Page 103 of Finding Home

“Traitor.” She scowled at Fitz’s wrinkled face.

“Aww sorry, Elle, you know everybody likes me best.”

Running water and the buzz of Clayton’s electric toothbrush floated from the attached bathroom as Elle walked into the bedroom. Surveying the room, the bed was already set for them. Two fresh bottles of water sat on the bedstands on their respective sides. On Clayton’s side, his phone was plugged in. A folded red T-shirt sat on the end of the bed. Unfolding it, Elle smiled at the white cursive lettering proclaimingIt’s a Puggin’ Good Daywith an image of a happy round-belly pug. She knew he had laid it out for her. Despite her array of adorable PJs that she brought with her to Perry, she had taken to wearing one of Clayton’s shirts each night.

Everything was as it was each night, except no Fitz. A tiny sting of jealousy pricked her, that on her second to last time sleeping here, Fitz wouldn’t lay atop her feet. Tomorrow, well actually today, would be her last full day here.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going to think about it.

Elle inhaled a steadying breath, allowing it to fill her with thoughts of what remained, rather than what would soon be lost. She was here now and needed to just live in the moment. The bathroom door was cracked open, and she peeked in almost like a voyeur, drinking Clayton in as if the first quenching taste of water after a long run. Readied for bed, he stood at the sink in a pair of red boxer briefs.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Elle’s gaze swept over Clayton’s form. The gray of his eyes pierced her soul even within the mirror’s reflection. Tiny crinkles kissed the edges of his eyes. The cut of his muscles flexed with the slow movement of his arm as he brushed his teeth. The paw print tattoo scampered up his right forearm,telling a story she was privileged to know about a man that chose to forge his own path despite one already being mapped out for him. Clayton’s entire being was served up as a physical representation for the many reasons she loved him. His toned arms strong, caring, and protecting. Seductive lips, kissable, teasing, and sweet, but above all the portal for him to speak all the words that had captured her heart. That broad chest perfect for holding her but even more perfect for holding his kind, thoughtful heart. Those versatile strong hands that made her melt at their touch, wiped away her tears, clasped her hands, caressed her cheeks, and supported her.

I love you so much.Elle stared as the familiarthump-thumpof her heart pounded.

“You’re staring at me like I’m the last piece of pizza.” Clayton grinned, setting aside his toothbrush, and then wiping his mouth.

“Sausage.”She licked her lips.

“Is that a euphemism or are you hungry?” He turned and faced her, the muscles in his exposed back reflected in the mirror, giving Elle a full-circle view of his vigorous physique.

“Are you aware of how unbelievably beautiful you are?” Elle whispered. “I mean, look at you.”

“I’d rather look at you.” A devilish glint sparked in his eyes as they roved languidly down her body, as if taking a slow Sunday stroll in the park.

“You like looking, eh?” With a bite of her lower lip, she slipped her sweater off, dropping it to the floor. “I should give you more to look at. You know, keep it interesting.” She unclasped her pink strapless bra, letting it join her sweater. She felt brazen and a little wanton, but she could excuse it. She only had a few more hours with Clayton. A few more hours to touch and be touched.

Desire darkened his eyes, as Elle skated her fingers down her bare torso to the button of her jeans.

“Stop.” His dark eyes bored through her. “You said if I was good, I got to take those off.”

“I did.” Elle’s voice dripped with warm honey.

“Was I good?” He stepped closer. “Or was I bad?” The rumble of his low voice tingled through her.

“You wereverygood.” She almost purred.

“You know we have a guest.” He cocked his head, his features drawn into a devious expression. “Do you think you can be quiet?”

Biting her lip, she nodded, and gasped as he popped the button of her jeans.

THIRTY-NINE

“Surprises are foolish things.”

~Jane Austen,Emma

Streaks of sunlight nudged Elle awake. Well, half awake. Her brain wasn’t fully firing yet, but she had a dim notion that she was no longer dreaming. Snuggling into the soft sheets, she blinkingly watched Clayton button a blue plaid shirt before rolling the cuffs up.Those forearms.

“Tease,” Elle mumbled, her voice sleep drunk.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping in.” He chuckled, stepping away from the closet and shutting the door.

“But your forearms,” she whined.

“Oh, ‘Sleepy Elle’ is back.” He moved to her side of the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat.

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