“Shower,” I gasp, not waiting to hear what Clay will say.
My knees barely hold me as I leap off him and practically sprint around the corner of the house. To use the bathroom I’ll go in through the kitchen and hopefully if Nathan’s home, I won’t bother him. By the time Clay catches up, I’ve already locked the door. This room is tiny and dated; I’d never seen a blue enamel tub until the first time I visited the Claymore house. However, the tiles are meticulous and I can see a couple of spots where the walls have been repaired, probably by Clay.
The water runs rusty for a minute after I turn on the shower, and I make it quick, using the generic herbal shampoo on the window ledge. Five minutes later, I snag the towel on the closest hook. It’s worn and stiff, a result of drying in the sun, yet it smells fresh, invigorating my skin like a loofah. I wrap up in it, frowning at my filthy clothes.
Just then, a knock sounds at the door. “I’m leaving shorts and a shirt outside.”
“Thanks.” I reach an arm out and feel around until I claim the soft cotton.
Pulling my haul into the bathroom, I find clothes small enough to fit me, or pretty close. I put my sports bra and underwear back on, then scramble into the gym shorts and T-shirt. The satiny red fabric dangles down to my knees and the 5K Run T-shirt is baggy. Sheepish, I step out, still drying my hair. No point in delaying the inevitable. We have to talk about what happened; I just don’t want to.
Clay smirks when he sees me. “My junior high clothes look better on you.”
“Why do you still have these?”
“Nathan wore them last and he never throws anything out.”
“Lucky me.”
But he’s watching me intently, only half listening. “With all that hair, you have to do a better job or you’ll catch cold.”
“I’m pretty sure that has more to do with viruses than wet hair,” I say.
Clay ignores that, urging me toward a kitchen chair, and then he plucks the towel from my hands. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re really sending mixed messages,” I mumble.
I can’t remember the last time anyone took care of me like this. The towel covers my whole head and the way he rubs, it feels like he’s massaging my head. My eyes close. Tension flows out of muscles I didn’t even realize were knotted. While he tends to me, I half doze through it, though I make some little sounds when he’s combing my hair.
At the end, I feel like a lax rubber band when he scoops me into his arms. Clay carries me out the back door and around the front. So Nathan’s probably home. But it’s only a fleeting thought, nothing that mars my euphoria. I snuggle closer, arms around his neck. Maybe we don’t have to talk tonight.
I snap alert when he takes me to his room, however. The last time I was in here, it didn’t end well. “I can sleep on the couch, don’t give me your bed.”
“I’m not.”
“Huh?”
The light clicks off.
Then he provides the nonverbal answer by depositing us both on the bed. Yet he still doesn’t let go of me. I’ve never been held this way, but it feels really good. Probably I should ask some clarifying questions or tell him I’m not sleeping with someone who isn’t my boyfriend, but really, I don’t give two shits about labels. He’s still the person I love. Quietly, I reach for the rumpled covers with my free arm and pull them up.
“No arguments?”
“That would be stupid. This is where I want to be.”
“You’re killing me,” he whispers.
Clay takes my hand and presses it over his heart, so I can feel how hard and fast it’s beating. The tempo is so out of control, I’m a little worried about him.
“Does it hurt?”
“In the best possible way.” He draws me even closer, so I can’t see his face anymore, not even the lines and shadows. Gentle hands stroke my back. “I shouldn’t say this. I shouldn’t even think it. But…”
“Tell me. I proved before that I can share anything with you. Show me you can too.”
“All my life, I heard from my dad … ‘You’re the oldest, Clay. Be a good example. Watch out for your little brother.’ Seemed like that was all he ever said to me. And I did, I did my best, until I was just so sick of it.”
“I remember you mentioning your rebellious phase.”
His laugh sounds bitter. “Even then, I was still taking the blame for shit Nathan did. I mean, I raised my own hell but when he started to follow in my footsteps, I had to cover for him. Because I had nothing to lose and he had everything. He’s always been the good Claymore, so unlike the rest of his family.”
Until now I never knew how much this hurt Clay. “That’s not true. You’re—”
“No, let me get this out. Because it’s ugly and it’s chewing at me. You know how happy I was when you picked me? You’ve been with both of us, and you picked me. First time in my life that’s ever happened. I want to be with you so bad, not just because I love you, but also because it feels like taking from him. But I can’t treat you that way. You understand now?”
“Like a trophy?” I distinctly recall telling him not to treat me like property.
“Exactly. And it’s all tangled up in my head—you, me, Nathan. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“You’ve been carrying your family since you were nine,” I say softly. “In one way or another. So it makes sense that you want someone on your side, somebody who sees you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I think it is. You don’t have to be strong with me. I can take care of you, too.” To emphasize my words, I move my arm from around his waist so I can rub his back.
“Please don’t,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’ll just make it that much harder to let you go in the morning.”
“You’re operating on a catch-and-release system?” Keeping my tone light, I smooth my palm upward until I can knead his neck.
A low groan escapes him. “Maybe not.”
“Well, I’m not trying to weaken your resolve.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Make you feel half as special as you do me. Even when we were faking it, you were a better boyfriend than most guys.”
He laughs softly. “Please, you thought we were together for real when you woke up. Which explains a lot, actually.”
He sounds much more relaxed, so I keep rubbing his neck until he lets out another soft moan. Surely I’m not the first girl to do this for Clay, but he reacts like it’s new. I work his neck and shoulders until he’s practically purring. His breath tickles my ear, making me shiver.
“Are you sleepy?” I whisper.
“Not even remotely,” comes the surprising answer.
“Really? I thought I was helping you unwind.”
Clay laughs. “Baby, you got off on my lap, then you got naked in my shower. Now you’re wearing my clothes, putting your hands all over me. Do you know anything about guys?”
Then he shifts so I can feel how turned on he is.
“Holy crap.”
“It’ll go down eventually. Just stop teasing me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” My voice comes out fluttery, sexier than I’ve sounded before.
Apparently Clay agrees. “Okay, that didn’t help.”
Deep down I don’t really want him to power through it. I want to touch him, just because. Not because he’ll get blue balls or to even the score, just … for me. It doesn’t matter if this is the only night we’re together. This once, I’m longing to know what it’s like to touch him. In a way, the idea makes me feel powerful since he’s not asking for anything.
“Will this?” I pull away enough to slip a hand between us and run it down his chest.
He catches my fingers as they brush his hip. “What’re you doing?”
“You, if you let me. Your choice, though.”