Текст книги "On the Record"

Автор книги: K. A. Linde

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“That was before I knew your brother.”

“Exactly. Back when you saw him for what he really was, not what he wanted you to see. Tell me something. Do you honestly think that he didn’t fuck someone else when you guys were together?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“Do you have a point?” she snapped. She couldn’t think about that. It didn’t even matter.

Clay turned a sharp corner and began to weave down back streets. “With me you know exactly what you’re getting. With Brady you never know.”

“Is the lawyer trying to tell me that he’s honest?” she quipped.

“The lawyer is trying to tell you that after everything he still wants to take you home and he still wants to fuck you. I doubt Brady is saying that.”

Liz choked back a gasp at his frankness. “You just want me because your brother had me.”

“Correction: I just want you more.”

“So what? You want to get me out of your system so you can go back to your heiress?” Liz demanded.

Clay smirked and shot her a devious grin. “Lucky for me, I have a pretty insatiable appetite.”

Liz knew that she was at a low point in her life. She had never felt so completely and totally destroyed. And at this point, she just didn’t care what happened. And maybe, even a small part of her knew that if she couldn’t have Brady then she just wanted to be close to him however she could. Even if it was a completely fucked-up notion. Clay was as close to Brady as she was ever going to get again, and it was good enough for her in that moment.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” he asked, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“If you think you’re better than your brother, prove it.” She sat back in the soft leather seat and crossed her arms.

He didn’t say anything for a while. She clearly had thrown him for a loop. He probably thought that he was going to have to fight her on this one, but she didn’t have any fight left in her.

“Are you . . .” he trailed off. “I don’t want to misinterpret you.”

Liz’s eyes shifted to him briefly. “I think you get my meaning.”

“I’d rather you make it very clear.”

“I want you to fuck me until I forget Brady Maxwell ever existed,” Liz said bluntly. Until he wasn’t even a memory . . . just like Brady had said that night last October.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Unless you can’t do that,” she challenged.

“I can do that.” Clay reached across the car, took her hand, and placed it on his cock. She could feel the hardening length through his suit pants. “I can definitely do that.”

Liz squeezed then ran her hand down to the tip and back. His breathing hitched; then she pulled away with a smirk.

“I sure hope so.”

Someone needs to.

Chapter 24

MISTAKES WORTH MAKING

Clay turned his Porsche down a long winding driveway about fifteen minutes later. They passed through an overhang of trees before the lot finally opened up to reveal a ranch-style brick house. It was beautiful in its simplicity and completely secluded.

“Is this yours?” Liz asked, staring out the window at the property.

“Yep.”

“Courtesy of Maxwell Industries Real Estate, I presume?”

“Someone’s done their research,” he said, his eyes shifting to hers. “Or do you have experience with other Maxwell properties?”

“I’m a reporter. Give me some credit,” she said, trying not to think about all of the other Maxwell properties she had been on.

He parked the Porsche in the driveway and they both stepped out of the car. Liz followed him around to the front door. He kicked over a flowerpot and found a key sitting underneath it.

“High security,” Liz observed.

Clay chuckled before he inserted the key, twisted the knob, and opened the door. Liz’s body buzzed with adrenaline as Clay stepped inside. She fought to keep her hands from trembling as she followed him. She had decided to do this and she needed to keep the tone light if she was going to go through with it.

“Where are you now anyway?” Liz asked, walking inside. “You graduated from law school last May, right?”

“I’m clerking at the federal level. Once my year is up where I am, I’ll move up to clerking for the Supreme Court.” He shut the door and tossed the key on a table in the foyer.

“Wow. Ambition runs in the family.”

“Are we done talking now?” he asked, slightly annoyed.

“Are you going to be an asshole?”

Clay arched an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Absolutely.”

He was before her in two powerful strides, grabbing her roughly around the waist, their lips colliding. He had soft, demanding lips that prodded hers open. He slid his tongue into her mouth and Liz almost sighed with the faint taste of honey. Damn, he was a good kisser. He wasn’t Brady, but he would do . . . for now. His hands guided her arms around his neck and she held on to him for support. He drew her body in until they were flush against one another. She could feel his defined chest through the thin material of her dress.

It was easy to get lost in Clay because she didn’t have to do anything. He took control of her, teasingly kissing, sucking, and licking her lips, tasting her, devouring her whole. And she let him. She let him cloud her mind with the help of the whiskey still pumping through her veins. It was easier than thinking about the train that had wrecked her life or the consequences that she would have to face in the morning.

His hand slid up her bare arm and she shivered against him. The alcohol had kept her warm against the February chill, but Clay was sending goose bumps up her arm. He found her hand and grasped it in his own.

Their lips finally broke apart and he had that same self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling her through the house and toward the back. He opened the door, still facing her, and tugged her lightly into the large master bedroom. A king-size bed took up the center of the room, covered in a fluffy red comforter and a collection of throw pillows.

Holy shit! She was actually going to do this. But what else did she have to lose? Everything else had been stripped away.

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” Clay said, dropping his mouth down onto hers.

“Guess you’re not doing your job,” she whispered against his lips.

“We’ll see about that.”

He started walking them backward to the bed. His hands slid over her shoulders, trailed down the curve of her breasts, down her waist, until he was gripping her hips forcefully.

She arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. This was easier. It was easier to taunt him into action. She could get through this. She wanted it. Clay was fucking unbelievably hot and his lips were like sweet honey. She wanted him to explore her.

His hands slid down to the hem of her minidress, and he ran his fingers softly under the material. Her breathing hitched and she felt her body warming at his touch. Without warning he picked her up and set her down easily on the bed. His hands spread her legs in front of him so that he could lean his body between them and capture her lips once more.

“I bet all you’re thinking about right now is me fucking you,” he groaned, pressing himself against her.

Liz pretended to yawn, trying to keep up the game they were playing. “Brady’s probably getting a nice sympathy fuck from his girlfriend, and you can’t even keep me entertained.”

Clay chuckled. His hands ran up her bare inner thighs. She tried to squeeze her legs together as if she were going to stop him, but all she did was tighten her grip on his hips.

“The only thing that’s going to be entertained tonight is my dick in your pussy,” he said, his finger inching closer and closer to her heated core. “Because Brady doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“What?” Liz snapped, straightening and pushing his hand away. “What did you just say?”

“My dick is going to be entertained in your pussy,” he said seductively.

“No, after that!”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Uh . . . Brady doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“What?” he asked, trying to put his hands back on her, but she pushed him away.

“When did they break up? What happened?” Liz demanded.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to lean in again.

“No. Stop,” she said, ducking out of the way of his kiss. “When the fuck did they break up?”

Clay rolled his eyes and took a step back, clearly seeing he wasn’t going to win this battle. “A few months ago. October maybe? Why does it even matter?”

Liz’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just say October?”

“Yeah. Brady just dropped her one day. I don’t know what happened, so don’t fucking ask me. We’re done with the Q&A session. Can we get back to fucking?” he asked, annoyed again.

“No! Are you out of your mind? I’m not having sex with you,” Liz said, scooting off of the bed and fixing her dress. “You need to take me home—or better yet, to see Brady.”

“What?” he practically yelled. “I’m not taking you anywhere, especially not to see my brother. What the fuck?”

“Just shut up!” she shrieked. “Don’t you understand anything? It’s Brady. It’s always been Brady. Stop trying to be your brother, because you’ll never be Brady.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liz shook her head. “You’re walking in a shadow, and fucking me isn’t going to make that any better. I need to talk to Brady tonight, and I’m going to do it whether you take me home or I have to walk all the way to your parents’ house in Durham myself.”

“Do you think it’s going to help him for you to show up at the house the night after the article breaks? Do you think you’ll actually be helping him by corroborating the story your boyfriend wrote?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Liz snapped. “And I don’t care. I just need to see him. We have to be able to fix it. There has to be a way.”

“Why don’t you stop and think for a second? Think about what happens if I take you to my parents’ house, and you walk into that lockdown war zone. You’re not just talking to Brady. You’re talking to my parents, his staff, Savannah, everyone. Tell me you want to walk into that.”

“Did you not hear me? I. Don’t. Care. I need to see him.”

“You’re insane. You think anyone is going to let you near him when they find out that you’re Sandy Carmichael? What happened in October anyway? You flipped out over that,” Clay observed.

“Nothing,” she answered immediately. He just raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I saw him again, but nothing happened and we parted ways.”

“Parted ways. Knowing my brother, I doubt that went over well,” Clay said. “Okay, so tell me this then. Why did you agree to see me? Why didn’t you speak to him before? And don’t give me some bullshit about his girlfriend, because I don’t think anyone thought she actually mattered.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to take you there?” he asked.

Liz glared at him. “You’re such an asshole.”

“What you see is what you get, babe.”

“He told me not to speak to him again,” Liz said softly. She hated admitting it out loud. Brady’s angry words still echoed through her mind all these months later.

“And you’re going to anyway? Don’t you think he said it for a reason?”

“Yes, I do. I think he said it because he was angry, and he had every right to be. But I clearly don’t care anymore.” Liz brushed past him and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” he cried, following her down the hall.

“I told you that I’d walk home if you didn’t take me,” she said stubbornly.

Clay humphed behind her. “You can’t go tramping through the woods in a minidress and heels.”

“Try to stop me!”

Liz made it halfway down the driveway in the middle of the woods, at night, freezing her ass off when she heard the soft hum of the Porsche behind her. The headlights flashed as Clay approached. He rolled down the passenger window and stared at her in frustration.

“Get in, crazy.”

She opened the door and sank back into the passenger seat. As soon as her door shut, Clay jolted the car forward.

She sighed as she relaxed. She had been determined to walk home, but realistically it had been a dumb move. She was relieved that Clay had given in and picked her up.

“Thank you,” Liz whispered.

“I’m not taking you to my parents’ house,” he said sullenly. “If you want to do something stupid, you can do it on your own.”

Liz nodded. She wasn’t surprised that Clay wouldn’t take her to Brady, and barging into the Maxwell house didn’t exactly sound like the best plan. It was just the first that had come to her. Perhaps the alcohol was still talking. She would have to find a better way to get to him.

“Um . . .” she began, biting her lip.

She didn’t say anything for a second and Clay asked, “What?”

“Do you think I could get Brady’s number from you?”

“I’m turning around,” he said, easing on the brakes.

“What? Why?”

“There is no reasoning with you.”

“With me? You’re the one who wanted to fuck me because I’d been with your brother.”

Clay shrugged. He slid open the compartment between their seats, placed his phone inside, and then purposefully shut it tight. “That makes more sense to me than giving you his phone number.”

“I only ever tried to reach him on the campaign line, and unless you think it’s a good idea to do that now, perhaps you should give me his personal,” she snapped. Well, besides the time she had used his personal line last year, but she had deleted that number and it did nothing to bring that up with Clay right now.

“You called him on the campaign line?” Clay asked, shaking his head. “For being smart, you two are fucking idiots.”

“Just get moving. I’ll figure it out myself,” she said, turning to face the window again.

A million scenarios ran through her mind on the drive back to her house. How the hell was she going to get hold of Brady? Her earlier tactic had always been to call the office, say she was Sandy Carmichael, and poof! Brady answered the phone. Well, she couldn’t call as Sandy now. And she doubted they would be taking any calls, especially not from reporters. She could make shit up about knowing who Sandy Carmichael was, but Liz was sure that would only get her as far as Heather. She didn’t trust Heather to get her through to Brady. She could have called Savannah, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her friend to know that she had been with her brother, and with Clay not cooperating, she really didn’t have another choice.

Liz glanced down at the compartment that held Clay’s phone. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get it out of there. But if there was another alternative, she wasn’t seeing one.

Clay shifted gears as he veered toward her house. Liz had to make up her mind. The worst thing that could happen was that he would notice her reaching for it. She could live with that.

She had been staring out the window most of the drive, and she slowly turned her body to face Clay. “Hey,” she whispered softly.

“Oh, are we talking again?” he asked.

“No need to be rude,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearm on the center compartment. Most of her body covered the compartment so that when he was looking at the road, she was pretty sure the only thing he saw in his periphery were her breasts spilling out of her tiny dress. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I can keep driving if this includes road head.”

Liz laughed melodically. Clay would always be Clay. She just needed to keep him entertained, keep him from seeing what she was planning.

“I don’t think so,” Liz said, pressing the button on the side of the compartment softly. “But I was kind of a bitch when I said that stuff about you and Brady.”

His eyes shifted to hers and she stopped moving. “I’m still not going to take you to see him, Liz.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Road head might convince me,” he said, his eyes darting back to the road.

Liz shook her head as she slowly, almost painfully slowly, began to slide back the edge of the compartment. “You think I’m going to suck your dick and then go see Brady?”

“At least I’d get off.”

Yeah, he deserved this.

The hole in the compartment was just wide enough to stick her hand in. She licked her lips and tried to take even breaths. They were so close to her house, and she needed to time this just right.

They stopped at a red light and Liz for sure thought she was going to start sweating when he turned to look at her. She held his gaze perfectly, though, not wavering once. If she did, she was sure that he was going to notice that something was amiss . . . like the fact that she was leaning into him and the compartment containing his phone was open.

“So what do you say?” Clay asked with that same dimpled smirk.

“I still think no,” Liz responded.

The light changed and they were off again. Liz breathed a soft sigh of relief when he had to look where he was going again. Her fingers slowly inched into the compartment, then her palm, and then her hand all the way to the wrist.

“Your loss.”

“What, like giving you head is a privilege?” she managed to ask with a disbelieving laugh.

“It is.”

Liz scoffed. “Men. Always thinking with the wrong head.”

Her fingers brushed against his phone and she slowly lifted the device into her hand. Now to get it out of there.

“As if you weren’t thinking about my dick when you let me take you back to my place.”

When Clay turned his head at a stop sign to check for traffic, Liz lifted the phone out of the compartment and with a gulp pushed it down under her leg. She pressed her finger on the button to the compartment, gingerly clicked it back into place, and then righted herself.

“That was then and this is now,” Liz said with an uneasy shrug.

Holy shit! She had his phone. She couldn’t believe it. Her stomach was in knots with anticipation and worry about the last couple minutes of the drive.

“Women. So fickle,” he grumbled. “Where am I taking you anyway?”

Liz gave Clay directions for the last few turns, and then he pulled the Porsche up in front of her house. She saw Victoria’s and Daniel’s cars in the driveway. If they weren’t already in a sex coma, she was sure they were going to have a million questions. But first she needed to get the fuck out of Clay’s car.

“Thanks for driving me,” Liz told him before popping the door open and sliding the phone into her hand.

“I couldn’t let you try to walk back.”

“I thought you might let me.”

“No farther than the end of the driveway. Long enough for you to realize how stupid it was,” he said. The dimples in his cheeks were visible as she hastily stepped out of the car. She moved her hand behind her body to keep it from his vision.

“Night,” she said, moving to push the door closed with the other hand.

“Hey!” he called, stopping her.

The blood pumped through her veins. She was this far. He couldn’t know. She was this close!

“Yeah?” she murmured.

“You forgot your purse,” he said, pointing at the small bag on the floor.

Liz breathed out heavily. Oh thank God! She grabbed the purse off of the floor of the car, slammed the door shut, and practically sprinted into her house. She shut the front door and leaned her back against it, breathing in and out heavily, her chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” she whispered into the quiet house.

She slid the lock into place carefully before taking the phone back into her bedroom. She kicked off her high heels, stripped out of her party dress, and then threw on some sweats. Taking a seat on the bed, she opened the phone, swiped her finger across the touch screen, and it lit up in her hand.

She was in.

Her hands trembled as she searched Clay’s contacts for Brady. There were four numbers listed: D.C. office, N.C. office, personal, and work. Since she had gone to the trouble of stealing Clay’s phone, she transferred all of them into her phone, even though the only number that she was planning to use tonight was his personal one.

Liz placed Clay’s phone down on her nightstand before pulling back up Brady’s personal number and clicking Send. She could hear her heart beat in her ears as she waited for him to answer. It rang four times and then went to voice mail. Liz ended the call. She couldn’t leave him a voice mail.

All of that trouble, and he didn’t pick up her call.

She sat on her bed for a solid minute, just staring off into space wondering what the hell her life had become. How the hell had she gotten to this place? All she wanted to do was find a way to make it right, and still she couldn’t do that. She had blown her second chance and didn’t deserve another one. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight for that.

Then the lightbulb turned on. Clay’s phone. He would answer Clay’s phone. She would have to do some major explaining as to how she acquired the phone, but at least she would get to speak with Brady.

Liz snatched the phone back off of the nightstand, found Brady’s personal number, and dialed. Her foot tapped anxiously on the floor.

Ring.

She could get through this. She just needed to talk to him.

Ring.

She didn’t know what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter. She would wing it. It was Brady. She had to do something.

Ring.

He wasn’t going to answer. She had done this for nothing . . .

“Clay,” Brady’s gruff voice scolded through the phone, “where the fuck have you been? We’re on lockdown over here. Everyone is freaking out and you just disappear. This is so like you. Why can’t you do one thing that would make someone other than yourself happy?”

“Brady,” Liz whispered into the phone.

There was a pregnant pause on the other line. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Liz?” he breathed in disbelief.