Page 134 of Fiery Romance

“Enough. The truth, Clay. Why are you here?” My voice trembles.

“Didn’t you set this date up to get my attention?”

I hiss when he drags a slick path over me. My fingers dig into the back of his neck and I scrape my hips against his jeans, a desperate attempt to create friction. “Don’t be so cocky. Not everything is about you.”

His voice is deep, rough and seductive. I almost groan out loud.

“Let’s not dance around this anymore, sweetheart. I want you.”

“You want me? Since when?”

Clay’s tongue flicks against my roaring pulse, mimicking the movement of his finger on the tiny scrap of fabric under my skirt. “Since you stormed into my life with those pretty eyes and threatened me with a hairdryer.” He inhales sharply. “I want you, Island. I want your sunshine and your darkness. I want your ‘just because’ and your complexities. I want to care for you and shelter you. I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth and bring you back to me if I ever lose you. But I don’t want to share you.”

“It’s just… one date,” I pant, hardly able to believe this stony brute is being so honest. Hardly able to believe that my lingerie is halfway down my legs.

“I’m not talking about him.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Something thuds deep in my chest. An inkling of unease.

This is about Taz.

“I can’t make any promises,” I say.

Clay makes his displeasure known by delving into me.

I release a pitiful cry as every sensitive nerve ending flares to life. Pleasure sets me on fire and my senses heighten, making me aware of his body behind me, his breath in my ear, his teasing pace.

I moan and move my hips, seeking him out. He gives me what I want. Another desperate sound tumbles from my lips. I’m getting loud and this is a public restaurant, even if it is empty. I should be ashamed of myself, but his touch feels too good. My body can’t make room for anything but pleasure.

Clay dips his head in the crook of my neck, hand still buried under my dress, rubbing against me. My breath hitches. He has me dangling on a razor-sharp edge.

Psycho.

Clay nuzzles the skin where my jaw meets my throat. “I’m not looking for promises.”

My body shudders and shakes like an over-ripe tree about to snap in a hurricane.

There is no way out of this impasse. No way to move forward.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe I shouldn’t have opened this door in the first place.

But it’s too late.

The river’s already lashing, roaring, coasting down the stream.

“I have responsibilities.” Clay’s voice is hard. As hard as the ache inside me that screams I’ll explode if he stops touching me. “Half the people in my house are already in love with you.”

Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear the word ‘love’ and ‘half’ and put together that he’s not talking about Regan and Abe.

Yet the blood rushing in my head makes it hard to think of anything.

“I’m selfish. I’m stubborn. I won’t share you,” Clay growls again.

Possessive bastard.

My body tightens, almost there, but my conscience tugs at me. I made Taz a promise. It’s always been me and him.

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