Limitless Love (Lotus House #4)(23)
Clayton watched the move and squinted before responding to my earlier question. “Yeah, I had a late client, but I didn’t want to take too long. I know the queen needed to eat at a reasonable hour, and you have medications to take that require food.”
I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it. I tipped my head and planned to ask why he was doing all of this. Why would he want to be here cooking for a single mother who was attacked, but the words flew right out of my head as he watched my inner turmoil play out. Instead of responding, he hooked a hand low around my hips, avoiding my wounds, eased me near him, and plastered my front to his chest. I looked up at him, not understanding what was happening. Fearing it but at the same time needing comfort. This man’s comfort. Something I was learning might be unique only to him. He tunneled one of his hands into the hair at my nape and lightly turned my head so my cheek rested directly over his heart. Going with the flow, I looped my arms around him in a full-body hug.
I held on as tight as I could and breathed him in. His natural scent enveloped me with notes of the mountains, pine trees, and something richer. Frankincense, perhaps. A full-body sense of peace coated my high-strung form. After the flashback and panic attack, the meds taking their toll, and my body hurting everywhere…he knew what I needed. A simple hug from a safe, secure man who I knew would never do anything to harm me. I relished the heat of his body and the serenity I allowed in at that moment.
Clayton didn’t miss a beat. He wrapped a thick forearm around my waist and held me close, making sure to steer clear of my back wound. The other hand curled around my shoulder and into my hair, where he massaged the back of my neck and head. I groaned, turned my forehead against his sternum, and breathed through the bliss of his hands working out the tension in my muscles. I hadn’t realized how sore I was after the attack because I’d been focusing on the knife wounds and abrasions. As he worked out a particularly painful knot, I did the unthinkable, acting so far out of character I wouldn’t have believed it was me if I hadn’t caught myself doing it.
I bit him. Nuzzled his chest until my mouth encountered a chunk of muscle, his pec, and I sank my teeth in. Through the tank. Right into his flesh. I probably left a mark. Holy mother of God, I’m a twisted woman. What in the ever-loving hell is wrong with me? How could I do this? Acting like a horned-up teenager when in reality I just got so overwhelmed with the sensual nature of his embrace, the warmth of his arms, a carnal response bled out of my system.
Right as I was about to apologize profusely for my stupidity and callousness, Clayton groaned and thrust his hips against me, showing exactly how he felt about that lapse in judgment. When I felt the hard shaft wedged against my pelvis, the budding arousal I’d had turned into embarrassment and panic. I moved back a few inches as quickly as my body would allow, but Clayton wouldn’t allow me to go too far. His hand stayed firmly at the back of my head, and he dipped his chin low, leveling his face with mine. Our gazes met and an undeniable energy speared through us as if we’d been struck by lightning. I felt the magnetism, the push and pull between our forms, as we stood close together. It was wrong, but my goodness did it feel so right.
Clayton whispered close to my ear, tickling the wisp of hair there. “You can’t move back right away. It wouldn’t be decent. Feel me?”
Did I feel him? Was he insane? There was a steel pipe between us. Of course I felt it.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered, remembering that little ears were not that far away, although at some point she must have jumped off the counter, because I heard her laughing at Atlas somewhere behind us.
Again, I tried to back up, but Clayton tightened his grip on my hips. “Don’t you dare take that back. It was the single best hug I’ve ever had in my life. Besides, you reacted naturally. Never be afraid to respond with me.”
“But…” Mortification simmered around each breath I took, making it hard to respond. I’d never acted like that with any man before. Clayton seemed to bring out an entirely new side of me—one that was more willing and confident. Then again, it could very well have been the drugs. I figured that was a much better reason for my extreme lack in judgment.
“I liked it, beautiful.” He licked his lips, and his nostrils flared. “A fuck of a lot, in case you didn’t notice.” He gyrated his hips in a small circle, allowing me to experience every blessed inch of his proof. And it was a lot of inches. A lot. More than enough. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I’m in a heap of trouble with this man.
“We can’t…” I gasped, remembering how messed up I was, how I still had my ex after me, and that everyone near me, including Clayton, was in danger.
He chuckled. “No, we can’t. Wrong place, wrong time, but not the wrong person. I’m here, Monet, and I intend to see this thing through.”
I frowned. Thing. “What thing?”
He smirked, and I swore his face was more handsome when he gave off the cocky vibe in spades. “The spark. The chemistry we have. I want to let it play out and see where it goes.”
For the love of God, why did this have to happen now? Last year was the right time, when I’d felt confident and strong, and he didn’t want me then. Now I was broken and wounded. Worse, I’d been branded by my ex, who wanted me dead. Everything I knew and felt about myself and my ability to judge men and relationships was broken. Just like me physically. I didn’t know what was up, down, or all around, let alone how to handle a “thing” between me and the sexiest man alive.