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I wanted her. I wanted her so badly my chest had a gaping hole in it whenever I wasn’t with her.
“I couldn’t eat,” he started, knee still bouncing. “Couldn’t train, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything other than make myself sick thinking about him touching you.”
“I have thought of nothing and no one but you since that night on the observatory tower.”
“I want you,” he repeated on a raspy breath. “And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“You don’t want to be someone’s muse,” Clay rasped. “You want to be someone’s undoing. And let me tell you, Kitten…” His voice rumbled against my ear before he sucked the lobe between his teeth. “You’re mine.”
“You read my books,” I breathed, a question and a disbelief all at once. “Fuck yeah, I did.” “Why?” Clay swallowed, brushing his knuckles along the side of my cheek. “I told myself it was to help you get Shawn,” he said. “But in truth, it was to help me please you.”
“You want me to be the only one,” he corrected me, and fuck if I didn’t gasp out a weak yes in affirmation.
“You really are like a book boyfriend, you know?”
At that, he chuckled, tucking me into his chest again before pressing a kiss against my wet hair. “I’ll be even better,” he said. “Just wait and see.”
“That’s the thing about love,” he said, kissing my hair. “It doesn’t need to be reciprocated to be real.”
“I love you,” he repeated, quieter this time, as if he only wanted me to hear. “I love your smutty books, and your weird documentaries, and your obsession with orange, processed snacks.”
