I’ve fantasized about having sex with him more times than I care to count, but I didn’t imagine it happening like this.
Although now that I’m looking up at him, his eyes darkening by the second, I know we could make it work.
My fingers reach for the buttons on my top, and he frowns.
Clay takes my hand, stopping me.
“Oh.I thought you wanted to…” I trail off.
Clearly, I misread this.I've managed to humiliate myself twice today.
“I really fucking want to, Nova.But not tonight.Not when you’re beating yourself up over something you didn’t do.”
Up close, I can count the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.It feels like he’s willing me to understand.
I do, and I’m grateful.
I sigh out a little breath of relief as he tugs me back toward the living room.
He sinks into the huge L-shaped couch, and I follow his lead.He removes the ice pack from his knee and sets it on the coffee table.Then, to my surprise, he draws me between his legs and pulls my back to his front.
“So, tell me what happened at this party.”Clay’s voice vibrates along my skin.
I fill him in, one sordid detail at a time while trying to ignore the fact that I’m nestled against his hard, warm body.It’s easier that I don’t have to look at his expression.
Except by the end, his chest is rocking with laughter.
I spin to face him.
“It’s not funny!”I protest, hitting him in the stomach.My hand bounces easily off his ridged abs.
“It’s kind of funny.Got any more of those cupcakes?”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch.
“Mari probably had them burned.Even though I double-checked, triple-checked… something went wrong, and I screwed up, and Chloe saved the day.Mari’s always been the perfect one, the responsible one, the one with everything together.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.”
Clay listens, his eyes dark and intent as I tell him about us growing up together.
“I never minded being on the road.She hated it.Hated leaving friends, leaving places.Our parents were really kind people, and they cared about us, but Mari had a harder time with the change than I did.Now that we’re grown, Mari’s found an anchor—in her work and this place and Harlan.Me?I’m a balloon floating around not sure how to find the ground.”
I sigh in his arms.
“My mom used to sing this song, 'Home.'It was the only time Mari would curl up next to Mom, that it seemed like they understood one another.I have a recording of her singing it.I’m trying to find it for the wedding.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it.”
I nod, swallowing as my fingers twist together and unlace.
“I have some friends, but she’s my family.The one who has to love me no matter what, who knows I’ll always love her.”I take a shallow breath.“When my parents died, they were on vacation in Costa Rica.Mari was busy working, but I was in my first year of art school.I was supposed to go with them but flaked at the last minute and bailed because of things I wanted to do at school.I told them to take this plane tour for me, and they did.Only the weather was bad, and they crashed.”
Guilt and grief rise up, consuming me until my lungs burn and my ribs threaten to crack.
“Their deaths weren’t your fault,” he murmurs.
