Page 64 of Enemy
Clyde grabs my hand. “No, wait. I’ve got…” He reaches to the back and grabs a fist-sized box. “Close your eyes.”
I hear some shuffling when I comply, the snap of a lighter, and when he lets me open my eyes, I’m stunned.
He’s holding a cupcake with a single candle lit on top of it. It’s dark, with creamy frosting and chocolate sprinkles, but it’s Clyde’s smile that’s the sweetest.
“Happy Birthday! Go on, make a wish,” he says. The light of the fire dances in his eyes, making them so warm as he watches me.
“My birth—” Oh, so that is why Prophet was upset when I canceled our movie night. I don’t really celebrate my birthday, so I always miss the date, but— “You remembered?” I mutter, staring at his face in the soft glow of the flame.
His eyes meet mine again, this time not straying anywhere to the side. In the trembling light, the blue strands making up his iris come alive, inviting me to dive in. They promise me a future I never dared to want. But I do want it.
I wanthim.
Not just his body. Not just the camaraderie we share.
I want him safe, happy, and at my side, always. I want to rememberhisbirthday, I want to sleep at his side every night, and fix his damn roof.
My eyes sting, and I blink away the sudden blur in them “Nobody’s ever… given me cake.”
Clyde cocks his head. “I… doubt that. Go on, you don’t want the wax melting all over the cream. And of course I remembered.”
He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how special this is, or that it makes my heart quiver. But I don’t want to blurt out anything I shouldn’t, so I blow out the candle without making a wish, because I can’t think about anything but the fact that I’m in love with him, and that this cannot end well.
Clyde removes the candle and throws it to the back of his car, but as he passes me the treat, he leans in for another kiss. My lips tremble at the touch of his tongue as if it’s the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone. It’s ridiculous, but the feelings he elicits in me are innocent, and filthy, and so overwhelming they fill my whole heart.
He pulls away all too soon, already opening the car door. “Come on. We only have all night.”
Chapter 26
Clyde
IsenseRoad’seyeson my ass when we walk to our room, and while I’m nervous, excitement is like an eel trapped inside me and jolting me with electricity. I worry about how his dick will feel, but at the same time, I kind of… It’s Road. Not some stranger. If it hurts, he’ll stop. If I make some stupid sound, he’ll turn it into a joke and make me feel at ease.
When I open the door, I turn around in time to see him licking the icing remaining on his fingers. He seemed so happy to get that cupcake I know I made the right choice by celebrating his birthday.
He leans against the doorway and locks his gaze with mine. “May I come in?”
Behind him is my car, bathed in the warm light of the lamp above, and behind me—the room where I’ll finally confront my fears. I don’t know if he’s being playful or giving me a way out, but I appreciate it all the same.
Or… was it supposed to be dirty?
I gather my courage and wink at him. “Inside? You want tocome inside?” My breath may have hitched.
This time, he’s chewing on his lower lip, and his eyes gleam, as if he’s caught onto what I mean. “I do want to.”
I don’t even blink as I step back into the room, making space for him. “Then come in.”
It might be the shadows, but for a moment I believe I see his chin trembling as he steps across the threshold. Then, the door slams shut, and I’m shoved to the wall, Road letting his hands crawl across my back as we kiss in the dark room I haven’t yet bothered to look at.
Unlike my lover, the room might as well stay anonymous.
“I missed this,” I whisper between one vanilla cream kiss and another. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be as I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close. It was so hard to keep my hands off him at the bar, but now he’s all mine. He didn’t question a thing when I messaged him, just texted, [ill be ther]. By now, I find even his bad spelling adorable, because he’s a smart man, dedicated, dependable. It’s not his fault he had a shitty upbringing.
I taste his blood on my tongue, but then he settles his hands on my hips and pushes one knee between my thighs. It feels as though he’s splitting me open, and I moan when a delicious shiver runs up my legs, tugging at my cock.
He laughs, holding me against him, and buries his face in my hair. “I was so distracted thinking about you.”
“Oh yeah? Fucked up your chores with the goats, or whatever you have at that commune of yours?” I joke, sliding my hand over his nape and over the soft fuzz at the back of his head. I love how his short hair feels to the touch. It’s like a never-ending tickle with hundreds of tiny, delicate fingers.
