Let It Ride

by Vivian Arend

“Hey, gorgeous. You out at the project already?” Clay asked.

  “For about fifteen minutes. Are you able to make it today?”

  “Yup, just leaving the shop. If I walk, will you give me a ride home?”

  Maggie stretched her back and examined the sturdy walls of the apartments in front of her. “Is that code for ‘Can I come over for supper?’”

  He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t accuse me of plotting a booty call.”

  “Ha. I can if you want.”

  “Accuse me, or give me one?”

  His tone said he was wearing a dirty grin as he said it, and the fact she could clearly picture his face made her smile as well. “That depends. How soon can you get here? I only booty call with guys I meet before four p.m.”

  “Hanging up now. I can’t sprint with a phone in my hands.”

  Maggie laughed as she slipped her phone into her pocket and went back to work.

  Getting involved with Clay, though? That had been exactly what she’d needed, and she didn’t regret a single minute. She didn’t care that some of her coworkers thought it was too soon. Everything inside her told her this was right, in spite of the brief dark moments. That he was a good man, and that the way he made her feel couldn’t be wrong.

  It wasn’t just about sex. They talked, and sat together to do mindless tasks, like in the days before she had pushed their relationship ahead, but she sure appreciated that there was something extra between them. She didn’t sit beside him on the couch as they watched movies; she cuddled in close as he cradled her. She didn’t feel guilty about putting her hand on his thigh, or lifting her lips and asking for a kiss—she’d craved such moments of affection since Cameron had died.

  And in bed… Holy. Moly. He knew instinctively how to push her buttons. If anything, the man was still holding back and letting her control the reins, which had to be driving him crazy. It wasn’t like Clay to let others call the shots. Not just in sex, but in everything, she’d noticed he liked to take command.

  When he and Cameron used to do things together, her husband had always found it entertaining, and frankly, a relief. He had no objections to letting Clay be in charge of decision-making like where they’d go play pool.

  Yet now he skirted the edge between being the Clay she knew and someone far too cautious, as if he were afraid that at any moment what they had would pop like a bubble.

  She grabbed a rake and dragged it over the soil, dislodging the rubbish and weeds that were trying to gain new ground. Maggie really didn’t know exactly where their relationship was going, so she could hardly blame him for being cautious.

  This was the point where doubts sank in. What she was doing, what they were doing, caused her no doubts.

  Thinking about the future?

  Until she knew for sure what she wanted she didn’t feel comfortable pressuring Clay, and the whole idea of forever was currently hidden behind a thick fog. So she did the only thing she could, using the advice everyone kept giving her.

  One day at a time. Keep moving forward.

  She’d just pulled off her gloves and dropped to her knees to open a garbage bag when something crashed into the brick wall above her. Glass shattered into a million pieces and rained down on her head, a sharp pain striking her cheek. She twisted her head away, raising her hands to protect herself. A second and third bottle followed, the sound of youthful catcalls loud on the air, and she froze as glimmers of light appeared on the back of her hands, shards of glass embedded in her skin.

  Shock kept her in place. Should she stand up and make sure they knew she was there? Or would that be more dangerous?

  The vandals tossed more bottles farther down the wall, and she chose to remain hidden, sure it was just bad luck she’d been caught in their line of fire. The sound of squealing tires faded into the distance, and she let out a shaky breath, confident she was out of danger.

  Maggie glanced down at the soil, sadness slipping in at the work she’d have to redo even as she considered how she was going to pull her phone from her pocket.

  The vandalism wasn’t bad, but she was shaking enough she wasn’t going to drive herself home. And the glass…

  Then Clay was there, bursting out of nowhere to crouch beside her, his big hands gentle on her shoulders as he brought her to her feet. “Damn kids,” he swore. “I saw them taking off as I arrived.” He glanced over her rapidly, concern in his eyes as he lifted a hand to carefully touch her throbbing cheek. “Shit. You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m okay. It’s just a few cuts.” She shook her head and glass tumbled down her arms. “Drat. I don’t want to move. I have glass everywhere.”

  Clay was already removing pieces from her hair, dropping the larger chunks into the metal garbage can beside them. “I’ll get these out then we can take you to the hospital—”

  “I don’t need a hospital,” she snapped as too many memories rushed her. No. No hospitals.

  “You’re bleeding,” he repeated in a dangerous tone.

  “Just a little. I don’t need a hospital,” she insisted, her heart rate pounding faster than it had when the vandalism occurred. “You…you can take care of me.”

  The expression on his face as he caught a closer glimpse of her bloody hands was soul curdling—she’d seen that look before on her husband’s face when she’d gotten hurt. Classic masculine protectiveness combined with helpless agitation at not being able to take away her pain.

  Her frustrations and fears faded as the urge to reassure Clay rose. “I’m okay, honest.”

  “We need to get you home,” he growled.

  This wasn’t the time to try to calm him down. “I should call Daniel and let them know what happened,” she murmured.

  “Later.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

  Nope. She definitely wasn’t going to fight with him when he was in this mood. So she didn’t say anything about getting her phone out of her pocket, and she didn’t comment how she hoped the kids who were upset would get over it soon. She would hate for the trouble to continue after the seniors had moved in—frightening them would be a terrible thing.

  It wasn’t until Clay hustled her into his house that she realized she should have specified which home she’d meant. He took her straight to the bathroom, grabbed tweezers and went to work removing the glass from her hands. Her wedding ring a spot of shining gold against a field of red scratches.

  When she winced at an especially deep one, he got that much quieter.

  Maggie didn’t protest when he went to take off her clothes.

  Well, she complained a little. “Can we do this somewhere we can pick up the glass easier if there’s any stuck in my clothing?”

  A shudder rocked him, but he took her into the kitchen and threw a sheet on the floor for her to stand on. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes as she nodded. “Clay, I’m fine.”

  He helped her out of her T-shirt, both of them moving like molasses when he discovered a sprinkling of shards stuck to her skin. He reached for the button on her jeans and pulled them down, leaving her clad in nothing but her panties…and her work boots and socks. The image struck her as enormously funny, and a snort escaped her. And then tension made her snicker, and by the time Clay looked up from where he’d bent to undo her laces, she was full-out giggling.

  He shook his head, an incredulous expression on his face. “What about this could possibly make you laugh?”

  She plopped her hands on her hips and twisted into a pose. “Fashion model of the year, Maggie Ward, demonstrating the finest in gardening styles.”

  His lips twitched, but she didn’t quite get a smile out of him.

  She dropped a hand to his head and cautiously ran her fingers over his hair. “You need to take a deep breath, Clay, and let it out slowly. Nothing happened. It was some kids with an attitude, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I need a shower. That’s all.”

  He laid his head against her bel
ly and took a few of those deep breaths she’d suggested. She held on to him, stroking her fingers over his shoulders, waiting for him to be ready to move on.

  “I need to take care of you,” he whispered

  She caught hold of a few strands of his hair and tugged so he would look up at her. “I have no problem with that,” she teased. “Honest. As long as you understand that I like to take care of you as well.”

  He rose to his feet then helped her shake her hair carefully over the sheet, small shards of glass falling like slivers of sunlight. It seemed to take forever, and she was glad for his helping arm when he finally guided her to the bathroom and into the walk-in shower.

  Maggie expected he would leave her and let her shower alone, but it seemed his idea of taking care of her was a little more hands-on than that. She watched through the open shower door as he stripped down to nothing but muscles and a serious expression.

  A quiver of something suspiciously familiar hit her in the chest. She didn’t want to analyze it, or poke at it, she just wanted to let it roll over her and take her under. So she opened her arms and welcomed him in.

  Let him take care of her with soap and caresses and careful, careful kisses that said more to her than any bullhorn-blared declaration could.

  And all the while the faint whisper inside kept swelling in volume until there was no way to deny it.

  She was falling in love.

  She knew this road well, and had traveled it before. It was a good road, one with amazing side excursions and beautiful views to enjoy. Yet she clutched her secret inside, not willing to share it. Not even with him, it was so fresh and new and tender.

  But sometime soon…

  He’d been living in hell. The past couple weeks had been tearing him in two as he tried to balance caring for Maggie and taking care of his family which included his stubborn, disapproving father.

  Clay brushed the palms of his hands over her skin, keeping her close even as he ranted at himself for not being there when she really needed him. Maggie leaned against him, covering his hands with hers to guide them over her body. She wasn’t shy about what she wanted, but he moved only as fast as he felt safe. Turning her carefully under the warm shower as the bubbles swirled down the drain by their feet.

  “Do you want to go to the police?” he asked.

  She reacted instantly. Spinning to face him, her eyes wide with shock. “Of course not. They were kids acting stupid, and I don’t even know for sure who it was.”

  Clay could do some digging and find out whose car he’d seen vanishing like a spooked rabbit. He brushed his thumb over her cheek where a red stripe marred her skin. “They were stupid kids who were trespassing and vandalizing, and they hurt you.”

  “It’s a scratch. I’ve gotten worse trimming rosebushes without wearing my gloves.”

  She wasn’t going to give in so he pretended to give up, carefully running his fingers over the marks and cuts on the back of her hands. “I have some cream to put on these, and a couple of them need bandages.”

  “Fine. I have something else I need you to do for me first, though.”

  Then damn if she didn’t lean back on the tile wall and run her hands up her body until she was cupping her breasts.

  Being near her always made him hard, but he’d been so worried that he’d managed to put aside his ever-present desire while he made sure all the glass was gone. But with her staring at him, a low moan of pleasure escaping her lips as she touched herself—

  His cock rose like a barometer. He shoved aside his fears and tried to fake lighthearted. “Let me guess. You want me to move a delivery at the greenhouse.”

  Maggie laughed, then tilted her head until she was peeking flirtatiously at him from under her lashes. “Clay…”

  “Oh, right, this is a booty call.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh then moved in on her wiggling body, trapping her with an arm on either side of her head as he covered her lips with his and kissed her senseless. Partly frustration, partly fear—all of it came out as he took her lips and possessed her.

  She caught her arms around his shoulders, moving against him enticingly as he shoved a hand between them, skimming over her belly until he could cup her sex. Maggie rocked her hips as a low whimper escaped her and a shock wave slammed into him.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  He jerked his lips from hers and rested his head on the tiles, fighting to cool himself down before he ravished her instead of taking care of her like he’d promised.

  “Oh, God. Don’t stop,” Maggie whispered, digging her nails into his shoulders and scratching him.

  Clay fell to his knees, pinning her to the wall with an arm across her hips as he stroked a finger through her curls. “Not going to stop until you beg me to.”

  He put his mouth to her sex and licked the full length, settling for a brief flick at her clit this first round. He was rewarded with a full-body shudder as Maggie dropped her hands to his head and held on tight.

  He wasn’t going anywhere. Slow and deliberate, he licked over and over, slipping a finger into her sex as he used his teeth and lips on the small peak of her clit. Sucking it with a gentle pulse that she echoed with her hips. He tightened his grip to keep her in place, easing a second finger to join the first as he sped up his tongue. Flicking rapidly against the tiny nub as he stroked his fingers inside, reaching for the most sensitive spots.

  “Clay. Oh, yes…”

  She inched her legs apart as if trying to give him even more room. He wanted so much more, but the sounds slipping from her lips along with his name were like a drug pumping through his veins. His cock was so hard, his balls tight against his body. He ignored all of that and focused on her, driving her wild until her grip tightened and her muscles tensed. Her pussy squeezed tight around his fingers as a purr of satisfaction rolled down on top of him.

  He had her out of the shower and wrapped in an enormous towel before her breathing was back to normal. Which was fine by him because he wasn’t done. Clay placed her on his bed like he was lowering precious china.

  She caught hold before he could move away, her warm palms pressed to his cheeks as she stared at him with a teasing smile. “I’m not going to break. Really.”

  Clay crawled over her then rolled so she was on top, her hands pressed to his chest. Their legs tangled together, the heavy shaft of his erection pressed against her soft belly. “Never said you were. Now get up here,” he ordered.

  Confusion blurred her eyes for a moment until he caught her by the hips and began moving her forward to where he wanted her.

  She hesitated. “Umm…”

  Oh, this was sweet. “Maggie Ward, is that a blush I see on your cheeks?”

  “Maybe,” she muttered. “Really? You want me to…sit on your face?”

  She sounded scandalized, but also intrigued. Clay lifted her closer, positioning her in spite of her mild protests. “It’s just a different position, Mags, that’s all.”

  With both hands gripping the headboard, and her knees on either side of his head, she tilted her head toward him and offered another adorable peek at her flushed face. “It’s a very intimate— Oh my God, Clay…”

  If she wanted to keep complaining, that was her choice. He had something else to focus on. Her sweet pussy was right there in front of him, slick with moisture, her clit begging for more attention.

  It was far easier to reach her most sensitive spots from this angle. Laving his tongue up one side then down the other. Circling her clit before stabbing deep and fucking her with his tongue. The headboard creaked softly as Maggie rocked against his face.

  This time when she called out he didn’t stop. He kept playing and teasing, not ready to give up the sweetness of having her at his complete mercy.

  “Stop. Stop, oh my God, stop before I collapse,” she said with a laugh, wiggling from side to side on the bed until he let her go.

  Clay curled up to a sitting position and wiped his mouth, a cocky grin breaking fr
ee. “Told you you’d beg for me to stop.”

  Mischief danced in her eyes, and she pivoted on the mattress and crawled toward him. “Let me return the favour.”

  Hell, no. “You put your lips anywhere near my cock and I’ll go off like a rocket.”

  “I want to,” she insisted.

  Her fingers wrapped around his length, and he braced himself. He was seconds away from spilling already. But more than that, the sight of the scratches and cuts on her hands and arms sent a flurry of emotion through him that was impossible to withstand.

  He got out of her clutches and pulled her back to the mattress, pinning her in place with his body as he took her lips again. Careful, but thorough until she stopped protesting and went soft and willing under him. Her nails marked his back all the way to his ass as she scratched lightly.

  Clay spoke against her lips when they paused for air. “Some other time you can blow me, but right now I want to touch you everywhere.”

  “It’s really hard to grumble when you’re so damn attentive,” Maggie complained. “Okay, fine. Have your way with me. Turn me into a bowl of jelly.”

  If that was a challenge, it was one he was more than willing to accept. He worshiped her breasts, licking her nipples while he played with the soft curves. Teasing with his teeth, and sucking lightly until she rocked against him. He pressed one leg more firmly between her thighs to give her something to press against, but he knew from the needy noises she was making it wasn’t enough.

  He couldn’t decide what he wanted more—to drop back between her legs again where the sweetest taste in the world lay, or slide up and kiss her lips because that was even better.

  And then there was no holding back because he was going to explode if he didn’t get inside her. He grabbed a condom and rolled it on, returning between her thighs as quickly as possible

  Maggie caught his face in her hands, her eyes so bright and clear as he eased the head of his cock between her smooth folds.

  “Its like slipping into heaven,” he said. “So fucking good.”

  She nodded her agreement, her lips drawn into an O of pleasure as he pulled back until just the tip of his cock clung to her opening.