Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

3. Clara

Chapter 3

Clara

F at snowflakes plaster themselves to my face as I climb up from the river basin to Dinkytown. Snow for Christmas. It’d be magical if I was celebrating.

Instead, I’m sick to my stomach from running after the Bailey’s, John Wick is the only man waiting for me, and my to-do list has two items instead of a handsome collection of guys on it: wearing cozy jammies for the rest of the day and checking my much-neglected personal email account.

Two sold signs wave in the wind as I pass by a row of rundown party houses. Sucks to be those new owners. No college kid will take care of a place with holes in the porch and cracked windows.

Dinkytown is eerily quiet. Everyone’s gone home for the holidays. Catching sight of a gold envelope on the porch and a big box with Walker’s name on it, I scoop them up as I figure out how to unlock the door with the combo of my phone and the passcode RJ sent, a tickle on the back of my neck urging me inside quickly. Just as I get it open, my phone rings, and I almost drop it from surprise.

RJ.

I feel like a puppet whose strings were just cut, drooping in relief. He didn’t forget me. He called me back. “Hey, you,” I chirp, locking the door behind me and setting Walker’s box on the stairs.

“Hi, sugar. Sorry I missed you earlier. What’s up?” Even RJ’s voice makes me feel calmer, less like a live electrical wire lying in a puddle on the ground.

“Not much. I was just a little confused about how the front door works. But I got a hold of Trips, so it’s all figured out. How’s your Christmas Eve going?”

“Long, and it’s only three. I got roped into taking Jade shopping for last-minute gifts, and Trish tagged along. The two of them together spent more time arguing than shopping. We just got back. I’ve never been so glad to have a lock on my bedroom door.”

I laugh, dragging off my long sleeve and leaving it with the envelope on the island in the kitchen before heading back to my room to pick out the perfect jammies for the rest of my day. “So you get a little break, then?”

“I’ll go down to help with dinner around five. Then there’s Vespers at ten. And I’m pretty sure my sisters want to pass out on the living room floor while listening for the reindeer on the roof, like we did when we were little. So I’ll take this break and use it to do what I want to do the most.”

“And what’s that?”

“Talk to you. ”

My heart stutters. After the weird conversation with Trips earlier, and the persistent panic living just under my skin since Chicago, this is exactly what I needed to hear. “I’d love to talk with you all night, RJ.”

“Then I’d better make sure my room is stocked with everything I need, because I’m not going anywhere, sugar.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Perfect.” I clear my throat.

The tight silence doesn’t last long. “How’s your day been going?” he asks.

I pull out my favorite sweats, my oldest track t-shirt, and some fuzzy socks from the basket in my bookcase masquerading as a dresser. “It’s been going. I just got home from a run. It’s snowing here.”

“Really? No snow here yet, but it’s probably coming our way soon.”

“Probably. I was going to take my second shower of the day, but now that you called—”

“Don’t stop on my account.”

I freeze. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Don’t stop and don’t hang up?”

“Hmm, you know what? Don’t stop, don’t hang up, and tell me everything you’re doing.”

“Video chat?”

“Nah. Talk dirty to me, sugar.”

I swallow. “Well shit. Are you sure?”

There’s a pause, then RJ’s voice drops, lower, resonant, husky. “I’ll be a fly on the wall. What would you do if I wasn’t on the phone? If you were totally and completely alone? And maybe just a little bit lonely? ”

I scrunch my pajamas in my hands. “Well, I guess the first thing I’d need for this lonely night is sexy pajamas, which I don’t even own.”

“It’s all in our imagination, sugar. What do you wish you had to wear?”

“Maybe something with lace or silk?”

“Mmm. Hot. What color?”

Black is what’s expected, but I love color. I consider the pinks and greens of my room, but they’re not quite right for this game. “I guess something bold.”

“Red?”

I imagine myself in a negligee made of silk and lace, but it’s not red in my mind. “No, I’m thinking of a rich, dark purple.”

Rustling echoes down the line, and RJ’s low hum makes me shiver. “That sounds gorgeous.”

“I have to shower first,” I say, my pajamas still crumpled in my hands.

“The highlight of my afternoon.”

I chuckle as I head to the bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat up.

“What are you doing now, sugar?” RJ asks.

Right. I have to narrate. “I’m waiting for the water to get hot.”

“How are you passing the time?”

This feels so weird, but also good. Sexy. “I’m taking off my sweaty, dirty clothes.”

“This will sound crazy, but I love the way you smell.”

“What do I smell like?”

A small sigh escapes him. “Like springtime and hope.”

“Oh. ”

“How’s the water? Is it warm enough?”

“Yeah. I’m putting you on speaker.” I click the button and set the phone on the stool.

“Imagine I’m in the room, in the corner, watching you. Does that make you hot?”

I can imagine it, see him there, his amber eyes hooded with desire. Every muscle in my body tenses. “I wish you really were here,” I murmur as I tie up my hair and step into the spray.

“Me too. I can grab my dad’s car and come get you. It’s not too late, sugar.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the water sluice over my face for a moment. “No. I don’t want to be an awkward hanger-on at Christmas. This is all too new. I’m fine. And anyway, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be on board with us doing, well, this, if I’m there.”

His laugh eases some of the dread that’s crept up on me. “No, probably not.” There’s another rustle, and a sigh. “Are you in the shower yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. You’ll have to lather yourself up with whatever flowery stuff you have that smells so good. Where are you going to start?”

Grabbing my body wash, I go to do my normal, perfunctory scrub down, but knowing RJ’s listening, that he’s imagining me naked and covered in soap, it makes all my nerve endings tingle. I slow down. “I think I’ll wash from the top down.”

“Mmm. I imagine there are a few places that are extra dirty, that are going to need a little extra attention. ”

A smile stretches across my face. “You’re right. I can think of a few places that need lots of extra attention.” My breath turns jagged at the innuendo, but I don’t hide it. RJ wants to hear what he’s doing to me.

“Wash those beautiful breasts for me, sweetness. Tell me what it feels like with them wet and heavy in your hands.”

I shudder, spiraling my hands around my breasts like he asks me to. “They feel soft and warm. Touching them is making me drenched and antsy.”

“And your nipples?” His breath matches mine, short tight pants bouncing through the small room.

“They’re so hard they almost hurt.”

“Goddamn, Clara. You’re so fucking beautiful. Pinch your nipples for me.”

I do, and the moan that escapes would embarrass me if I were any less turned on. But I’m all the way turned on from nothing but RJ’s rasped directions whispered over the phone.

“Sugar, when I get back, I’m going to spend hours with your breasts. I’m going to lick them, suck them, even bite them if you’ll let me. Would you like that?”

“God yes, RJ.”

“Good.”

Both of us pant into the silence. “Are you—” I stutter, not wanting to sound prissy with “touching yourself,” and not wanting to be clinical with “masturbating.” “Um.”

“Clara, I’m so hard right now I’d be a masochist if I just left my dick be. But I don’t want to come until you do.”

“I like that.”

“Then I’ll make sure I hold out. But to make that happen, I’m going to need your help. ”

“So don’t take my time?”

“You can take all the time you need. But maybe don’t torture yourself?”

I giggle. “I follow.” Swallowing down the last of my discomfort, leaning my forehead against the wall and out of the spray, I slip my fingers between my legs. “Shit, RJ. I’m so fucking wet.”

His groan is loud enough for me to imagine him here with me. “Someday soon, I’m going to taste you, Clara. I’m going to make you break against my tongue.”

Dipping first one finger, then a second into myself, I moan. “That sounds so good, RJ. I’m slippery thinking about it. My fingers are drenched.”

“How many fingers, Clara?”

“Two, my middle and ring fingers.”

His pants come faster as I finger myself. “And your clit? How are you touching your clit?”

“I’m circling it with my thumb, teasing myself.”

“Fuck. What does it feel like?”

Taking a shaky breath, I focus on the sensation. “Like the start of a lightning storm, when all the hairs on your arms stand straight up. Oh God, RJ, I’m so close.”

“Me too, sugar. Come for me. I want to hear you.”

The edge is so close I feel like screaming in frustration. “I need more, RJ. I, I’m going to pinch my nipple. I’m going to pull it so hard it should hurt, but it’s going to feel amazing. And I’m going to imagine it’s you doing it.”

“Please, yes.”

I do exactly what I said I would, imagining its RJ’s teeth digging into my flesh and I come, yelping as everything turns bright and alive. Spasming against the wall, I barely manage to brace myself as my muscles give out. With heavy limbs, I turn off the water and slump down into the tub.

RJ’s grunted curses fade into a groan of release, and then there’s just the hush of our joined breaths.

I reach for my towel and the phone, switching it off speaker. “Hi,” I whisper.

“That was…damn. Just. Damn.”

Giggles turn into soft sobs that I quickly stuff into the box of emotions I don’t want to deal with. I caught them soon enough. There’s no way he noticed. “Same.”

“I don’t think I could haul myself off my bed if it was on fire right now.”

“Good thing it’s not on fire, then?”

“Very good.”

I tuck the towel around myself, content to just know RJ is on the other end of the line. Focusing on the good.

He clears his throat. “You know, the offer still stands. I could be there in an hour.”

“I know. I just, I have to know I can do this, you know? I can’t live my life afraid of being alone. That’s too absurd.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you fell for four guys for just that reason, so you don’t have to be alone.”

“Ha.”

He laughs at my sarcasm. “You never know. But seriously. Are you going to be okay? Walker’s worried about you.”

“Just Walker? You’re all treating me like a Faberge egg that’s teetering at the top of a ten-story staircase.”

The silence would freak me out if it was anyone but RJ on the other end of the line. Wiping away a single tear that escaped my locked up emotional safe, I tuck myself in with the towel, like I’m in a bed instead of a porcelain tub.

RJ clears his throat. “I don’t want to push or overstep or something. But let’s just say you are a Faberge egg. Because you are that precious to all of us. How far are you from the top of that ten-story staircase?”

I throw myself out of the tub, rubbing my skin dry and tugging on my sweats and t-shirt. “I’m not an egg, RJ.”

“Of course not.”

Gripping the edge of the counter, I risk a glance in the mirror. Still me. Same dark hair and eyes. Same medium height and runner’s build. Same bump on the bridge of my nose.

But I look older. I look scared. I look like a Faberge egg that’s already tumbled down the stairs, broken pieces clattering against the concrete.

“I’m sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean to push.”

I turn away from the mirror. “No, you’re fine. I’m just…I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to be alone tonight, it’s going to be fine, and I’m going to get better. Nothing even really happened. I shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

“Clara, a guy had you pinned to a wall. His hand—”

“No. Not now. Don’t tell me it’s normal to be freaked out. I’m fine. And if I’m not, I will be.”

He sighs but doesn’t answer.

Of course not. I shut that shit down fast. And now I ruined a perfectly decadent afternoon. “I killed the mood.”

“We just care, Clara. I care. A lot.”

“I know.”

“When you’re ready, I’m here. We all are. ”

I go back to my room, yanking on my fuzzy socks before curling up under my blanket. “Got it.”

This silence is long and uncomfortable.

RJ sighs. “I’ll be back this weekend. Maybe we could go out or something over break?”

“Like, a date?”

“Yeah. Like a date. I can’t believe I’m doing this all backwards, but yeah. Maybe dinner? And, I don’t know, something cliche like a movie? I’m sure I can think up something more original in the next few days. But a date. You and me.”

Is RJ rambling? Is he seriously nervous right now? “RJ, I’d love that.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. We’ll do that.”

Despite everything, a smile forces itself across my face. “I’m already looking forward to it.”