Game Changer, page 12
His thumb rubs across my clit, and I cry out from the pressure.
I fall over the edge, waves of pleasure racking my body.
Every ounce of feeling is amplified by his presence, his arousal, like I’m coming for both of us.
I can’t move. It was too much. It was too good.
When I finish, I push up onto my elbows to see him watching me, his expression reverent from the pleasure he seems to take from watching me come undone.
He takes my fingers and sucks them into his mouth. It’s outrageously sexy and surprisingly sweet at once. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I flush with pleasure.
Noise outside drags me back to where we are.
He notices, too.
We scramble out of bed, him moving gracefully and me tripping.
He tosses me my shorts, then tugs on his own.
I work them up my hips. “Ever?” I prompt.
“Mhmm.”
I arch my back, grinning as his gaze lands on my breasts.
“Sexier than Kodashians sending you naked pictures?”
“By a long shot.”
There’s no time. I grab for my bag and drag a T-shirt on.
“I like knowing I’m good at something,” I say. “I want to tell the world.”
“Tell the world about your other skills. Not this one,” he warns, pocketing my bikini top.
We run for it, tripping over one another.
“Why? You want to keep me for yourself?” I tease.
When I reach for the door, his hand covers mine.
Clay grabs my neck from behind and pulls me back against him, tipping my chin up for a hard kiss that feels as good as the orgasm.
I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“Yeah, I fucking might.”
20
NOVA
“You’re filthy.”
Mari’s voice tears into my thoughts, and I snap my head up. “Excuse me?”
My sister crosses the solarium to where I’m bent over my sketchpad.
I close the cover as casually as possible as she reaches for a piece of my hair, pulling out a leaf. “What were you up to all day?”
“Secret mission.” I showered when I got home from the camp but didn’t do my hair. My breath sticks in my chest as she scrutinizes my appearance.
I want to tell her about Clay because she’s my sister and sharing these feelings seems right, but we’re still getting back on good terms. I just got out of a yearlong relationship with Brad. Hooking up with my future brother-in-law’s grumpy all-star doesn’t seem like the way to demonstrate sound judgment.
“How was work?” I ask instead.
Mari makes a face and kicks off her heels, sitting on the window seat opposite me. Her feet brush mine. “My boss brought in a new campaign for a huge client. I want to direct it, but two of us are competing.”
“Tell her you could do it better. She promoted you. This is your chance to remind her why. And if that fails,” I go on, “the bachelorette is this weekend. Massages and relaxation.”
She nods slowly.
“You’re right. What are you drawing?”
I hold out the sketchpad.
On the page is a drawing of the altar, plus the back of Mari’s dress.
My sister’s mouth parts softly. “This is beautiful, Nova. I love these flowers.” She gestures to the ones draped across the altar.
“They’re ranunculus. Like roses but rounder, tighter. Kind of squished looking.” I mimic their shape with my hands.
“I’m still figuring out how to replace the roses I wanted. They’d be perfect.”
We share a smile.
“I remember when you got into art school,” she says after a moment. “You were so excited. Do you wish you’d stayed?”
“Sometimes.”
“But you’ve kept drawing all this time.”
“A little. More recently.” It feels good. I feel like part of myself I’d buried is waking up.
“What changed?” Mari asks.
“You want to keep me for yourself?”
“I fucking might.”
Seeing him with the kids at the camp made me realize what a good guy he is, even if he doesn’t see himself that way. I want him to be that version of himself. I want to watch him do it. And I want the way he makes me feel when we’re alone, when his eyes turn black and he whispers dirty things in my ear.
I can’t tell my sister about Clay. She’s finally looking at me as though she sees me just a little.
“I guess I realized I wasn’t feeling like myself. I feel the most at home when I’m drawing.”
She doesn’t nod but seems to understand. “I need to show these flowers to the florist. Can I have this?”
“Of course.” I carefully tear the sheet out of my sketchbook and hand it to her.
Her shoulders round happily as she takes it in. “Do you want to grab dinner later? There’s an Italian place with the most amazing wine list.”
It’s the first time since I’ve been here that my sister has suggested dinner just the two of us.
I shove down any thoughts of a confession. “I’d love to.”
“Are you sure you have time to pick them up this morning?” Chloe asks over the phone.
“No problem!” I say into the hands-free of the Volvo.
The day of the bachelorette party might be calling for rain, but we’re heading to a spa for a full day of pampering.
It was my idea to order custom cupcakes, and when they’re assembled, they’ll form the shape of Mari’s dress. It’s a detail I hope she’ll love.
“Hi. Cupcakes for Mari?” I ask the woman at the bakery when I arrive, and she looks at me.
She’s on the phone and nods to a covered slab-cake plate.
I take a peek because I want them to be perfect.
They’re gorgeous.
I pay for them and carefully carry them back to the car.
When I get there, a message from Clay comes in.
Grumpy Baller: What’re you doing today?
Nova: Getting naked with a bunch of women.
Grumpy Baller: Pics or it didn’t happen.
I grin.
Nova: It’s Mari’s bachelorette. I’m picking up cupcakes, then we’re going to the spa.
Grumpy Baller: She’s lucky to have you.
His words put a little extra bounce in my step as I head to the Four Seasons.
He’s been away the last few days playing a road game I watched on Harlan and Mari’s huge TV last night. It was strange hearing the commentators talk about him like he’s famous, but he is.
When the Kodiaks won, I was jumping up and down enough to spill popcorn everywhere.
I texted him after to say congrats, not expecting a response.
One came back almost immediately.
Grumpy Baller: Thanks Pink. Wish you were here to see it.
Today there are six of us: me, Chloe, Brooke, Mari, and two other friends of Mari’s I haven’t met.
The spa attendants get us checked in and get us off to our first appointments.
The massages fly by in a wave of pleasure, plus a few moans when the technician hits an especially tight spot. We arranged for Mari to get an extra body treatment to help her relax while the rest of us get manicures and pedicures.
Chloe insisted on picking up the bill even though I protested.
I haven’t felt this pampered in forever. Maybe it’s the altitude taking, but I didn’t realize how much stress had accumulated in my body between work and Brad.
By the time we all reconvene in our robes, we’re two bottles of champagne in. We open a third for Mari.
She takes it, beaming, and we do a toast.
“One more thing!” I leap up, the separators still between my toes, and stumble toward the table in the corner.
I unveil the cupcakes, and the girls ooh and ahh.
“They’re beautiful.”
“And vegan,” I say proudly.
Mari wrinkles her nose. “I can’t eat that before my wedding.”
“It’s ten days, Mar. And they’re mini cupcakes.”
Grudgingly, she takes one and pops it into her mouth.
“That’s good,” she admits, washing it down with champagne. “I haven’t been eating carbs for six months.”
She reaches for another.
“Are you and Harlan excited for the honeymoon? Nothing but each other for two entire weeks,” Chloe says.
Mari smiles. “We haven’t had that much time alone together despite living under the same roof. We’re always working.”
“Now you don’t even have to get dressed,” Brooke points out between sips.
We all laugh.
“Will the team survive without him?” Mari asks Chloe.
“They’ll be fine.”
She nods. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for problems his first year.”
“Mar, he has a life,” I point out, reaching for a cupcake.
She turns it over. “Maybe you’re right.”
We go back to gossiping, and thirty minutes later, she’s flushed.
“Everything okay?” I ask as she rises, frowning.
“Yes, I need to use the bathroom.”
She sways a little.
“Let me help. That champagne is deadly.” I follow her, holding her arm.
I’m waiting outside the stalls for a few minutes before I hear groaning.
“Mar? You okay?”
“I don’t feel well.”
“What did you eat besides champagne?”
“Nothing today except the cupcakes.”
“Maybe you should have had breakfast.”
“I never have breakfast.”
There’s another groan.
I scoot back out to the other girls. “Um, don’t freak out, but did anyone else feel weird after the cupcakes?”
Heads shake.
“It was the best buttercream icing I’ve ever had,” Brooke says.
“No, those were vegan. No butter, no eggs,” I insist.
She stares me down.
“Shit.”
I dash back to the washrooms, stopping by the lockers to fish around in my bag for the receipt. Sure enough, it says vegan, but the evidence is to the contrary.
“Mar, the cupcakes might have been slightly less vegan than we thought.”
The growl from inside the stall makes me wince.
The toilet flushes, and my sister emerges, bent over.
Chloe appears in the doorway, a bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
“Hey, hon, I have pills. My emergency stash. Two of the players are lactose intolerant, and it makes for a bad media day if they’re uncomfortable.”
She passes my sister the pills and glass, and Mari chugs it gratefully. “Thank God.”
“They might not fix everything, but they’ll help.”
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You’ve done enough,” Mari says.
Chloe sighs. “Why don’t you go back and hang with the other girls? Tell them we’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I chew on my lip as my shoulders slump, and I head back outside to fill them in.
A few minutes later, Mari and Chloe appear.
“I’m going to have Harlan pick me up and take me home.”
“I can drive you,” I offer.
“No. It’s fine.” She looks at me.
Brooke grabs my shoulder. “You can crash at mine tonight if you want.”
Because going home with a soon-to-be-bride who’s sick because I fucked up is a bad idea, she means.
“Thanks.”
I check my phone, miserable, and find a text from Clay.
Grumpy Baller: I’m still waiting on those pics.
Nova: It was a bust. I screwed everything up.
Grumpy Baller: I’m heading home from the gym. Let me pick you up.
Nova: What’s your address? I’ll come to you.
He tells me, and I take an Uber there, feeling equal parts dejected and tipsy.
The building is a modern high-rise, full of glass with big, landscaped balconies.
The elevator ride seems to take forever.
When I get to his floor and knock, he opens the door looking handsome in a gray Henley that pulls across his muscles and is shoved up his arms.
His hair is still damp from a shower. One of his pant legs is shoved up to his thigh, and there’s an ice pack strapped to his knee.
For a moment, it’s possible the world isn’t ending, because he’s standing here.
I hold out a cupcake.
“Are you lactose intolerant?” I ask in a small voice.
“Fuck no.” He takes the cupcake in one hand and grabs my forearm with the other. “Now get your ass in here.”
I feel a bit better already.
Clay shows me around his place.
The apartment is spacious, with a lofted ceiling and huge windows with a view of the city. The kitchen is sleek and modern, cabinets painted white and black. The furniture is clean and polished, like he’s not living there but staging his own place. There are faint hints of lemon and lime mixed with a warm masculine scent that I breathe in deep.
“This is the guest bedroom.” Partway down the hall, he gestures to a bedroom larger than mine back in Boston. The walls are lined with shelves containing trophies and plaques and banners.
“Holy.” I cut him a look. “These are all for basketball?”
“I am pretty great at it.”
The laughter that bubbles up feels good.
He continues the tour, and I take one more look at all the gold before following.
“And this…” He hits the light switch at the end of the hall. “Is me.”
The main bedroom is huge. An expanse of cream carpet, matching walls, a seating area at one end, plus a king bed that seems to go on forever.
It hits me.
Is this why he invited me over?
Probably.
I’ve fantasized about having sex with him more times than I care to count, but I didn’t imagine it happening like this.
Although now that I’m looking up at him, his eyes darkening by the second, I know we could make it work.
My fingers reach for the buttons on my top, and he frowns.
Clay takes my hand, stopping me.
“Oh. I thought you wanted to…” I trail off.
Clearly, I misread this. I've managed to humiliate myself twice today.
“I really fucking want to, Nova. But not tonight. Not when you’re beating yourself up over something you didn’t do.”
Up close, I can count the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It feels like he’s willing me to understand.
I do, and I’m grateful.
I sigh out a little breath of relief as he tugs me back toward the living room.
He sinks into the huge L-shaped couch, and I follow his lead. He removes the ice pack from his knee and sets it on the coffee table. Then, to my surprise, he draws me between his legs and pulls my back to his front.
“So, tell me what happened at this party.” Clay’s voice vibrates along my skin.
I fill him in, one sordid detail at a time while trying to ignore the fact that I’m nestled against his hard, warm body. It’s easier that I don’t have to look at his expression.
Except by the end, his chest is rocking with laughter.
I spin to face him.
“It’s not funny!” I protest, hitting him in the stomach. My hand bounces easily off his ridged abs.
“It’s kind of funny. Got any more of those cupcakes?”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch.
“Mari probably had them burned. Even though I double-checked, triple-checked… something went wrong, and I screwed up, and Chloe saved the day. Mari’s always been the perfect one, the responsible one, the one with everything together.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.”
Clay listens, his eyes dark and intent as I tell him about us growing up together.
“I never minded being on the road. She hated it. Hated leaving friends, leaving places. Our parents were really kind people, and they cared about us, but Mari had a harder time with the change than I did. Now that we’re grown, Mari’s found an anchor—in her work and this place and Harlan. Me? I’m a balloon floating around not sure how to find the ground.”
I sigh in his arms.
“My mom used to sing this song, 'Home.' It was the only time Mari would curl up next to Mom, that it seemed like they understood one another. I have a recording of her singing it. I’m trying to find it for the wedding.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it.”
I nod, swallowing as my fingers twist together and unlace.
“I have some friends, but she’s my family. The one who has to love me no matter what, who knows I’ll always love her.” I take a shallow breath. “When my parents died, they were on vacation in Costa Rica. Mari was busy working, but I was in my first year of art school. I was supposed to go with them but flaked at the last minute and bailed because of things I wanted to do at school. I told them to take this plane tour for me, and they did. Only the weather was bad, and they crashed.”
Guilt and grief rise up, consuming me until my lungs burn and my ribs threaten to crack.
“Their deaths weren’t your fault,” he murmurs.
“I should have been with them,” I insist. “I should have been on that plane.”
Clay takes my face in his hands and swipes at my cheeks, at the tears I didn’t notice before now.
“I’m fucking glad you weren’t,” he whispers against my lips.
His expression makes the guilt in my chest ease, replacing it with a feeling of warmth and hope.
“You are?” I blink up at him. It’s the first time someone’s said that to me, and it means the world.
“Fuck yes. For starters”—he pulls back an inch—“no one would’ve been on that commercial flight last month to tell me I should consider a career in basketball. And you see how well that worked out.”
I fall over the edge, waves of pleasure racking my body.
Every ounce of feeling is amplified by his presence, his arousal, like I’m coming for both of us.
I can’t move. It was too much. It was too good.
When I finish, I push up onto my elbows to see him watching me, his expression reverent from the pleasure he seems to take from watching me come undone.
He takes my fingers and sucks them into his mouth. It’s outrageously sexy and surprisingly sweet at once. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I flush with pleasure.
Noise outside drags me back to where we are.
He notices, too.
We scramble out of bed, him moving gracefully and me tripping.
He tosses me my shorts, then tugs on his own.
I work them up my hips. “Ever?” I prompt.
“Mhmm.”
I arch my back, grinning as his gaze lands on my breasts.
“Sexier than Kodashians sending you naked pictures?”
“By a long shot.”
There’s no time. I grab for my bag and drag a T-shirt on.
“I like knowing I’m good at something,” I say. “I want to tell the world.”
“Tell the world about your other skills. Not this one,” he warns, pocketing my bikini top.
We run for it, tripping over one another.
“Why? You want to keep me for yourself?” I tease.
When I reach for the door, his hand covers mine.
Clay grabs my neck from behind and pulls me back against him, tipping my chin up for a hard kiss that feels as good as the orgasm.
I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“Yeah, I fucking might.”
20
NOVA
“You’re filthy.”
Mari’s voice tears into my thoughts, and I snap my head up. “Excuse me?”
My sister crosses the solarium to where I’m bent over my sketchpad.
I close the cover as casually as possible as she reaches for a piece of my hair, pulling out a leaf. “What were you up to all day?”
“Secret mission.” I showered when I got home from the camp but didn’t do my hair. My breath sticks in my chest as she scrutinizes my appearance.
I want to tell her about Clay because she’s my sister and sharing these feelings seems right, but we’re still getting back on good terms. I just got out of a yearlong relationship with Brad. Hooking up with my future brother-in-law’s grumpy all-star doesn’t seem like the way to demonstrate sound judgment.
“How was work?” I ask instead.
Mari makes a face and kicks off her heels, sitting on the window seat opposite me. Her feet brush mine. “My boss brought in a new campaign for a huge client. I want to direct it, but two of us are competing.”
“Tell her you could do it better. She promoted you. This is your chance to remind her why. And if that fails,” I go on, “the bachelorette is this weekend. Massages and relaxation.”
She nods slowly.
“You’re right. What are you drawing?”
I hold out the sketchpad.
On the page is a drawing of the altar, plus the back of Mari’s dress.
My sister’s mouth parts softly. “This is beautiful, Nova. I love these flowers.” She gestures to the ones draped across the altar.
“They’re ranunculus. Like roses but rounder, tighter. Kind of squished looking.” I mimic their shape with my hands.
“I’m still figuring out how to replace the roses I wanted. They’d be perfect.”
We share a smile.
“I remember when you got into art school,” she says after a moment. “You were so excited. Do you wish you’d stayed?”
“Sometimes.”
“But you’ve kept drawing all this time.”
“A little. More recently.” It feels good. I feel like part of myself I’d buried is waking up.
“What changed?” Mari asks.
“You want to keep me for yourself?”
“I fucking might.”
Seeing him with the kids at the camp made me realize what a good guy he is, even if he doesn’t see himself that way. I want him to be that version of himself. I want to watch him do it. And I want the way he makes me feel when we’re alone, when his eyes turn black and he whispers dirty things in my ear.
I can’t tell my sister about Clay. She’s finally looking at me as though she sees me just a little.
“I guess I realized I wasn’t feeling like myself. I feel the most at home when I’m drawing.”
She doesn’t nod but seems to understand. “I need to show these flowers to the florist. Can I have this?”
“Of course.” I carefully tear the sheet out of my sketchbook and hand it to her.
Her shoulders round happily as she takes it in. “Do you want to grab dinner later? There’s an Italian place with the most amazing wine list.”
It’s the first time since I’ve been here that my sister has suggested dinner just the two of us.
I shove down any thoughts of a confession. “I’d love to.”
“Are you sure you have time to pick them up this morning?” Chloe asks over the phone.
“No problem!” I say into the hands-free of the Volvo.
The day of the bachelorette party might be calling for rain, but we’re heading to a spa for a full day of pampering.
It was my idea to order custom cupcakes, and when they’re assembled, they’ll form the shape of Mari’s dress. It’s a detail I hope she’ll love.
“Hi. Cupcakes for Mari?” I ask the woman at the bakery when I arrive, and she looks at me.
She’s on the phone and nods to a covered slab-cake plate.
I take a peek because I want them to be perfect.
They’re gorgeous.
I pay for them and carefully carry them back to the car.
When I get there, a message from Clay comes in.
Grumpy Baller: What’re you doing today?
Nova: Getting naked with a bunch of women.
Grumpy Baller: Pics or it didn’t happen.
I grin.
Nova: It’s Mari’s bachelorette. I’m picking up cupcakes, then we’re going to the spa.
Grumpy Baller: She’s lucky to have you.
His words put a little extra bounce in my step as I head to the Four Seasons.
He’s been away the last few days playing a road game I watched on Harlan and Mari’s huge TV last night. It was strange hearing the commentators talk about him like he’s famous, but he is.
When the Kodiaks won, I was jumping up and down enough to spill popcorn everywhere.
I texted him after to say congrats, not expecting a response.
One came back almost immediately.
Grumpy Baller: Thanks Pink. Wish you were here to see it.
Today there are six of us: me, Chloe, Brooke, Mari, and two other friends of Mari’s I haven’t met.
The spa attendants get us checked in and get us off to our first appointments.
The massages fly by in a wave of pleasure, plus a few moans when the technician hits an especially tight spot. We arranged for Mari to get an extra body treatment to help her relax while the rest of us get manicures and pedicures.
Chloe insisted on picking up the bill even though I protested.
I haven’t felt this pampered in forever. Maybe it’s the altitude taking, but I didn’t realize how much stress had accumulated in my body between work and Brad.
By the time we all reconvene in our robes, we’re two bottles of champagne in. We open a third for Mari.
She takes it, beaming, and we do a toast.
“One more thing!” I leap up, the separators still between my toes, and stumble toward the table in the corner.
I unveil the cupcakes, and the girls ooh and ahh.
“They’re beautiful.”
“And vegan,” I say proudly.
Mari wrinkles her nose. “I can’t eat that before my wedding.”
“It’s ten days, Mar. And they’re mini cupcakes.”
Grudgingly, she takes one and pops it into her mouth.
“That’s good,” she admits, washing it down with champagne. “I haven’t been eating carbs for six months.”
She reaches for another.
“Are you and Harlan excited for the honeymoon? Nothing but each other for two entire weeks,” Chloe says.
Mari smiles. “We haven’t had that much time alone together despite living under the same roof. We’re always working.”
“Now you don’t even have to get dressed,” Brooke points out between sips.
We all laugh.
“Will the team survive without him?” Mari asks Chloe.
“They’ll be fine.”
She nods. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for problems his first year.”
“Mar, he has a life,” I point out, reaching for a cupcake.
She turns it over. “Maybe you’re right.”
We go back to gossiping, and thirty minutes later, she’s flushed.
“Everything okay?” I ask as she rises, frowning.
“Yes, I need to use the bathroom.”
She sways a little.
“Let me help. That champagne is deadly.” I follow her, holding her arm.
I’m waiting outside the stalls for a few minutes before I hear groaning.
“Mar? You okay?”
“I don’t feel well.”
“What did you eat besides champagne?”
“Nothing today except the cupcakes.”
“Maybe you should have had breakfast.”
“I never have breakfast.”
There’s another groan.
I scoot back out to the other girls. “Um, don’t freak out, but did anyone else feel weird after the cupcakes?”
Heads shake.
“It was the best buttercream icing I’ve ever had,” Brooke says.
“No, those were vegan. No butter, no eggs,” I insist.
She stares me down.
“Shit.”
I dash back to the washrooms, stopping by the lockers to fish around in my bag for the receipt. Sure enough, it says vegan, but the evidence is to the contrary.
“Mar, the cupcakes might have been slightly less vegan than we thought.”
The growl from inside the stall makes me wince.
The toilet flushes, and my sister emerges, bent over.
Chloe appears in the doorway, a bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
“Hey, hon, I have pills. My emergency stash. Two of the players are lactose intolerant, and it makes for a bad media day if they’re uncomfortable.”
She passes my sister the pills and glass, and Mari chugs it gratefully. “Thank God.”
“They might not fix everything, but they’ll help.”
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You’ve done enough,” Mari says.
Chloe sighs. “Why don’t you go back and hang with the other girls? Tell them we’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I chew on my lip as my shoulders slump, and I head back outside to fill them in.
A few minutes later, Mari and Chloe appear.
“I’m going to have Harlan pick me up and take me home.”
“I can drive you,” I offer.
“No. It’s fine.” She looks at me.
Brooke grabs my shoulder. “You can crash at mine tonight if you want.”
Because going home with a soon-to-be-bride who’s sick because I fucked up is a bad idea, she means.
“Thanks.”
I check my phone, miserable, and find a text from Clay.
Grumpy Baller: I’m still waiting on those pics.
Nova: It was a bust. I screwed everything up.
Grumpy Baller: I’m heading home from the gym. Let me pick you up.
Nova: What’s your address? I’ll come to you.
He tells me, and I take an Uber there, feeling equal parts dejected and tipsy.
The building is a modern high-rise, full of glass with big, landscaped balconies.
The elevator ride seems to take forever.
When I get to his floor and knock, he opens the door looking handsome in a gray Henley that pulls across his muscles and is shoved up his arms.
His hair is still damp from a shower. One of his pant legs is shoved up to his thigh, and there’s an ice pack strapped to his knee.
For a moment, it’s possible the world isn’t ending, because he’s standing here.
I hold out a cupcake.
“Are you lactose intolerant?” I ask in a small voice.
“Fuck no.” He takes the cupcake in one hand and grabs my forearm with the other. “Now get your ass in here.”
I feel a bit better already.
Clay shows me around his place.
The apartment is spacious, with a lofted ceiling and huge windows with a view of the city. The kitchen is sleek and modern, cabinets painted white and black. The furniture is clean and polished, like he’s not living there but staging his own place. There are faint hints of lemon and lime mixed with a warm masculine scent that I breathe in deep.
“This is the guest bedroom.” Partway down the hall, he gestures to a bedroom larger than mine back in Boston. The walls are lined with shelves containing trophies and plaques and banners.
“Holy.” I cut him a look. “These are all for basketball?”
“I am pretty great at it.”
The laughter that bubbles up feels good.
He continues the tour, and I take one more look at all the gold before following.
“And this…” He hits the light switch at the end of the hall. “Is me.”
The main bedroom is huge. An expanse of cream carpet, matching walls, a seating area at one end, plus a king bed that seems to go on forever.
It hits me.
Is this why he invited me over?
Probably.
I’ve fantasized about having sex with him more times than I care to count, but I didn’t imagine it happening like this.
Although now that I’m looking up at him, his eyes darkening by the second, I know we could make it work.
My fingers reach for the buttons on my top, and he frowns.
Clay takes my hand, stopping me.
“Oh. I thought you wanted to…” I trail off.
Clearly, I misread this. I've managed to humiliate myself twice today.
“I really fucking want to, Nova. But not tonight. Not when you’re beating yourself up over something you didn’t do.”
Up close, I can count the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It feels like he’s willing me to understand.
I do, and I’m grateful.
I sigh out a little breath of relief as he tugs me back toward the living room.
He sinks into the huge L-shaped couch, and I follow his lead. He removes the ice pack from his knee and sets it on the coffee table. Then, to my surprise, he draws me between his legs and pulls my back to his front.
“So, tell me what happened at this party.” Clay’s voice vibrates along my skin.
I fill him in, one sordid detail at a time while trying to ignore the fact that I’m nestled against his hard, warm body. It’s easier that I don’t have to look at his expression.
Except by the end, his chest is rocking with laughter.
I spin to face him.
“It’s not funny!” I protest, hitting him in the stomach. My hand bounces easily off his ridged abs.
“It’s kind of funny. Got any more of those cupcakes?”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch.
“Mari probably had them burned. Even though I double-checked, triple-checked… something went wrong, and I screwed up, and Chloe saved the day. Mari’s always been the perfect one, the responsible one, the one with everything together.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.”
Clay listens, his eyes dark and intent as I tell him about us growing up together.
“I never minded being on the road. She hated it. Hated leaving friends, leaving places. Our parents were really kind people, and they cared about us, but Mari had a harder time with the change than I did. Now that we’re grown, Mari’s found an anchor—in her work and this place and Harlan. Me? I’m a balloon floating around not sure how to find the ground.”
I sigh in his arms.
“My mom used to sing this song, 'Home.' It was the only time Mari would curl up next to Mom, that it seemed like they understood one another. I have a recording of her singing it. I’m trying to find it for the wedding.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it.”
I nod, swallowing as my fingers twist together and unlace.
“I have some friends, but she’s my family. The one who has to love me no matter what, who knows I’ll always love her.” I take a shallow breath. “When my parents died, they were on vacation in Costa Rica. Mari was busy working, but I was in my first year of art school. I was supposed to go with them but flaked at the last minute and bailed because of things I wanted to do at school. I told them to take this plane tour for me, and they did. Only the weather was bad, and they crashed.”
Guilt and grief rise up, consuming me until my lungs burn and my ribs threaten to crack.
“Their deaths weren’t your fault,” he murmurs.
“I should have been with them,” I insist. “I should have been on that plane.”
Clay takes my face in his hands and swipes at my cheeks, at the tears I didn’t notice before now.
“I’m fucking glad you weren’t,” he whispers against my lips.
His expression makes the guilt in my chest ease, replacing it with a feeling of warmth and hope.
“You are?” I blink up at him. It’s the first time someone’s said that to me, and it means the world.
“Fuck yes. For starters”—he pulls back an inch—“no one would’ve been on that commercial flight last month to tell me I should consider a career in basketball. And you see how well that worked out.”
