Except here with him, caught up in the music and his closeness, seeing him with the other guys, losing myself in his smile, I couldn’t resist.
I need to get hold of myself.
A banging on the door makes me jump.I open it an inch, and he’s filling the space.
Clay presses inside, slamming the door and locking it behind him.
“You followed me in here?What is it with you and bathrooms?”I demand as his body crowds mine.
He ignores me.“Tell me how drunk you are.”
“Not that drunk.”I peer up through half-lowered lashes.
We’re alone, the music pounding on the other side of the door.His attention flicks between my eyes and my mouth.
The backtracking I’m supposed to be doing evaporates from my mind.
“Nova, it’s been a minute.”His rasp is so low it sounds as if it’s torn from his body.“If you’re expecting me to shut you down, you’re going to be disappointed.I’m not my best self lately.”
“But you’re trying.”I reach up to push a piece of his hair from his face.It’s softer than I remember.“Momentum is everything.”
His brows pull together.“Who told you that?”
“You did.”
Clay swears under his breath.It’s soft, like a promise or a prayer.
That’s the only thing soft about him.
He grabs my thighs and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his hips and backing me into the door.It rattles on its hinges when he slams me against the wood.
He’s hard and demanding, as if it’s been years since we touched and he’s been counting each day.
His kisses light me up.I touch him everywhere I can reach, fumbling with the top buttons on his shirt so I can press my lips to his smooth, tattooed skin.
He shifts me onto the vanity, shoving my dress up, yanking my thong out of the way to sink two fingers inside me.
I grab onto his shoulders as my back arches to take him.
“Oh, God.”
It’s fast.He starts to pull back, but I grab his wrist to keep him where he is.
My head falls back against the mirror as he pumps into me, finding a rhythm.
He always chooses the rhythm.
“Look at me,” he commands.
His eyes darken on mine.Sweat traces a path down my neck as my hips rock to meet him stroke for stroke.
“I’d follow you anywhere.”
Clay sinks to his knees, yanking my hips to the edge of the sink and slipping his tongue between my thighs.
The music and the sweat and the tiny space and Clay’s huge body overwhelm me.
My fingers twist in his hair, tugging as if I have a hope of controlling him.This.
