Page 40 of My Secret Santa Clayton

I bucked my hips wildly, riding his every thrust, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His hands tightened on my ass, pulling me harder against him as he fought against his own control.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice thick with passion.

“Come inside me,” I urged him, riding the wave of his climax with him. “Wanna…wanna feel you, please?—”

His thrusts grew ragged, desperate, and I knew he was close. I felt him tense beneath me before he groaned loud and long, his body seizing up as he found his release.

I sank down onto him fully, feeling the warmth of his release fill me completely as I rode out my own climax.

We stayed like that for a long moment, our hearts pounding in unison, our breaths ragged, our bodies still joined together. Finally, we disentangled ourselves and collapsed into the blankets beside each other, exhausted and satiated.

“I think I might actually be drunk on you,” I laughed softly, running my fingers through his hair.

He chuckled alongside me. “That's a new one.”

We lay there, basking in the glow of the aftermath, feeling the remnants of our passion still coursing through our veins. Tendrils of doubt tried to creep into my thoughts, but I shoved them away, focusing instead on the warmth of Clay's body pressed against mine.

Doubt could wait.

Tonight, I just wanted to be with him.

EIGHTEEN

Clay

I woke up to the last breaths of the fire, just a glow of embers now. The cabin was silent except for the hum of the heater that must've kicked back on while we were asleep. Grace was still beside me, her brown hair framing her face in sleep, and Bear was curled up like a furry question mark a little ways off.

I took a moment, just watching her breathe.

I didn’t want this moment to end.

With care not to wake her, I peeled the blanket back and stood, stretching out the stiffness from sleeping on the rug. A look outside told me the snow hadn’t let up all night, but it was just flurries now—nothing the cabin couldn't handle.

The chill from the dying fire nipped at my skin, so I tossed a couple more logs onto the coals and breathed life back into them with a few good puffs. Flames licked up, eager to chase away the cold. It felt good, to tend to something, to see immediate results.

Life’s rarely that simple.

I padded over to the kitchen, moving quietly, and went about making coffee. The grinder was loud, probably enough to wake the dead, but Grace slept through it. It must have beeneasy for her to sleep through noise, given she’d spent time in Afghanistan. I got that.

The coffee started to drip, rich and dark, and the scent filled the room, cutting through the smoky wood smell. I found two mugs and poured us both a cup.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I said, nudging her shoulder gently with a free hand. “Day's wasting, and I made you something to kickstart your engine.”

She groaned, batting my hand away, and Bear lifted his head with a lazy huff. For a moment, I just stood there, caught in the quiet bubble of the morning, knowing that outside, beyond the snow and the warmth of this place, real life was waiting.

But right here, right now? It could wait just a bit longer.

Grace stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal those deep brown eyes that seemed to see right through me. She sat up, the blanket falling away from her shoulders, and took the mug I offered.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she inhaled the aroma. “You know the way to a girl's heart.”

“Only if that girl's you.”

We sipped our coffee in comfortable silence for a few moments before I broke it. I had to; if not now, then when?

“Grace, about before...” I started, watching as she placed her mug down and turned to face me fully. “I've never regretted anything more in my life.” My voice was rough with emotions I'd kept at bay for too long. “You deserved better.”

She blinked slowly, processing my words. Her sarcasm, her armor—all of it melted away, leaving raw vulnerability in its place.

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