Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 31

♥⁠╣CLAY╠⁠♥

WELL OUCH.

Her statement had been like a dagger flipped through the air to his chest, maiming him in an instant.

I'm still in love with Ashton

She's not yours.

She's not yours.

She will never love you.

You don't love her, this whole marriage is a sham. A lie to protect her.

Damn it, get it together Clay.

His mind voiced like an old broken record and he tried to let the statement roll off his back but damn he hadn't expected it to grate him to the point of all he saw was red.

Jealous that her heart belonged to another man.

Jealous that in her sweet little dreams, she imagined another man holding her like he was at the moment.

And angry too, at himself most of all.

He wasn't supposed to feel entitled to her. Wasn't supposed to be possessive of someone who wouldn't stay a minute in his sight when she found out the truth.

All this—was hanging by a thread. A thin thread that was about to snap any second.

Yet despite knowing all this, his fickle heart wouldn't accept the damn truth so he did what would make him feel better.

Turning her around barely giving her room to breathe, he took those lips that dominated his mind every passing second since Romania--or maybe earlier?--shit why did things have to be this complicated?

She gasped, of course she did. She might have even wanted to slap him and push him far away saying it was all a mistake like last time but he didn't care.

He wasn't thinking straight. All he knew was that he wanted her, he wanted to change her mind, erase Ashton's memories from her mind.

Kiss her like Ashton couldn't.

Take her like Ashton would never do.

Seep inside her heart just got the tiniest bit to show her he—Christ, loved her?

No, it wasn't—she was her and that's what troubled him.

She was sweet. She was kind. She was stubborn when she wanted to be but she was her.

Brooklyn.

The one that got drunk and acted like a toddler, the one that didn't hide how she felt about him since day one, the one that liked short shorts the way moms did with jeans, the one who liked Pringles more than anything, the one person in the world who would fall into a river while out on a simple stroll and he hadn't seen anyone like her.

And that irked him because he knew the craving coursing in his blood, the urge to want something more wouldn't stop.

It roared at him. Begged him to take her as his.

This wasn't how it felt with her sister. This was primal.

Something he couldn't stop or suppress.

Obsession at its peak.

And it hummed, this obsession, like an animal controlling him. An animal that wanted to be with her every single fucking day till she accepted the truth.

"You are mine", he growled pulling her bottom lip between his teeth till she whimpered.

Tears streaked both sides of her cheeks, her nose was red and her eyes were glossy with a new wave of tears, he'd gone at it hard and rough and punishing and he wasn't about to stop.