Clay wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back into him. Their earlier conversation forgotten in the moment.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” Andrea admitted.

“Yeah, I did.”

“The Maxwells and their big gestures.”

“It’s not just that. Though…it is that,” he amended carefully. “I just wanted it to be real for you. I wanted us to be real to you.”

She sighed. “It’s always been real for me, Clay.” She turned around and faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I wasn’t pretending to enjoy your company. I wasn’t pretending to love your family. I wasn’t pretending to love you.”

“I wasn’t pretending any of those things either. Well, except for your family.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. I just want to make things right by you, Andrea.” He bent down, so his lips were nearly brushing hers. “I want to make you remember all the good times and forget all the times we fucked up.”

His tongue darted out and traced a line across her full bottom lip. She shivered in his arms.

“But our ten-year relationship is just the foundation to the building I plan to raise.”

He pulled her flush against him now and let his lips fall down onto hers. She didn’t resist. Not one bit. Her fingers tangled up through his dark blond hair as he tasted her sweet lips.

They had kissed since the wedding, but it was nothing like this. She hadn’t been this open or vulnerable. She certainly hadn’t been needy or demanding with her kisses, like she was rushing toward now. And he didn’t mind in the least.

Her hand slid down the front of his shorts, and he stiffened under her eager touch.

“Fuck, woman.” Clay reached out and roughly grabbed her shoulders. “I’m trying to be all romantic here, and you’re making me want to just fuck you into next Tuesday.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t mind either,” she said, her voice breathy and seductive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He’d brought her here to seduce her, but somehow, the tables had turned, and she was fucking seducing him. It was hot as fucking hell.

Her hands went to work, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them to his ankles. Then she pointed to the chair overlooking the park.

“Sit.”

He obeyed and, without preamble, she climbed on top of him. She settled herself against his cock and then sheathed herself around him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer.

“You’re perfect for me.”

She smirked lazily as she started riding him. “And don’t forget it.”

Chapter 26

FIX IT

The next few weeks, Clay was intensely overworked.

He’d barely had time to breathe, let alone see Andrea. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be this overworked and not enjoy it. He wanted to be working a nine-to-five, getting off and heading over to Andrea’s to spend time with her. Instead, he was lucky if he could leave by midnight.

Andrea seemed understanding, but he worried that his past actions would be his downfall. Would he ever be able to escape that look in her eyes, the one that showed that he might be doing something wrong? Wondering if he was he at the office late for some other reason?

She never said those things. But it was like he could see her hesitancy.

Before, they had never had any of this doubt because they’d had an understanding. Now, she was suspicious because, without the understanding, she had nothing to guard her heart with. He would see it all over her face when he came over to her place at night.

It was almost the end of July when he finally left court at a semi-decent time and realized quite unexpectedly that he had the rest of the evening to himself. He drove to Andrea’s gallery, parked in the back lot, next to her Mercedes, and then he took the stairs to the back door. He entered her office. It was immaculate. Basically, the opposite of his space—all soft, floral, and girlie but still modern and chic. It had Andrea written all over it.

“Hey,” she said, coming out of the door that led to the gallery space. “What are you doing here?”

She was smoothing out her navy pencil skirt when she entered, but all he could focus on was the white V-neck shirt she had tucked into it. She must have been wearing one killer push-up bra because her tits looked amazing.

She snapped her fingers at his face.

He blinked and then grinned. “I came for a tour.”

She shut the door in his face. “You can have one when it’s open.”

He grabbed her around the middle and planted his lips on her. “How about now?”

“Nope.”

He sucked on her bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth. His hands slid to her ass. “How about now?”

“How about…the night I open?”

“I’ll see it first?” His lips went across her cheek and ever so slowly down her neck.

“Mm…hmm.”

“Okay,” he said, abruptly pulling away and leaving her standing there with her mouth slightly open, looking dazed. He smacked her ass. “I’m taking you out. Let’s get going.”

“You’re trouble, Clay Maxwell,” she growled.

“That I am.”

He grabbed her hand, and then they walked back out to his Porsche. He held the door open for her, and she slipped into the passenger’s side. Then, he jogged back to his side, sat down, and revved the engine.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see. Have you decided when you’re opening?” he asked, deftly changing the conversation, as he drove them away from the gallery.

“Labor Day weekend.”

“So soon? That’s only a month away.”

“I know. But I think I have everything I need. I hired an event planner for the occasion, and we just have to make it happen.”

“You will. I know it.”

He pulled off the main road, wove through a few back neighborhoods, and then stopped in front of a historic brick townhouse.

“What’s this?” Andrea asked.

“Just something I’m looking into. I thought, since I finally had some time off, I could take you with me to come look at it.”

“You’re thinking of moving?” she asked. Andrea cautiously exited the car.