Page 62 of Past Tents

“You—you don’t?”

A quiet laugh escaped his lips. “No, Alexandra. I don’t keep condoms here because I don’t bring women back to my house.”

“Oh. Well, I’m on the pill,” I said, unhelpfully, because if anyone called for a condom, it was a notorious bachelor.

“Okay, well, I haven’t been with anyone for over a year,” he said, as though it made any sense at all.

“You haven’t?” I didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving. But come on. This was Clay Meadows.

“No. I haven’t. Why does that surprise you so much?”

“Just . . . you’re you.”

“And?”

I had no interest in explaining when I had Clay Meadows, still clad in those damn boxer briefs, hard and here and so damn sexy. Ridding him of the last stitch of clothing, I felt emboldened. I gestured for him to roll onto his back and I straddled his legs.

Clay’s hands slipped up my torso and he palmed both breasts as I ground against him, already feeling another orgasm starting to build.

I rolled my hand over the tip of his cock before edging it inside. Slowly. An inch at a time. Until he filled me.

When we started to move, it had none of the clumsy first-time feel to it I’d come to think of as normal. We were a symphony conducted by a maestro. Seamless, blissful harmony.

“Fuck, Ally,” he bit out as I rode him. Watching his half-lidded eyes as he began to let go fueled me. I loved having this effect on him.

And then we were both falling, useless at anything, perfect at everything. Coming apart and melting into each other.

This was not the man I thought I knew. He was so much better, and that would make it so much harder to get over him when I eventually had to, but I didn’t care. Right now, I’d give myself over and live out every fantasy with him. I could let myself have a little fun.

Or a lot. Hours of it, to be exact.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

ALLY

Three days after the retreat, the seniors were still buzzing about how much fun they’d had. And I was still buzzing from the night afterward that I’d spent with Clay. Given that it had been a Sunday, and we didn’t sleep much, it was making for a very exhausting week. A week of stolen glances and lingering kisses when Clay picked me up and dropped me off each day, which he’d insisted on doing.

This morning, it was early, even earlier than the teachers arrived for sunrise classes. No students were anywhere. The sun was barely up. But I’d already been awake for hours, thinking about Clay.

“You want to...go on a date with me? Tonight?” I sputtered, trying to wrap my brain around what he’d just asked.

Clay’s laugh sounded hollow. “No, Alexandra. I don’t want to go on a date with you. I want to go on a year of dates with you. And I want to listen to your weirdo thoughts and stare at your face when you tell me stories about the students you saved. All of them. But mostly, I want to fast-forward to the end of the dates to where I get you alone and I can peel the meddlesome layers ofclothing away and see all of you. Devour all of you. And I don’t just mean with my eyes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just mean...you’re known to date women only once or twice. Is this how you let me down easy, by taking me on a date?”

He looked more amused than disappointed, hand ruffling his hair, mouth quirking up into the unintentional smile I loved.

“Is that what you want, to be let down easy?”

“No.” Did I answer too quickly?

“Okay, holding you to that.”

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