Page 29 of Let It Breathe (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #1)

R eese had no idea what came over her. One minute she was attempting a sincere apology, steeped in worry about how she’d been treating Clay and whether Larissa’s drinking was something to fret about.

The next minute she was so dizzy with lust she tripped over her own bare feet as she dragged him toward her bedroom. She locked the door behind them and turned to face Clay.

Her body buzzed with desire, and a million crazy justifications whirled through her head.

It’s okay, he’s a friend.

It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just sex.

It’s not like we haven’t done this before.

“What?” Clay murmured, and Reese realized she’d spoken her last thought aloud.

“Nothing,” she said, and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, trying to pull it over his head. He let go of her long enough to yank his arms free of the warm cotton, and then he was standing there in front of her, naked to the waist.

“My God,” she whispered and dragged her fingers down his chest.

Clay groaned low in the back of his throat, but his hands stayed at his sides.

It was like he was suddenly afraid to touch her now that they were in a dark room with a bed and desire so thick she could see it in the air between them.

Reese hooked her fingers under his belt and looked up at him. He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He looked down at her. “You—I’m just—It’s just—” He took a breath. “If you need to stop, now’s the time.”

She tilted her head to the side, a little incredulous. “Stop? Why would I want to stop?”

Clay closed his eyes for a second, and Reese watched his hands ball into fists at his sides. She saw him clench and unclench his jaw.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to drag you in here like?—”

“No!” he said, his eyes wide as his hands came up to cup her arms just above the elbows. “No, I don’t want to stop. But once we cross that line?—”

Reese stood on tiptoe to kiss him, stopping his words with her lips.

She pressed her body harder against him, her tongue finding his, her fingers sliding up and over the taut muscles of his back to pull him closer.

His hands stayed on her elbows for a few more beats, then slowly slid down her rib cage and nestled around her waist.

Reese stopped kissing him long enough to look him in the eyes. “The line’s already been crossed, wouldn’t you say?”

Clay blinked down at her, seeming not to hear her words. He held her like that for a second, his breath coming fast, his pupils dilated. Then he slid his hands down over her ass and touched the hem of her dress. He hesitated there, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Want me to take it off?” Reese asked, not bothering to wait for a response.

She let go of him and reached down to tug the dress over her head, trying to remember the sexiest way to do this.

It had been so long. She crossed her arms and grabbed the hem, her arms making a natural X , crossing and uncrossing beneath the fabric.

Then she was standing there in just her bra and panties, suddenly self-conscious. She shivered.

Hell, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before.

True, everything was a decade older, and gravity had wreaked havoc on a few things, but overall, she knew she still looked pretty good. She stood up a little straighter, wondering if she should have left her high-heeled boots on.

“Beautiful,” he said in a strangled voice, one hand coming up to brush the strap of her bra. “You’re so beautiful.”

Reese smiled a little shyly. “Blue satin,” she said. “Not like the black lace the other night. The front clasp that wasn’t meant to be, but?—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish whatever inane thing she’d been about to say.

His mouth found hers again, and then there was no talking at all.

Reese went up on tiptoe, wishing again she’d kept the boots on.

He was so tall, so big. Her hands slid over his biceps, marveling at the size of him.

She remembered something, drew back. In the dimness of her night-light, she peered at his skin.

“Your tattoo,” she whispered. “What does it say?”

“Not important,” he said, and kissed her again.

Reese forgot about the words—all words—as she felt herself dissolving into him, devouring him, touching him everywhere. He smelled like sawdust and sunshine, and Reese wondered if it was cologne or just Clay.

He was harder everywhere than last time—leaner, more solid. His hands made slow circles on her back, still tentative. There was a hesitance in him that hadn’t been there the last time.

The only time.

“You won’t break me,” she whispered against his chest.

“It’s not that. It’s just?—”

“What?”

“I want you so much.”

The words made her dizzy all over. She caught him by the belt buckle again and pulled him toward the bed, glad she’d had the foresight to put on clean sheets that morning. Not that she’d been planning on doing anything illicit, and certainly not with Clay.

Clay, her brain murmured, and Reese waited for that to seem strange.

It didn’t.

Reese shoved her down comforter aside, then knelt on the bed and pulled him closer. He was standing in front of her now in the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the window. She slid her hands up his sides and felt him shiver beneath her palms.

“Cold?” she asked.

“No,” he said, his hands drifting down her shoulders and coming to rest against her collarbones, just above her breasts. He left them there, his fingertips warm on her flesh. “Not cold at all.”

He leaned forward and his lips found hers in the semidarkness. Then his hands slid down, finally cupping her breasts, testing their weight in his palms. Reese moaned aloud, trying to remember if it had felt this damn good the last time.

His thumbs stroked her nipples through the satin, and Reese arched her back, pressing herself into all that sensation. She slid her hands down his back and over his jeans, thrilling herself with the hardness there that she couldn’t quite touch.

Clay let go of her breasts, and Reese made a small whimper of protest. His hands moved around her back, tracing the wings of her shoulder blades before his fingers found the clasp of her bra.

“Oh,” she gasped as he unhooked it in one deft move, then reached up to slide the straps from her shoulders.

She sighed as the bra fell free and his hands curved around once more to cup her.

He bent forward and slid his tongue over one nipple, then the other, taking his time, making slow circles until Reese was sure she’d topple off the bed.

She trailed her hands down his chest and fumbled with his belt buckle. Clay sucked in a breath and drew back, moving his fingers over her shoulders to hold her away from him for just a moment. He looked at her, just looked at her.

Reese shivered, her hand frozen on his belt buckle.

“Reese,” he whispered, his lips forming a small smile. “Reese.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe this.”

He stopped, and Reese smiled back as she fumbled with his belt buckle. “Is this okay?”

He laughed then, the first time she hadn’t feared he was still considering fleeing the room.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Want help?”

She nodded and sat back on her heels to watch as he slowly unhooked the belt and tugged open the button fly on his jeans.

She tried not to stare, but hell, wasn’t that the point?

Admiring the evidence that she was able to arouse him like this, seeing the swell of him straining against his black boxer briefs.

He bent down to untie his boots, then toed them off before sliding off his jeans and underwear until he stood there naked in front of her.

Reese stared. “My God.”

He smiled and slid one finger from the edge of her chin down her collarbone and over the swell of her breast. “I can say the same for you.”

She smiled back, still drinking in the sight of him in all his naked glory. “Sobriety’s been good to you.”

He chuckled as his eyes devoured her. “Winemaking’s been even better to you.”

Reese drew herself back up to her knees, eager to feel him against her bare breasts.

She kissed him hard, felt him respond by reaching down to cup her ass.

She should probably take off her panties, that last layer between them, but the teasing was ecstasy.

So close, but not quite there. She ground against him, enjoying the slide of damp satin.

Clay drew back again, his breath coming hard. “I didn’t bring any?—”

“Condoms,” Reese murmured. “Bedside drawer, right beside you. God, I hope they aren’t expired.”

She wondered if that was a dumb thing to say but decided it wasn’t. It was better than suggesting she regularly bedded strange men she brought home from the bar.

Which was exactly why this was okay. This was Clay—not some stranger. Clay .

He pulled out the foil packet and drew it toward his chest, fumbling.

“Want help?” Reese asked.

“I’ve got it.”

“I want to touch you,” she said, reaching for the condom, surprised by her own boldness.

She took it from him and tore open the wrapper, then rolled the condom on slowly, enjoying the way he moaned as her hand traveled the length of him. Then she released him and reached down to peel off her panties. She knelt there for a second, panties in one hand, and reached for him again.

Clay shook his head—wonderment or dismay, Reese wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure she knew. “Last chance to stop before things change forever,” he whispered.

Reese gave him a curious smile. “Forever? It’s sex. I’m not going to make you marry me in the morning.”

Clay smiled. “Okay.”

She kissed him again. Then she twined her fingers around his neck and pulled him down to her, letting herself fall back on the bed. He moved with her, coming to rest with his hands on either side of her head, his weight braced on his arms. Reese arched up, wanting to feel more of him.

A lot more.

She reached down between them. “Remember that joke you used to tell? What’s the definition of a nice girl?”

Clay grimaced. “God, what a jerk.”