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CHAPTER 14

LIZZY

FML

The last week has been nice. The grumpy asshat upstairs has learned to walk like he isn’t trying to put his feet through the floor every day. I assume he’s still wearing those ridiculous slippers until a quarter ’til eight every morning. I will begrudgingly admit that I do appreciate that, so far, when Clay says he’s going to do something, he does it. I know something as little as trusting someone to not be loud every morning until a reasonable hour shouldn’t matter so much, but it does to me.

It’s been nice waking up on my own every morning and then getting my coffee treat and pastry from him is an added bonus. So far there haven’t been any more book deliveries, but I have plenty to read. And on this particular morning, I roll over in the plush sheets of the king size bed, enjoying the rays of sunshine peaking in through the gaps in the blackout blinds.

However, I’m still restless . Not because I didn’t sleep. No. And not because I was out late last night. I met Grace for a drink at Roxy’s and was home at a responsible hour.

No. I’m restless because I’ve been dreaming about mother fucking Clay Chapman every night. Why is he in my dreams? Why am I thinking about him at all? Ok. I know why. It’s the abs. It’s those dimples. That fucking smirk he gives me like he knows what’s going on in my head. Those intense green eyes that feel like a flame on my skin. All I’ve thought about for weeks is that asshole upstairs. For all I know, he’s probably wandering around up there shirtless again because that sugar addict Luke spilled coffee on him .

Before I drove out from Ohio weeks ago, I had just started a werewolf smut reading binge. So I packed my new knotted werewolf dildo. Have I been picturing Clay when I’ve been using it? Yes.

Add that to the list of things he can never know. He’s already so cocky, I don’t know how big his head would get if he learned I was pleasuring myself thinking about him. I’m probably going to need to unpack why I’m obsessed with the guy who’s driving me crazy later, but it’s doing it for me right now. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do with my extra time this morning.

I reach into my nightstand, pulling out the black silk bag with the toy in it. Did I splurge and get it with the ultra premium, sparkling purple soft silicone? Yes. I wasn’t convinced the smooth and veiny toy with the knot just above the base would be fun, but I have been pleasantly surprised. Thank you for the inspiration, smutty books.

After taking my toy out of the bag and setting it on the nightstand, I dip my fingers under the waistband of my shorts, reaching for my swollen clit. I’m already so wet. Clay can definitely never know he gets to me like this. The bar was one thing. He knows about that. But he would never let me live it down if he knew I was this into him. Well, his body anyways. His cocky, prickly attitude could use an adjustment.

I stretch across the bed towards the other nightstand to grab the remote for the blinds. I’d like a little more light in here to see what I’m doing. My arm is draped across the pillow when I can feel that it’s wet.

I mean I drool in my sleep sometimes, but I didn’t sleep on that pillow. I press the remote to open the blinds, looking around the room.

And that’s when I see it. The giant spot on the ceiling. You can’t be serious. Looking up at the ceiling, there’s a giant wet spot over one side of the bed stretching towards the hallway and en suite bathroom. The drywall is sagging and there’s a trail of little wet spots in the carpet the whole way .

I rush out of bed, reaching for my phone. I need to call maintenance? I don’t know. Maybe Dad? It’s his fucking condo. The contractors upstairs? Fuck. That’s Clay.

No. No. No. This cannot be happening.

I hear a large tearing sound and a crash. I look behind me.

Oh. My. God.

The fucking ceiling collapsed in half the bedroom. There’s a trail of drywall running from one side of the bed to the bathroom and the hallway.

Fuck. My. Life.

I just got settled in and now I have to deal with this mess? I still need to get to work today and it looks like at least one of the bathrooms is out of commission.

Before I can get too far with that train of thought, a whole new concern is emerging. I can hear shouting upstairs, presumably the dipshit guys working for Clay responsible for this. And then I hear it. My condo door opening and shutting and stomping down my hallway.

“Lizzy, are you ok?” Clay rushes into my bedroom. He looks terrified and panicked until our eyes meet and he sees that I’m out of the bed and in one piece.

“Jesus fuck, Clay. I could have been naked.” Why is the first thought I have when Clay is in my room about me being naked? “And how did you get in here? Did you break my door down?” I snarl at him, arms outstretched and flailing pointing at the mess in every direction.

He chuckles. He fucking chuckles at me. “I have a master key.”

I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “Why the fuck would you have a master key?”

He looks side to side with a puzzled look and shrugs his shoulders. “For exactly this reason? It’s a job site. Things happen. ”

I tilt my head back and I just want to scream but instead a muffled groan comes out. I watch as he scans the room, taking inventory of the damage.

“Lizzy, I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head, gripping the back of his neck beneath the brim of his hat that’s flipped around backwards. He keeps scanning the room until his eyes stop on something. I turn to see what has his attention and that’s when I see it.

Ok.

Really. Fuck my life.

I watch as the corner of his lips quirk up into a wide shit eating grin.

“Is that a werewolf…?” He points at the toy still sitting on my nightstand and gives me the most knowing grin but he still looks like it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to not burst out laughing.

I didn’t think my cheeks could get any redder between how flustered and angry I am, but I can feel the blood rushing to them.

“Shut up, Clay. Not a word. You’re the one that just destroyed my ceiling.” I step towards him, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “But also, how the hell do you even know what a werewolf dick looks like?”

His knowing grin only grows when he shrugs, looking down at me. “I read a lot of smut. Utah has shitty porn laws. Bold choice though.” He looks back at the toy and then back at me slowly. “I like the sparkly purple.”

That is not the answer I was expecting. My mouth opens and shuts and opens again like a gasping fish because I don’t know how to respond to that. Before I can say or do anything with that unexpected tidbit, he walks beneath the gaping hole in the ceiling and pulls out his phone. He paces around the room, like only men do, waiting for someone on the other end to answer.

“Luke. Get down here. Right now. Bring Marco and the cleaning supplies,” he shouts into the phone. I watch as he rolls his eyes and nods. He presses his hand to his face, groaning. “It’s Unit 601. The fucking unit you can see through the goddamn hole in the floor, you fuck stick.”

He hangs up, looking back at the ceiling. If I wasn’t so furious at him and frazzled right now, I would almost think the way he’s in control and taking charge is hot. Ok. Who am I kidding? It is hot.

Clay is leaning on his elbows with his face buried in his hands as we sit at the island in the kitchen. His crew left after getting the water shut off and the debris cleaned. Now it’s just us sitting in awkward silence processing this shit show of a Friday morning.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy. I’m so fucking sorry.” He doesn’t lift his head or his eyes and there’s no sign of the brash, cocky man I’ve seen almost everyday for the last month.

“Yeah, you’ve said that a bunch.” I look around the condo. With all the debris gone and the water shut off, I can see just how much of a mess this place is. There are gaping holes in both bedrooms, in the hallway, and main bathroom.

“We’ll get this fixed, but it might take a while.” He sighs and looks up at me and I’m almost shocked by his eyes. There’s remorse and the normally piercing, green eyes are soft and shy. “But this place is going to be almost uninhabitable for a few weeks while we dry it out, fix the ceiling, and floors.”

“I’ll call Grace. Maybe I can stay with her.” He frowns and shakes his head side to side.

“She doesn’t have a room. She literally lives in a studio apartment with a pullout sofa. ”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll start looking at hotels or an airbnb or something. Don’t worry. I’ll send JSC a bill.”

He rolls his eyes at me, but then cocks his head to the side like an idea just hit him. “Or you could stay with me. I have a spare guest suite.”

Ok. He did just have an idea. A completely laughable one. Is he insane? Did he even hear what he just said? I burst out laughing, covering my mouth.

“Are you crazy, Clay? That’s a terrible idea. You must be some kind of sadomasochistic psycho to think we could exist under the same roof.” I glare back at him but he just grins and his gaze hardens.

“Are you into that?” Yep. There’s the Clay I know.

I palm my face. “Seriously, I’ll find a place.”

He looks back at me, but his eyes are pleading.

“Look. First, this is my fault. I should fix this for you.” He looks down at his hands for a second before looking back at me. “Second, my place is in Kimball Junction. It’s closer to your office in Salt Lake City. I know you won’t complain about the extra sleep.”

Oh my god. He’s serious about this.

“Third, maybe it would be good for us to actually be friendly since my brother and your best friend are getting married.” He looks at me, his eyes still pleading.

I let out a long sigh. I don’t have the energy to deal with this today. “You know what, screw it.” I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but at least for tonight, I’ll give it a shot. Crashing there for a night while I sort this mess out should be alright. What’s the worst that could happen? “Fine, I’ll stay tonight and then figure out what I’m doing next while you fix this mess.”

He looks back at me with a gentle smile and those stupid perfect dimples that make it hard to stay focused on being mad at him. I’d probably say yes to anything he asked if he was flashing those all the time .

“Ok. Good. I’ll text you my address. Just come by later today. I’ll make sure the guest suite is ready for you. And Lizzy, I’ll make this right. I promise .” He looks at me with eyes taking on a familiar seriousness.

I swallow hard. For some reason, a sense of relief floods me as he walks out the door, my mind going back to what he said at the bar about promises.