Page 64 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t know how many glasses of wine I’ve had, but I do know that this is probably a big, big mistake, agreeing to have a drink with Clay.

The Country Club is closed down for the Fourth of July, but the two of us sit at the bar, fresh off our fourth game of pool, and Clay has the audacity to still be surprised that I can kick his ass.

“What’s the secret, Josie?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer. “You spending your free time in pool houses? Are you in some kind of underground pool shark ring?”

“Maybe you just really suck and I’m just really good.”

He laughs at that. “Woman, I swear, it’s one of the world’s biggest mysteries how you can be so fucking good at pool.”

“Pool isn’t the only thing I’m good at,” I say before I can take it back.

Before I can stop myself from turning our currently innocent conversation into something that’s laced with a little bit of sex.

But those words do just that. Not only because of the innuendo but because of the way I deliver them.

It’s sick and twisted that I would even toy with that line with Clay, but I’m blaming it on the wine.

And I’m also hoping he’s too filled with beer to notice.

“Oh, I know,” he says and flashes a wink at me. “I know you are.”

He clearly did notice, and I immediately busy myself with another drink of wine. Which, yeah, not the best plan, I know.

“Will you finally file the divorce papers?” I blurt out in a rush. My mouth is still moving faster than my brain to realize how awful that sounds after we’ve just spent the last few hours chatting and laughing and having fun.

“Who says I haven’t already done it?” Clay tosses back, and I just about fall out of my chair.

“Wait…” I pause, searching his eyes. “Have you filed them?”

“Are you hoping I did?”

My answer to that question should be a direct, Yes, Clay . I want you to file them. But instead, I just sit there, staring at him. Our eyes are locked, and I can’t seem to find a way out of his depths of brown. It’s like I’m stuck here, inside his gaze, without an exit strategy.

“Josie,” he whispers my name and reaches out to gently place his hand on my face. His hand is big and his skin is warm, and it’s like the only thing my body wants to do is lean into his touch.

And that’s exactly what I do. I lean into him, pressing my cheek into his palm, while our gazes stay sealed together in a way I can’t bring myself to let go of.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, and he edges his body closer to mine. “Missed you more than you’ll probably ever realize.”

I’ve missed him, too. So much. So fucking much.

His mouth is moving closer to mine, and I’m not pulling away. I’m just sitting here, arching into his touch, and leaving myself open for his kiss.

When our lips meet, my whole entire body floods with warmth, and my hands find their way into his hair. On a groan, he lifts me off my barstool, and I wrap my legs around his waist. We’re still kissing each other, and he moves me away from the bar.

“Fuck, Josie,” he whispers against my mouth. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too,” I whisper back even though it’s the last thing I should be admitting.

But fuck, I want him. I’ve never stopped wanting him. Never stopped loving him.

Before I know it, he’s carrying me toward the back of the bar, where the stairwell to his apartment is located, and carrying me right up the stairs. We’re still kissing and my legs are wrapped around his waist and time feels like it doesn’t exist when he shoves open the door and walks us inside.

Somehow, we make it to his bedroom. He lays me down on his bed, and I don’t stop him when he starts to remove my shoes and socks and jeans. I don’t stop him when he removes my bra and shirt. I only help him, removing his clothes at the same time.

His body hovers over mine, and I reach out to grip his shoulders with both of my hands.

And then he’s kissing me again, and I’m moaning against his lips when I feel his hard cock at my entrance.

I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t do this. But I’ve been fighting this for so long that I simply can’t fight it anymore. I need this. I need him. Even if I know it’s just for one last time.

“Yes, Clay.” I push my hips up toward him, encouraging him without shame.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I don’t have a condom.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying hard not to think about all of the reasons why that statement is true. “Now, Clay. I need you.”

And then he’s inside me, his hard cock filling me up with one deep, heavy thrust.

I am so full, and I just keep kissing him harder and deeper as he moves his cock in and out of me. My moans are loud and erratic, but I don’t care.

All I care about is imprinting every single piece of this night into my mind because I hope it will be enough to last me for the rest of my life.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice so soft, so quiet, I don’t know if he can hear me. I’ll love you forever. I just wish it were enough.