Clayton’s body shifts, his hard thigh brushing against my leg, pushing the skirt of my knee-length dress up my thigh a little. I shove it down quickly and smooth it out but freeze when I see his free hand reach down to adjust his crotch. Glancing up, I see his eyes trained on my legs, and a rush of excitement bursts through my body. I might not completely understand how someone like Clayton Davis could be into plain Caroline Michaels, but seeing him affected by something as simple as the six inches of skin above my knee does something to me. I feel empowered by his reaction. Maybe this is what normal people do when they’re exploring things—this push and pull of powerful lust is exchanged between them—but I have never in my life experienced it.
Wanting to feel that rush again, I wiggle my bottom and curl my hands into the fabric of my dress, pulling it up a little. He stops talking the second I tug the hem higher; then he clears his throat and continues. I look back at his lap, disappointed that he didn’t touch himself again, but no less determined. My hand doesn’t even shake when I release my skirt and place it on his thigh. As my fingers inch closer to the bulge in his jeans, I don’t feel a bit of shyness. The sense of freedom its absence inspires is overwhelming and I feel a rush of lust. I keep watching my hand as it creeps closer to the hardness pushing his denim up and almost come out of my skin when his hand drops on top of mine and yanks it to that very spot, his hips flexing as he grinds against my palm.
Oh, wow.
I press my thighs together and close my eyes. Memories of him moving just like that inside of me become overwhelming.
“What are you doin’?” Lucy questions, the sound of her voice shocking me like a bucket of cold water over my head.
I rip my hand from his hold, missing the hard heat against my palm instantly, and fiddle with my skirt before looking up at her. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed when she winks at me. No, I feel like I’m on top of the world—even if my best friend did just witness me rubbing my kinda-boyfriend’s crotch shamelessly.
“You ready?” I ask Clayton, smiling at Lucy while I do so she knows I’m not ignoring the question she doesn’t really need an answer to.
“Yeah, Linney. I’m more than ready.”
It’s been so long since I haven’t been afraid that I promise myself right there as we shuffle out of the booth with greasy food scenting the air that I’m going to give this little adventure everything I have and trust whatever is in store for us. Good or bad.
Because I have a feeling there isn’t anything better in the world than being cared for by this man next to me.
11
CAROLINE
“Think a Little Less” by Michael Ray
“You’ll text me later?” Lucy asks while hugging me good-bye outside the diner.
“Maybe tomorrow mornin’, Luce.” She shuffles her feet a little and makes a low noise of excitement in my ear. When she pulls away, she looks ready to burst with excitement, making me laugh softly. “Because it will be late, Lucy Hazel, not because I’ll still be with Clayton.” I whisper, hoping the man waiting just behind me doesn’t hear.
Which of course he does, because that’s how lucky I am.
“Try tomorrow afternoon, Lucy. And it will definitely be because she’s still with me,” he corrects, and I jerk around to gawk at him.
“Clayton!” I gasp.
“Linney, we both know you aren’t goin’ anywhere but to my bed tonight.”
“But,” I start, but close my mouth when I realize I really don’t have an argument to offer. Turning back to Lucy, I shrug. “So, I’ll talk to you at some unknown hour tomorrow, okay?”
She snorts and gives me a blinding smile before taking off to her car with a wave. I watch her get in and pull away before I turn to the man at my back. He’s leaning against his truck with confidence. When I take a step toward him, he straightens but doesn’t move aside from that, letting me set the pace. Still riding the high from inside the diner, I step toward him and wrap my arms around his middle and press my cheek to his chest, hugging him tight and smiling so big it hurts my face. His strong arms fold around me and his chin rests against the top of my head.
I’m just about to tell him how much I like feeling him against me, but when I start, my eyes light on the last person I ever thought I’d see again staring at us across the street, and the words die on my lips. I know Clayton notices the change in me because I jerk in his hold, but shockingly, the fear over seeing my old boyfriend doesn’t last but a second. Not with Clayton holding me safe.
“You all right, darlin’?” he rumbles against my cheek, not letting me go.