Page 58 of My Secret Santa Clayton

I had to believe this was the beginning of something beautiful.

We just had to get through the hard part first.

TWENTY-SIX

Clay

I loved mornings like this—the quiet before the day really started, Grace beside me.

I wanted these mornings for the rest of my life.

Grace was curled up under the sheets, her back nestled against my chest. I grinned and pulled her closer; she responded with a sleepy murmur, her eyes barely open.

“Is it morning already?” she mumbled.

I chuckled, my voice low. “Yep…and there’s stuff to do, places to be.”

“Like what?”

“Errands to run, but some quick stuff,” I murmured. I kissed the place on her neck behind her ear—it smelled like her, like sweetness and warmth. She hummed contentedly. “Wanna come?”

“I probably should,” she whispered, “but it’s so comfy…”

Grace turned to face me, brown eyes warm in the morning light. “Looking like that, I’m tempted to just stay here with you all day,” I said.

She smirked. “Doesn’t sound like a horrible idea.”

Sheets twisted around our legs as I shifted, pressing Grace closer to me.

“Clay,” she breathed.

“No reason not to enjoy this while we can,” I growled.

Her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging gently, needy. The touch was simple but sent my thoughts scattering. Breath ghosted over my skin. Her skin flushed, her breath quickened.

I wanted to start this day off right.

I rolled her onto her back and braced myself over her, pulling the sheets over my head. I dragged my lips down her body, lingering at the soft curve of her hip before finding the warmth between her thighs.

“Clay,” she said, her voice steady but thick with anticipation.

“I’m right here, beautiful,” I replied and kissed her inner thigh.

Her hands found the back of my head, urging me closer. I obliged, my tongue tracing her folds until a low moan escaped her lips.

“Please,” she gasped.

I was more than willing to oblige.

I started to lick her in long strokes, my fingers finding her entrance and thrusting gently inside. She tugged on my hair. I wanted her to know I was hers—that I knew her body, that she belonged to me. My movements became purposeful, my tongue circling then pressing against her. Grace tensed, her breaths coming in short bursts. I felt her clench around my fingers just before she cried out my name, her whole body shaking.

“Clay,” she breathed heavily, “come here.”

I moved up her body, our eyes locking as I positioned myself. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me in. I entered her slowly, savoring the tightness, the heat.

She met each of my thrusts with an urgency that matched my own. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies, our groans, the creak of the bed frame.

“Harder,” she commanded.

---