Defying the Odds(22)

He’d never lost himself this deeply before, and he battled for control, looking for an anchor. Clay forced himself to become aware of the rapid thump of his heartbeat, to notice the rasp of material as they moved against each other. Melody was somehow straddled over him, her fingers in his hair. His UFC cap was gone, probably tossed into the backseat. His hands were underneath her jacket, holding her hips, forcing her tightly against him.



He pulled away from her, because kissing like they were was going to do away with his sanity permanently. He tossed his head back against the headrest as he took a cleansing breath. It did little good because Melody attacked his neck. Her mouth was hot and wet as she nipped and licked and kissed until he was pushing his hips up, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. He used his hold on her waist to force their lower bodies tightly together, desperately seeking more intimate contact.



“God.” Melody’s warm breath puffed against the curve of his neck. “I need…I need…” She was panting, sounding as out of her mind and desperate as Clay felt. “I need you. Help me.”



“Fuck.” He groaned, his cock hurting, every muscle in his body tight with the need to give Melody exactly what she was begging for. “We can’t.”



“Oh no,” she sobbed. “No no no.”



She didn’t give Clay a chance to respond. She used her hold on his hair to tug his mouth back to hers. This time her kiss was anything but chaste. She claimed his mouth as she moved over him in a way that set off every indulgent sensor Clay had.



If Clay didn’t care for her as deeply as he did, he would have given in to the tidal wave of lust and just fucked her in the car. He’d never been this hard, this starving for the warm, slick feel of a woman.



“Come on, Mel. Take a breath.” He pulled away once more and then reached up to caress the nape of her neck. He tightened his hold just enough to keep her from leaning into him and destroying the last of his self-control. His breathing was rapid and desperate, his voice low and gravelly. “I want this too, okay? I want it more than anything. I’d give up every championship belt I own to be with you, but I don’t wanna fuck you in a car. I wanna make love to you in a bed.”



“You’ll come home with me?” Melody asked, her chest heaving as she sat straddled over him, trying to get her breath back.



“God, yes,” he said, a broken laugh slipping out of him. “Can’t you feel how fucking hard and desperate I am for you? I’m dying to go home with you. I just sorta, I dunno… I want this to be special, you know?”



“Yeah.” She nodded, her green eyes still wild and hungry, but uncertainty spread over her beautiful features. “I want that too, but I don’t really know how to make it special.”



“Well…” Clay considered that, realizing he had the exact same problem. “I suppose we’ll have to try and figure it out, ’cause I don’t rightly know how to make it special either. Usually it’s just sorta hot and sweaty and uncomfortable.”



She laughed, a bright smile making her radiant. “Yeah, that ’bout sums it up.”



“But not this time,” Clay assured her, knowing that one thing if nothing else.



“No,” she agreed, her smile still bright, her dimples carving deep impressions in her rosy cheeks. “Not this time.”



“Would it ruin the moment to admit I really wanna get that damn truck of yours fixed before I blow right here?” Clay asked, wincing up at her. “’Cause you’re fucking gorgeous over me, and it’s sorta messing with my chivalry.”



Melody reached up, caressing his cheek. “I think it’s sweet.”



“There’s a first.” Clay laughed. “I don’t get called sweet too much.”



“You should. You’re the sweetest guy I know.”



Clay rolled his eyes, refraining from mentioning her taste in men could be considered extremely questionable. Instead he helped her crawl off him as they started the shuffle of pulling themselves together. Clay’s hat was still missing, but he decided to look for it later. Melody nearly crushed her glasses when she sat in the passenger’s seat. Clay pulled his seat up and put the car into drive, forcing himself to stop looking at Melody, because if he stopped long enough to be tempted, they’d never leave this parking lot.



* * * *



Starting the truck was more trying than they’d anticipated, but Clay was motivated and eventually they got it to turn over and start. It felt like a minor miracle when the truck burst to life; the roar of an engine that had seen better days was easily the sweetest sound Melody had heard in a long time.