Let It Breathe (16 page)

“My pleasure.”

Reese climbed out of the car and trudged up the walkway to her house. She never locked her front door, so she pushed it open and flicked her porch light off and on a couple times to let Wally know she was safely inside. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, basking in the few moments of solitude she had before Larissa arrived.

Instead of peace, she felt a wave of guilt.

She’d been so certain Clay had fallen off the wagon. So sure he’d been the one to do something wrong, to end up in jail for fighting or public drunkenness or God knows what else.

Judgmental bitch
, she muttered to herself as she pulled off her boots and wriggled her toes on the sisal mat at her front door.

Well,
hell, how many times had she gotten calls just like that one? Calls when the worst thing really did turn out to be true.

She’d lost count of the drunken messages, the trips to the police station, the rowdy bar fights, the times she’d had to scrub puke out of her car.

Why wouldn’t I think the worst?

Still. Maybe she owed him an apology.

The headlights of Clay’s truck swung down the driveway, and Reese turned to the window to watch him move slowly along the gravel. The old Clay would have come blazing up the road at twice that speed, heedless of small rodents or dust flying up behind him to coat her grapes. The new Clay was certainly more cautious.

Reese reached for the door.

An apology.
She could give him that much.

Clay killed the engine in front of Reese’s house and stepped out of his truck. Larissa was sound asleep in the passenger seat, so Clay walked around to the other side and opened her door.

“’Riss?”

Nothing. Just a small snore and a thin ribbon of drool connecting her bottom lip to the hem of her skirt. He hesitated, feeling a small pang of sadness for her. It seemed a shame to wake her.

Hell, she couldn’t weigh that much. He unbuckled her seat belt and reached under the seat to grab a blanket. Wrapping the soft wool around her, he hoisted her out, pausing to kick his truck door shut as he headed up the walk with her in his arms.

Larissa moaned softly in her sleep but didn’t stir. Clay was trying to figure out how to knock on Reese’s door without waking Larissa when the door swung open and Reese stood there in her bare feet looking up at him.

“She’s asleep?” Reese whispered.

“No, I clubbed her over the head and wanted to bury her dead body in your backyard.” Clay stepped around her into the warmth of the living room. “I’d actually say
passed out
is a better description than
asleep
. I think she had a lot to drink.”

“Not the first time,” she said, biting her lip. “We can put her in the guest room. I keep a bed made up for her.”

Clay raised an eyebrow. “You have a guest room in this place? Doesn’t seem big enough for an extra dish towel.”

“I like my house. It’s plenty of room for me, my rescue animals, and the occasional drunken guest,” Reese said. “Right in here.”

Reese held open a door, and Clay carried Larissa through it. Reese bent forward to pull the covers back so Clay could set her down on the bed. He reached for the sheet, ready to pull it up to Larissa’s chin.

“Hold on, let me take her shoes off,” Reese said. “Er,
shoe
. She’s missing one.”

“Probably left it in my truck. I’ll go get it.”

“We can grab it later. Let’s just get her tucked in.”

“We don’t have to undress her, do we?”

Reese laughed. “You may be the first man who didn’t jump at the chance to remove Larissa’s clothes.”

Clay shrugged and said nothing.

Once they had Larissa tucked in, they moved silently out of the room. Reese shut the door behind her and padded barefoot into the kitchen, her black dress brushing the soft hollow at the back of her knees.

Clay followed, intending to make a hasty retreat. He just needed to grab ’Riss’s shoe and get out of here. Lingering with Reese would be bad, especially now that he’d slipped up twice and kissed her. Jesus, it was like he was
trying
to screw up all his friendships.

Then Reese reached up to pull two glasses out of a cupboard, and Clay promptly forgot his exit strategy. Instead, he watched her dress ride up the back of her thighs, exposing a pale swath of skin that looked so soft he itched to run his finger over it. The dress was some sort of silky material, and it hugged her curves without being obscene. He watched her calf muscles flex, watched her bare arm as she—

“Don’t you think so?” Reese asked.

Clay’s mind came crashing back to the present.
Shit.
What had she just asked him? He tried to think of a tactful way to recover.

“That’s an interesting question,” he said. “Maybe if you rephrased it, I could give you a broader answer.”

Reese blinked at him. “Okay,” she said. “The ice we get from the well out here always tastes better than the crap we get in restaurants, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dammit
.

“Right,” Clay said, and rested his elbows on the serving bar as Reese set a glass in front of him and poured cola over the large chunks of ice.

He watched her for a moment as she lifted her own glass to her lips to take a sip. Clay picked up his glass and drained half of it in one gulp. He set it down and looked up to see her studying him. He cleared his throat.

“How are all your animals?”

“Good. Leon’s recovered from his bender, Oscar the orphaned opossum is almost ready for solid food, and Axl taught Earwax the raccoon to sit up and beg.”

“That’s everyone?”

“No, just the ones you’ve met. There’s a skunk with an injured foot, a kestrel with a broken wing, a couple fawns I’m bottle feeding—”

“Wow. You have your hands full.”

“I like it. You’re part of the reason I got serious about animal rehab in the first place.”

Clay looked down at his hands, not sure how to take that. Reese certainly had a soft spot for lost souls. Is that what he was to her? The thought reminded him of the drunk girl snoozing in the guest room. He cleared his throat. “So, Reese. Does Larissa get wasted like that a lot?”

Reese twisted her glass in her hands, considering. “Occasionally. More than I wish she did, but not like—”

She stopped and bit her lip. Clay knew why.

“Not like I was? A drunk, you mean?” He saw Reese flinch. “Not yet, but she could be headed that way. I remember her doing that a lot in college, and the fact that she’s still at it is a red flag.”

“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her crisp tone suggesting she definitely didn’t.

Clay sighed and wrapped his fingers around the glass again. “I’d be a jerk if I didn’t say something, Reese. I know what it’s like. And I know you think it’s your job to take care of all the living creatures in need. I’m just saying, keep an eye on her.”

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “I know,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m still being a bitch to you.”

“It’s fine, Reese. It’s fine.” Clay shook his head, trying not to notice the glitter of her tears. It felt like a sucker punch to the spleen knowing he was responsible for making her cry.

Again.

He drew in a breath, struggling to do even that. Suddenly, the room felt very small.

“Don’t cry, Reese,” he said.

A stupid thing to say. She turned her face away from him, and he saw the first tear slide down her cheek.

Shit.

“Just give me a second, okay?” she whispered. “It’s just—Larissa, and all this stuff with you and—”

He stood up, feeling awkward and stiff in his own body. The room seemed too hot. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Reese.”

He reached for her, pulling her to his chest for a comforting hug. He was surprised when she came willingly, more surprised when she molded her body to his.

His breath caught in his throat as the grassy-sweet smell of her engulfed him, making his head spin like he’d just downed a fifth of Jack.

She’s so soft.

His arms circled her torso, and his hands came to rest beneath the sharp points of her shoulder blades. He slid them down a little, just a few inches, to rest in the curve of her lower back.

It’s a friendly hug, just that. Just comforting a crying woman. A friend.

Reese moved against him and the word
friend
ran screaming from his brain, replaced by something else.
Lust,
maybe.

Urgency.

Get out!

He felt himself responding to her, though his brain was still yelling at him to move away from her, to get the hell out of this kitchen.

Your best friend’s ex.

Don’t shit where you eat.

Off limits.

Reese tilted her head to look up at him, and Clay’s head spun as he looked down into those wild green eyes. His hands seemed to move on their own, sliding down her back, cupping the curve of her ass as his mouth descended and found hers.

Then he was kissing her, kissing her hard as her fingers twined in his hair and her breath pressed her breasts against his chest. Her lips were soft and tasted like cola and something else, maybe wine—he couldn’t remember, it had been so long.

He tried to pull back, but he couldn’t. Somehow, his fingers found their way into her hair, tugging it free from its knot so he could feel it cool and slippery between his fingers. He slid his lips from her mouth and began kissing his way down her chin, her throat, her chest—

Reese gasped and drew back.

Clay swallowed, his hands stilled in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” She blinked at him, and he could have sworn her eyes were darker than before. Evergreen, almost. She licked her lips, and Clay felt himself grow dizzy again.

“Stop apologizing, I mean. My room,” she whispered. “Okay?”

And with his mind reeling with lust and desire and the warm, sweet smell of her, he could only manage one word: “Okay.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Reese had no idea what came over her. One minute she was attempting a sincere apology, steeped in worry about how she’d been treating Clay and whether Larissa’s drinking was something to fret about.

The next minute she was so dizzy with lust she tripped over her own bare feet as she dragged him toward her bedroom. She locked the door behind them and turned to face Clay.

Her body buzzed with desire, and a million crazy justifications whirled through her head.

It’s okay, he’s a friend.

It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just sex.

It’s not like we haven’t done this before.

“What?” Clay murmured, and Reese realized she’d spoken her last thought aloud.

“Nothing,” she said, and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, trying to pull it over his head. He let go of her long enough to yank his arms free of the warm cotton, and then he was standing there in front of her, naked to the waist.

“My God,” she whispered and dragged her fingers down his chest.

Clay groaned low in the back of his throat, but his hands stayed at his sides. It was like he was suddenly afraid to touch her now that they were in a dark room with a bed and desire so thick she could see it in the air between them. Reese hooked her fingers under his belt and looked up at him. He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He looked down at her. “You—I’m just—It’s just—” He took a breath. “If you need to stop, now’s the time.”

She tilted her head to the side, a little incredulous. “Stop? Why would I want to stop?”

Clay closed his eyes for a second, and Reese watched his hands ball into fists at his sides. She saw him clench and unclench his jaw.

“Do
you
want to stop?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to drag you in here like—”

“No!” he said, his eyes wide as his hands came up to cup her arms just above the elbows. “No, I don’t want to stop. But once we cross that line—”

Reese stood on tiptoe to kiss him, stopping his words with her lips. She pressed her body harder against him, her tongue finding his, her fingers sliding up and over the taut muscles of his back to pull him closer. His hands stayed on her elbows for a few more beats, then slowly slid down her rib cage and nestled around her waist.

Reese stopped kissing him long enough to look him in the eyes. “The line’s already been crossed, wouldn’t you say?”

Clay blinked down at her, seeming not to hear her words. He held her like that for a second, his breath coming fast, his pupils dilated. Then he slid his hands down over her ass and touched the hem of her dress. He hesitated there, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Want me to take it off?” Reese asked, not bothering to wait for a response. She let go of him and reached down to tug the dress over her head, trying to remember the sexiest way to do this. It had been so long. She crossed her arms and grabbed the hem, her arms making a natural
X
, crossing and uncrossing beneath the fabric.

Then she was standing there in just her bra and panties, suddenly self-conscious. She shivered.

Hell, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before.

True, everything was a decade older, and gravity had had its way with a few things, but overall, she knew she still looked pretty good. She stood up a little straighter, wondering if she should have left her high-heeled boots on.

“Beautiful,” he said in a strangled voice, one hand coming up to brush the strap of her bra. “You’re so beautiful.”

Reese smiled a little shyly. “Blue satin,” she said. “Not like the black lace the other night. The front clasp that wasn’t meant to be, but—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish whatever inane thing she’d been about to say. His mouth found hers again, and then there was no talking at all. Reese went up on tiptoe, wishing again she’d kept the boots on. He was so tall, so big. Her hands slid over his biceps, marveling at the size of him. She remembered something, drew back. In the dimness of her night-light, she peered at his skin.

“Your tattoo,” she whispered. “What does it say?”

“Not important,” he said, and kissed her again.

Reese forgot about the words—all words—as she felt herself dissolving into him, devouring him, touching him everywhere. He smelled like sawdust and sunshine, and Reese wondered if it was cologne or just Clay.

He was harder everywhere than last time—leaner, more solid. His hands made slow circles on her back, still tentative. There was a hesitance in him that hadn’t been there the last time.

The only time.

“You won’t break me,” she whispered against his chest.

“It’s not that. It’s just—”

“What?”

“I want you so much.”

The words made her dizzy all over. She caught him by the belt buckle again and pulled him toward the bed, glad she’d had the foresight to put on clean sheets that morning. Not that she’d been planning on doing anything illicit, and certainly not with Clay.

Clay,
her brain murmured, and Reese waited for that to seem strange.

It didn’t.

Reese shoved her down comforter aside, then knelt on the bed and pulled him closer. He was standing in front of her now in the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the window. She slid her hands up his sides and felt him shiver beneath her palms.

“Cold?” she asked.

“No,” he said, his hands drifting down her shoulders and coming to rest against her collarbones, just above her breasts. He left them there, his fingertips warm on her flesh. “Not cold at all.”

He leaned forward and his lips found hers in the semidarkness. Then his hands slid down, finally cupping her breasts, testing their weight in his palms. Reese moaned aloud, trying to remember if it had felt this damn good the last time.

His thumbs stroked her nipples through the satin, and Reese arched her back, pressing herself into all that sensation. She slid her hands down his back and over his jeans, thrilling herself with the hardness there that she couldn’t quite touch.

Clay let go of her breasts, and Reese made a small whimper of protest. His hands moved around her back, tracing the wings of her shoulder blades before his fingers found the clasp of her bra.

“Oh,” she gasped as he unhooked it in one deft move, then reached up to slide the straps from her shoulders. Reese sighed as the bra fell free and his hands curved around once more to cup her. He bent forward and slid his tongue over one nipple, then the other, taking his time, making slow circles until Reese was sure she’d topple off the bed.

She trailed her hands down his chest and fumbled with his belt buckle. Clay sucked in a breath and drew back, moving his fingers over her shoulders to hold her away from him for just a moment. He looked at her, just looked at her.

Reese shivered, her hand frozen on his belt buckle.

“Reese,” he whispered, his lips forming a small smile. “Reese.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe this.”

He stopped, and Reese smiled back as she fumbled with his belt buckle. “Is this okay?”

He laughed then, the first time she hadn’t feared he was still considering fleeing the room.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Want help?”

She nodded and sat back on her heels to watch as he slowly unhooked the belt and tugged open the button fly on his jeans. She tried not to stare, but hell, wasn’t that the point? Admiring the evidence that she was able to arouse him like this, seeing the swell of him straining against his black boxer briefs.

He bent down to untie his boots, then toed them off before sliding off his jeans and underwear until he stood there naked in front of her.

Reese stared. “My God.”

He smiled and slid one finger from the edge of her chin down her collarbone and over the swell of her breast. “I can say the same for you.”

She smiled back, still drinking in the sight of him in all his naked glory. “Sobriety’s been good to you.”

Reese drew herself back up to her knees, eager to feel him against her bare breasts. She kissed him hard, felt him respond by reaching down to cup her ass. She should probably take off her panties, that last layer between them, but the teasing was ecstasy. So close, but not quite there. She ground against him, enjoying the slide of damp satin.

Clay drew back again, his breath coming hard. “I didn’t bring any—”

“Condoms,” Reese murmured. “Bedside drawer, right beside you. God, I hope they aren’t expired.”

She wondered if that was a dumb thing to say but decided it wasn’t. It was better than suggesting she regularly bedded strange men she brought home from the bar.

Which was exactly why this was okay. This was Clay—not some stranger.
Clay
.

He pulled out the foil packet and drew it toward his chest, fumbling.

“Want help?” Reese asked.

“I’ve got it.”

“I want to touch you,” she said, reaching for the condom, surprised by her own boldness.

She took it from him and tore open the wrapper, then slid the condom on slowly, enjoying the way he moaned as her hand traveled the length of him. Then she released him and reached down to peel off her panties. She knelt there for a second, panties in one hand, and reached for him again.

Clay shook his head—wonderment or dismay, Reese wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure she knew. “Last chance to stop before things change forever,” he whispered.

Reese gave him a curious smile. “Forever? It’s sex. I’m not going to make you marry me in the morning.”

Clay smiled. “Okay.”

She kissed him again. Then she twined her fingers around his neck and pulled him down to her, letting herself fall back on the bed. He moved with her, coming to rest with his hands on either side of her head, his weight braced on his arms. Reese arched up, wanting to feel more of him.

A lot more.

She reached down between them. “Remember that joke you used to tell? What’s the definition of a nice girl?”

Clay grimaced. “God, what a jerk.”

She laughed and wrapped her fingers around him, guiding him toward her. She waited for him to add the punch line to the joke, but he only made a soft strangled sound in the back of his throat.

“A nice girl,” she whispered. “One who puts it in for you.”

Then she did.

They both gasped at the same moment, she from the sudden shock of penetration, he—well, probably from the same thing. Just a different sensation, Reese thought as she began to move with him.

He stroked deep inside her and she moaned, feeling her legs come up off the bed to wrap around him. He was still holding himself up with his arms, trying to keep his weight off her chest. Afraid to crush her, probably, but God, she wanted to feel him against her.

“Come down here,” she whispered. “Come closer.”

Clay slid deeper and Reese cried out. He smiled. “I don’t think it’s possible to get much closer.”

“Your arms,” she gasped, dizzy with the next thrust. “I want to feel your chest against—oh God!”

Clay quickened his pace and Reese forgot for a moment how much she wanted to feel the weight of him pressing her down into the mattress. The heat was building inside her, too soon—way too soon—but God, it had been so long.

Reese arched her back and gripped a pillow with one hand, the other hand coming up to clutch the side of his waist. He stroked into her again, and Reese felt something snap inside her.

“Oh, Jesus,” she shrieked, then remembered Larissa and fought to stifle her screams as stars burst behind her eyes and everything inside her exploded with pleasure.

She was still gasping for breath when she opened her eyes to see Clay smiling down at her. “You okay?”

Reese nodded, not sure she could speak.

“I was worried about crushing you,” he murmured.

Reese smiled and reached up to grab his shoulders. She pulled him down to her, forcing his weight on top of her.

“Stop being so damn polite,” she said.

Clay laughed and Reese felt the vibration of it deep in her chest. “That might be the strangest thing anyone’s ever said to me in bed.”

He was still hard inside her, still ready for his turn. Reese grinned.

“I’m honored,” she said, and flipped him on his back.

Clay lay there in silence after Reese drifted off to sleep. His head was swimming, even though his body was so saturated with pleasure that his nerve endings ached.

What the hell did you just do?

Not that he regretted it. Not exactly. Hell, it had been amazing.
Reese
was amazing. He couldn’t regret that, but still.

Your best friend’s ex.

One of the only friendships you have left.

Clay eased away from her reluctantly, trying not to wake her. He pulled the covers up around her, feeling his heart twist as she smiled in her sleep and made a soft whimpering sound.

God, she’s perfect.

He stood there watching her sleep for a few breaths, not quite ready to go. But hell, he had to. Larissa was sleeping in the same house, and the last thing he needed was to have her wake up and discover them twined around each other. The whole family would hear about it, and Reese would never live it down.