by Maisey Yates
He supposed that was the perk of being with a virgin. Sex itself was exciting. Was a novelty. But he wanted it to be more than that for her. He wanted it to be the best damn sex she would ever have. The sex that all future sex was compared to.
He wanted to ruin her for other men. Which was a damn fine thing, since he knew this couldn’t last, and that was not what he should want.
Didn’t matter. Apparently, part of him, possibly the part buried inside of Clara, was all caveman. And right now, there was no point in fighting it.
He withdrew slowly, then flexed his hips forward, pressing back in just a bit before pulling out again. He repeated the motion a few times, until she was sweating, until she was whimpering. Until she was begging.
She lifted her head, grabbing hold of his face. Then she looked up at him with those blue eyes, sparkling with need, with tears. Damn, that hit him square in the chest like shrapnel. He could hardly breathe. And she kissed him. Not a deep kiss. Just her lips against his.
It was sweet. It was simple.
It pushed him right over the edge.
He slammed back inside of her, all thoughts of teasing her, of impressing her with his skill, completely lost in the ragged race to the finish. He was desperate now. Desperate for release. He needed her. Needed this. And he was going to damn well take it.
When it overtook him, he was lost. He lowered his head, pressed it against her collarbone, a low growl escaping his lips as he thrust into her one last time.
Her own sound of pleasure, a high, kittenish noise, mingled with the feral sound of his. And that feeling of her release, her internal muscles pulsing around him, sent an aftershock rocking through him.
He lay on top of her, breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead. The only sounds in the room their breath and the crackle of the wood stove.
“How was that?” he asked, rough and ragged.
A smile spread, slow and sweet over her face. “Like a spoonful of honey.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLARA COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d felt this happy. But it was a strange kind of happy. One that was weighted with a heaviness that wasn’t oppressive so much as simply apparent.
She was lying on the floor, still on the blanket she and Alex had made love on, and he had gone to the bathroom to handle condom practicalities.
She rolled over onto her stomach and looked at the paper bag that was only a few inches from her. He had brought soup, but she wondered if he had anything else in there.
She hadn’t bothered to look much past the condoms.
In fairness to her, condoms were fairly distracting. Or at least, the implication of condoms.
She reached out and grabbed the bag, lifting the soup container. There was a loaf of bread, wrapped in plastic wrap.
She took it out and examined it. White bread, which she did like.
She got to her feet, holding the loaf of bread in her hand, taking a moment to be mindful of all the interesting twinges and aches in her body. She was a hard worker, and prior to taking on the amount of ranch work she did, she had been involved in dance. So muscle aches were nothing new. But these were new muscle aches. Different. Part of this strange, wondrous thing that had happened to her today.
She didn’t bother getting dressed to walk into the kitchen. She sought out a jar of honey, a couple of spoons and the butter dish.
Then she took those things back to the blanket. She tore off a hunk of bread and spread a bit of butter on it, then drizzled on some honey.
That was when Alex returned.
He looked at her and smiled, that easy grin of his. He was still naked too. And she just stared as she took her first bite of bread. She groaned, though she had a feeling it had more to do with watching the shift and bunch of his muscles as he made his way across the living room and sat down on the blanket beside her, and not so much to do with the butter and honey. Even if it was good.
It wasn’t hot-ass-naked-Alex good. But then, nothing was.
“Did you work up an appetite?” he asked.
“My appetite is always on the verge of being worked up,” she responded, popping the rest of the bread into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Though I’m sure we burned some calories.”
“Naturally.”
It was strange, sitting on the floor with him like this, completely naked. Talking to him just like they had done last week. Eating bread and honey. Strange that she could be comfortable with him like this. It should be awkward. But it wasn’t.
“So what’s the plan, Clara?” he asked, breaking off his own piece of bread and dipping it in the honey.
“For world domination? For the rest of my life? Or for the rest of the evening? Because those are different answers.”
“For us,” he said. “For the rest of this.”
She looked down, and for the first time she felt a bit self-conscious. A bit like he was seeing too much. “I’m not counting on you staying here forever, if that’s what you mean,” she said, forcing herself to look at him. If she could let the man inside of her body, she could certainly have an honest conversation with him. “I understand the terms of the will. Nobody in my life has ever stayed with me, and that’s not me trying to make you feel sorry for me, that’s just the truth. I’ve learned not to count on anyone to be there always. And to never depend so much on somebody that I couldn’t survive without them. Because inevitably, I’ve had to survive without the people I love.”
She cleared her throat, then continued. “I like you, Alex. I do. And this is really fun. But the will said a year, or until this place is operational. I figured we would work out a way for you to get your investment back, and then I would go back to running it alone.”
Alex frowned. “You know, Jason didn’t want to leave you, Clara. He didn’t. I don’t think he planned on sacrificing himself. I think it’s just who he was. It was in him. I know it mystifies you that he went back to the military after your dad died.”
Clara rubbed her arms with her hands. Trying to warm herself. She was suddenly, inexplicably cold. “I want to understand.”
“You’re angry at him, and I don’t blame you for that. But he wasn’t leaving you. I know he saw it as standing in the gap for you. For the whole country. He believed in what we were fighting for, Clara. More than almost anyone I knew. He was more than just a good soldier following orders. He felt the work in his soul. And he thought nothing of dying for those he saw as his brothers in arms. For me. He just did it.” Alex’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and she wondered if he was feeling the same kind of tightness in his chest that she felt in hers. “He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pause to think. He just...reacted. And if he hadn’t, we’d probably both be dead.” He cleared his throat. “And he was afraid that if something like that happened, you’d feel like you’d been left alone. That you would have a difficult time with things. Because he’d seen you lose people before. He loved you, Clara. If you believe in anything in this world, let it be that.”
Clara pressed her hands against her eyes and sat still for a moment, pushing back against the pain. Pushing back against the tears. “I don’t doubt that. Yes, I wish that he would have stayed here with me. I wish he hadn’t gone back. I’m proud of him. I am. I just feel like I’ve lost enough, and sometimes I still can’t believe that I had to lose him too.”
“Of course.”
“I’m as used to loss as a person can be,” she said. “I don’t like it, but it’s part of me. And I want there to be more parts to me. This thing between us...it feels like a good way to explore those other parts. To find them. I know you’re worried about this changing me. Changing something. But I want it to, Alex. I need to change.”
“So that’s what you want? Sex while I’m here?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I can
do that.”
“You’re a giver, Alex.”
“I sure as hell am,” he said, shooting her that grin that made her stomach do all kind of acrobatics.
How was it she was sitting on her living room floor naked with this man? Any man really. But this man in particular. He was so...
He made her hurt. Looking at him hurt. But not in a bad way. Not in the ways that grief and loss and all those things that had come before him had. Looking at him was like looking out at the ocean, looking up at the mountains. Knowing there was so much beauty in the world, and she would never see it all.
That was looking at Alex. Knowing there was so much more to him, but it would never be for her to discover. And she had something burning in her. Something she wanted to give. To go deep with someone. To find a way to understand and be understood. To find a way to be naked with someone in more ways than skin.
Because she was so damn lonely. Being with Alex was like pressing cold hands in front of the woodstove. She wasn’t warm yet, but she ached. The numbness was gone. The haze. It was all sharp and clear and painful now. Evidence of how far she had to go before she could feel normal again.
Before she could be totally thawed out.
She settled against him, pressed her head to his chest and her hand just over his heart. He wrapped his arms around her and laid them both back down on the rug, tugging the blanket over them.
It was strange to be naked like this in her house with a man. Looking at the totally familiar surroundings, listening to the mundane sounds she always heard on cold nights. The pop of the fire in the woodstove, the logs settling and shifting as they burned. The clock in the kitchen ticking away.
But she could hear Alex’s heartbeat too.
And she wasn’t alone.
“I was at ballet class when my mother died,” she said, her voice sounding strange and muted.
Alex didn’t say anything, the slight tightening of his arms around her body the only piece of evidence he’d heard what she said. They lay there in the dark, their breathing mixing together. There was something comforting about the darkness right now. Almost as if it covered them like an extra blanket. Insulating them—or at least, her. Making what she was about to say possible.
“Jason had to come and get me,” she continued, the memory as fresh now as it had ever been. “He was home in between tours at the time, and he’d been doing all he could to help take care of everything. To take care of me. I was doing something at the barre, and then I looked out the windows that let the parents see into the rehearsal room from the waiting area and saw him standing there. He looked so...resigned. He didn’t look sad. And that was what scared me the most. Because at that point, Jason almost always looked sad. This was different.” She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from falling. But then, it was dark, so she supposed tears were okay. “We were in the middle of practicing for a recital. I never went back after that.”
Her mother had loved to watch Clara dance. She hadn’t really found it in her to do it after that. Because it had made her think of her mother. Because it had reminded her far too much of that moment when she had looked up from her practice and seen her older brother standing there waiting to impart the worst news imaginable.
They had known it was coming. But knowing the storm was coming didn’t prepare you for the devastation. It just foretold it.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve,” she responded. “And I had to... I had to do everything alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said, reaching down and stroking her hair, the affectionate gesture so much more than she’d had for a long time.
“I had to do all the...the growing-up stuff alone. My first bra. My first period. I didn’t have anyone I could talk to about it. I’ve never... I’ve never really had anyone to talk to. Which is probably why I’m talking to you about my period.”
“I’ve been inside you, Clara. Talking about a period is hardly more intimate than that.”
Her face heated and she snuggled against his chest, the hair there rough against her cheek. “I guess not.” She swallowed hard. “But I’ve never... Thank you.”
She had been alone for so long, and this closeness brought the isolation into sharp relief. Her father had spent the years after their mother’s death working himself to the bone from dawn till dusk. Jason had gone back to the military.
It was only four years later their father had died of a heart attack. Almost as if the weight of his loss had ultimately become too much and destroyed his body completely, crushing it beneath the weight of all that sorrow. Jason had stayed home from the military after that. But when Clara turned eighteen he’d reenlisted. And there had simply been no time to find out who she was apart from grief. Apart from losing the people she loved. She was trying to do it now. Trying.
Telling him the story of the day her mother died was a starting point. She’d never talked about it. Jason had been with her, he’d lived it with her, and so had her father. But they were both gone now. She was the only one left who had experienced the grief of that day and she wanted to say it all out loud so he could picture it too. So she had someone to share it with, even if it was a terrible thing to share.
It made her feel close to Alex. And she wanted that. At least right now, she wanted to know what that was like.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” Alex said after a long pause.
“Not at all.”
“No. I mean... It doesn’t seem fair that you had to lose your mother and father when they cared for you. When they had a life they were happy with, maybe. Were they happy with their lives?”
“It’s hard for me to remember a time before my mother was sick. But my father loved her. And he changed once she was gone. He never recovered from it, and I think he died of a broken heart more than a heart attack.” In so many ways, she’d lost him when she’d lost her mother. Like his life had been buried deep with her. “I think they were happy with their lives. Before.”
“My mother was never happy.” Alex’s words, the fact that he was sharing with her, made her stomach tighten. “The only thing she cared about was my father, and I don’t know that I would call it love. I remember seeing some Bible verse on the wall at a friend’s house when I was a kid. Something about love being patient and kind. And I knew, sure as hell, that whatever my parents had wasn’t love. There wasn’t any love in my house.”
“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said, her chest tightening with sympathy.
“Don’t be sorry for me. I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry for your parents. Because they actually did care. And they didn’t get to have each other long enough. My parents had each other for way too damn long. And then when my father finally did leave—because that’s just what he does—my mother could never accept it.” His hold on her went even tighter, his muscles tense, and she had a feeling there was even more to this than he was saying. But he didn’t continue. And she wasn’t going to push.
Because she didn’t want to do anything that might compromise this moment. This time spent with him lying on the floor. Just being together. This time feeling like she knew somebody. And like he knew her.
“Why did you join the military?” she asked. Mostly because she wanted to understand him. But also, part of her wanted to understand Jason. She had a feeling Alex was the closest she would ever get.
“I wanted to feel like I mattered,” he said. “Maybe that’s stupid. And I guess now that I’m thirty-one and not eighteen, I see it differently. I’m not sure I carried that motivation with me through every tour. I’m not sure that’s what sticks with me now. But in the beginning that was why. I wanted to do something that counted. To be something more than a poor kid with a mom who was mostly drugged out of her mind and an older brother who had left home and never looked back.”
“What about your dad?”
“Oh, I tr
y my best not to think of him at all. I don’t blame him for anything. I don’t give him credit for anything. Because my mom gives him plenty. And I think that’s way too much thought for one asshole to have directed at him. He had four sons that he abandoned. He had a wife that he was never faithful to, that he never bothered to stick around for. The only thing he gave any of us was his name. He doesn’t deserve deeper consideration than that. I refuse to give it to him.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Then she snuggled further into his hold, finding an immense amount of comfort in the steady beat of his heart.
It represented everything this house had been without for far too long. Life. Someone to share it with.
And right now, whatever the flipside of this was, whatever the ultimate consequence for this moment of happiness, she was going to take it.
She’d had too much of the alternative. Didn’t she deserve this?
As Alex’s calloused fingertips trailed up and down the line of her back, flirting perilously close to brushing against her ass, and then going past flirting, she decided that she did.
So she kissed him. And after that, they didn’t talk at all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HE WAS DOING the walk of shame. There was no way to dress it up. Returning to the house in the wee hours of the morning before the sun was even up. But, judging by the light in the kitchen, at least one, and probably all of his brothers were absolutely up. Not that it should come as a surprise to him. The ranching business kept early hours. And running a dairy meant those early hours were even earlier.
He figured since he had been absent so often recently he had to get his ass back this morning. Or maybe he was just tempting a lecture. Maybe he thought he deserved one.
He had spent the night with Clara. On her living room floor. And now his entire body ached. In a couple of different ways. It ached because he was over thirty and he was just too old for that nonsense. It ached because he’d wanted nothing more than to have her again this morning, rather than leaving her there, sleeping peacefully in front of the waning woodstove fire.