On The Record Part 30

"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 s.h.i.+fted to him briefly. "I think you get my meaning."

"I'd rather you make it very clear."

"I want you to f.u.c.k 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.

"s.h.i.+t," 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 c.o.c.k. 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+fting 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 k.n.o.b, 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 a.s.shole?"

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. d.a.m.n, 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 s.h.i.+vered against him. The alcohol had kept her warm against the February chill, but Clay was sending goose b.u.mps 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 s.h.i.+t! 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 f.u.c.king 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 f.u.c.king 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 f.u.c.k 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 d.i.c.k in your p.u.s.s.y," he said, his finger inching closer and closer to her heated core. "Because Brady doesn't have a girlfriend."

"What?" Liz snapped, straightening and pus.h.i.+ng his hand away. "What did you just say?"

"My d.i.c.k is going to be entertained in your p.u.s.s.y," he said seductively.

"No, after that!"

Clay narrowed his eyes. "Uh . . . Brady doesn't have a girlfriend?"

"Shut the f.u.c.k 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 f.u.c.k 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 f.u.c.king ask me. We're done with the Q&A session. Can we get back to f.u.c.king?" he asked, annoyed again.

"No! Are you out of your mind? I'm not having s.e.x 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 f.u.c.k?"

"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 f.u.c.king 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 bulls.h.i.+t 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 a.s.shole."

"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 a.s.s off when she heard the soft hum of the Porsche behind her. The headlights flashed as Clay approached. He rolled down the pa.s.senger window and stared at her in frustration.

"Get in, crazy."

She opened the door and sank back into the pa.s.senger 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 f.u.c.k me because I'd been with your brother."