And with a stroke of his hand along the side of my face, his fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of my neck and holding me still as he kissed me again, I surrendered.

A long, heady breath left me, and I opened my mouth to let Clay slide his tongue inside. Just like at the party, a jolt of electricity shot straight between my legs, something pulsing there like a heartbeat.

I whimpered at the feel of it, and he pulled back from the kiss enough to hear the full sound from my lips.

“Why does that feel so good?” I breathed, my eyes still closed as Clay’s tongue lashed out against mine again.

“Do you want the science of it, or the layman’s terms?”

I bit my lip against a smile as he kissed down my neck, and his hips rolled between mine, striking me with that hot spark of electricity again.

“Both.”

A low rumble of a laugh vibrated at my throat.

“When we kiss, your brain lets off a cocktail of chemicals,” he whispered, crawling his kisses back up until he claimed my mouth. “But it’s not really about them. It’s about what they’re telling you.”

“Which is?”

He nosed my chin, nipping at my neck. “You tell me.”

I let out a breath of a laugh, wriggling beneath him as he sucked the skin at my neck, one hand steadying him while the other trailed down the length of my arm. His fingertips were so gentle, fluid — like ice skaters performing in front of a crowd. They ran all the way down to where I fisted his shirt before they skated back up.

And then he pulled back.

“What?” I breathed, eyes hooded.

“Tell me,” he said again.

I flushed. “I can’t… I don’t know…”

Clay’s eyes stayed locked on mine, hand framing my neck once more. But this time, his thumb came to rest on my lower lip, just like it had that night at the club when we went to watch Shawn. His eyes fell to where his thumb rested, and he smoothed the pad of it over my slick lip before dragging it down, pulling my lip along with it.

“Tell me what you feel,” he demanded again.

“Excited,” I breathed, chest heaving at the admission. “And… hot.”

“Hot,” he echoed with a satisfied grin, and once again that hand of his trailed down, but this time, not over my arm. He slid it along the length of my throat, just the tiniest amount of pressure there before he continued lower, over my collarbone, my chest, and finally, palmed my breast through the thin tank top I wore.

The thin tank top with nothing else underneath it.