I wasn't used to her being the taller one of the two of us, but with her on the top steps of the trailer's front stoop, I barely reached her breasts.
I leaned into her hold. These were some of my favorite moments with Clarke, the ones where she just let me hold her—or in this case, where she held me. I had figured out pretty quickly, that Clarke did not sit still. On the rare occasions when she did, her brain was usually running Olympic hurdles. Which made moments like this even more special.
When we finally pulled away, she ran a hand through my overgrown beard. I hadn't shaved since we left for Vancouver, opting to let my beard grow out a little. At least until it got too hot to manage.
My focus was locked on her face when I asked, "Shower with me?"
There was no hiding from my feelings any longer. I was in love with Clarke—I had been for a while—and I was done pretending that my feelings for her were anything less than. I just hoped she felt the same way.
When her eyes connected with mine, the last remaining bits of tension drained from my body.She wants this, too. She wants me.Her nod was all the answer I needed.
Together, we walked hand-in-hand to the showers. As soon as we were safely tucked away inside the stall, I stripped off her pajamas before taking care of my own.
There was no talking. There were no sounds at all, aside from the water cascading over us.
We stood under the water until it ran cold. I shampooed her hair, and she did the same for my beard—mostly because she couldn't reach higher. When I bent down for her to scrub myhead, I couldn't resist taking a nipple in my mouth, sucking until she dropped the shampoo bottle.
After that, any thoughts of getting clean were long forgotten. For the next few minutes, I bent her over the stall—low enough so that anybody passing by would only see one head instead of two—and fucked her from behind. This wasn't our usual frenzy, though. No, this was a slow, deep, passionate fucking. One that ended with her choking back a scream and me spraying her back with cum.
And then, using it to draw my jersey number.Mine.
Later, after we dried off and piled into her bed, I nuzzled into her neck and just breathed in the smell of her.Mm, peaches.I didn't tell her, but I had started taking a bottle of her shampoo with me when I traveled without her. One way or another, I was going to bed at night on a pillow that smelled like her. Even if it meant smelling like peaches the next day.
"I'm sorry you had a bad weekend," she whispered into the dark.
"It happens," I told her. "Besides, the welcome home more than made up for it."
And then I felt it—she stiffened in my arms. I had noticed it a couple of times before I left for Vancouver, too. One second, we would be talking with Dani or messing around with the team, and then the next, she would freeze. Almost as if she was guarding a piece of herself, one she refused to give away.
I knew that feeling well.
"You want to tell me what's going on over there?"
"Hm?"
"You're thinking too hard. Are you regretting tonight?"Please say no. Please say—
"Definitely not."
I smiled against her neck. My fingers wound a path down her side, memorizing every freckle and stretchmark. Each dot, each line was more beautiful than the next.
She rolled over to face me. "Just realizing that we suck at being friends."
A laugh bubbled from my lips. "You got that right."
Despite the warm, fuzzy feelings racing through my body—the ones I'd only heard about in romcom movies and Clarke's romance novels—I couldn't help but feel like that was only part of whatever was on her mind.
We had covered a lot of territory over the last few weeks, but was she ready to make this thing between us official? She had had no problem confiding in me about her ex and shitbag parents, so the fact that there was still something holding her back baffled me.What am I missing?
"Fess up, blondie. There's something else on your mind."
Rather than formulate an answer, she shoved at my shoulders, climbing on top of me when I settled back against the pillows. "It sounds like you're the one thinking too hard, sugar."
"Clarke—" My words trailed off into a groan when she slid a hand between us, cupping my balls. Damn, but I loved it when she played dirty.
"No more talking, Sinclair."
Whatever she was holding back would have to wait. Tonight, I'd let Clarke suck me and fuck me to her heart's content, but tomorrow? Tomorrow, I would get the answers I so desperately craved.
