He hooked the skinny straps of her gown with his fingers, drawing it past her waist, letting it slither the rest of the way to the floor. His gaze traveled past those lips he already loved to taste and stopped. “What the hell… are those?” Clay blinked, then peered at the flesh-colored flowers covering her breasts.
“Oh,” she hunched over to cover herself, grimacing as she quickly removed each one. “They’re meant to lift your… breasts when you don’t wear a bra with a tight gown.”
Seduction, as a rule—at least for him—had never held much humor. He glanced away, covering his mouth to hide his grin.
She batted his shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself by holding it in. Go on, laugh. Guys don’t have to worry about stuff like this.” She frowned, absentmindedly rubbing her breasts.
Oh, hell, yeah. His dick snapped to attention. Clay eyed her as he cleared his throat. “You are…without a doubt, the most unpretentious woman I’ve ever met.” He touched her cheek, watching her expression soften. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”
She blinked and looked away, seemingly embarrassed by his tender remark. He was equally surprised. Poetic words had never come easy for Clay.
“I-I’ve never thought about it.”
He smiled. “Your breasts are perfect, Sally.” He curled his hand around the back of her head and brought her lips to his. She pulled him to the edge of the bed and savoring one more kiss, he took a step back. Old wounds from his past crept into his brain. He raked his hand though his hair, sighed, and tried a diplomatic approach. “Sally,” Clay said. He took a step back, his hands on his hips. “Let’s just acknowledge the elephant in the room.”
She tilted her head, a smile curling her tempting lips. Her gaze lowered to where his erection tented his trousers.
He ran his hand down his face and blew out a sigh. “My leg, I’m talking about my leg.”
“Your leg?” she asked, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Oh, I see. Well, is there a position that’s more comfortable for you?”
He raised his brows. He hadn’t expected that answer. Hell, she still had the bedside light on. Given his ex-fiancée’s reaction, he assumed she’d need some time to get used to it. Or that, in fact, it might completely change her mind about being with him.
His gaze met hers. “You mean it doesn’t bother you?”
Sally leaned forward and dipped her fingers over his waistband, drawing him close. She unfastened his trousers. “I don’t know, maybe you better show me.”
His hand covered hers, halting the task. “I’m not kidding here.”
She studied him a moment, before responding. “This is about your fiancée, isn’t it?”
He hated to admit it, but as long as they were being transparent. “Yes.”
“You want to know what I think?” She took his hands and drew him to sit beside her. “I think she did us all a favor. If things hadn’t gone as they did, you might never have come to the ranch… to End of the Line.” She shrugged and gently pushed him back on the bed. “Besides, just one less appendage to tangle with,” she said, unzipping his fly. “And there’s only one that really matters to me right now.” She smiled. “I’ve done my research, Clay Saunders. I figure we’re only limited by our imaginations.”
He sat up, capturing her face in his hands as he kissed her. It was fierce, hard. All the pain, the rejection coalesced into a powerful need to please her.
She scooted to the headboard, resting on her elbows as she watched him remove the rest of his clothes and unlatch his leg in what seemed very little time. Her eyes grew wide as he crawled toward her. He couldn’t avoid what life had thrown at him. But he was lean, hard, ripped from a flawless workout regime and work on the ranch. Freed from his jockey’s, his proud erection was, quite frankly, a thing of beauty.
“Forgive me.” Her gaze bounced up to his. “But your ex… seriously stupid.”
“You won’t be needing these,” he said, skimming her panties off and tossing them over his shoulder with a grin.
Having no need for protected sex offered a wild kind of indulgence. He covered her body, sliding into her tight warmth, wasting no time with soft words. Their love-making was primal. Curling her legs around him, she rose to meet his every thrust, her fingers pressing into the hard muscle of his butt as she held him close.
His body was on fire, blinded by the power he felt in the freedom of her acceptance. Clay felt an inexplicable pleasure as he watched her facial expressions, heard her soft sighs—how, lost in bliss, her lids fluttered shut.
“Sally.” Clay wanted her to open her eyes, yet when she looked up at him, he was slammed with desire, yes, but also with something more than the connection they shared. “How are we doing?” he asked, hanging on by sheer willpower.
She grabbed the head board, and, arching her back, locked into his gaze with a look of challenge. He grabbed her hip, shifting his angle as he quickened his thrusts. His desire to see her pleasure drove him until, with a soft, sigh, her body closed around him. Only then, did Clay follow her over, his body trembling with the intensity of his own release.
Crazy. Amazing. Catching his breath, he braced on his elbow, their bodies still fused, and waited.
She turned her head and reached up to touch his cheek. A sheen—were those tears—caused her eyes to glisten. “I don’t think the leg will be an issue.”
He leaned down and touched his lips softly to hers. Damn. That was a mistake. Too close. Too intimate. He searched her eyes, hoping for something profound to enter his mind. “Did I see a bathroom upstairs? Did you need to…?”
“Oh, no, I’m good. It’s just outside the door on the left.” Clay drew on his briefs and maneuvered his leg in place. He thought about what he was doing. Sally had turned out to be more than he’d planned. She wanted sex. For a specific purpose, yes, but not with intimacy. He’d thought that after all he’d been through, all that had happened, that wall he’d built around his heart was a perfect candidate for this particular mission. But something had shifted, causing that perfect wall to crack. And he cautioned himself that he couldn’t allow himself to be hurt by a woman again. He walked back into the bedroom, and just when he thought his armor was intact, she threw him a curveball.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” He walked around the end of the bed and sat down next to her. She had her long legs propped vertically on the headboard, the sheets drawn over her to cover her nakedness. Her ankles were crossed and he noted the splashes of her hot pink toenail polish.
“Giving your swimmers every possible chance to hook up down there,” she answered, glancing up at him. “I read it in a medical journal that it can help.”
He wondered if he might ever tire of how she could surprise him. He chuckled and shook his head.
“I like it when you laugh. Even if it is at my expense.” She smiled.
This was borderline dangerous. First great sex, then laughter, and pretty soon she’d be making him coffee some morning. “I have to say, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Sally Andersen.” He lay back on the bed, for the first time in a great while—content.
“May I ask you something? And please,” she said, turning her head to look at him, “tell me, if it’s none of my business.”
He propped up on his elbows. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“Did you know that woman tonight?” she asked, plucking a thread on the sheet.
“There were a lot of women there tonight, Sally. Which one?”
She glanced at him. “The gorgeous woman in the red dress who looked like she’d stepped out of Vogue magazine.”
“Oh, you mean Dr. Lawrence?” He’d seen her arrive, offered a pleasant hello, but hadn’t lingered, hadn’t a desire to linger. She reminded him of his ex. All make-up and glitter. Little substance, aside from her book smarts.
“So you did know her?”
He nodded. “I do. She happens to be the clinical psychologist that I went down to Billings to see for a time.”
Sally shot
him a shocked look.
“Sally, I can almost hear your brain going from zero to sixty about now. And yes, we did have dinner a couple of times, after she released me with a clean bill of mental health. Was there something huge between us? No. It was sex, a lot like--” He stopped.
“You can say it. Just like us,” she said, averting her gaze.
“Sally,” Clay started.
Sally chuckled. “Yeah, let’s talk about the elephant in the room.” She pressed her lips together. “You probably ought to go. It’s getting late. We don’t need this to get all over town.”
She stared at the ceiling as he dressed and he started to leave, wondering if the next time they met on the street, it would be awkward. There wasn’t even a ‘call you later’ or ‘until next time’. It left him unsettled.
***
It wasn’t the kind of news you wanted to hear while flipping pancakes on a Tuesday morning. He’d come in to help with the morning crowd, due to Betty’s Tuesday specials designed for the many delivery trucks with scheduled stops in End of the Line. The counter was full, as were most of the tables. There’d been no slowdown of breakfast platters since they opened at six a.m. Still, in the kitchen where he and Angelique were busy, the silence was deafening. It was as though a vacuum had sucked the joy out of the day.
“I should have gone out there. I should have insisted she go to Billings right away.”
Clay stepped around the counter and put one arm around her. “There’s nothing more anyone could have done, Angelique. It’s not fair. But sometimes nature knows best. We’re lucky that Liberty is okay. Losing a baby is terrible for both of them, but if Rein had lost them both….” He shook his head.
“I know. I just feel so bad for her. She wanted that baby so much.”
“Another short stack with two sunshines and bacon,” Betty said as she carried some empty plates to the sink. Her eyes were red, swollen. “Aw, sweetheart. Why don’t you go on home? You’ve been here since dawn. Go on and tend to your family. They need you right now.”
Angelique left and after lunch the crowd finally dwindled. Clay was about to take a break. He hadn’t seen or heard from Sally since Saturday night. He also hadn’t slept a great deal between thoughts of her and the terrible news from Rein and Liberty. He looked up when he heard the back door open. There stood Sally, without a coat, her keys dangling in her hand. Her expression was grief-stricken. She’d been crying.
“You heard?”
He nodded and held out his arms.
She didn’t hesitate, but ran to him, burying her face in his shirt. Her hot tears soaked through his T-shirt.
News that Liberty had lost the baby spread quickly through town. He expected Sally wouldn’t take the news well.
She sniffed and stepped back, wiping her eyes. “I feel so selfish, Clay. And scared, and selfish that I feel scared, because I’m thinking more about me and I should be thinking about Liberty and… poor Rein.” Her sad, red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head.
Clay took her by the shoulders. He couldn’t at this moment go into how it made him feel that she’d sought him in her time of need. He wondered if she even realized it herself. “Sally, this doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you, or to Angelique.” He tipped her chin to meet his gaze. “Or that you have any less of a right to want to have a baby of your own.”
Her chin wobbled and she stepped into his embrace. God, the wall around his heart was crumbling by the moment. A sobering thought settled in his brain and it might refute some small print clause in their contract, but he needed to tell her. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “If anything like that were to happen, Sally. I’d be there for you. I want you to know that.”
Her tears subsided and she leaned back to look at him.
“I mean that,” he said, searching her sweet, tear-blotched face.
She took his face in her hands and drew his head to hers in a soft, lingering kiss. “I know you do.”
The taste of her warm lips fanned a need inside him. He reached back, holding her head to his as he captured her mouth again. This had nothing to do with her mission and everything to do with how he’d not been able to get her out of his mind these past few days. Maybe on some deeper level, he was afraid of losing something so precious and fragile—something he never thought he’d find again in his lifetime.
“Going on a break,” he called to Betty as he gently steered Sally toward the tiny employee bathroom in the corner. It was bright, decorated in typical down-home fashion. A cross-stitch, framed in a large embroidery hoop, hung on the wall, touting this was the first day of the rest of your life. A small cabinet, sink and old wooden bench holding a mason jar of fake spring flowers welcomed those who rarely used the room in comparison to the public facility.
It smelled of disinfectant and lavender, and Clay had never been so turned on as when he bolted the door and turned in time to see Sally half undressed.
“This is probably against health code,” she said against his lips as she worked on his jeans.
He dragged his shirt over his head. “I’ll take care of it.” He lifted her to the counter, unfastened her bra, about to burst as he watched her breasts bobble free. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, coming back for more, his desire heating to her reaction of his rough caresses. She held his head as he sampled her sweet flesh, her sighs punctuated as he gently tugged her taut nipple between his teeth.
“Should we be doing this?” Sally asked in a breathless whisper.
She wore a cute plaid skirt, tights, and boots. The oval mirror behind her wobbled as he removed the latter in the blink of an eye, and she spread her legs. Sliding his hands over her thighs, she shifted closer to the edge and he moved his thumb back and forth over her clit, bringing a groan from her lips. He was about to burst. “Still wonder if we should be doing this?” he grinned against her lips.
She curled her hand in his hair. “Oh, no, this is going to happen,” she said in a breathless whisper. She hopped off her perch and reached for his waistband. He finished, eyeing her as he shoved his jeans to his knees. Need consumed him, it was more than lust driving him to bend her over and enter her, relishing in her warmth. He swallowed hard from the sheer ecstasy of their joining. Maybe it was ego. Maybe pride. Maybe it was to satisfy the loneliness he hadn’t realized was inside him. It wasn’t pretty, least of all romantic. It was raw, powerful, I-need-to-have-you-now type sex. The most amazing, erotic sex he’d ever had. In the tiny bathroom of a small town restaurant. Who knew?
A knock sounded on the door. Sally’s eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror. Both scrambled to find their clothes and get dressed.
Clay found it strange that he was as aroused watching Sally put on her clothes, as much as seeing her without them. “Uh… be out shortly,” he told whomever was on the other side.
“No hurry,” it was Tyler who responded. “The other restroom was occupied. Betty said I could use this one. I can wait.”
Sally’s eyes grew wide. “He can’t find me here,” she mouthed silently.
Clay shook his head. This would require recon. “Ty, man, you still out there?”
“Yeah, need more toilet paper? It’s right here.”
“Uh, nope. A plunger. This one broke. Can you ask Betty if she has a spare?”
Sally covered a grin.
“Oh, man. I’ve got one in the truck. Be right back.”
Clay unlatched the door, peeked into the room, and found it empty. He waved Sally toward the back door and grabbed an apron to throw on over his jeans.
She stopped at the door, looked at him, and smiled.
The door pushed open and a surprised Tyler, plunger raised in warrior mode, looked at Sally.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” He glanced at Clay. “You want me to take care of it?”
“Tell Betty thanks for the take-out,” Sally tossed out.
“What take-out?” Tyler frowned at h
er empty arms.
Clay opened the fridge, handed Sally a plastic container of prepped salad and plucked the plunger from Tyler’s hand. “I’ll handle this, man. Deadly. If you catch my drift.” Clay caught Sally’s eyes when Tyler’s back was turned and gave her a wink.
She ducked out, hiding a grin, but he prided himself that the glow in her cheeks was his doing.
As he disinfected the bathroom from the walls down, more to ease his conscience than anything, it occurred to him that he was in trouble. Serious trouble. He was falling for Sally Andersen and not just a little—the kind that had him thinking about someone to come home to every night.
Damn.
Chapter Eight
She hadn’t seen him since the hot encounter they’d shared in the tiny bathroom. It had happened so fast, obviously unplanned and she’d given no time or thought to the fact that she likely wasn’t ovulating—though it didn’t seem to be a topic either was interested in. Driving home from school that night, she’d just received the news from Aimee about Liberty and Rein. Her heart was breaking for them when she pulled up to the stop sign, looked across and saw his truck parked in the alley behind Betty’s. She’d reacted, needing to be near him, wanting to feel his arms protective around her. That had been her fantasy when she pulled in beside him. Neither had expected the hot fire that ignited between them, far exceeding any fantasy she’d ever had about any man—ever.
Now, nearly two weeks later, she sat at that same stop sign. The spot where he usually parked was empty. It was a little after four. The café would be quiet. She could use some of that. She pulled up in front and her heart—torn in many directions—took comfort in the familiar bell that tinkled above her head.
“Well, Sally, how good to see you, honey.” Betty appeared from the kitchen. “Goodness, you look like you could use a cup of my chamomile tea and maybe a slice of peach pie. Rebecca brought it in fresh this morning.”
“Just the tea, thanks, Betty. I’m not very hungry.”
Betty brought her a cup with its own pot. She carried an extra cup of coffee on the tray.
No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 13
