Page 73 of (Sur)real
I put some paste on my toothbrush and started scrubbing.
You just need to pretend this is another make out session where he’s going to say no. You can do this.
I ended my pep talk with a rinse then faced the door.
When I opened it, I found Clay right where I’d left him. He had both hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked completely relaxed. I took a step toward him and another. Before I knew it, we stood toe to toe. I shook. Why was I being such a baby?
He watched me for a minute, then turned away and went to the bed. Taking his time, he eased himself down to the mattress. I could tell he hurt.
Lifting his hand, he silently tapped his lips. The gesture made my heart squeeze with bittersweet memories.
Clay was my world, and I’d almost lost him.
“I’m tired of hesitating,” I whispered, moving toward him.
When I reached the bed, I eyed his position and the room on both sides of him. Perfect. It reminded me of our time in that farm house. Taking care, I climbed up and over him, straddling his waist. He didn’t make a sound or move as I settled my weight on his hips.
“Don’t let me hurt you again,” I said.
“You won’t.”
His rough voice made my stomach go wild, and I leaned over to give him a light, teasing kiss. My intention to go slow flew out the window the moment he opened his mouth and his tongue touched mine. This was Clay. My heart. My soul. My Mate.
Careful to keep my weight on his hips and not his chest, I threaded my fingers through his hair and lost myself to the feel of him. Memories of the farm invaded. The way I’d pressed him for more. His desperation to take what I’d offered. I wanted that again.
Slowly, I rotated my hips against his. The friction sent a jolt of need through me. I did it again, making a little sound into our kiss.
He growled, and suddenly I found our positions changed. Hooking my hands around his shoulders, I arched up, giving into the fire that burned me from the inside.
Clay’s mouth left mine, and he nibbled his way down the side of my neck. I shivered at the sensation. When his hand slid under my shirt, my breath caught. He hesitated.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, giving the side of his head a kiss.
The slow drag of my shirt up over my ribs made me tremble. My skin burned where a finger teased the edge of my bra. The touch of his mouth on my stomach set me on fire, and I burned for more. When he hooked his fingers in the cups and pulled them down, a desperate sound escaped me. The bed shook, but I barely noticed. I wanted more.
Cool air brushed my exposed skin for too long, and I opened my eyes, which I hadn’t realized I’d closed. I met his hungry gaze. Without looking away from me, he slowly lowered his mouth to the valley between my breasts. I could barely breathe at the soft touch of his lips.
His tongue darted out, licking where he’d kissed. He moved just a bit to the right, pressing his lips to the curve of my breast. An ache grew. I knew what he intended as he slowly worked his way to the side toward a part of me that demanded to feel the heat of his mouth. I nearly screamed when he gave me what I craved. His lips grazed the sensitive skin a moment before they closed over the peak. I gripped his hair, needing him to stay there. He obliged. My hips involuntarily bucked with need.
He groaned, and his hands went to my waist while his tongue continue to lick and tease my breast. I quivered when his fingers trailed to the tops of my jeans and stopped at my button. Waves of needs swept through me. I wanted this…him…so much. I lifted my hips again, rubbing against him, encouraging him to keep going.
His fingers fumbled at the fastening for too long, and I reached down to help him, impatient for more. My hand slid wetly against the bared skin of my stomach. Wet?
Jerking my hand back in surprise, I stared at my red fingers.
The button finally released, and Clay began to tug my jeans from my hips. My gaze flew to his head as he slowly started to kiss his way to my other breast. I ached for him to continue, but fear for him had me opening my mouth.
“Clay, wait.”
He growled low and continued to lick his way to my other breast. I gasped as his mouth closed over me and grabbed the sheets for an anchor. The bed shook violently and fur lined Clay’s arms.
I swallowed hard at the signs of his slipping control. We needed to stop, and I knew what to say to make him listen.
“Do I still have a choice?” I asked, hating myself for saying the words.
He stopped and jerked as if I’d slapped him. Lifting his head, he met my gaze. His pupils had fully dilated with his need for me.
“Always.” The rough word and the concern in his gaze almost broke me.
