Page 29 of Brazen Deceits

“What, do you have sole ownership of Clara now or something?” I yank my arm out of his grasp.

He glares out the kitchen window, trying to piece together his pleasant mask, but I’m not gonna let him. Something is up, and this fake, bland bastard is so much worse than whatever it is Walker is trying to hide. I take a leap, a guess. “So you fuck her, and what, the rest of us are shit out of luck? I know that’s not what she wants, and I’m not going to let you dictate what kind of relationship the rest of us get to have with her.”

He still doesn’t meet my eyes, but his words lash out with genuine anger. “That’s not fucking it. Just,” he rubs his handsover his eyes, taking a breath, “she’s going to need a minute, that’s all.”

“Why?” I push, knowing I’m getting close.

But instead of rising to my challenge, instead of snapping, he shakes his head and goes back to the stove. “Whatever. Maybe you’ll make her, I don’t know, happier.”

I debate forcing the issue, but he’s shut down. I glance through the doorway behind me. Clara looked worried this morning. Maybe she’ll know what’s up. With one last look at Walker, I slip down the hall to Clara’s room, my knock light.

“Go away, Walker,” she yells through the door. Well, that’s not good.

“It’s me, Jansen,” I say, my hand on the doorknob.

Without warning, the door flies open. I stumble forward as Clara grabs a handful of my shirt, dragging me into her room, slamming the door with my back as she presses me against it. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, but she looks ready to explode, not melt. She is livid. What the fuck did Walker do?

Her hands spread across my chest, the full force of her behind them, pinning me where I stand.

“Hey,” I say, once again in unfamiliar territory. Clara’s been playful, she’s been forward, but never aggressive.

She runs one hand up to my hair, pulling out my ponytail. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask as her hand tangles in my hair.

She opens her eyes and shakes her head again. “No. I just don’t want to feel…this,” she says.

I reach up and cup her cheek. “What do you want to feel?”

She licks her lips. “In control.”

Shit. I swallow back the knowledge that we’re supposed to be in the living room in the next few minutes. That can wait. This can’t. “I’m yours,” I say, my heart pounding in my ears, my words more true than I’d realized.

A hint of a smile flits across her lips. “Good.”

Her fingers grasp my hair, pulling me down to meet her lips, her kiss frantic, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth, our teeth clinking. Her other hand snakes down, unbuttoning my jeans, and the noise of the house, the plans I’ve been working on all day scatter away, swallowed by her flame.

She backs me away from the door, forcing me to drop onto her mattress on the floor. I yank off my shirt before she’s back on me, her hands stroking down my chest, her nails leaving trails of fire across my skin. She tugs off my jeans and boxers before stripping off her own clothes, fully naked, her gentle curves vivid in the electric light.

Her eyes pass over me, taking me in, and the inspection has me throwing back my shoulders, shifting to accommodate her desire. She kneels between my legs, her hands skimming my thighs, skirting my painfully hard dick, and over my pecs as she crawls up my body, her nipples brushing my chest. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on this fast.

“Clara,” I say, wanting to know how I’m supposed to play this.

She presses her finger to my lips, stopping me, and I find I don’t mind a bit. Her breath brushes against my ear as shewhispers, “Shh,” the chastisement followed by her tongue sweeping the lobe, her teeth nipping a line from my ear to my shoulder, my bones thrumming.

I run my hands from her waist to her ass, wanting to yank her against me, needing more contact than this torture. But she shifts, my hands no longer reaching, so I trace her ribs, teasing her too. She pauses her trail of kisses down my chest to shoot me a mock glare before snatching my hands and placing them on her breasts, a soft sigh escaping from her.

This girl is a fucking goddess.

I do as requested, squeezing, tracing circles as she settles onto her heels, straddling my hips, her head dropping back as I risk a pinch of one of her nipples. Her answering moan tells me all I need to know, so I use a hand to urge her closer. I take her nipple in my mouth, a swipe of my tongue followed by a nip as she grinds against me, her hands suddenly flighty and frantic against my skin.

“Please,” she murmurs.

“What do you need?” I say, licking her nipple one last time before switching to her other breast.

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