Struck from the Record (19 page)

But before she could take a step outside, Clay kicked it shut. She yelped and took a step back.

“Fuck that,” he growled out.

He grabbed her wrist, swung her around, and slammed his mouth down on hers. It was like coming home. He kissed her relentlessly. Their tongues volleyed for position. Their hands roved each other, as if discovering new territory all over again. The pent-up anger and frustration coursing through them only fueled them onward. A hunger so fierce gripped him and nearly knocked him off his feet. This was what he wanted.

Fuck. This was all he ever wanted.

She had been pushing him away for months, making him ache for her. He wanted nothing more than to correct this shit. To just bury himself so deep in her that she never came up for air. Never saw sunlight again.

He wanted to remind her whom exactly she belonged to.

Mine.

No one else.

Ever again.

He’d dreamed about this moment. With his fucking cock pounding into her pussy and driving it all home. Reminding her what she was missing. Reminding her that this was all she was ever going to have again. Making sure, from this day forward, she always remembered. Now, he was finally going to get to show her just what she had given up.

They were a tangle of limbs as their bodies collided together. He pushed the slit of her dress aside and hoisted her legs around his waist, never breaking their kiss. He purposely walked them over to the couch, threw them both down onto the leather, and then covered her body with his own.

His touch was greedy and demanding. This was what he had wanted for so long. He had every intention of taking it all until they both had nothing left to give.

Her hands were grasping at his shirt, desperate to have it off. He obliged her. He pulled back just enough to rip it over his head and throw it across the room. He gave her a full view of the six-pack abs and bulging biceps he had developed in her absence. He might have been an alcoholic, but he’d made up for it with his time at the gym. He’d spent enough time in there between work and boozing to blow her mind when she got a good look at him. She raked her fingers down his stomach. He just smirked.

Then, he lifted the slit of her dress, letting the material bunch up around her waist. To his delight, he found that she was wearing his favorite undergarment—nothing at all.

He was yanking his shorts off just as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Andrea stilled beneath him. Her eyes went wide. “What was that?”

“Fuck.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He was such an idiot.
How the fuck did I forgot about Gigi? How did I forget that I’d let her crash upstairs?

“Clay…” Andrea said. She was pulling her dress back down and staring up at him, as if he’d betrayed her beyond measure. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. Please tell me you’re joking, and that’s not what I think it is.”

“Andrea, no…it’s not.”

“Clay?” Gigi’s voice rang from the top of the stairs. She stumbled down a few and then came into sight, wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts and a pair of boxers. Her hair was a hot mess from taking all the pins out of it. It had looked like that when she’d come out of the bathroom earlier.

But he knew.

He fucking knew.

It looked like sex hair.

Shit.

Fucking. Fuck.

“I heard the door slam. Is everything okay?” Gigi slurred.

Andrea jumped up off the couch and glared at him. “You are the scum of the earth. You know that?”

“Andrea, come on,” he pleaded, racing after her.

She yanked the door open, started down the stairs, and ran out to her car.

He just went ahead and followed her. “This is not what it looks like. I can explain!”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it.”

“We are not together. We didn’t sleep together. I was taking the couch. I swear to God.”

Andrea screamed, actually screamed, at the top of her lungs before glaring at him from the driver’s side of her car. “I don’t want to hear it! I can’t listen to it any longer. You had another girl in your bed while you were trying to have sex with me!” She shook her head. Her eyes were glassy. “I truly am a masochist. I must be. Why else would I ever want to love someone who constantly hurts me like this?”

She threw the question at him, leaving him standing there, stunned, as she drove away. Gigi stepped outside a few minutes later, but Clay just stood there and watched his last chance disappear into the distance.

Chapter 18

HOME SWEET HOME

The weeks up to Brady’s wedding passed by in a blur. Andrea refused to take Clay’s phone calls and never returned any of the long voice mails he’d left. She probably deleted them before listening to them, which was for the better since they were pretty embarrassing, all things considered. His text messages were never opened, and he’d officially been blocked from her Facebook account. She had clearly decided that the night of the gala was a mistake. He was a mistake. And she was moving on.

Things were just as weird with Gigi for the next week. No matter how many times she’d apologized for walking downstairs that night, he couldn’t convince her that he didn’t actually blame her for anything. She’d done nothing wrong in his eyes.

He’d been so wrapped up in the moment that he’d just forgotten she was upstairs. That was on him. It wasn’t like Andrea wouldn’t have found out anyway. He would have asked her to stay, if they’d gotten that far. Having Gigi stay the night, what had happened with Andrea afterward…it was all on him.

But, for at least a week afterward, Gigi walked on eggshells around him. It was ridiculous, coming from the girl who gave him more shit than anyone else he’d known. She acted as if he were going to dissolve their friendship on the spot. Whatever had happened in her past to make her edge around him like that was a story he couldn’t get out of her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

“If I ask you to go to Brady’s wedding with me, will you stop acting like a lunatic? This isn’t your fault. Stop punishing yourself. I’m punishing myself enough for the both of us,” Clay told Gigi.

“Will Andrea be there?” She chewed on her bottom lip and looked like she wanted to start pacing.

Clay shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I fucked up too bad. She’ll never talk to me again.”

“It totally matters. She might be pissed at you, but she’s going to
hate
me.”

Fair point.

She probably would hate Gigi on principle.

“I’m sure she’ll be there. She’s friends with Liz, and my family has always treated her like family.”

“Bad idea.”

“Otherwise, I don’t have a date.”

“That’s probably good for you.”

“Just as a friend, so I don’t look like a loser, showing up alone?” he prodded.

“You could never look like a loser.”

Clay glared at her. “You’re going with me.”

“I can’t find a dress,” she said, trying to dig in.

“Then, I’ll get you one. Christ, just go with me.”

“All right, all right,” she groaned. “I’m so going to regret this. I’ll be there for moral support, but if she is there, I’m finding someone else to dance with.”

“Deal.”

With all the manic rush of last-minute preparations underway, it was the weekend before the big event, and the moment Clay had been waiting for finally arrived—Brady’s bachelor party. Clay had volunteered Las Vegas as the best possible location for this event, but Brady had vetoed that suggestion. He’d claimed he wanted something low-key. No casinos. No strippers. No strip clubs. Basically, he wanted to take all the fun out of it.

But Brady’s best friend, Chris Atwood, was the best man and thus in charge of the party. He lived in New York right now, but he and Brady had been best friends while growing up and played basketball together at the University of North Carolina for four years in college. Chris knew Brady like the back of his hand. Clay was pretty sure that Chris was the only person who had been in Brady’s shadow more than Clay had, but Chris didn’t resent him in the same way. He was his best friend, not his little brother.

Since Chris was in charge of the weekend, he had decided to go to the Maxwell’s house in Hilton Head for the beach, scotch, and cigars. It wasn’t exactly Vegas, but it was going to be a great weekend regardless.

The day before he was supposed to be in Hilton Head, Clay had taken the extra day off work to drive to Chapel Hill to visit his mom and Savannah and breathe in some much-needed
home
time.

“Mom?” Clay called into his parents’ mansion when he entered through the garage.

“In here, dear,” Marilyn called back.

His mother was a law professor at UNC and extremely well established in her field. He had always looked up to her even though he knew he could never teach like that. It would drive him mad. But he had always been closer to his mom than he was with his dad. With his mother, there was none of that need to please.

He entered his mother’s office on the first floor, which looked more like a library with a large wooden desk and two giant iMacs hooked up as dual monitors. Clay bent down and gave her a kiss. Then, he slumped back onto the only available space in the otherwise cluttered room.

“How was the drive down?” Marilyn asked. She peeked at him over her rather chic burgundy-rimmed glasses.

“Not so bad. Glad to be out of the city though.”

“I know just the feeling,” she said with an easy smile. Her blonde hair spilled over one shoulder. It was longer than it’d been in a while. Normally, she kept it in a bob. “I love coming back for the semester to teach and escape the oppressive D.C. hustle. But I have a feeling it’s more than the city you’re trying to escape.” She shot him a knowing look.

“You got me. Who told you?”

“The walls bleed secrets.” She winked. “Now, tell me what’s going on with you and Andrea.”

So, he did. She listened all the while, nodding with some of his points and shaking her head at all the others. He left out some of the more…repugnant details, but she had raised him after all. She could piece together what was missing.

By the end, to his surprise, she was smiling.

“What?” he asked warily.

“I’m not sure you’ve gone after anything this hard since you decided you wanted to be a lawyer. I still don’t know where that drive came from…”

“Runs in the family,” he muttered under his breath. He’d never acknowledge he’d only done it because he wanted to become attorney general and win his father’s approval. Somehow, all the lines had blurred anyway.

“But I know where this drive comes from.” She tapped her heart twice with a red lacquered nail. “You love her very much, and you always have.”

Clay sighed.
How did she see what I hadn’t for so long? How could she see what even Andrea couldn’t?

She just smiled and stood. “Come on. Let’s get out of this stuffy office. Savannah should be here with Easton at any moment. No need to dwell. I can see you came home to avoid that.”

Clay followed his mother out of the office and into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter as she poured him a glass of sweet tea. God, he’d fucking missed home.

“Mom?”

“Hmm, honey?”

“What do I do?”

She set the glass of lemonade she had just poured for herself on the counter in front of him and then set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I know this will come as a surprise, but I don’t have all the answers.” She chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “But what you have with Andrea is special. You wouldn’t have made it this long otherwise. Don’t give up on her just yet. When we were at the hospital after you’d been…attacked, I sat with Andrea for a very long time. You don’t know it, but you both changed that night. Looking in her face was like seeing a new woman. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, so she latched on at the very moment you needed space to breathe…to heal—physically and emotionally. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

Clay swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded. Just then, Savannah bounded into the kitchen from the garage, her long brown hair swinging, with her boyfriend Easton in tow.

“Hey!” she cried. “I didn’t know you’d be home already.”

“Well, I’m not Brady, so no city parade to announce my arrival,” he joked.

Savannah snorted. “Jerk.”

Easton laughed. “Hey, man. Good to see you again.”

They shook hands.

“You, too,” Clay said.

“Good to have two out of my three children home,” Marilyn said, pulling Savannah in for a hug. “Good to see you, Easton.”

“Good to see you, too, ma’am.”

“Can I get you two a drink?”

“Sweet tea,” Easton agreed.

“Me, too,” said Savannah.

Marilyn poured out the rest of the drinks, and then they all crowded in at the small breakfast bar in the kitchen.

“You just graduated, right?” Clay asked Easton.

He had an arm wrapped around Savannah and nodded. Clay dimly remembered Easton was a year ahead of Savannah in school. Savannah had posted pictures of them together with Easton in a cap and gown just last weekend.

“Any big plans for the future?”

“I’m taking a year off. Actually working in Brady’s Raleigh office for the year while I apply to law schools.”

Clay raised his eyebrows. “That so?”

“Yeah. It’s a great opportunity. I’m really lucky that Brady gave me the job. It’s definitely something I want to do before I decide to run for local office,” Easton said.

Clay’s gaze shifted to Savannah. If he knew anything about his little sister, he knew what she thought about politics. They were good for the family, but she wanted to stay as far away from them as possible if she could help it. She was proud of their dad and Brady, but she didn’t want that for herself. She’d even dated some tatted up douche on a motorcycle once to prove her point. He’d thought she’d run headlong in the other direction from someone like Easton. But it seemed even Savi could change.

“Cool, man,” he finally got out.

He silently asked Savannah with an arched eyebrow,
Politician?

Her eyes rounded out with a warning,
Don’t you dare mention it!