Page 46 of The Opposite Effect

Her pupils enlarge to the size of dinner plates as shock makes itself known on her face. “Can you turn around?”

I arch my brow. “You were just about to suck my cock, but now you’re acting all shy.”

Quicker than the flash of a camera bulb, Clara grasps the hem of her dress and whips it over her head.

Holy fuck!

I knew her body would be dynamite, but mother-fucking-lord it’s even better than I expected. Perky round breasts only just concealed by a hot pink fancy lace bra I’ve only seen on the runway, a smooth, flat stomach, and lusciously long legs spread far enough apart, her sheer panties award me the slightest peek of a pussy I have no doubt tastes sweeter than honey.

Staring me straight in the eyes, Clara drops my shirt beside her feet before sauntering to my bed. The hardness of my cock turns deadly when she slips between the sheets wearing nothing but a lace bra and a tiny pair of panties.

The rise and fall of her chest increases when I grab the collar of my shirt to drag it over my head before lowering the zipper of my jeans. Her soft pants quicken when my jeans are kicked aside two seconds later.

Just like I couldn’t take my eyes off her during her provocative striptease, her eyes drink in every inch of me as I stand before her in nothing but a pair of white briefs.

“Calvin Klein?” she queries with her brow bowed high.

I shrug. “What? They’re comfy,” I reply before slipping into the opposite side of the bed.

I freeze, and a curse word seeps from my lips when a warm hand grips my crotch, instantly turning my cock to stone. It takes a few moments for my brain to register what’s going on, but when it does, it takes all my strength—and then some—to stop Clara from stroking me through my briefs.

“Nope. Not happening.” My words are rough, relaying the moral struggle I’m trudging through.

“Why?” Clara snaps back. “If this isn’t what you brought me here for, why the hell am I here?”

“Because…you’re in shock!” I hiss through clenched teeth. “And when I take you… and don’t have any doubt, Princess, that is a when, not an if… it won’t be while you’re in shock. I made a mistake once letting you kiss me when you were rattled. It ain’t happening again.” Leaning over, I switch off the lights. “Now roll onto your hip, so I can spoon you.”

Clara gasps in a sharp breath, astonished by my demand. She isn’t the only one surprised. I don’t spoon. I’ve never fucking spooned. But I’ll spoon her if it guarantees the parts of her body I want to explore the most are facing away from me.

While grumbling under her breath, Clara rolls on her opposite hip. I splay my hand across the smooth planes of her stomach and draw her back.

What? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.

My lips quirk. This spooning shit isn’t too bad. My cock is nestled between the crack of her ass and halfway up her back, my torso is being warmed by the heat of her body, and the scent of her recently shampooed hair is penetrating my nostrils. It isn’t half bad. I could get used to this.

A few minutes pass in silence as I run my hand up and down Clara’s forearm. If her breathing pattern had leveled out, I might have believed she was asleep, but I know she’s awake, even with not seeing her face.

After another stint of quiet, Clara does a one-eighty. The moonlight sneaking into the room from the roof window illuminates half of her face. Even though I can only see half of her beautiful features I’ve studied in great depth the past six months, I can see enough to tell she’s struggling to emerge from the dark pit her attack pushed her into.

The warmth of her breath flutters my lips when she quietly murmurs, “Why am I here, Brax?”

I run the back of my hand down her face, removing a tear that sneakily escaped her eye. “This may be a little hard for you to believe, but you’re here because I actually like you, Princess. I want to take care of you.” When she gasps, feigning shock, I chuckle. “Is my revelation really that shocking?”

She sighs. “Depends. If you really knew me?—”

“I know you,” I interrupt.

“The real me, Brax. The before-Inked Clara,” she interjects, her voice shaky and low. “If you knewthatClara, your opinion of me might change.”

“Un-fucking-likely,” I reply without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Another stretch of silence passes between us. It isn’t awkward but necessary. Clara needs time to compose herself, and I need time to get over the shock I brought a woman to my apartment, and I’m not freaked out about it.

An uneasiness settles in the bottom of my gut when Clara asks, “What are the chances of my necklace being found?”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “Depends on the value. If it’s worth a lot, the chances are low.” A heaviness slams into my chest when a stream of tears rolls down her cheeks. “Was it worth a lot?”

Clara shakes her head. “No.” She draws herself into my torso. “It’s not even valuable, but it’s all I have left.” Her lips quiver against my bare chest as she cries and cries until her eyes have no tears left, then she falls asleep in my arms.

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