Chapter 212

Chapter 212
Claire's POV

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as the fine drizzle coated the windshield, the gray West Seattle streets unfolding before us. The honeymoon was over, and we were back to reality. Daniel sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly. He wasn’t one to overdo it with alcohol, always keeping himself in check, but today he’d let loose. Way more than usual. His face had that flushed, heavy look of someone who’d had too much, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as I drove.

The car was quiet, windows shut against the damp chill, trapping the faint scent of my perfume and the lingering trace of my skin. I caught a whiff of myself too—sweet and musky, mixed with the sharpness of my makeup. Daniel shifted slightly, his nose twitching as if he could smell it all, and a lazy smirk tugged at his lips. Then, without warning, his hand found mine on the gearshift, his rough fingers curling around my wrist. He started playing with my fingers, one by one, stroking them slowly, almost teasingly, his thumb rubbing circles into my skin.

I tried to focus on the road, but the heat of his touch was distracting. At a sharp turn, I tugged my hand away to grip the wheel with both hands, navigating the busy curve. He didn’t say a word, just opened his eyes for a split second to check the road—cars everywhere—then shut them again. Once the street straightened out, his hand was back, snatching mine like it belonged to him, continuing his little game of tracing my knuckles.

My pulse quickened, and I couldn’t pull away this time. “Daniel,” I said, my voice firm, trying to sound serious despite the warmth spreading through me.

He mumbled something incoherent, a low rumble in his throat. A few seconds passed before he managed a slurred, “I’m here.”

I softened my tone, like I was coaxing a child. “I’m driving, okay? It’s not safe. Let go for now, please?”

He grunted a half-hearted “Mm-hmm,” and his grip loosened—just for a moment. Then he dragged my hand to his mouth, his nose brushing against my skin, warm and ticklish. Before I could react, his lips closed around my fingertip, sucking gently, then nipping with his teeth. His mouth was hot, wet, sending a jolt straight through me. Goosebumps erupted on my arms, and a sudden tightness gripped my lower belly, a slick heat pooling between my thighs.

“Daniel, stop it,” I gasped, my voice trembling as I fought to keep my eyes on the road.

He hummed again, that same lazy “Mm-hmm,” but instead of stopping, he bit down harder, his teeth grazing my skin with purpose.

I couldn’t help the irritation in my tone. “Daniel, are you a damn dog or what?”

He chuckled, a drunk, hazy sound, his breath hot against my hand as he nipped again. “Thought I was your golden retriever, huh?” he slurred, his words dripping with a playful edge.

I rolled my eyes, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up. He was infuriating, yet something about this sloppy, unguarded side of him was oddly captivating. I’d never seen him like this, so loose and raw, and despite myself, my annoyance faded. “More like a Doberman,” I muttered under my breath, a smirk tugging at my lips.

We finally pulled into the underground garage of my apartment, the familiar hum of the engine dying as I parked. I stepped out, stretching my stiff legs, but before I could take two steps, Daniel was behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his hard chest, his weight heavy as he refused to let me go. The garage was private, connected directly to the house, no cameras to worry about, and he knew it.

His head dipped, lips brushing the side of my neck, soft at first, then harder, sucking at the sensitive skin. I felt the sharp sting as he left a mark, and a shiver ran through me, part pain, part pleasure. “Daniel!” I squirmed, my arms trapped by his iron grip. I elbowed him lightly. “Not on my neck, damn it.”

He tightened his hold, lifting his head just enough to admire the red bruise blooming on my skin. A satisfied grunt escaped him before he dove back in, sucking another spot. “We’re married, Claire. Who cares?” he mumbled, his voice rough with alcohol and want, his breath reeking of whiskey as he kissed along my ear, down to my collarbone, stoking a fire under my skin.

I could feel my body responding, the dampness between my legs growing, but I tried to keep my head clear. “Daniel, we’re in the garage. Let’s at least get inside, okay?” I turned my face to meet his eyes, pleading.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his lips crashed into mine, hungry and messy, one hand fumbling with the buttons of my shirt as his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “I wanna fuck you right now.”

I froze for a second, a laugh bubbling up despite the heat flooding my core. I relaxed into the kiss, my tongue meeting his as I murmured against his mouth, “Okay, fine. Let’s go inside, and we’ll do it. Deal?”

He pulled back just enough to nod, eyes dark with need, then scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. His steps were a little unsteady from the booze, but he carried me toward the house with determination.

We barely made it through the door before his patience snapped. The second we were inside, he pushed me against the nearest table in the entryway, his mouth on mine again, deep and desperate. His right hand slid up my thigh, gripping hard as he lifted my leg to wrap around his hip. I hooked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my other leg instinctively curling around his waist.

His tongue tangled with mine, sucking and tasting, pulling soft, broken hums from my throat. “Mmm…” I couldn’t stop the sounds, my body arching into him as his kisses moved down my jaw, exposing more skin for him to devour.

I felt the heat of his breath against my neck, the ache in my core growing unbearable. Daniel groaned low, the sound vibrating through me, his waist pressing harder as he bit my lip lightly. He carried me to the living room sofa, hands tearing at my clothes, lips never leaving my skin, kissing every inch he uncovered.

I squirmed under him, a mix of ticklishness and raw need making me laugh and twist. I pressed my foot against his shoulder, trying to slow him down. “It tickles,” I gasped, breathless.

He lifted his head, eyes locking with mine, intense and unyielding. Reaching over, he flicked on a nearby lamp, the soft light spilling over us. He grabbed my ankle, pulling it over his shoulder, then did the same with my other leg, spreading me wide in a way that felt utterly exposed, almost shameless. My breath hitched as he stared down at me, his gaze burning.

He kissed my ankle, then moved to my calf, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. The tickling sensation turned into something hotter, sharper, spreading through me. My eyes felt heavy with lust, and I licked my lips, watching him, wanting him.

His pupils darkened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Then he moved lower, kissing down my inner thigh, his hands gripping my hips to hold me still. When his mouth reached my pussy, I gasped, the heat of his tongue pressing against my folds, licking and sucking at my clit with a hunger that made my toes curl. He pushed deeper, tasting me, his tongue working me open, and I couldn’t hold back the moans spilling from my lips.