* * *
River slowed the truck and leaned forward to peer through the windshield. This looked like the street they’d taken to Clay’s place. She wasn’t completely sure, but there was only one way to find out. Three blocks down, she spotted Clay’s motorcycle. This was the place. River switched off the engine and debated not going in. But she couldn’t leave things unsaid. If she didn’t face Clay now and explain, she’d be miserably awake all night thinking about what she should have done.
The door was ajar. Something told River not to knock. She nudged the door open. What she saw was the absolute last scene she’d expected to find. Clay was braced on one arm above a canvas on the floor, making broad strokes with her other hand. Red paint was splattered on her gray T-shirt and across one cheek as if she’d been cut. River swallowed, frozen in place, wanting to be seen and not seen at the same time.
Clay straightened and stood, looking down at the canvas. When she finally looked up, the unguarded emotion on her face caused River’s heart to hurt. Instinctively, she brought her hand to her chest. Clay didn’t move. Like some otherworldly creature surprised in the wild at night by passing headlights, she seemed rooted in place. Slowly, cautiously, River moved toward her. Clay edged around the canvas without taking her eyes off River, so that she stood between River and the image spread across the floor.
“What are you doing here, River?”
“I know you saw the text.” Her voice faltered. “It’s not what you think.”
River stepped closer.
“Clay, I know you saw that message from Amelia. She doesn’t know everything.” River could see the hurt and anger on Clay’s face. “When I first saw your paintings in my aunt’s gallery, yes, I wanted to represent your work in my gallery, but not anymore.”
Clay didn’t respond.
“After the almost kiss and then two nights ago when we danced and then had dinner out. I knew I couldn’t have you as a client. But I haven’t gotten a chance to tell Amelia yet.”
“Why don’t you want me as a client?”
“Because…Clay…because I’m falling for you.”
“River, I can’t go through this again if—”
“Clay, let me show you how I feel.” River cut her off. “Please.”
Clay seemed to consider River’s words, as if she were deciding whether to trust their sincerity. After a moment, Clay stepped closer.
Clay traced River’s cheek with one finger and then gripped the back of River’s neck beneath her hair. The intensity of Clay’s gaze was as sharp as a blade. She didn’t break eye contact until their lips met. River sank into Clay, allowing Clay to have her way. She felt Clay’s hand at the small of her back, pressing their bodies together. Then Clay’s hand drifted to the outer curve of her breast. River slipped her hands under the hem of Clay’s T-shirt until she felt Clay’s muscles twitch beneath her fingers. Only then did Clay pull back.
“I’ve ruined your dress.” Clay looked at the palm of her once paint-covered hand and then back at the smears of paint on River’s clothing. Like some living canvas, the ivory cotton dress was covered now with handprints.
“I don’t care.” River smiled up at Clay. “Come here.”
River led Clay to the large white sink mounted on the wall. She stood between Clay and the sink as she ran the water to warm it. Then she pulled Clay’s hand around her waist from behind her and began to wash away the paint by rubbing Clay’s hand gently between hers. Carefully, she stroked each finger and Clay’s palm beneath the running water until all the paint was gone. Then she pulled Clay’s other hand forward to repeat the cleansing, which felt more intimate and sensual than she’d expected. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who felt the heat rising between them.
Clay pulled her hair to one side and teased with the tip of her tongue up River’s neck to the outside edge of her ear. Chills rippled across her skin and she shivered. Then, as Clay placed light kisses down River’s neck, she eased up the hem of River’s dress with one hand. River turned off the water and braced both hands on the cool edge of the sink for fear that her legs could no longer support her under the power of Clay’s touch.
Now Clay was using both hands to slide the fabric up over River’s hips; she felt the brush of denim against her bare skin. With one finger, Clay followed the path of the narrow thong fabric down to the place between her legs. River inhaled sharply, she felt Clay’s arm around her, her hand covering River’s breast as Clay stroked the tapered strip of damp fabric between her legs.
She rotated in Clay’s arms, pulled the casual dress, now covered in paint, up and over her head, tossing it aside. Clay kissed her shoulder as she slid the bra strap away. Then she slid her fingers under the silky fabric of her bra and caressed as she teased River’s mouth with her tongue. River reached around and unfastened her bra, letting it fall away. She relieved Clay of her T-shirt to find that Clay was wearing nothing underneath. The thrill of Clay’s breasts against hers was immediate and electric as she draped her arms around Clay’s neck. She felt Clay’s hands on her ass again, urging her up. Clay half lifted her, then held her as River wrapped her legs around Clay’s waist and Clay carried her toward the bed, never breaking their kiss.
Clay dropped to her knees on the mattress on the floor at the far end of the large space and gently laid River on pillows. Then she sat back on her heels as recognition of what was happening registered on her face.
River reached for her hand, hoping to keep her from leaving again. She crossed the bed to Clay on her knees.
“Clay, please trust me. Let me make love to you.”
Still kneeling in front of Clay, she took Clay’s hand and guided it inside the satin triangle of her underwear. She was incredibly wet, and now Clay knew it too.
Clay was vaguely aware of the brush of River’s fingers as she unbuckled her belt and worked the buttons of her jeans loose. It was hard to focus on anything but her own fingers touching River, caressing her, teasing her.
River lay back and pulled Clay with her. She settled between River’s legs, raising up just enough to slide the thong off and toss it aside. Then she pulled River tightly against her so that she could feel River against her lower abdomen. River pushed Clay’s jeans over her hips with her feet. Clay slid them down farther with her free hand and kicked them off.
There was nothing between them. No barriers except the walls Clay had been so carefully constructing. And now, the sensation of River’s body beneath hers was quickly dismantling even those. River was pulling her in and pulling her down into some heated oblivion.
They were joined, the two of them one flesh, rising to meet each other. River’s mouth open against her neck, her nails digging into Clay’s shoulder, urging her for more, deeper, faster, until she felt River tighten around her fingers and heard her cry out in release.
Only a moment passed, with Clay kissing River tenderly before River rolled her over, switching their positions. She straddled Clay’s midsection, wet and warm against her stomach. Methodically, sensually, River slid down Clay’s body, softly leaving kisses as she went. Across her chest, each breast, gently teased with her tongue before skimming her teeth lightly over the highly sensitive skin. Down she traveled, her hair tickling with a feather’s touch across her stomach until River settled between her legs.
As the pressure grew, Clay filled her fingers with River’s hair, a silent request for more. She fisted the sheet and writhed beneath River’s insistent, relentless, heavenly mouth. Climbing until the air thinned, she held her breath, the razor-sharp edge of release cut through her, she was falling too, and only River was there to catch her.
Chapter Twenty-one
River slowly blinked. It was dark, Clay’s warmth seeped in from the other side of the bed. Their bodies made light contact under the sheet, and River tried her best to move away without waking Clay. She finger-combed her tousled hair and squinted into the cavernous space.
She’d hardly taken in the room when she’d first arrived. All
she could see in those first moments was Clay, splashed with red as if she’d been in a street fight. River glanced over at Clay. She was asleep, her lean body only half covered by the sheet. Faint moonlight from one of the skylights painted the contours of her hip bones and her long legs, outlined in relief through the thin fabric. Clay’s body was androgynous perfection.
River searched around the bed for clothing and ended up pulling on Clay’s T-shirt as she walked toward the sink. The concrete warehouse floor was cool under her bare feet. She filled a glass with water and slowly rotated to take in the room.
Art supplies, unpainted canvases, shelves full of paint, were stored all along the wall to her left. Across the opposite wall were four finished canvases. They weren’t hanging, but instead rested on the floor, leaning against the wall. She stepped around the unfinished painting still spread across the floor from earlier and stopped in front of the four canvases.
The compositions were barely lit by the moon from nearby windows and in the shadows, took on an ethereal aura.
River wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when she felt Clay’s hand slip under the too-large T-shirt. Her fingers slid across River’s stomach and those muscles quivered from her touch.
“You’re not sleeping.”
“I was thirsty.”
Clay took the glass from her hand and drank. She walked in front of River, her gaze intense. Clay kneeled in front of her, setting the glass on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“This.” Clay lifted the hem of the shirt and kissed the low curve of River’s stomach, the lowest spot just above her dark curls.
River caressed Clay’s hair and tried not to sway on her feet. Clay moved her hands to River’s hips, holding her in place as she began to explore with her tongue.
“Clay, if you do that, right now…I’m never going to be able to look at your paintings again without thinking of—”
“Good.” Clay looked up briefly and smiled. “When you look at my canvases I don’t want you to think of anything else.”
River stood, a glorious captive of Clay’s hands. The muscles in her legs tensed and reflexively, she spread them farther apart. Her eyes had been closed as she allowed herself to swim in the sensation of Clay’s gifted, intoxicating tongue between her legs. Until, in the instant of her liberation, she opened her eyes, Clay’s paintings filled her vision with color and motion. She almost collapsed backward as she tipped over the cliff, but Clay was there, her strong hands moving up River’s back as she stood. She guided River into her arms, with one arm under her pliant knees, and carried her back to bed.
* * *
The coffee cups clattered in Clay’s hand. She glanced over to the bed, but River didn’t stir. The sun was streaming in at odd angles cutting across the large open room, from the skylight, and from a row of windows high on the front and back wall. She stood for a moment and watched the shafts of light intersect each other, creating rainbow patterns on the floor.
It was around nine o’clock, and sunlight had not yet found the bed. It had taken Clay a week of dragging the mattress around to different spots in the large space before she found the sweet spot. The one small section of the floor where the sun didn’t shine until after ten. It was like sleeping on a sundial.
Clay checked the fridge while the coffee brewed. The only real option was eggs. Oh, and one bagel that they’d have to split.
She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. River shifted, yawned, and stretched. Clay had boxers and a T-shirt on, but River was still wearing only a sheet, and even that fell to her waist when she sat up and scanned the room. Her eyes were heavy-lidded from sleep and her hair was adorably tousled. Her cheeks had a bit more color than the day before. If she was embarrassed to have Clay see her in her birthday suit, she gave no indication of it. River rubbed her eyes with her palms and then squinted in Clay’s direction.
“What time is it?”
“Around nine.” Clay poured coffee, added cream, and brought the steaming mugs back to the rumpled bed. “Do you need sugar in this?”
River shook her head. “Thank you so much.” She took one of the cups from Clay and examined it, smiling, before she tasted the coffee. “I love Depression-era dishware.”
River answered Clay’s unasked question.
“Oh. The way you looked at that I wasn’t sure what you were doing. I’m glad to know my tableware passes inspection. Now, if I just had a table.”
River laughed at Clay’s joke about her sparsely appointed living quarters.
“Who needs a table when you have a mattress on the floor?”
Now it was Clay’s turn to laugh.
“I should warn you, I’m not much of a morning person.” River took another drink of her coffee.
“Me either.” Clay braced on one elbow on top of the covers.
River was sitting up, with bent knees. She seemed to remember she had nothing on and drew the sheet up and held it in front of her chest.
“Don’t cover up on my account.” Clay gazed at River over the rim of her cup.
River swatted at Clay. She set the coffee on the floor next to the bed and fell backward into the pillows. She covered her face with her hands.
“What did we do last night?” River uncovered one eye and turned to Clay.
“Pretty much everything.”
“Well, not everything.”
“Really? What did we leave out?”
River laughed.
Clay set her coffee aside and River wiggled across the bed, snuggling into Clay’s shoulder. She was still under the covers while Clay was on top. The sheet rose and fell with the curve of River’s hip. Beautiful. She brushed her fingers through River’s hair and then kissed her forehead.
“Does this surprise you?” Clay asked.
“Which part?”
“That we made love?”
“No, that doesn’t surprise me.” River kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear and then nuzzled there with her nose.
“Really?”
“Clay, the first time I saw you climb out of that tow truck I knew I was in trouble.”
“And then I was kind of a jerk when I drove you to the B and B.” She kissed River’s forehead again. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s forgotten, besides…I think you’ve more than made up for it.” River propped up on her elbow and looked at her. “And, Clay, you started painting again.”
“Yeah. It felt good.”
It was true. And that was probably the biggest, unexpected change. She’d started to paint again. A compulsion to express herself that she was finally unable to ignore. Not painting had left her feeling so empty, so alone. As if she’d lost her voice entirely. Last night was the first time since returning from New York that she’d been able to put something on canvas that felt true, pure. She had River to thank for that. But it was too early to delve too deeply into her creative psyche just now. There were other things on her mind.
“Are you hungry?” Clay tilted her head up and kissed River affectionately.
“I hate to admit this after everything we sampled during the cookout yesterday, but, yes.”
“I’m sure those calories are long gone.”
“You did try to test the limits of my stamina.” River’s hand rested in the center of Clay’s chest. She moved her fingers a little, and Clay felt it all the way to her toes.
It seemed impossible, but Clay was still incredibly turned on.
“Do you have things you need to do today?” Clay asked.
“Not really, why?”
“I was thinking I could make us some breakfast and then…we could go back to bed.”
“Oh, really?” River tilted her head up just enough to quirk an eyebrow at Clay. “Is that what you were thinking?”
River moved her hand from Clay’s chest to her stomach and then slipped her fingers inside the front of Clay’s boxers.
“Hmm, seems like maybe we should eat breakfast after.
”
Clay groaned. “We’re definitely eating after if you keep doing that.”
River stilled her fingers and slowly removed them from Clay’s shorts.
“Two things first. I need to pee…and I need a toothbrush.”
Clay smiled. She’d already brushed her teeth before River woke up. She pointed to an alcove on the far end of the room. There were partial walls but no door.
“Your landlord couldn’t spring for a door?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t look. And there’s a new toothbrush in the drawer next to the sink.”
River started to get up and pull the sheet along with her, but Clay was still lying on top of it. Clay shook her head, smiling.
“You’re incorrigible. Fine.” River got up and walked to the bathroom, swaying her hips and giving Clay an excellent view of her firm, shapely ass.
As promised, Clay rolled over onto her side facing the wall. After a few minutes, she heard running water and then another minute later the mattress shifted with River’s weight as she spooned against Clay’s back.
“Now, where was I?” River bit Clay’s ear teasingly and slipped her arm around Clay’s waist and let her hand drift lower, until…
Clay rolled onto her back. River swept her fingers through Clay’s hair and kissed her deeply, fiercely. Clay didn’t want River to stop what she was doing with her fingers, but she wanted, needed, less clothing between them. She pushed her boxer shorts down and off. River shifted partially on top of her, tugging Clay’s shirt up. River kissed her chest. Clay swept the T-shirt over her head, and in one power move, put River on her back. She pressed River’s hands into the mattress over her head. They were both breathing hard already.
Her face was close to River’s now, but she didn’t make contact. She closed her eyes and drew in the scent she’d come to know as River’s. She allowed her full weight to settle between River’s legs. River began to arch into her. Clay’s sole focus became giving River what she wanted. How she wanted it. As hard as she wanted it.
Take My Hand Page 15