“I want to taste you,” I moan, moving to stand in front of him. I step away to grab my pillow off the couch, tossing it on the floor at his feet. I grin devilishly, his jaw ticking at the sight of me kneeling before him.
He reaches his hand out, dragging his thumb over my lower lip before I suck it into my mouth.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to try to sleep earlier?” Clay’s voice is low, rough around the edges. “Knowing you were here… and we’ve got the whole place to ourselves?”
The confession sends a sharp pang in my chest, hearing him admit he wants me as badly as I want him.
“Then why did you?” I ask, barely above a whisper, the air thick with things we’ve both tried too long to ignore.
He leans back, gaze drifting past me, like he’s searching the shadows for an answer he doesn’t want to give. “I never thought this would happen. Not again.”
The words scrape out of him, heavy with guilt and something that sounds too much like longing.
“Did you want it to, though? ’Cause the way you say it makes it sound like it would be a mistake.” My voice cracks at the end, betraying me. It isn’t hesitation that drives the question—it’s fear. Fear of him shutting me out again. Of feeling that same sting I’ve spent three years trying to bury.
The fire pops, sending sparks up the chimney. Everything about this moment feels like it’s pressing in on us, demanding an answer.
But Clay doesn’t give me one. Not right away. He sinks deeper into the chair, eyes distant, slipping somewhere I can’t reach. The warmth from a moment ago—the version of him who let me in—fades and is replaced by the cold, distant man I know too well.
“Answer me.” The words come sharper this time, frustration cutting through the hurt.
His jaw tightens. His hand grips the armrest until his knuckles pale. “Of course I want you, Tessa. God, you have no fuckin’ idea how bad I want you. But it’s not that simple. Tomorrow, when the storm is gone and we leave this house, we’ll be left with nothing but the fallout. We both know how messy it could get.”
The words land like a punch to the chest. How could he really think that’s all we’d be left with? I nod once, though the sting behind my eyes threatens to break me.
I push back from him, rising unsteadily to my feet. I reach down, grabbing the pillow from where it’s been pressed beneath my knees, and clutch it to my chest like armor.
He reaches for me. His fingers brush my arm, but I jerk away, pushing his hand aside. “Tessa, wait. I wasn’t saying—”
“Good night, Clay!” The words snap out of me as I grab my shirt from the floor and tug it over my head. The fabric sticks to my skin, still flushed from everything that almost happened.
I toss the pillow onto the couch, adding it to the one I dragged out of my room earlier, leaving it along with my blanket. I’ll use whatever is in the bedroom. Right now, I just need space between us.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he snaps. “That’s not how I meant it.”
I turn back, the glow from the hearth washing him in gold that feels too warm for the weight in my chest. “Don’t worry about it, Clay. Nothing you say ever comes out the way you mean it.” My throat tightens, but I force the rest out anyway. “We’ll just pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow. Wouldn’t want things getting messy for you.”
He exhales heavily, dropping his hand uselessly against his thigh. The room goes still, thick with everything we don’t dare to say. The faint glow from the tree lights spills across the floor, a reminder that the warmth in this room isn’t what it seems.
As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. It was all a dream I should’ve known better than to believe in.
If only forgetting him were that easy.
Chapter Nine
Clay
The silence sinks deeper once she’s gone. Her door closing feels final, like the sound of something breaking.
I stay where I am, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The room still smells like her—all sugar and warmth, like it clings to everything she touches. Her blanket’s thrown over the couch, along with the pillows she had tucked around her earlier. The space where she was a minute ago already feels empty.
I drag a hand over my face and let out a heavy exhale that doesn’t help. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Should’ve let her believe it could’ve meant more, at least for the night. But no, instead I had to remind us both what we already know comes next.When the storm’s gone… We both know how messy it could get.The second I said it, I knew I’d lost her.
She looked at me like she saw it coming, like she’s been waiting for me to ruin the moment. Maybe she’s right, but it doesn’t make the regret hit any less.
The room’s too quiet, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. I sit there a while, trying not to replay every word, but it loops anyway. Eventually, I get up and start down the hall.
The floor protests under me. Her light’s off, door closed. I stop in front of it, flexing my hands like that’s going to help me figure out what the hell to say. For a second, I think about turning back, but I don’t.
