Feverish (Bullet #3) (17 page)

The waiter brought their drinks and took
their order. Clay took a long swallow of his wine and then said, “I
guess we should talk about the elephant, huh?”

Emily tried not to spit out the water in her
mouth. “The elephant in the room? That what you’re saying?”

“Yeah. Its ass is pretty damn big and I can’t
see you.”

She started laughing. “Fair enough.” She had
to give him credit. It took balls to call her on it. She hadn’t
known her reluctance had been so obvious. She really should have
taken an acting class or two in high school. Too late now. She
nodded. “I guess I’ll go first.”

He cocked his head and grabbed his glass.
“Sure. Go ahead.”

She swallowed. “So…this was a complete
mistake. It was my fault. I’ll accept responsibility, and I want
you to know I won’t use this in any way to manipulate you as my
employer.”

He blinked. “Okay. I’m not worried about
that.”

“Sorry. I hope you don’t feel like I used
you.”

He started laughing. “You realize that no guy
in the world would care if you used him that way, right?”

She grinned. He was taking it well. “I feel
better already.”

“I wondered instead how you’d feel about one
more time. Then…back to the way things were.”

Oh, she was pissed at herself because she
liked the sound of that. One more time in his bed. Yeah, she really
did want that. Then tomorrow she could figure out if she still
wanted Bryce or not. Right now, she never wanted to see the guy
again, but a good night’s sleep might change that. She smiled at
Clay, hoping her eyes didn’t look as ravenous as they felt. “Just
tonight?” He nodded. “Then we act like nothing ever happened?” His
head was still moving up and down as his eyes clouded over. She
stuck out her hand to give him one of the firm shakes she’d
practiced over the years. “Deal.”

* * *

Clay wasn’t sure what to make of the
conversation he’d had with Emily. Somehow, she’d turned the tables
on him. He’d been trying to let her down gently, but it turned out
she didn’t need that.

Hell, he was just a piece of meat to her.

Not that he was complaining. He loved women
and he loved sex, and he’d never wanted to feel committed. The only
times he’d done it, he’d been screwed over. Well, that wasn’t
entirely true, but it felt that way. He’d met his ex-wife Abby when
he was young and fallen hard, and she’d let herself get pregnant.
He loved her, so he married her. It was the right thing to do, and
he was glad he had, because he’d gotten a wonderful child out of
the whole thing. His daughter Jasmine was one of the few things
he’d ever done right in his life. Not long after she was born,
though, Abby started cheating on Clay with a man she was still with
to this day.

Okay, so Clay had probably made her feel like
she’d had no choice, but still. It had hurt.

And Valerie Quinn. Not Quinn anymore, but she
had been at the time. Such a sweet, vibrant, lively young woman,
and he’d fallen for her hard too. He loved seeing the world through
her eyes of wonder, and she’d made him feel a little younger too.
He hadn’t been the right guy for her, though, and he’d known it
shortly into their relationship. Still, she’d tried to make it work
too. He knew it, and so, when she’d talked to him about it, he let
her go.

That had hurt too, but he’d wanted her to be
happy, and he had the feeling she’d never be one-hundred percent
happy with him.

And now Emily…she didn’t come right out and
say it, but she was full of shit if she said she didn’t still love
the guy she was or wasn’t engaged to. He even wondered if she was
telling the truth about him not being her fiancé anymore. Maybe
she’d broken up with him temporarily so she wouldn’t feel guilty
about releasing any sexual tension she’d shared with Clay.

He’d joked about not minding if she used him,
and his cock meant it. His heart, though, the part of him that was
all Clay, did mind. He didn’t just want her for a quick roll in the
hay. He didn’t necessarily want her for forever, but he didn’t want
her to just ride him and thank him and go along on her merry
way.

It was just starting to turn dark out as they
headed down the freeway back to his house. The two were quiet
again. Emily was checking her phone and Clay turned on the radio,
and it just hit him. It didn’t hurt that Korn’s “Need To” started
playing on the radio, a song he hadn’t heard in years. It was like
fate was trying to tell him something. This thing with Emily,
though…it was a lot like with Valerie. He was rebound guy. Valerie
hadn’t even officially broken up with her then-boyfriend Ethan when
she came begging for Jet to fuck her senseless, and now with Emily,
it was the same goddamned thing. She was convinced she had either
broken up with or wanted to break up with her douchey boyfriend
(again, not unlike Ethan), and she came running to Jet, asking him
to fuck her till the ex was out of her mind. He became convinced
that, just like Valerie, Emily would go trotting back to her ex
once she got Jet out of her system.

He could be okay with it if he regarded Emily
as just a fine piece of ass.

But he was growing to really care about her
as a person, not just as a plaything.

So he was at a crossroads now—did he put on a
happy face, enjoy some smokin’ sex, and go back to the way things
were tomorrow?

Yeah, he would. He had no other choice.

Chapter Seventeen

THEY WALKED INTO the house, and Clay decided
to play it cool. No way was he going to let a woman get the best of
him. If she wanted Jet, she was going to get Jet. Jet had never
even come close to crying over a woman or worrying what she
thought. That must have been what they wanted, because no woman had
ever asked for Clay.

They always asked for Jet.

Yeah, the cocky part of him thought that was
pretty cool. Jet was an overly alpha persona, and women swooned
around him. The problem was Jet was all an act. Jet wasn’t the real
man underneath it all, but none of the women he dated seemed to
understand that.

Again, not entirely true. Abby knew it and
loved to kick Clay whenever she had a chance. Of course, Jet was
pretty new back then. Valerie seemed to understand it too, for the
most part, and she was certainly more respectful and kind about it,
but she didn’t get just
how
much Clay was the exact and
total opposite of Jet. Jet was bold, conceited, and made of steel.
Clay was kind-hearted, caring, a little introverted, and cautious.
He could also be hurt. He could be hurt easily and badly.

That’s why it was so fucking stupid that he’d
let himself peek out. He should have regarded Emily through Jet’s
eyes the entire time, but no. He’d thought of her as someone he
could let himself get close to. Hell, he’d
had
to trust her,
because she was dealing with so many personal aspects of his life.
Still, he’d been foolish to not make that distinction, to just lay
his heart on the table, exposed and vulnerable. What a dumb
ass.

So where did they go from here? Forward, of
course. He’d put on his Jet armor and ride her like a horse into
battle. He was battling with his heart, but if he won, he could
keep his feelings at bay and just give her the good time she was
asking for. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t enjoy himself too.

He felt awkward.
Again.
Emily took
care of that, though. “I’ve had my phone off all day, but I got a
text from my dad. I need to call him really quick.”

He nodded. “Sure. Do what you gotta do.”

He felt like the wind had been let out of his
sails. He needed to do something about that, though, because when
she returned, she’d be expecting fun party guy Jet. He turned on
the light in the kitchen and walked over to the small wine rack on
the corner of the counter and pulled out a bottle of red. He wanted
something stronger, but he thought Emily might prefer something
that felt a little more sophisticated…not that he was doing it with
her in mind. He uncorked it and grabbed two glasses, then headed to
his room. He set them on the dresser next to the stereo and poured
himself a glass. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, putting his
glass down on the nightstand after taking a large gulp, and pulled
his shoes and socks off, sliding them just under the bed so Emily
wouldn’t trip on them. He took another swig and then got up to pour
more in the glass. If he could just take the edge off, he could be
the Jet she wanted him to be.

After a few minutes and a few more swallows,
she walked into the doorway to his room. He was starting to wonder
if she’d changed her mind. He hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to
help him shift his mood, and he’d need a minute or two to put the
Jet mask on. He’d been wallowing too long. But she walked over to
him, stopping just in front of him, and she pulled her tank top
over her head. She was wearing a different bra now, a thin white
lacey one that left little to his imagination. Okay, that
helped.

Yeah, it helped a lot when she got closer and
wrapped her arms around his head. Then he couldn’t resist. Those
fine tits were right there. They were his for the taking, even if
it was only for tonight, and he couldn’t walk away.

She reached down and took the glass out of
his hand, bringing it to her lips. She downed what was left and set
the glass on the nightstand. She placed her hands on the sides of
his head and turned his face up to hers. She kissed him on the lips
hard, and he just let himself drown in the sensation. She was so
sweet, so perfect. But if she just wanted a fuck, he was gonna give
it to her.

He grabbed her breasts on both sides, and
when they finished kissing, he lowered his chin again so they were
right in front of his face. He pushed them together and kissed the
tops of them where they swelled out of her bra. She sucked in a
deep breath, and he decided there was no reason to prolong it. In a
matter of seconds, he unclasped her bra. He kissed her cleavage
while moving his hands back to the sides of her breasts. He cupped
them but slid his thumbs to the center of both. He moved his thumbs
in a circular motion, one opposite the other, coaxing her nipples
to grow hard. She wound her fingers through his hair, pressing
against his skull, and let out another long breath.

Time to move things up a notch. He trailed
his tongue up the side of one of her breasts and sucked the areola
into his mouth. His fingers on the other breast took the nipple
between his finger and thumb and pinched it. She gasped, tightening
her grip on his hair, and she pushed on his chest, willing him to
lie back.

He looked up at her and took her in. She
hovered over him, looking as ravenous as he felt. He put his hands
on her hips when she straddled him, his legs still dangling over
the edge of the bed. She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled
it up, but it wasn’t moving smoothly because it was under him, so
he leaned up, but he also had to take his hands off her. He threw
the shirt to his side, and it landed somewhere on his bed, but he
returned his hands to her hips.

He could feel the heat coming off her, and it
only added to his own fever. Gone were the doubts, the second
guessing, the feeling bad about himself, because right now he was
doing what he knew best. She bent over and took one of his nipple
rings in her mouth. God, he loved how she did that. The sensation
was arousing, because he never felt the rings anymore unless
someone was messing with them, and to have her warm tongue swirling
it around, followed by the feeling of cool when she moved her mouth
somewhere else just made his blood rush through his body
faster.

He was hard, stiff as a board, and ready. He
was glad she was calling the shots and didn’t feel like moving
slowly either, because she started playing with the button on his
jeans. She sat halfway up so she could maneuver her hands better,
but he grabbed her neck and pulled her lips down to his.

He could do this
just one more time
business, but he couldn’t deny the electricity between them. It was
like a spark or a charge, and when his lips touched hers, he could
feel it through his entire body. So he knew it wasn’t necessarily
Emily herself that he wanted but that feeling, because it was one
he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe she didn’t feel it. Maybe it was
just him.

His thoughts slammed out of the room as her
fingers wrapped around his cock. He hadn’t even registered that
she’d pulled the zipper down, but she was moving forward, and now
his mind was only there. Without thinking, he moved his hand that
still rested on her hip and worked it up underneath that short
skirt where he grabbed the front of her panties in his hand. He
noticed the sensation of the soft trimmed hair underneath brushing
against the top his fingers. The panties were bunched up, and he
could tell that made them tight around her. He growled. “If you
don’t take these off right now, I’ll rip ‘em off you.”

Her eyes grew wide, but he could see that
part of her liked the idea. She was deciding if she wanted to let
him ruin a pair of her underwear for the thrill. He could buy her
all the panties she ever wanted, but he wasn’t going to say that.
He’d already given her the option to save them. Her eyes
flashed—amusement? anger? enticement?—he couldn’t tell, but she
slid backward just the same and stood on the side of the bed
pulling them down and off. She started to take off the skirt as
well. “No, leave that on.”

She cocked her head but nodded. He slid up on
the bed a little more, but his feet still dangled over the edge.
She smiled, looking impish, and said, “Should I fetch a condom out
of that drawer?” She pointed to the nightstand.

“Yeah, you better.” While she turned and got
into the nightstand, he pulled himself the rest of the way onto the
bed. He closed his eyes, thinking of her hand on his cock again and
then opened them, taking her in once more. He loved the way her
hair draped down her back, and even though he couldn’t see the
flesh, he could picture its smooth surface in his mind. Her breasts
were perfect, even in profile, and that little skirt hugging her
was priceless.