Page 9 of Clayton (Bourbon & Blood #2)

“I don’t think we can be fixed…not the way we were.

Right now, we just have to focus on Emma Grace and move on.

” I feel like we’ve poked at our bruises enough for one night.

We’re not any better off than we were before.

He’s still keeping secrets and I’m still standing my ground, even if it is on knees that wobble.

“You’ve got clothes upstairs still, if you want to change,” I offer.

I need him to go upstairs, I need him to be away from me for a moment so I can regain whatever semblance of ba lance I had before.

He loops the tie around his hand. It’s an old habit, something I always teased him about. “You could come up with me,” he offers.

I know that tone. I know that look. And God help me, my brain and my ovaries are at war over it. “That’s not a good idea.”

“And your date the other night?” he asks. There’s a hardness in his tone, a cold and calculating look in his eyes. “Was that a good idea?”

I look away. I should be lying to him, should be feeding his jealous. But that’s Brit’s way of doing things. Not mine. I can’t. “No, it wasn’t a good idea. It was an exercise in misery. Happy?”

“Nothing about that makes me happy,” he replies. “I want to find him and rip his fucking throat out. You’re not supposed to be with him.”

“Am I supposed to be with you, then?” I ask with a bitter laugh. “Really, Clayton? Am I not entitled to try to have a life after you?”

He shoves his hands into his hair, that same familiar gesture that he makes every time he gets frustrated or doesn’t know how to handle something. “I just need some time, Annalee. If you give me a little while, I can fix all this. Once it’s done, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“I can’t,” I respond. It hurts me to say it.

It fucking breaks my heart all over again.

“I keep holding on to this hope that I’ll wake up and this will all be a bad dream, and everything will be like it was.

But that’s not going to happen. And I need to start living in the here and now and not some fantasy world where you love me the way I want you to…

the truth of it is, Clayton, I only went out on a date with him because of you. ”

His gaze hardens. “You’re going to have to explain that a little better. The logic of it is eluding me.”

I roll my eyes. Of course, the logic of it eludes him. Hell, it eluded me. Goddamn Brit and her crazy plan. “Brit?—.”

“Well, that explains a lot!”

“Brit,” I continue, “suggested that if I really wanted to know if you still cared, I should see whether or not it made you jealous to think of me seeing someone else.”

“You can tell her it fucking worked. ”

“But it didn’t.” Did it piss him off? Yes.

Sure it did. But there was no epiphany. There was no moment where he thought, I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

He was going on the same way he had before, just slightly grumpier.

“You’re still not willing to give an inch. You’re still not willing to let me in.”

“Annalee, everything I’m doing is to protect you…to keep you and Emma Grace safe. Mia, Quentin, Mama. There’s so much at stake here. Do you honestly think I want to carry this alone?”

“I think you’re going to, no matter what I say. So it’s a pointless question.” My reply might seem a little heartless, even mean. But I’ve got to stop hoping. I’ve got to accept the reality of our current situation and move on, no matter how much it hurts.

I can’t look at him anymore, I realize. It just hurts too much. I turn to walk away, but his hand snakes out and grabs my arm, pulling me back, holding on to me like he can’t quite bear to let go.

“Don’t,” he says. “Please, just don’t.”

“Clayton—” I begin, but I realize I don’t have anything to say. He’s holding me to him, our wet clothes plastered together. I can feel the heat of him, the hardness of him against me. It feels so good and so tempting.

When he kisses me, I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

I can’t do anything but feel his lips on me, the slide of his tongue between my lips, penetrating, blatantly sexual.

His hands drift down to my ass, cupping each cheek and pressing into me.

I can feel the thick length of him, hard and full against me.

He rocks his hips and all I can think of is how good it would feel for him to be inside me.

I can’t do this. I’m weakening, falling under his spell. It takes everything in me to push him back. I press my hands against his chest and he steps back, reluctantly.

“I can’t help wanting you,” I tell him. “But wanting you doesn’t make you good for me. You’re not good for me right now. You have to go…now.”

“Annalee.” He just says my name. Nothing else. He looks at me for the longest time and then just turns on his heels and leaves.

I watch him walk out and it takes everything I have in me not to call him back, not to strip my clothes off and attack him naked in the foyer.

I follow after him, just to the kitchen door and before I can catch myself, I say something that I know I’ll regret.

“The final papers should be here by the end of next week. You wanted time, Clayton, and that’s what I’m willing to give you.

Once I sign them, there’s no going back. ”

He stops in his tracks. He doesn’t look back at me. Just stands there for a moment and lets that sink in. After a moment, he gives a brief nod and heads for the door.

I’ve fucked up. I’ve given him another chance to break my heart, because if he doesn’t tell me the truth in the next ten days, then I’ll have to say goodbye to those hopes and dreams all over again.

I head back into the kitchen and open the freezer door. There’s a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in there that belongs to Emma Grace. I’m going to have to owe her one. I’m going to eat the whole damn thing.