Page 69 of Wrecked for Love
“Give it to me, Claire. I need you. I need it!” I growled breathlessly. Her tightness enveloped me, her ecstatic cries filling the air as I brought her to an unplanned, anarchic climax. With one final thrust, I withdrew and came all over her thighs, the sensation leaving me sapped but sated.
As she collapsed onto me, I struggled to catch my breath. “I love you, Claire Magnussen,” I whispered. “Whatever name you assume, you’re always my Chili Pepper.”
She cried a glorious cry. “I love you too, Elia Lucas.”
27
CLAIRE
The afternoon slipped away in fits and starts, both rushing by and dragging on—like the time had folded in on itself. And now, I found myself here, in the familiar warmth of The Lazy Moose. Safe, with Elia keeping me close.
Despite the disastrous couple of days, a strange kind of peace washed over me now that the truth was out. Elia knew me—knew all of me. I wasn’t hiding anymore, wasn’t running anymore.
Elia hadn’t left my side, not even when I showered. He was there with me, his presence a shield against everything that had happened. Now, curled up together on the couch with the fire crackling in the hearth and Koda settled at our feet, I felt a fragile sense of calm.
“I never want to go back there,” I finally admitted, and with them, everything I couldn’t say. The Willow had been my refuge, my safe place…but not anymore. “I can’t.”
“You won’t have to,” Elia said. “Logan and I will get the rest of your things. You’ll never need to see it again.”
I shrugged, still grappling with the disbelief that my happiness had been severed so suddenly, like a light switchedoff. “I tried so hard,” I said, sighing. “I put everything into making it a home.”
“I know. I’m sorry it had to end like this.”
“My plants…” I uttered quietly. They shouldn’t matter, but somehow, they did. Everything felt like it mattered, every little thing rising to the surface. They couldn’t just die because some thug decided to tear apart my life. “I’d just planted a few seeds, trying to start my winter project.”
“I’ll bring them here. There’s plenty of sun in the second living room. They’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Elia’s hand traced down my arm. “This is your home now, okay?”
I nodded.
“Although,” he drawled, “we’ll have to crash here for a bit.” He tapped the couch cushion.
“Oh? What happened to Mr. Lumpy?”
“Long story. Anyway, I’ll order a new mattress—two days, tops,” he said, his smile unbelievably kind.
A grin found its way to my lips. “I’ll miss that old mattress.”
He laughed. “You mean the part where it felt like we were sleeping on a single mattress and had to cuddle close just to stay on?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling wider. “Guess we’ll just have to recreate that on the new one.”
“Consider it done. And oh, no cuddling limit.”
The easy moment lifted my spirit. But soon, my gaze dropped to my fisting hands, unsure how—or if—I should steer us back to Armand Voss.
“What’s on your mind?” Elia asked, catching the shift in me.
“He told me, Elia,” I murmured, my fingers gripping his shirt. “Armand Voss told me.”
“Told you what, Claire?” he asked, his voice tense with concern.
“About Tessa,” I began. “You know? Armand…he was so casual about it, almost—” I let out a disgusted sigh. “Almost proud that he got away with it. He said her death was ruled as an overdose. Is that true?”
Elia’s response was to hold me tighter, his body a fortress around mine. “I have no doubt, Claire. Armand was the one who ended my sister’s life.”
