Paper Dolls (22 page)

When I got out of the shower my wet clothes were gone. I noticed them in the washing machine tucked in one corner. He had touched my clothes, my bra, my underwear…

I flushed. Thank God I had worn one of the lacy boy shorts sets that Flick had sent me home with.

There was a pile of folded clothes on the toilet seat. I picked up the shorts folded on the top. Pyjama bottoms. Woman’s pyjamas, a cream singlet and boxer shorts with cherry patterns.

Whose clothes were these?

I pulled the shorts on and pulled the shirt down over my head.

They fit.

And they smelled faintly of lavender. I looked down at them, tugging out the hem with my hands and looking at the patterns. He didn’t have a sister… Did he actually have the nerve to hand me an ex’s clothes? I was mulling this over as I dried my hair with the hairdryer he had left out for me.

When I turned the hairdryer off, I heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Clay opened the door and stepped in, smiling when he saw me in the clothes he’d laid out.

“Whose clothes are these?” I demanded, more harshly than I had intended. “Are they your ex’s?”
Did they belong to Olivia?

He chuckled and tapped me on my nose. “Do you really think I would give you another woman’s clothes to wear? They’re new. I saw them a while ago and thought of you. I know cherries are your favourite fruit.”

I couldn’t remember when I had told him that, but I must have. That was really sweet that he remembered. “Thank you.” But the smell. “They smell…worn.”

“I washed them. I don’t like wearing clothes straight from the store. You never know who’s tried them on before you.”

“Oh. Right.”

“We can keep them here for when you want to stay over. Or you can take them with you if you’re really attached to them.”

…for when you want to stay over.
That’s what he said. Which meant that I would be staying over again. I felt a flutter of happiness in my chest.

He handed me a new toothbrush in a shade of pale blue and pressed a dollop of toothpaste on the bristles. We brushed our teeth side by side in the sink. My elbow kept grazing his side, sending flares through my body. He had changed into a pair of navy boxers that highlighted his sprinter’s legs and a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his round, tanned shoulders. I tried not to stare in the mirror but my eyes kept being drawn back to him, his arm flexing as he worked his brush over his teeth was a mesmerising sight. A sight that made me squirm. I pressed my thighs together. Good God, would everything be erotic to me about Clay?

When we finished he pushed his fingers through mine and led me into his bedroom. Just inside the door he paused. He looked like such a boy, his teeth fussing along his bottom lip, an unsure look in his eyes. If I wasn’t so caught up in my own nerves I may have laughed.

His bedroom was cleaner than I expected for a man. Everything was put away and his bed was made up with cream and brown sheets. He had carried my handbag up from the car and had placed it on one of the bedside tables. That must be my side. He had given me the side farthest from the door. Like Salem always did.

Salem. She would be sleeping alone tonight. I swallowed as a knot began to lodge in my throat. I hated that we had fought. I hated it so much.

I quickly looked over to his side of the bed, trying to push all this sadness away. I noticed the photo frame, the only thing on his table. I walked over to it and picked it up. There was an older couple in it. He was handsome with dark hair and dark eyes, and I recognised Clay’s hair and jawline, his top-heavy mouth, and his tanned skin. She was stunning too, brilliant blue eyes and thick golden hair and a smile that radiated. It took me a second to realise that this must be Clay’s mother, the same woman I had met earlier.

Oh God. The poor woman. It was clear to see how much she had deteriorated from when this photo was taken. Her eyes no longer shone with intelligence, her cheeks were no longer rosy, merely shallow pits. My heart filled with sadness. What if this happened to Clay? What if he got worse just like she did? Could I stand to watch him disappear into a shell of himself?

I felt his presence at my shoulder and when I turned to look at him he was staring at the photo as well.

“You look like your father.” I traced his face with my fingertip.

“But I got everything else from my mother,” he said quietly. He picked up the frame and placed it back down. “I have something for you.”

“Something else? Clay, you’re spoiling me.”

He grinned. “I haven’t even started.”

He tugged me over to the other bedside table, his movements jerky like an excited child. He gripped the handle of the top drawer and grinned at me. There must be something in the drawer. With a flourish he pulled it open.

It was empty.

“Er, thank you?”

“This is your drawer. You can keep things here for when you stay over. That way you won’t have to pack so much.” He frowned. “Is it okay? I can give you a bigger drawer.”

A drawer. He was giving me a drawer. At his apartment. He was making room in his life for me in a serious way.

“No, this is perfect.” I stretched up to kiss him. When our lips melded the ache in my core picked up straight where it left off in the bathroom. My hands roamed across his neck and down to his chest, so hard under my palms and so warm.

He broke the kiss off. “It’s late. We should…” his eyes flicked to the bed.

I nodded, my throat too closed to speak.

I slid under the cool sheets and he climbed in next to me. Our limbs clashed as we moved in to hold each other, obviously both trying to get into a position that conflicted with the other.

I was so nervous I burst out laughing. “I don’t actually know how to do this.”

He smiled as he used his hands to move me into position in the crook of his arm and against his chest. “Here. You fit right here.”

I leaned my head on his chest and let a breath out, the air cascading around my thudding heart, and my body relaxed against his, melding against his hard lines like water finding its level around a rock. For the first time in my life I fully appreciated how beautiful the differences were between a man and a woman and how these differences seemed to let us fit.

With more courage than I thought I had, I lifted my hand to his chest and began to trace his hard lines with my fingertips, from the stray dark hairs peeking out of the top of his singlet down to his abdomen.

I felt him tense. I paused and glanced up to him. “Is that too much?”

He let go of a breath. “No. It’s perfect.”

I kept exploring, feeling a thrill running through my body as my fingers travelled over the hard ridges of his six-pack. His fingers dug into my back and he let out a small moan. The sound was deep and rumbling and it travelled through my body like a tremor, lighting sparks inside me. I flattened my hand against him and touched him again from his stomach to his neck, this time with my palm. His breath began to shake and he clenched me tighter and an ache grew in me. I shifted my leg further over him and the pressure in my touch grew.

I ran my finger over one of his nipples, hard underneath his cotton shirt. This time he didn’t try to hide his moan as he pulled me tighter against him, my core pressing against his thigh and the sparks turning into a low flame. He caught my hand and he lifted the tips of my fingers up to his mouth, brushing them against his soft lips. “Dear God, I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “Missed me? You only saw me earlier today.”

“I know. But I still missed you. You haunt me, Aria. When you’re not with me I’m just a shadow in the dark, waiting for you to return so you can breathe life into me.”

My heart stuttered. I not sure which one of us moved first, or perhaps we moved together, realising that to be of two bodies suddenly wasn’t enough. He tugged me up his body, crushing my lips against his and holding me tight. My legs fell on either side of his thigh so that my core was pressed up against him. God that felt good, pleasure radiating through my body out from that tender spot.

Our kisses were desperate, needy, as if we had spent a lifetime apart and were only just returned to each other. And I understood what he meant when he said that he missed me. I missed him too. My body flared in a sweet relief at the feeling of him hard against me, mere cotton layers between us. Like I had been holding my breath waiting for this moment for a long time.

My hands were all over him, grabbing, tangling in his hair, no hesitance in my touch. I pressed my hips against him and his hips pushed up into me, slowly at first, then again and then again. It was the sweetest, most Earth-shaking movement in the world. It was like we were dancing a lambada to a melody only we could hear. And I knew on a greater level why they called it the forbidden dance.

My shirt rode up, cool air pebbling my skin, as his hand found my breast and thumbed across my hard nipple. I gasped as pleasure shot through my body, making constellations inside of me.

I rocked my hips harder against him, a feeling of uncontrollable motion tumbling and building inside of me.

“Wait,” he groaned, “stop.”

But I didn’t want to. I moved against him again, small noises falling from my mouth and into his.

His hands dug into my hips trying to hold me still. “Stop!”

But I couldn’t. I was already cresting this wave. At that moment not even God could have stopped the inevitable. A pleasure unlike anything I have ever felt lashed through my body, making my back arch and my eyes roll back and my fingers grab at Clay’s shirt. A cry tore from the very depths of me and I saw stars. No. I
became
stars.

“Aria? Aria?” Clay’s voice broke through my fog. He was on top of me, his hands on my shoulders shaking me. He must have rolled me at one point.

“Yeah,” I hummed, my body still tingling from the aftershocks.

“You’re okay?” He sighed, sounding relieved.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Clay bit his lip. “You were screaming. I thought something was wrong.”

A laugh escaped me. “No…I just…” I felt my cheeks warm. “I think I just…you know.”

A slow smile stretched across his face. “What do you mean, Aria?”

“You know…”

The grin on his face widened. “No, Aria, I don’t know.”

Bastard. He was going to try and make me say it. “Yes, you do,” I muttered.

He laughed. “The word won’t bite you. Although I might.”

That promise sent a small shiver through me. “Come,” I blurted out.

“Oh, was that what you were trying to say.” He grinned.

I poked my tongue out at him. Then frowned. “You looked so shocked when I... Isn’t that what usually happens when a woman…comes?”

“Not quite like that. And not usually so easily.”

It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I wanted to make
him
do that.

I reached for him but he rolled off me and lay along my side, his hand broad across my hip to keep me from rolling with him. “We’re not going any further than this tonight.”

“But you’re…” I waved at his erection, so obviously pressing against his boxers.

He gave me a smile. “I know. And the guys downstairs are going to murder me for saying this, but you’ve already had a first tonight and I still want to take it slow.”

I made a hmmpfting noise. But I let him roll me to my side, tucking me up against him with my back along his front.

Even after I fell asleep, I kept rising up to wakefulness, just to remind myself he was there, just to revel in his warmth, just to feel the shudder of giddiness through my body at his touch before I dove back into sleep.

Sometime during the night I heard his voice, calling me back to wakefulness. It wasn’t his words, because whatever he said I didn’t hear them, but it was the tone in which he said them that tugged at me. Anguish. Pain. Something scraping him raw.

I opened my eyes. But before I could move I heard him speak.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking with anguish. “I can’t fuck this up.” He thought I was asleep. He was talking to himself. “Please…don’t let me screw up this time.”

This time?

What did that mean?

Olivia.
Her name floated up into my mind. He must have been talking about Olivia. Then I knew. She had meant more to Clay than he had let on.

A stab of jealousy went through me as an image of some other woman’s hands over his naked body flashed into my mind. I had to fight to keep my breathing even.

Don’t be ridiculous. Clay said it was over.
And I believed him. It was over between him and this…Olivia. Right?

* * *

“Time to wake up, Aria.”

I huddled under the covers, moaning, preparing myself for someone loud and annoying and way too perky before midday to jump on me. It was like I was thirteen again.

The presence moved to the end of the bed. The covers shifted and I prepared for an onslaught of tickling, tucking my feet up as much as I could. Something grabbed my foot and I let out a squeal.

There was no tickling. Instead I felt warm kisses and soft hands unfolding my legs. Clay kissed his way over my knees and up my thighs, his tongue occasionally coming out to taste me, his stubble lightly scraping my skin, a glorious contrast.

Damn. I wasn’t used to being woken up like
this
. But it was something I could definitely get used to.

I tensed, holding my breath as his mouth moved up the top of one thigh and up my hip. I was disappointed he didn’t linger there. Until his mouth moved to my breasts then closed over one nipple through my shirt. Dear God. A wanton noise tore out of my mouth.

“God, you look so good in my bed.”

“Please,” I panted, “do that again.” My back arched up into him, begging him.

But he didn’t. He pressed his face in between my breasts and groaned, the sound vibrating through me.

“Clay?”

He lifted his head with a renewed energy. “Come on. Get up before I do something I regret.”

That stung. Before I could turn away Clay covered me with his body and put his face in mine, forcing me to look at him. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”