Defying the Odds(52)
His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
Clay knew there was probably something to be said, some profound words of undying love and devotion that were protocol when you found the other half to your soul. Instead he rolled into her because not touching her was agony. His cheek rested between the valley of her breasts once more. Her heart was still beating faster than usual, and he listened to the thump of it, feeling his eyes grow heavy.
“That was nice,” Melody finally whispered into the glow of early morning filtering in past the open windows.
“Yeah,” he agreed, already half asleep to hide from the headache. “Thank you.”
Melody stroked his hair in response, lulling him to sleep as effortlessly as she’d pulled him to passion. She gave so willing of herself. Everything she had to offer was his for the taking, and it didn’t feel like a robbery. Everything he had to give was hers too. Clay could lie here, and he didn’t have to say anything.
She already knew.
Chapter Nine
After the early morning sex, the rest of Clay’s slumber felt more like a power nap than anything, but he wasn’t complaining. He had a hard time sleeping too deeply once the sun rose anyway. He was naturally a morning person.
When the phone rang, Clay reached over to answer it himself, seeing that Melody was still asleep.
“Yeah?” he whispered into the receiver.
“Hey, Clay, buddy. How you feeling?”
Clay pulled a face. Even after sex and winning a championship belt, his agent’s voice grated on his nerves. “What’d ya want, Rick?”
“I just wanted to make sure you were up and moving.”
Clay groaned. The promotion bullshit. He’d forgotten about it in the wake of getting back together with Melody. He wanted to be with her all day, not playing nice for sponsors and fans.
“Clay?”
“I’m up,” Clay said rather than complaining, because he had a contract that said bitching about the obligations was pointless. “How much time have I got?”
“Couple hours.”
Clay hung up the phone and then glanced at Melody, who blinked tiredly at him. She brushed her hair out of her face and then gave him a lazy smile. “You didn’t say good-bye to your friend.”
“He’s not my friend; he’s my agent.”
“Does that mean you don’t gotta be polite and say good-bye before hanging up?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” Clay said with a smirk. “He makes an obnoxious amount of money off my blood and sweat and knows better than to complain ’bout my bad attitude.”
Melody gave a laugh of incredulousness. “That ain’t nice.”
“More often than not, I ain’t that nice.” Clay winced, hoping it wasn’t too much of a shock to hear it. “You wanna try out that big ol’ tub in the other bathroom?”
Melody grinned, looking perfectly fine with his confession of a long history of rudeness. “I’d love to try out that tub with you.”
Clay was struck by how nice it was to wake up with Melody. Playing domestic with her was something he could get very used to. He wanted every day to start by watching her crawl out of bed naked and padding barefoot across the room. He admired the way she looked from behind—with her long hair hanging thick and loose down her back and the gentle curve of her ass taunting him out of bed.
Melody stopped at the bedroom door, turning around to arch an eyebrow at him. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah.” Clay rolled out of bed and stretched. He grinned when he spied Melody squinting at him. “You want your glasses to get a better look?”
She surprised him by smiling and nodding. “Hand ’em to me.”
He picked her glasses off the nightstand and walked them over to her. Melody put them on, looking adorable wearing the black frames and nothing else. Her gaze ran over him boldly, making Clay’s cock stir. Forget the championship belt; spending most of his life keeping himself in peak physical condition felt more than worth it just to get Melody to look at him like that, with stark appreciation showing in her lustful gaze.
“You are one fine-looking man, Clay Powers,” Melody finally announced, giving him a mischievous grin. “Even all bruised and battered, you’re mighty nice on the eyes.”
Clay looked down at himself, seeing a large bruise over his rib cage, but not much else. Most of the damage was to his face, which was still throbbing this morning. He winced. “I probably look rough.”
“It ain’t that terrible.” Melody shrugged. “I wish I’d have remembered to bring you some vanilla extract. It’s my mama’s remedy for bruises, and you wouldn’t believe how well it works.”