“You’re fucking addictive,” he mutters, his lips brushing my skin. “Every time I’m near you, I lose myself. I don’t just want you, Tess, I crave you. I’ll never get enough.”
His words undo me, knocking down what little fight I had left.
Then his voice drops low. “Take your hair down. I want to see you.”
My fingers find the tie, and I pull it loose. My hair falls around me, spilling across the pillow. Clay doesn’t look away. He leans back, watching me like he’s committing every second to memory, even if he’ll never admit it.
“Christ,” he whispers, the words cracking. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Every inch of you belongs to me tonight.”
When his mouth leaves mine and moves to my collarbone, a low moan slips out before I can stop it. His lips find the hollow of my throat, pressing there once before moving lower. Each touch unravels me a little more.
I arch into him without thinking, chasing his heat, needing his touch everywhere. My hands drag down his back, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his skin. Every shift, every flex makes my pulse stutter.
The mattress dips as he leans over me, braced on his hands, and the sight of him—bare chest, boxer briefs now low on his hips, and eyes dark with want knocks the air out of me. He lowers himself until we’re flush, grinding against my aching center, drawing a sound from me I can’t hold back.
My hand slides down his side, and he shudders, pushing his boxers down. His forehead rests against mine as he reaches for me, slipping my clothes off one piece at a time.
He kisses me like he’s trying to erase the space between us. His hands slip between us, brushing over my aching center, causing a shiver to wrack through me.
“You’re always so wet for me, Sugar,” he rasps, voice thick. “You make me so hard I can’t see straight.”
The words strike like a match, and it’s exactly what I’ve been craving. I reach for him, my hand finding him hard and hot, proof of every promise he’s made in the dark.
He groans, the sound deep and raw, and then he’s there. The first push knocks the breath out of me, all heat and friction, enough to make everything else fade.
He moves with control that feels almost cruel. Slow enough to wreck me, deep enough to make me swear. Every thrust pulls a sound from me I didn’t know I could make.
I hook my legs around him, pulling him closer, desperate to take all of it. His hands grip my waist, holding me in place as he drives harder. Each snap of his hips sends another shock through me, and I can’t tell where the ache ends and the desire begins.
“Say my name,” he growls, breath hot in my ear.
“Clay,” I cry.
He slams into me harder, like he’s trying to erase every lonely night we ever spent apart. His mouth crashes on mine, swallowing every sound I make. Each thrust comes harder, faster, like he’s chasing something he can’t catch. The bed hits the wall, and the room is filled with the sound of our ragged breaths.
“Come for me,” he orders. “Give it to me, Tessa. Hard.”
I do. I tumble over the edge with a scream swallowed by kisses, waves of release folding through me so hard I thinkI’ll break. He follows me, his body shaking against mine as he comes.
We collapse together, still shaking, still catching our breath. His weight settles over me, skin hot and slick, heartbeat pounding against mine.
He lifts his head, eyes dark, mouth finding mine again. The kiss is rougher this time, desperate, like he’s fighting off the inevitable. I hold on tighter because if I let go now, I’m afraid it’ll all be over.
When he finally pulls back, his hand stays on my face, thumb brushing along my jaw. “You have no idea what this meant to me tonight,” he says quietly. “Not just being here with you now, but earlier with that reporter. You didn’t even hesitate. You just… stepped in.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” I whisper.
He huffs out a small laugh, but it’s tired. “Maybe not, but I’ve heard worse. I just…” He pauses, tracing slow circles against my skin. “I guess I forgot what it feels like to have someone in my corner.”
I reach up, my fingers finding his wrist. “You’re not alone, Clay.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I know,” he says, voice roughened by something that isn’t desire. “That’s what scares me.”
He shifts closer, resting his forehead against mine. “You,” he says, the word rough with emotion. “Didn’t think I’d ever have this… have you.”
My chest tightens. “Clay—”
He cuts me off with a soft shake of his head. “Don’t. Just… let me have this for a minute.”
