Page 60 of Past Tents

The last time I’d been here, we’d barely spent any time inside the house, other than as a passthrough to the yard. Tonight, Clay gave me a tour of the downstairs, pointing out the living room and den and guest bathroom, all of which were decorated with modern furnishings and masculine grays and blues. Pulling us into the kitchen, Clay rummaged through the refrigerator.

“Chicken burrito? Will that work?” He held up two packaged burritos with the guilty smile of a kid who’s about to eat a box of sugary cereal.

I nodded, and Clay popped them into the microwave.

Leaning against the marble counter, I watched him set the timer, liking the domesticity of the moment. After misunderstandinghim from afar for all these years, I loved seeing him with new eyes, performing simple tasks.

Turning back toward me, he smiled and lifted me onto the kitchen counter. Stepping between my legs, he was the perfect height to kiss me. He leaned in, cupping my cheeks in his hands, and his lips found mine. Soft, tender, unhurried.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and surrendered to a kiss that felt like it lasted for hours. Only the ding of the microwave gave me a sense of time.

Clay poured some salsa into a dish, and we ate side by side on barstools at the counter. He held his burrito in one hand and let the other rest on the back of my neck, where he gently rubbed out the muscles that were sore from carrying my pack.

When we’d finished eating, he walked me upstairs, never taking his hands off of me, never leaving more than a few inches of space between us. It was like an invisible barrier had snapped, and now we were two magnets unendingly pulled toward each other.

Wordlessly, he opened a cupboard in the hallway and handed me a fluffy white towel. “Three days in the wilderness. You earned yourself a hot shower.” He pointed me in the direction of a guest bathroom with a white-tiled shower, and came back a moment later with a pair of sweatpants and a tee. After a minute, I heard the water turn on in another bathroom.

I loved that he knew me well enough to understand that I’d endured bugs and dirt without complaint, but now I wanted a shower more than anything else. I loved that he’d given me a change of clothes without my having to ask. I loved so manythings about him, and that made me a little nervous because of all my mother’s warnings.

And then I reminded myself that I was not my mother. And not all of her warnings applied to me.

The hot water felt amazing, but I showered quickly, noticing a soap dish shaped like a duck and a neat display of river rocks in a bowl on the blue-tiled counter. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I wound my wet hair into a bun and put on Clay’s oversized clothes.

When I padded down the hall toward his room, I could hear the soft notes of blues playing, and I could smell the heady scent that was all Clay.

I hovered in the doorway and took a moment to gaze at Clay in his bare-chested splendor, as he stood shuffling through music on his phone in the dim evening light through the window. Hair wet and slicked back. Abs still damp above a navy pair of boxer briefs that hugged sculpted thighs. The blues track changed to a quiet instrumental and Clay seemed satisfied.

“Hey there, greyhound,” I said as Clay looked over at me lingering just outside the room.

“Hi, gorgeous.” In two strides, he reached me, extending his hand and pulling me toward him. Walking backward, he led me to his bed, covered in a large white comforter with big square pillows rimmed in blue stitching. In a quick motion, he swept me up and placed me in the center of the bed.

Almost like he knew where my mind had wandered, Clay took both of my hands in his and held them between us while his mouth claimed mine in a searing kiss.

Our bodies folded into each other, his hard muscles finding my soft places. Everything fit, and Clay released my hands, freeing them to roam over his sculpted pecs and along his strong shoulders.

My heart fluttered in my chest like a panicky hummingbird. My breathing came out in uneven exhales, even as I tried to steady it.

How could I feel so much and crave this man so much when he’d barely touched me. The mere proximity of him had me feeling more alive than I’d ever felt. Every nerve flared on high alert. Every tremble across my skin raced through my body, ending in a hot bundle of nerves at my core.

“Ally...” He closed his eyes on a long blink that made me wonder if I was trying his patience. When his lids lifted, there was a fiery determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there moments earlier. “Always. I’ve always wanted you like this.”

I swallowed hard, a nervous tiny voice telling me there was still time to back out.

I didn’t want to back out.

I nodded.

Clay leaned closer, and for a moment, time hung there in the space between us, gobbled up by the infinite possibilities of what could happen next. “There’s something magical about the pause, isn’t there?” His quiet voice danced across my lips. “The holding of breath, the knowing, and anticipating, and waiting just another moment before...” He lingered there, and I felt his breath against my lips, a quiet caress that was almost enough to throw every nerve ending into overdrive. Almost.

The proximity of him was making me dizzy. All sexy stubble and angular cheekbones. Pine scent mixed with soap. The faintest hint of mint from his toothpaste. My eyes drifted shut and I leaned closer. Millimeters separated us, and all of my other senses came alive when I stopped fighting them.

Clay’s hand cupped my chin, sending chills down my spine and making me lean into his touch as he slid his hand along my skin and into my hair. He grasped the back of my head and turned my face slightly, leaning back to look at me. Like he was giving us one last chance to change our minds.

I nodded, eyes locked on his.

I saw the moment his resolve shredded. A tiny crack in his controlled façade. A softening of his jaw and a darkness in his eyes that hardened with decision. Then he angled my face to the side, his hand twisting into my hair as he drew me closer.

It was a different brush of his lips, a hint of something deeper that leveled my senses with such force that I gasped. But there was no time to feel self-conscious about the sound because he wasn’t stopping, kissing me like I was a salve to his aching body, not just hinting but insisting. I kissed him back with equal fervor, overwhelmed by a hunger I couldn’t explain because it was so unfamiliar.

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