Page 29 of My Secret Santa Clayton

"Would've been everything," I corrected him softly, letting out a long, shaky breath that carried away some of the weight I'd been carrying since we were eighteen and full of nothing but hope.

"Grace..." he repeated, this time with a note of something else—regret maybe, or the beginnings of understanding. Our past was a tangled mess, but sitting here now, it felt like we might finally start pulling at the knots.

"Would've been everything," I said again, the words hanging between us like a challenge he couldn't ignore.

"Damn it, Grace." His voice was low and rough, the kind of sound that used to make my knees weak.

And maybe it still did because when he leaned in, I didn't pull away.

Not an inch.

And then I was kissing him, and he was kissing me…and after more than a decade, everything was right with the world again.

THIRTEEN

Clay

Fuck…fuck, this felt good.

I could feel the rough fabric of my coat under my palms as I pulled her closer, but not close enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside me. Her fingers gripped my shirt, crumpling the cotton in her delicate, yet assertive hold. The world outside this moment faded away; nothing else existed but us and the need clawing at my insides.

“Grace,” I breathed out, a mere inch from her lips.

“Shut up, Clay,” she shot back, her voice low and husky, laced with that familiar sarcasm which somehow now sounded like an invitation rather than a dismissal.

When our lips met again, it was like a dam had broken within me. This wasn't just some smoldering ember of attraction—it was a blazing inferno. I wanted more, so much more, and judging by the way she was tugging me closer, she was on the exact same page.

She broke away for a fraction of a second, catching her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine. Then, her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging slightly,sending a jolt straight down my spine. No gentle caress, no timid touch—it was all passion, all need.

And God, if it didn't drive me wild.

“Clay,” she said when we finally parted, her voice still breathless, “we really shouldn't be doing this.”

“Probably not,” I admitted, my hands finding the small of her back, unwilling to let go just yet. “But since when have we ever done the sensible thing?”

“Fair point,” Grace agreed, a hint of laughter in her words, despite the seriousness of our situation.

“Besides,” I added, my eyes locked onto hers, “I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” she challenged, though her smirk told me she was enjoying every second of this.

“Grace,” I said, my voice low, “I'm half a second from?—”

“Grace! Clay!” Mariah's voice interrupted us, shattering the moment. She stood at the open door of the inn, hands cupped around her mouth—and thank fuck, I didn’t think she saw us around the tree. “Get your butts back in here! They're about to judge the contest!”

Her intrusion was like a splash of cold water. The kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving us both slightly dazed and disoriented. We were kids again, caught red-handed by a sibling who couldn't have had worse timing if she'd tried.

“Damn it, Mariah,” I muttered under my breath, but there was no anger behind it. Just the remnants of heat that hadn't quite dissipated.

Grace was blushing furiously, her cheeks a deep shade of crimson against her fair skin. For a moment, her eyes met mine, and I braced for the regret I was sure would follow.

Instead, she bit her lip, holding back a smile that threatened to break through. “We should, uh...” her gaze flickered to whereMariah waited impatiently, then back to me. “We should go inside.”

“Right.” My response was automatic, but my feet didn't move. I was still too caught up in her taste, her touch. “Inside. Yeah.”

She laughed then, soft and unexpected. It was light but laced with something else—a twist of irony maybe, or disbelief.

“Hey, why are you laughing?” I couldn't help but smile at her reaction, even if it didn't match the confusion tangling up inside me.

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