploring to claiming.
And then he stopped.
He pulled back, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.
Jamie blinked, her breath coming fast.
What the hell?
“What’s wrong?” she asked, embarrassment creeping in. Had she misread this? Gone too far too fast?
Clayton exhaled and pointed at her chest. “Can’t kiss you while you’re wearing that.”
Confused, she glanced down at her tank top. The sight of it—his face on her shirt—made her laugh.
“No problem,” she said, pulling it over her head, leaving only her black lace bralette.
His jaw tightened. “No, I didn’t mean—”
She arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to put it back on?”
A slow, wicked smile crept across his face. “Hell, no.”
She curled her lips in response.
Good answer.
She grabbed her drink and took a slow sip of tequila, letting the burn settle in her chest before meeting his eyes. “Grab your drink,” she said, tipping her glass toward him. “Let’s take this party to your bedroom.”
Clayton took a hard swallow. “My bedroom?”
She smirked. “Yes, Clayton.” As clearly as possible, she added, “I want to have sex with you.”
The way his eyes darkened sent a thrill through her. He was still caught up in whatever battle he was fighting in his head.
Well, too bad. Because this is happening.
“Are you going to argue with me about it?” she teased.
Instead of answering he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
She got up first and he followed her down the hall. They entered his bedroom and he walked to the nightstand to flick on the light, but she quickly turned it off.
“The moonlight’s better,” she said, walking to the window and pulling back the curtains. It was easier this way. Softer light, fewer questions about her scars.
He sat at the edge of the bed and removed his shoes and socks.
“Do you have protection?” she asked.
