Page 49 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Tonight,” I agreed, “I'll stay tonight.”

I knew he meant more than that—I knew he wanted forever. And God, he deserved it…but I wasn’t sure if I did. I’d gotten selfish, I’d put people in harm’s way.

But I could take this moment with him.

It could be the last thing I ever did.

His hand brushed my hair back from my forehead, his touch gentle. In that small gesture, I felt more than just the warmth of his skin—I felt his need to protect, to connect, to not let go.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice low.

“Nothing to thank me for,” he replied, his blue eyes meeting mine.

We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the fire crackle and the clock tick away the seconds. For now, this was enough. This was everything.

TWENTY-TWO

Clay

I sat on the couch, book in hand, glancing down at Grace every now and then. She had dozed off with her head on my shoulder hours ago, and I hadn't moved since. The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of pages as I turned them, and the crackling fire in the hearth.

I read each line but took none of it in; my mind buzzed with the need to keep watch over her.

“Clay?” Her voice broke through my concentration. Grace stirred, lifting her head slightly. “What time is it?”

“Close to midnight,” I replied.

“What…” she blinked slowly, processing this. “Why didn’t you go to bed?”

I closed my book with a chuckle. “If you think I'm sleeping tonight, you're out of your mind.”

Grace frowned up at me, her brows knitting together. “Why?”

“Because I have to keep an eye on you. I swore I'd protect you...and that's what I intend to do.”

She sighed and shifted to face me fully. Her fingers trailed up my neck, gentle but firm, until she cradled my cheek in her hand. “I'd prefer you sleep.”

I shook my head, a half smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I won't sleep until you're safe.”

“Bet I can make you sleep,” Grace said, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. “How?”

Grace stood and stepped away from me, her movements fluid even in my oversized clothing. She smiled at me, that same playful look on her face as she pulled the sweater over her head. I tried to ignore how the sight of her in my t-shirt and sweatpants made my heart beat faster.

Like she was really mine.

“Interested?” she asked, tossing the sweater aside with an impish grin.

Fuck…yeah, I was very interested, and she knew that.

Grace turned on her heel and started toward the bedroom, each step deliberate. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the sweatpants and slid them down her legs, stepping out of them with a grace that seemed innate to her every move. The fabric pooled at her feet, forgotten as she continued her path. I could see her ass peeking out underneath my t-shirt, no panties.

Jesus.

I watched her, my body tensing as she revealed herself bit by bit. My eyes followed the curve of her hips, the smooth expanse of her back, and I felt the steady thump of my heart against my ribcage. She reached behind her back, fingers deftly unclasping her bra and letting it fall away.

The air between us felt charged, alive with an energy I couldn't ignore. I remained motionless, rooted to the couch as she glanced over her shoulder. Her brown eyes locked onto mine, a playful challenge dancing within them, and then she winked.

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