Defying the Odds(56)

“I didn’t have anything. Just the clothes on my back and what few things I’d carried around in my purse. I left everything behind. My grandmother’s ring, the necklace my daddy gave me on my sixteenth birthday—I lost all of it.”



“Don’t ever wish to be anyone but you. You’re amazing.” Clay’s heart hurt for Melody and everything she’d gone through, but he was unbelievably proud of her too. “You had the courage to know you deserved something better, and you followed through with it. That takes guts.”



“Does it?” Melody asked, her voice suspiciously tight.



“I think so,” he whispered, his voice as strained as Melody’s.



Clay’s eyes stung. He found himself fighting a strange battle of emotions, pride warring with pain, love for Melody pitting itself against a rabid hatred for her ex-husband. The past was the past; it was over. Clay knew he probably should have let the memories lie, but he was happy he knew what had happened in Melody’s life that had led to their paths crossing for the first time on Thanksgiving.



“Clay?”



He took another long breath, still struggling to pull himself together. “Yeah?”



“Make love to me.”



He didn’t even need to think about it. He knew Melody was right. That was what they both needed. He turned off the jets and stood, making Melody gape as she looked up at him. Then he leaned down to grasp her arms and pulled her to her feet.



“What ’bout the tub?” Melody asked and then gasped out loud when Clay suddenly swept her off her feet. Her arms flew around his neck. Her fingers dug into his skin as she squirmed in his grasp, turning her head to look down. “Are you sure you ain’t gonna drop me?”



“I’m sure,” Clay said as he stepped out of the tub.



Melody clutched at him tighter, seeming stunned he could do something as simple as step out of the tub while holding her. “Clay, you’re wet and that tile’s slick and—”



“I gotcha,” he said with confidence. “You’re safe, Mel. I promise.”



Clay felt the tension fall out of Melody. She slid one hand from around his neck, down the slick rise of his chest. She placed her open palm over his heart as she whispered, “I am now.”



Clay had to take another deep breath to fight the sting in his eyes, and he walked across the suite with her as a distraction. He laid her down on the bed, then stood there staring at Melody with a sheen of goose bumps dancing over her pale skin and wet hair clinging to her full breasts.



He got that sensation again. His chest expanded with the emotions, making him feel like he’d shatter right there over how beautiful she was and how desperately he adored her. It actually choked him with the force of it. If he tried to speak, he’d lose it.



Instead he crawled onto the bed with her, savoring the feel of her wet, bare skin against his. He flattened his palms against the bed on either side of her head, and he studied her once more, seeing she was fighting the same level of emotional rawness. Her green eyes swam like sparkling emeralds, making it obvious she was near tears.



He leaned down and kissed her before it could get farther than that. Melody kissed him back with the same passionate enthusiasm she always had when they were together. Only now Clay understood just how amazing she was for embracing the passion between them when sex had been unkind to her in the past. She trusted him. More so, Melody trusted herself enough to know everything about this was right even if most people thought it was all wrong, and he wanted to make sure that trust was well-placed.



Right then he wasn’t a fighter and she wasn’t an abuse survivor. They were Clay and Melody, and their histories evaporated for the moment. He broke the kiss to move down her body. He pushed wet hair aside to lave his tongue over the taut, rosy peak of one breast. He sucked until it puckered against his lips, and Melody made a choked sound of pleasure.



Her fingers threaded into his hair as he moved over to the other breast, sucking and teasing once more. Melody shifted impatiently, making low, throaty sounds of desperation, and Clay understood she needed something more than slow seduction. He felt the same rabid need for mindlessness.



Clay released the tightened peak and grasped her waist in both hands. He lifted his head to look at her. “Tell me what you want, Mel.”



Melody’s chest heaved. Her hair was a tangle of honey blonde that clung to her face and shoulders. Her eyes were glazed with hunger. “Can you, um—” She licked her lips as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She leaned up on one elbow and then reached out, running a finger boldly over Clay’s bottom lip. When he parted to her and licked the pad of her finger in the same teasing way he’d licked her clit, Melody sucked in a sharp gasp of desire and whispered, “Lick me.”