After Clay made sure that I was very happy to be awake, I headed toward my shower and had to bite my lip when he followed me.
"I was planning on a quick-" but his lips met mine, his body was flush against mine and I forgot what my point was. Pressing me against the tiles of my shower stall, one hand adjusting the water, his lips and other hand not leaving me. His mouth took a stroll down my neck and I arched into him, feeling his chuckle tingle against my skin.
"Quickie?" He muttered, nipping my collarbone. And then he was inside of me, turning me so I was under the spray, and he was holding me up without aid of the wall. "Let's see if we can-" I arched as he thrust and his moan felt even better than his laugh had, damn. "Fuck, Char," and then his lips were back on mine and we were at it again.
Somehow, and it would take a repeat performance where I was actually paying attention to something other than how Clay fit inside me perfectly, how his hands could be hard and tight or soft and teasing, how he could coax out a scream, a moan, or a gasp during the same encounter for me to take actual notice, but he managed to soap me up and was my hair while the rest of our bodies were otherwise occupied. He had me pressed against the tiles again, holding tight to me as we came back down to reality.
"Wow," I breathed, finally capable of speech. "That was-"
"Wow?" His eyes met mine and I felt my breath leave me. "We're just gettin' started, Char." My heart clenched while a twist of lust hit me at the same time.
I managed to get dressed and ready for work, but don't ask me how. I have no fucking clue how I kept my mind on pants, shirts, and my fucking hair while I watching Clay redress himself and thinking what a fucking shame it was that we were in a fully nudist town so other women could envy me. Then I remembered that no one knew, not really, that this had happened. And I had the sobering thought that I didn't fucking KNOW Clay. Hell, I wasn't even sure that was his fucking real name. Shit.
He followed me down the back stairs, letting me unlock the door connecting my apartment to the shop, and I smiled as he asked if he could stay while I opened. "Sure, you can watch me bake," his eyes widened, clearly expecting the same thing that my employees thought, that he'd see the mysterious baker that didn't exist. "Come on, Romeo, let me get the ovens preheated."
Clay sat on one of the stools I kept in the kitchen for anyone who didn't want to take their break with the customers, watching as I arranged the ingredients that I'd be using along the island counter. Gathering up the bowls, plugging in the stand mixer, and getting out the measuring cups and other things that I'd need, I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee.
"I'm good, want me to grab you something?" I smiled and told him my favorite juice, watching his back as he pushed through the swinging doors into the main shop area. He came back with two bottles, opening mine since my hands were busy and sitting it near me, he retook his seat. "You're the baker?" My grin grew as I started the first batch of batter going in the mixer. "Does anyone else know?"
"My uncles do," taking a sip of my juice, I started putting together the next round. "They knew I loved to bake, and I loved this coffee shop more than even the two of them did, so-" I shrugged. It had made sense, Davey and George had raised me after Mom- I blinked the thought away. My uncles had been my rocks, and they'd always wanted to be sure I had SOMETHING to occupy myself with, it had always been their goal, to anchor me.
"Uncles?" He was staring at me and I wondered if JJ/Jen had told him about my uncle Davey. "Your mom's side or dad's?" I shook my head and took another drink of juice.
"Uncle Davey is Mom's brother, Uncle George is his husband," to give Clay credit, he didn't show any signs of surprise or even flinch. Some men did, not locals since Davey and George were well known in our small spec of a town, but guys I'd dated in the past tended not to last if I saw signs of discomfort.
"And they raised you?" I was scooping out the first batter onto prepared pans, nodding as the second batter took its turn in the mixer. "Your mom?"
"Died." Simple and true, but not the whole story. "I was eleven." I had a flash of the call she made, as I sat with George here in the kitchen and watched him bake. She was making sure I was here, that I was with my uncles before she- I swallowed the memory, as I always did.
"And your dad-" the very thought of my dad made me snort and shot down the pain of my mom.
"Daddy dearest?" I looked up as I started another batch of batter. "He was very busy with Amber, or is her name Ashley? The younger, trashier model, that works," I rolled my eyes. "He didn't seem interested in me, or kids in general really." As far as I knew, and with the town being so small, I knew everything whether I wanted to or not, he hadn't spawned any more kids. I shrugged again. "He didn't put up a fight."
Clay was drinking his own juice, staring at me while seemingly lost in thought. I kept going with the baking, the scent of vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon filling the air. "You said your dad was wealthy and connected-" I nodded, waiting. "And he's a councilman?"
"Yeah, he wasn't always rich and elite," in fact, were it not for falling in with my mom and HER family, he'd still be on the wrong side of the tracks, no newer model for him. "My mom's family was the one with the better name." And money, lots and lots of money, I thought. Shaking my head at how my uncles had made sure that every single penny of my trust fund stayed firmly away from my father's grasping fingers. "Marrying her got him what he really wanted."
"Power." Clay offered, finishing his juice as I put the last pan of pastries in the oven. As I closed the oven door, I felt the heat of him pressed against my back. "How long are they going to bake?" His hands were sliding under my apron, pulling my button down shirt from my pants, and I found myself pressing back against his chest.
"Twenty minutes," I whispered, as his lips met the crook of my neck and my eyes fluttered closed.
"That gives me enough time to have breakfast." And then he turned me and our lips met again.
Clay left after I had the bakery cases filled and the dishes washed from my baking. He kept me company until about thirty minutes before the shop would open, and about twenty minutes before Keli would come in. He kissed me in front of the door, giving me a look that I felt more than I could describe. Clearly wanting to stay, but needing to go, I finally shook my head and pushed him out the door.
"Go," smirking, but also fighting myself from yanking him back inside and calling today a loss. "Before neither of us get anything done today." His smile was breathtaking, and he turned away, but not before promising me that he'd see me later.
Keli looked at me as though I hadn't buttoned my shirt right after the breakfast that Clay and I had that morning, and I had to struggle against checking myself. "What?" I asked, flipping the sign over early.
"You look-" she was squinting at my face, and I felt a blush hit me. "Laid." My eyebrows rose, and she grinned, a new expression on her face. "Char got laid," she nodded, her grin holding as she tucked her messenger bag in the kitchen. While her back was turned, I double checked my buttons, zipper, and my hair. How the fuck did she- "You have a tiny-" she touched a bare spot lower than my neck and grinned wider. "He bit you." Shit. Fuck. My eyes closed tight. "So was it Mr. Coffee Black Double Shot or Cappuccino Extra Cinnamon Are You Sure You Don't Do The Art On Top?" I opened my eyes to see her leaning against the counter behind the register waiting.
I groaned and she laughed. Damn it, who knew that Keli's mood could improve by me suddenly having a sex life? "Double Shot," I answered, shocking myself. "Don't fucking-"
"Tell anyone?" She shook her head with an eye roll thrown in for good measure. "Like I would. Aren't you worried about Latte Soy Milk No Foam?" I shook my head and gave her an eye roll in return.
"Asha. Keli, they have actual names." I groaned, realizing that I wasn't sure they were their REAL names, and that I'd used her 'nickname' for Clay to confirm her suspicions. Fuck.
She shrugged and moved to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Who cares? This town is a fucking whirlpool of people who no one should give two flying fucks about, why bother learning THEIR names when no one learns ours?" I was listening to her as she spoke and I realized she was right. Aside from the 'elite', no one cared about the townies that didn't 'matter'. "Me and Stacy can't fucking wait to move away."
"You're planning on leaving?" This was news to me, and a flash of dawning horror made me notice that I was guilty of it too. That I was exactly the type of person who didn't engage, not really. Fuck.
Keli shrugged again, taking a careful sip of her coffee. "Eventually. We want Jason to be raised somewhere a little more welcoming." I smiled, thinking that her little family was thinking ahead, something few people seemed to do anymore. "We're saving up, it won't be for awhile yet, so don't worry about hiring a new opening person." Fuck, she thought I only cared because of the inconvenience to me.
I waved that idea off. "Where are you guys looking at?" And for the next few minutes, and during quiet parts of the rest of the day, I learned more about Keli than I'd known in the two years she'd worked at The Little Drip. And I knew that her contempt wasn't just because she was working customer service, but because she saw a side of the town I'd grew up in from a different point of view.