by K. A. Linde
“I bet all you’re thinking about right now is me fucking you,” he groaned, pressing himself against her.
Liz pretended to yawn, trying to keep up the game they were playing. “Brady’s probably getting a nice sympathy fuck from his girlfriend, and you can’t even keep me entertained.”
Clay chuckled. His hands ran up her bare inner thighs. She tried to squeeze her legs together as if she were going to stop him, but all she did was tighten her grip on his hips.
“The only thing that’s going to be entertained tonight is my dick in your pussy,” he said, his finger inching closer and closer to her heated core. “Because Brady doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“What?” Liz snapped, straightening and pushing his hand away. “What did you just say?”
“My dick is going to be entertained in your pussy,” he said seductively.
“No, after that!”
Clay narrowed his eyes. “Uh . . . Brady doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“What?” he asked, trying to put his hands back on her, but she pushed him away.
“When did they break up? What happened?” Liz demanded.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to lean in again.
“No. Stop,” she said, ducking out of the way of his kiss. “When the fuck did they break up?”
Clay rolled his eyes and took a step back, clearly seeing he wasn’t going to win this battle. “A few months ago. October maybe? Why does it even matter?”
Liz’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just say October?”
“Yeah. Brady just dropped her one day. I don’t know what happened, so don’t fucking ask me. We’re done with the Q&A session. Can we get back to fucking?” he asked, annoyed again.
“No! Are you out of your mind? I’m not having sex with you,” Liz said, scooting off of the bed and fixing her dress. “You need to take me home—or better yet, to see Brady.”
“What?” he practically yelled. “I’m not taking you anywhere, especially not to see my brother. What the fuck?”
“Just shut up!” she shrieked. “Don’t you understand anything? It’s Brady. It’s always been Brady. Stop trying to be your brother, because you’ll never be Brady.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Liz shook her head. “You’re walking in a shadow, and fucking me isn’t going to make that any better. I need to talk to Brady tonight, and I’m going to do it whether you take me home or I have to walk all the way to your parents’ house in Durham myself.”
“Do you think it’s going to help him for you to show up at the house the night after the article breaks? Do you think you’ll actually be helping him by corroborating the story your boyfriend wrote?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Liz snapped. “And I don’t care. I just need to see him. We have to be able to fix it. There has to be a way.”
“Why don’t you stop and think for a second? Think about what happens if I take you to my parents’ house, and you walk into that lockdown war zone. You’re not just talking to Brady. You’re talking to my parents, his staff, Savannah, everyone. Tell me you want to walk into that.”
“Did you not hear me? I. Don’t. Care. I need to see him.”
“You’re insane. You think anyone is going to let you near him when they find out that you’re Sandy Carmichael? What happened in October anyway? You flipped out over that,” Clay observed.
“Nothing,” she answered immediately. He just raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I saw him again, but nothing happened and we parted ways.”
“Parted ways. Knowing my brother, I doubt that went over well,” Clay said. “Okay, so tell me this then. Why did you agree to see me? Why didn’t you speak to him before? And don’t give me some bullshit about his girlfriend, because I don’t think anyone thought she actually mattered.”
“Why?”
“Do you want me to take you there?” he asked.
Liz glared at him. “You’re such an asshole.”
“What you see is what you get, babe.”
“He told me not to speak to him again,” Liz said softly. She hated admitting it out loud. Brady’s angry words still echoed through her mind all these months later.
“And you’re going to anyway? Don’t you think he said it for a reason?”
“Yes, I do. I think he said it because he was angry, and he had every right to be. But I clearly don’t care anymore.” Liz brushed past him and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” he cried, following her down the hall.
“I told you that I’d walk home if you didn’t take me,” she said stubbornly.
Clay humphed behind her. “You can’t go tramping through the woods in a minidress and heels.”
“Try to stop me!”
Liz made it halfway down the driveway in the middle of the woods, at night, freezing her ass off when she heard the soft hum of the Porsche behind her. The headlights flashed as Clay approached. He rolled down the passenger window and stared at her in frustration.
“Get in, crazy.”
She opened the door and sank back into the passenger seat. As soon as her door shut, Clay jolted the car forward.
She sighed as she relaxed. She had been determined to walk home, but realistically it had been a dumb move. She was relieved that Clay had given in and picked her up.
“Thank you,” Liz whispered.
“I’m not taking you to my parents’ house,” he said sullenly. “If you want to do something stupid, you can do it on your own.”
Liz nodded. She wasn’t surprised that Clay wouldn’t take her to Brady, and barging into the Maxwell house didn’t exactly sound like the best plan. It was just the first that had come to her. Perhaps the alcohol was still talking. She would have to find a better way to get to him.
“Um . . .” she began, biting her lip.
She didn’t say anything for a second and Clay asked, “What?”
“Do you think I could get Brady’s number from you?”
“I’m turning around,” he said, easing on the brakes.
“What? Why?”
“There is no reasoning with you.”
“With me? You’re the one who wanted to fuck me because I’d been with your brother.”
Clay shrugged. He slid open the compartment between their seats, placed his phone inside, and then purposefully shut it tight. “That makes more sense to me than giving you his phone number.”
“I only ever tried to reach him on the campaign line, and unless you think it’s a good idea to do that now, perhaps you should give me his personal,” she snapped. Well, besides the time she had used his personal line last year, but she had deleted that number and it did nothing to bring that up with Clay right now.
“You called him on the campaign line?” Clay asked, shaking his head. “For being smart, you two are fucking idiots.”
“Just get moving. I’ll figure it out myself,” she said, turning to face the window again.
A million scenarios ran through her mind on the drive back to her house. How the hell was she going to get hold of Brady? Her earlier tactic had always been to call the office, say she was Sandy Carmichael, and poof! Brady answered the phone. Well, she couldn’t call as Sandy now. And she doubted they would be taking any calls, especially not from reporters. She could make shit up about knowing who Sandy Carmichael was, but Liz was sure that would only get her as far as Heather. She didn’t trust Heather to get her through to Brady. She could have called Savannah, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her friend to know that she had been with her brother, and with Clay not cooperating, she really didn’t have another choice.
Liz glanced down at the compartment that held Clay’s phone. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get it out of there. But if there was another alternative, she wasn’t seeing one.
Clay shifted gears as he veered toward her house. Liz had to make up her mind. The worst thing that could happen was that he
would notice her reaching for it. She could live with that.
She had been staring out the window most of the drive, and she slowly turned her body to face Clay. “Hey,” she whispered softly.
“Oh, are we talking again?” he asked.
“No need to be rude,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearm on the center compartment. Most of her body covered the compartment so that when he was looking at the road, she was pretty sure the only thing he saw in his periphery were her breasts spilling out of her tiny dress. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I can keep driving if this includes road head.”
Liz laughed melodically. Clay would always be Clay. She just needed to keep him entertained, keep him from seeing what she was planning.
“I don’t think so,” Liz said, pressing the button on the side of the compartment softly. “But I was kind of a bitch when I said that stuff about you and Brady.”
His eyes shifted to hers and she stopped moving. “I’m still not going to take you to see him, Liz.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Road head might convince me,” he said, his eyes darting back to the road.
Liz shook her head as she slowly, almost painfully slowly, began to slide back the edge of the compartment. “You think I’m going to suck your dick and then go see Brady?”
“At least I’d get off.”
Yeah, he deserved this.
The hole in the compartment was just wide enough to stick her hand in. She licked her lips and tried to take even breaths. They were so close to her house, and she needed to time this just right.
They stopped at a red light and Liz for sure thought she was going to start sweating when he turned to look at her. She held his gaze perfectly, though, not wavering once. If she did, she was sure that he was going to notice that something was amiss . . . like the fact that she was leaning into him and the compartment containing his phone was open.
“So what do you say?” Clay asked with that same dimpled smirk.
“I still think no,” Liz responded.
The light changed and they were off again. Liz breathed a soft sigh of relief when he had to look where he was going again. Her fingers slowly inched into the compartment, then her palm, and then her hand all the way to the wrist.
“Your loss.”
“What, like giving you head is a privilege?” she managed to ask with a disbelieving laugh.
“It is.”
Liz scoffed. “Men. Always thinking with the wrong head.”
Her fingers brushed against his phone and she slowly lifted the device into her hand. Now to get it out of there.
“As if you weren’t thinking about my dick when you let me take you back to my place.”
When Clay turned his head at a stop sign to check for traffic, Liz lifted the phone out of the compartment and with a gulp pushed it down under her leg. She pressed her finger on the button to the compartment, gingerly clicked it back into place, and then righted herself.
“That was then and this is now,” Liz said with an uneasy shrug.
Holy shit! She had his phone. She couldn’t believe it. Her stomach was in knots with anticipation and worry about the last couple minutes of the drive.
“Women. So fickle,” he grumbled. “Where am I taking you anyway?”
Liz gave Clay directions for the last few turns, and then he pulled the Porsche up in front of her house. She saw Victoria’s and Daniel’s cars in the driveway. If they weren’t already in a sex coma, she was sure they were going to have a million questions. But first she needed to get the fuck out of Clay’s car.
“Thanks for driving me,” Liz told him before popping the door open and sliding the phone into her hand.
“I couldn’t let you try to walk back.”
“I thought you might let me.”
“No farther than the end of the driveway. Long enough for you to realize how stupid it was,” he said. The dimples in his cheeks were visible as she hastily stepped out of the car. She moved her hand behind her body to keep it from his vision.
“Night,” she said, moving to push the door closed with the other hand.
“Hey!” he called, stopping her.
The blood pumped through her veins. She was this far. He couldn’t know. She was this close!
“Yeah?” she murmured.
“You forgot your purse,” he said, pointing at the small bag on the floor.
Liz breathed out heavily. Oh thank God! She grabbed the purse off of the floor of the car, slammed the door shut, and practically sprinted into her house. She shut the front door and leaned her back against it, breathing in and out heavily, her chest heaving.
“Holy shit,” she whispered into the quiet house.
She slid the lock into place carefully before taking the phone back into her bedroom. She kicked off her high heels, stripped out of her party dress, and then threw on some sweats. Taking a seat on the bed, she opened the phone, swiped her finger across the touch screen, and it lit up in her hand.
She was in.
Her hands trembled as she searched Clay’s contacts for Brady. There were four numbers listed: D.C. office, N.C. office, personal, and work. Since she had gone to the trouble of stealing Clay’s phone, she transferred all of them into her phone, even though the only number that she was planning to use tonight was his personal one.
Liz placed Clay’s phone down on her nightstand before pulling back up Brady’s personal number and clicking Send. She could hear her heart beat in her ears as she waited for him to answer. It rang four times and then went to voice mail. Liz ended the call. She couldn’t leave him a voice mail.
All of that trouble, and he didn’t pick up her call.
She sat on her bed for a solid minute, just staring off into space wondering what the hell her life had become. How the hell had she gotten to this place? All she wanted to do was find a way to make it right, and still she couldn’t do that. She had blown her second chance and didn’t deserve another one. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight for that.
Then the lightbulb turned on. Clay’s phone. He would answer Clay’s phone. She would have to do some major explaining as to how she acquired the phone, but at least she would get to speak with Brady.
Liz snatched the phone back off of the nightstand, found Brady’s personal number, and dialed. Her foot tapped anxiously on the floor.
Ring.
She could get through this. She just needed to talk to him.
Ring.
She didn’t know what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter. She would wing it. It was Brady. She had to do something.
Ring.
He wasn’t going to answer. She had done this for nothing . . .
“Clay,” Brady’s gruff voice scolded through the phone, “where the fuck have you been? We’re on lockdown over here. Everyone is freaking out and you just disappear. This is so like you. Why can’t you do one thing that would make someone other than yourself happy?”
“Brady,” Liz whispered into the phone.
There was a pregnant pause on the other line. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Liz?” he breathed in disbelief.
Chapter 25
TALK FIRST
Hey,” Liz said softly. All of the bold words that she had been planning to say to him flitted out of her mind at his smooth, sexy voice.
“You’re calling me from Clay’s phone,” he said, confused.
“Yeah.”
“How did you get Clay’s phone?”
Liz bit her lip. Well, this was going to be fun. “It’s kind of a long story. I had to get hold of you. I really need to talk to you. Can we meet up?”
“What?” he asked, and then seemed to realize what she had asked. His voice turned cold. “No. I think that is a terrible idea. I told you.” He took a deep breath and then whispered, “I told you not to call me again, that I wasn’t going to be there when he hurt you.”
“I know, but . . .”
She swallowed. She knew that perfectly well. It was the reason he had never said I love you. Not because he didn’t. That thought pushed her forward.
“I know. I know you did. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For leaving, for being with him, for telling him, for ruining things, for hurting you.”
“Liz, I really don’t want to hear it,” he said.
“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway,” she cried desperately. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean for things to happen like this. And I have so much that I need to tell you. Just please, please . . . meet me in person. If you didn’t care about me, then you wouldn’t have broken up with Erin. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but give me one anyway. Please.”
Brady sighed heavily into the phone. “Who told you about Erin? I’ve kept it out of the news entirely.”
“Um . . . Clay,” she whispered. She had so much to explain to Brady. She just desperately wanted to do it in person.
“Why do I have the sinking suspicion that I don’t want to know how you are suddenly this well acquainted with my brother.”
“Clay is . . . whatever. He doesn’t matter. Actually he probably wants to kill me right about now, because I stole his phone,” she mumbled.
“You did what?” Brady cried. “You stole Clay’s phone?”
“I said it’s a long story!”
“You didn’t tell me the story involved theft!” he snapped back.
“Brady Maxwell losing his cool,” she said softly. “How often does that happen?” He remained silent. She could practically see him pacing and trying to calm down after her retort. “It’s because it’s me. It’s me, Brady. I’m the one who makes you lose your cool.”
“You say that as if it’s a good thing.”
“It means there’s fucking passion, and it means you fucking care. If you wanted to end this conversation then you would have done it as soon as you heard my voice. But you didn’t. And I know why you didn’t. It’s the same reason that I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I walked out of the conference room. I tried! Lord knows I tried to forget you, but I didn’t. And I can’t. And I don’t think you can forget me either.”