Chapter 21

[Mavis]

“What’s this?” Dutton asks, his eyes sparkling at the item Clay offers him once we are home.

When we returned to Clay’s house after a long but surprisingly pleasant afternoon at his brother’s place, Clay carried a large bag with him and asked Dutton to take a seat on the couch. Sitting across from him on the ottoman, Clay holds up a stuffed teddy bear with a star-like badge in the corner of his chest.

“My brother Stone is the town sheriff.” Clay begins. “And this is called a bravery bear.”

Dutton glances at me, clearly remembering Stone before we were re-introduced today.

Clay wiggles the fluffy animal in his hand. “He thought you deserved one for a number of reasons. And every superhero needs a sidekick, right?”

Dutton stares at the bear.

“Stone also thought you were very brave as a Power Princess and that this bear might bring you extra courage.”

Dutton’s eyes are wide, his head nodding as though agreeing with every assessment Clay makes of him. As for me, I’m holding my breath. Not out of anticipation but in wonder. How sweet is this gift? And how amazing is Clay in this presentation to Dutton? Both Dutton and I were so easily welcomed to the Sylver family weekly tradition, and my heart is still swollen from their acceptance of me and my son.

Alone.

“I’m hoping the bravery bear will help you,” Clay continues. “He’ll be there to protect you during the night, from storms, from the dark, from everything, and keep you company. Maybe he can ward off bad dreams, too.” Clay shrugs, like he knows the bear isn’t a miracle worker, but has the possibility to be a comforting companion.

Seeing that bear, hearing Clay’s explanation, and watching Dutton’s reaction, gives me an idea.

Clay holds the bear toward Dutton, who eagerly takes it and gives the thing a tight squeeze. Dutton glances at me first and then back at Clay. “Thank you.”

Clay smiles so wide and bright, I almost think Dutton’s gratitude is greater than the gift Clay gave my son. Clay himself has certainly been a gift to both of us and I’ll be forever thankful he’s let us stay with him.

For now, Dutton continues to hug the bear and requests Princess Power time.

Clay looks up at me. “Uhm. I was kind of hoping to watch a baseball game.”

I’d learned that Ford Sylver used to play for the Chicago Anchors and the team made the championship playoffs without him as their star centerfielder. Still, Ford is a proud supporter of his former team and will be heading back to Chicago to watch a few rounds of the playoffs. Clay is a big fan of the sport.

“That’s fine. Dutton, you can watch Princess Power on your tablet.” We have access through a streaming app.

After Dutton takes a bath and settles into his room with the tablet, I join Clay on the couch.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” I begin, plucking at the hem of my T-shirt, unable to look Clay in the eyes. Asking this kind of question makes me feel extra vulnerable. “I was wondering if I could sleep with you.”

Clay turns his head so fast I swear I hear his neck crack.

“I mean, in your bed. In your room. Like we could sleep together.” I’m stammering and messing up my presentation when I’d hoped to appear smooth and casual about my suggestion. Like I’ve told Clay, I’m tired of sleeping beside a flailing six-year-old and the gift of the bravery bear feels like an opportune time to give Dutton some independence.

“I mean . . . this isn’t coming out very well.” I swallow hard while Clay tips his head back on the couch cushion.

“Mavis, it’d be my honor to have you sleep in my bed with me.” He chuckles, curling up one side of his lips higher than the other, giving me a flirty wink. “ I’m tired of sleeping alone with no one to flail around me.”

Slowly, I match his smile.

“Plus, then you could boss me around and tell me where to touch you, and how.” His eyes playfully flirt.

“Clayton Sylver,” I snap, teasing him for his suggestion.

He grabs my hand and lifts to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the center of my palm before chuckling. “Scolding would be more effective if you tossed in my middle name.”

“I don’t know your middle name.”

“And I don’t know yours. We should change that.” He leans toward me and kisses my nose. “Because I want to know everything about you.”

I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s been very handsy today. Touching the small of my back. Running his palm down my arm. Tickling his fingers around my neck. It’s as if he can’t stop touching me, and I’m not complaining, I’m just anxious about what this means. And if it will abruptly end.

“What are we doing?” I whisper, my voice lowering to a more serious tone.

Clay mutes the game and glances back at me. “First, we’re gonna hang out and watch the game. Then, we’re going to bed, in my room, together. Whether we do more than snuggle is up to you, but having mama bear in my bed would be just right .” Clay purses his lips, flirty in his response. Perhaps he feels the weight of my question. Who are we to each other?

I quietly chuckle, playing along with his avoidance tactic. “Oh, do you need a bravery bear, too?”

Clay pouts like he’s vying for a forbidden toy. “I do.”

“And what are you afraid of?”

Clay tips his head back on the couch cushion again and his playful expression shifts to something more sober. He looks me directly in the eyes.

“I’m afraid you will decide I’m not enough for you and leave. That you’ll leave town and disappear again, and I’ve only gotten to know a sliver of who you are, butterfly, when I want the whole tree. The house.” He waves around him. “Dutton. Us.”

I stare at him, searching for any internal warning that he’s only voicing pretty promises. I find no glaring threat. Nothing screams to proceed with caution, only care. To care for this man. To give him a chance.

“It’s Shania.”

Clay’s brows deeply crease.

“My middle name. It’s Shania.”

One corner of his mouth slowly curls higher than the other side before a full grin graces his face.

“Everett.” Clay pats his chest. “After a grandfather I never met.”

I match his smile. “Mavis was my grandmother’s name.” The one who called me butterfly. The one who gave me the shawl. The one whose perfume I try to replicate.

“Well, Mavis Shania Grant, can we watch this baseball game together?”

I chew my lip before settling into his side when he extends an arm on the back of the couch.

“As long as we can go to bed together later,” I joke.

“Sounds like a plan.” He leans over and kisses me again, short and quick before settling into the cushions once more.

While I cuddle up against Clayton Everett Sylver, which feels just right to me.

+ + +

Later, I speak with Dutton about my sleeping in Clay’s bedroom, and the conversation goes surprisingly easier than I expected. Dutton bravely states that he can sleep alone with his new friend whom he named Violet.

As Clay and I are tucking Dutton in together, Clay chokes at the suggestion, and I prepare to defend Dutton’s choice.

“She’s one of the other princesses,” Dutton clarifies of the four girls who work together as Power Princesses. Pink. Violet. Azure. Chartreuse.

Clay swallows hard, leaning over Dutton. “Violet was my mother’s name.”

A moment passes between Clay and Dutton, as if some secret understanding occurs. “She was the best woman I knew, next to your mama. And with this special name, I bet this brave bear will have extra powers to keep you brave.”

Dutton’s smile proves he likes that explanation, and he hugs the bear tighter. “Maybe you could read The Sandcastle Princess to me tonight,” Dutton asks Clay.

The book is the same one Dutton and I started when we first arrived at Clay’s home. While I’m slightly stung Dutton wants Clay more than me, I also see the moment for what it is. Dutton trusts Clay. His request is a special offering.

Clay gives me a quick glance, confirming I’m good with the suggestion. When I nod, he says, “Absolutely.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, picks up the book, and flips the bookmark signaling where we stopped. I settle at the foot of the bed and listen as Clay reads, dropping in voice for the dragon or king parts, hitching his voice higher for the princess ones.

After a few pages, Dutton nods off, and Clay glances up at me. I squeeze Dutton’s foot, which flings his lids open. Then, I warn him, “One more page.”

Clay finishes on a cliffhanger-ish spot and marks the page before speaking like an old television announcer. “Tune in next time.”

“That’s what they say on Princess Power .” Dutton shifts his head and glances up at Clay, love emanating from his sleepy gaze.

“Do they?” Clay teases as if he didn’t know. “So how was my reading?”

“I’d give it an eight point seven nine.”

Clay juts out his lower lip. “Sounds like a B-plus.”

“What’s a B-plus?” Dutton’s comment reminds me I need to get him in the local school.

Clay chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll need to work on my skills.”

“You do that,” Dutton whispers back, his voice sassy but tired.

Clay twists off the bed, sets the book on the nightstand, and then leans over Dutton, running his hand over my little one’s hair that desperately needs a cut. “Sleep tight, buddy.”

Dutton lazily smiles before rolling to his side, his back to Clay.

When Clay steps away, I wrap Dutton in an awkward snuggle with him already on his side, drifting off to sleep.

“I love you, little bear.”

“Love you, mama bear.”

I press a kiss to his head and send up a silent prayer to Cecilia, thanking her again for the blessing of Dutton. As I stand upright, Dutton’s eyes close and then he says, “Love you, too, papa bear.”

I suck in air and turn toward Clay whose eyes go wide before softening. He clears his throat while watching Dutton. “Love you, too, cub.”

We step outside Dutton’s door, leaving it open just a sliver for him, while a nightlight is plugged into a wall outlet as well. We’ve barely made it past the door jamb when I turn toward Clay, pushing him awkwardly up against the wall.

“What the—”

My mouth on his cuts him off. While the transition was rough, we quickly melt into one another, sharing a kiss that’s hotter than any I’ve ever experienced. I press into Clay’s chest, hands fisted in his shirt, and lift one leg to his hip. His hands clasp my backside, and he squeezes tight, tugging me harder against him, like he did last night. Standing here in his hallway, I can’t get close enough to him.

Watching him interact with Dutton, with patience, kindness, and compassion, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And knowing Dutton does not tell anyone he loves them except for me, I’m at a loss for words. The only way I can tell Clay what he means to me is to show him.

When I pull back, I remember the baseball game still has a few more innings.

“Baseball or bedroom?” I ask, prepared to wait for the end of the game.

“What’s baseball?” Clay teases, setting his hands on my hips and guiding me backward into his bedroom.

With a gentle kick of his foot, his bedroom door closes, but doesn’t click shut, leaving space to hear Dutton if he needs us.

He won’t. Son up to son down. He was probably zonked out before we hit the hallway.

Still clutching Clay’s shirt, I spin us and push him, releasing his flannel and watching him fall to the bed. Realistically, I don’t have the strength to move him around as I have, which means Clay is allowing it to happen. Letting me take control. Giving it to me.

With him on his back, I climb over his body and straddle him, then lean forward for another toe-curling kiss. I never knew it could be like this. A man loving my son. A man adoring me.

“Make love to me,” I murmur against his mouth. “Take your time with me.”

As if Clay reads my mind, he flips us so I’m on my back. His hand coasts down my neck, over my breasts to the hem of my shirt. From that first lift of clothing, he savors each removal, placing lingering kisses on each part of me revealed, like I’m a treasured gift. He kisses my belly, sucks at my hip, and hums between my thighs when he takes off my jeans, pulling down my underwear at the same time. Eventually, I’m naked while he’s still dressed, and he coasts his palms over my skin. He massages some places, explores others, as if discovering parts of me he hadn’t before.

The backs of my knees are ticklish. The spot where my neck meets my shoulder is sensitive. The nape of my neck receives extra attention and I’m a squirming mess of desire once he’s kissed every inch of me.

“Clay.” I breathe out his name. “I need you, honey.” I don’t think I’ve ever needed anyone more. Not for him to save me but for him to give me this moment. To show me what being loved might feel like.

“You’re stunning.” Clay slides off the edge of the bed, his hand trailing along my midsection before he stands. “I don’t know that I’ve ever used that word to describe someone. But you define the term, butterfly.”

Giddy tears threaten my eyes. I’ve never been so happy that I could cry until this, until Clay.

I watch, unabashedly, as he strips, taking his time to tease me with the removal of each article of his clothing. Once he’s naked, he climbs over me again. He knows I want control, which means I should ride him, but I want him to cover me. I want to feel him surround me, so I reach for his hips and gently tug him down.

“You’re still in control,” he reassures me. “But I’ll take the lead on this one.”

“You do that,” I softly tease and chew my lower lip. The sass earns me another kiss while he slides his lower half between my spread thighs. The tip of his dick rests at my entrance but still we kiss for another minute.

Clay brings his hand to my chest, covering my racing heart. “There’s this moment. When I’m just outside of you. And my heart hammers with anticipation.” He presses up on his other arm, his tip still lined up with where I’m sensitive and eager for him.

“And then, I enter you.” He nudges forward, spreading me, opening me, taking his time to glide into me. “And my chest nearly bursts. I’m so full from how I feel about you.”

As he fills me to the hilt, he pauses and slides his hand down my arm, snugging his fingers between mine, until we are holding onto each other. He brings our collective hands above my head, and moves his hips, dragging out to the edge before gliding in again. Back and forth he moves, the rhythm slow.

My opening stretches around him. His body blankets mine. We are one in the way only two people can be, and the transformation he predicted for me happens.

I’m awakened in a new way. I feel Clay’s emotions for me in every move, every measured thrust, every teasing drag. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Him. Me. Us. This lazy pull to follow his lead, to hold him tight, to never let go. My skin prickles. My body heats. My limbs wrap around Clay in every way I can, like a caterpillar clings to a twig.

Only Clay is stronger than flimsy wood. He’s solid. Salt of the earth. Sexy in ways other than the physical. And I’m attracted to him on every level. His body. His mind. His heart.

My staggered moans turn to desperate groans as Clay slowly picks up the pace, dipping harder into me, moving faster with me. Our hips tap, pull back, then like magnets come together again. With my ankles over his calves, and one arm around his neck, our hands are still clasped above my head. I cling to him.

And then it happens. That fluttering sensation. That ripple effect. The gentle tear through my body, opening me wide and blazing through my center.

“Clay,” I whimper as I come apart, ripped like a seam, and then sewn back together into something new, something beautiful. I feel beautiful in this moment. Stunning. Like the sunshine seen for the first time. Or the glow of moonlight across inky waters.

I have hope.

Clay is hope.

“Mavis.” My name is said with wonder. He watches where he enters me. His dick slick. My body willingly taking him into me. His hips thrust harder.

“Come inside me,” I whisper. He knows I’m on the pill now.

He glances up at me, double checking for certainty. Then, he surges once, deep and sharp, and stills. His eyes close, while he goes off. His expression strained yet strangely peaceful.

Like I’m the place where he wants to be most.

As he comes down from the high, his eyes pop open, bright and light. He releases my hand and lowers his forehead, pressing it against mine, as he cups the sides of my face, resting all his weight on me a second.

“I never want to lose you, beautiful.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, tipping up my nose to rub his.

While I struggle to accept promises, this is one I’m giving to him.

And hope I can keep it.