“Yeah, well, we’d better not hear about you applyin’ theory to practice for at least another two years,” Al said. “And certainly never—”
“Without a condom,” everyone chorused, including Ray.
Leah laughed. Obviously this was a conversation that happened often.
“So we’ll move on to Al, down at the end there,” Clay picked up where he left off. “He’s been working on ranches since he was a boy, until he ran off to join the Navy. Tell Leah how long you were in the Navy, Al,” Clay suggested.
Al gave a sheepish little smile. “Three days.”
“Why did you leave?” Leah asked.
“Seasick.”
“But surely, in the first three days, you didn’t have to go out to sea,” she exclaimed.
“Nope. I got seasick just standing on the shore lookin’ at the sea. Bein’ from New Mexico, I’d never seen so much water all in the same place before,” he confided, “and it was all…movin’”—he started gesturing with his hands—“up and down, up and down. It made me so dizzy I nearly passed out. So I transferred to the Army instead.”
Even though everyone but Leah had heard this story many times, they all laughed. Al Eaglefeather was a stocky, barrel-chested older man, perhaps in his early fifties, with a creased, leathery face, long, graying black hair which, like Clay, he tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong, and prominent Native American features—broad nose, high, flat cheekbones, thin lips.
“And last, but not least, you’re sitting next to Rusty Madison, former SEAL, former Homeland Security, now ranch hand. He’s been called ‘Rusty’ for so long he’s practically forgotten his real name. What did you say it was, Rusty? Elmer? Norbert?”
“Nah,” Mark chimed in, “I’m pretty sure he said it was Cornelius.”
“He told me Percival,” Al said.
“You’re all wrong,” Mitch said, “It’s Arbuthnot.”
Rusty just snorted around a huge bite of his sandwich, pulled pork, French fries and Cole slaw piled high between two slices of garlic bread. A true redhead, Rusty was certainly an appropriate name. Like Mitch Thompkins, he was probably in his mid-thirties, although his hair was short all over. He had brilliant green eyes.
All five men were deeply tanned from long hours spent in the sun, and powerfully muscled from long hours of difficult, back-breaking work.
“And now we come to Leah,” Clay said, his voice softening noticeably as he took her hand and placed it on his thigh, covering it with his. “Did you all get the photo I emailed you this morning?”
“Yeah. We been on the lookout for him, but haven’t seen him,” Mitch said. “Who is he?”
“Richard Gordon. Leah’s ex.”
“So she’s the assignment you took on two days ago?” Mark asked.
“Yeah. Our location was blown, so I figured the safest place for her to be was right here.”
“You got that right. We won’t let that fucker anywhere near her.”
“I’m counting on it,” Clay nodded.
“You send Caleb a copy?” Al wanted to know.
“Yeah. As well as Simon, Ash, Nik, Jay, Tool, Solo, and Ben Cobb at the B and B.”
Leah jerked straight up in her chair. “You did tell everyone!” she accused.
“Not yet,” Clay assured her. “But they’re all gonna know by the end of the meeting tonight.”
“What?” She was aghast. “You’re going to go blabbing all about me in front of a meeting? What kind of meeting?”
“The shareholders’ meeting,” Mitch contributed. “You’ll love it. Especially the cake.”
“Really good cake,” Al added. “Made by our very own Cakes ‘R’ Us Bakery. Laura really has a way with lemon curd filling. I had three pieces at the last shareholders’ meeting. Mm mm mm.” He shook his head in remembered pleasure.
“Assuming your ex is even able to find you, the more people who know your story, the more witnesses we’ll have to anything he tries to do,” Mark explained. “Clay and Caleb will make sure that everyone knows to be on the lookout for him and arm themselves with phones and notepads so they can document his every move.”
The sudden image of white-haired, ninety-three-year-old Granny Grace, dressed in a trench coat, lurking behind trees and popping up out of bushes, taking pictures and frantically scribbling down notes struck Leah as so funny, she began to laugh hysterically. All of the men joined in, even though the looks they gave each other told her they had no idea what they were laughing at.
Finally, gasping for breath and wiping her eyes, she described her vision. Which made them all laugh again, because they agreed that the old woman was totally apt to do just that.
“Then part of me hopes Richard actually does find me, because he’s never going to believe what’s about to happen to him.”
“Okay, guys,” Clay said, standing up and pushing his chair back with his legs. ‘Back to work. Leah and I are going to make a grocery list and I’ll need someone to volunteer to go into Marshall’s Creek.” He held up a set of keys, jingling them temptingly. “You can take the Beemer.”
Mark was the closest and the quickest, snatching the keys out of Clay’s hand before anyone else was even out of their chairs. He was still gloating when Clay added, “The winner also gets to clean up the kitchen while I show Leah around the ranch.” He held out his hand, which she took, letting him pull her to her feet.
“Thanks, Mark,” she said as Clay put his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.
“Don’t worry, Mark, I’ll help,” Ray said, picking up his plate and his empty soda can and walking it toward the trash can.
“We’ll all help,” Al said, picking up his own debris. They all followed suit and had the table cleaned off and the trash disposed of in no time. While Mark walked the remaining beers back to the refrigerator, the others all walked to the back door, retrieving their hats from the hat rack and putting them back on.
“Okay, Raven,” Mark said, heading for the back door himself. “Just text me when the grocery list is ready. And Leah? Don’t worry about a thing, y’hear? We’ll keep you safe.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
As soon as the men were gone, Clay released her. “C’mon, baby, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
He led her through the dining room and a living room with a rock wall fireplace and comfortable furniture, where he picked up their luggage. The furniture was leather, wrought iron and dark wood, whose hard, sharp masculine edges were softened by colorful cushions, glass vases full of flowers, and other decorative accents. The landing at the top of the stairs split left and right, each side with a central hallway, each hallway with a bedroom off to each side and one at the end. Clay entered the hallway to the right and stopped between the two bedrooms, setting the suitcases down. “You can have your own bedroom if you want. Or you can share mine.”
Leah looked up at him, biting her lip. More than anything she wanted to be in his bedroom, sharing his bed. But she had a life back in San Francisco. She had friends, a job she loved. She couldn’t stay here forever. Could she? If she were honest with herself, the prospect of owning her own gallery for her one-of-a-kind clothing and fabric art pieces was tempting. More tempting than she would have ever thought possible. But could she take the risk? Not just with her career, but with her heart? Would this…thing with Clay work out or was it just sex for him? She already knew it was much more than just sex for her. How that could even be possible after only two days, she didn’t want to speculate. Because Clay had been right. It wasn’t just two days. The foundation had been laid during that brief encounter on the beach three years ago, and had been building ever since. They were meant to find each other. And if they weren’t, would she survive the fallout?
Watching the conflicting emotions play across her face, Clay just stood, drawing on his deep inner core of stillness to keep from influencing her decision. As a SEAL, that stillness had kept him alive more times than he cared to count. He didn’t wa
nt to push her, and he would go along with whatever choice she made, but he needed her to make the right one. The one that would give them both a chance for the future. His soul had been longing for her for three years. The fact that he had found her again after giving up on the possibility of ever doing so was a sign he simply could not ignore. They were meant to be together and he would do whatever it took to make her see that, too. Unfortunately, that might mean allowing her whatever space and time she needed in order to come to him.
His hand lifted to cup her cheek and, unable to help herself, she leaned into it, closing her eyes on a sigh. “Leah…” She heard him say her name, his voice a mere breath of a whisper. Felt the pressure of his fingers along her jaw as he lifted her head to meet his gaze. His eyes were hot, hard, and turbulent and she felt herself being swallowed up by them, scorched by them, as if his gaze was fire brushing her skin.
Desire, arousal, and pure, raw hunger surged heavily through her, sending hot cream spilling from her womb. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.
Christ! Clay held his breath for a long moment, waiting for the sudden constriction in his chest to loosen before allowing himself to exhale. He was astounded by her. Delighted by her. Awed by the depth of the connection he felt with her. “Thank you.” Firming his hand on her cheek, he pulled her toward him, sliding his arms around her and bending his head to capture her mouth in a sweet kiss. At least he intended for it to be sweet. But her intoxicating taste exploded against his lips and he found himself suddenly twisting her lips apart to admit his invading tongue.
Her stomach pitched and rolled, spilling moisture between her legs. She moaned into his mouth and sagged against him as her knees gave way. His kiss was deep, greedy, seeking everything from her that she was willing to give to him. And, she suddenly realized, she was willing to give him everything. Without taking his lips from hers, he bent down, placed his right arm behind her knees and lifted her high against his chest. Then he turned and walked toward the door at the end of the hall. As he carried her into his bedroom, she thought briefly of looking around to see what personal information she could glean from the possessions he surrounded himself with, but lust weighted her eyelids, making it difficult for her to keep them open.
Bending down, he laid her carefully on the bed, reaching for the zipper of her jeans and lowering it. He loomed over her, like a conqueror contemplating his helpless captive. With swift, economical movements, he stripped both her jeans and her panties off her hips and down her legs, tossing them to the floor. He noticed her hands were shaking as she lifted them to the hem of her T-shirt, yanking it up over her head and tossing it away. Her nipples were hard little knots beneath the lace of her bra. He stood looking down at her, his eyes black pools of need. He ran his tongue across his lips, drawing the lingering flavor of her kiss into his mouth, letting it sink into his soul.
She was well aware of the lascivious picture she made, naked from head to toe, her legs dangling off the bed. The fact that she was naked and he was still dressed ratcheted up her arousal. Arousal, hell. It was more than mere arousal. She was so hot, it was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames. Mouth dry, she licked her lips, a little nervous slide of her tongue across parched skin.
Clay noticed the gesture and something dark bloomed in the fathomless depths of his eyes. “Spread your legs.” His rough command liquefied everything inside her, sending desire boiling through her veins. Slowly, uncertainly, she slid her legs apart, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he fell to his knees between her legs. Omigod! He’s going to—Richard never—no one’s ever—she panicked. Arching up on her elbows, she let out a croak. “Um, Clay? I’m not—I’ve never—I mean—”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll take good care of you.” Somehow Clay was not surprised that her asshole of an ex had never given her this pleasure. But that meant that he would be the first to taste her, the first to discover all her magical, secret flavors and textures and scents, and the thought filled him with such power, he feared his chest would explode. A wicked grin curved the corners of his mouth. “And you’re going to love it, I guarantee. Lie back down, love. I can’t wait to give this to you.” Waiting until she’d flopped back down on the bed, he slid his hands beneath her thighs. Lifting one leg at a time, he draped them over his shoulders. A whimper ripped from her throat as he took a long minute just to look at her, pink and swollen and glistening with the copious flow of her cream. Gripping her buttocks, he pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and buried his nose in her pussy, shaking his head gently back and forth and inhaling her sweetness to the bottom of his lungs.
She screamed, arching her back and bucking her hips up off the bed, driving herself onto his face. He swept the flat of his tongue up the furrow of her slit from her anus to her weeping portal, savoring the smell of her, the taste of her, the satiny feel of her against his tongue. “Fuck, Leah, you taste so goddamn delicious. Like a ripe, juicy nectarine. I could eat this sweet pussy every day and never get enough.” He stroked up and down her cleft several more times, bringing forth a whole series of shivery moans from Leah, making her writhe with pleasure. Chuckling against her skin, he brought the tip of his tongue to her clit.
She let out a squeak and her body tightened as he began a slow, deliberate circle all around that super-sensitized little nub, but not directly touching it. Leah’s hands fisted in the bedspread, practically shredding it. Her moans grew louder and more frequent as pleasure thundered through her. Then he touched her clit and began flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across the tender little nub.
A muffled shriek tore from her lungs as she arched into his touch, seeking more of it. Seeking…something she couldn’t even name. Faster. Harder. The onslaught of his tongue on her hyper-sensitized clit sucked the breath from her lungs. Sweat sheened her body, soaked her hair, as pleasure streaked through her with every hot swipe of his tongue until she was sobbing and writhing with the sheer pleasure of it.
He left her clit to rim her entrance before thrusting inside and fucking her with his tongue, blasting her into an entirely new realm of pleasure. He went back and forth between her clit and her vagina, lapping at her like a man dying of thirst. Then he moved his mouth back to her clit, wrapping his lips around her taut little nubbin. At the same moment, he thrust two fingers into her vagina arching her upward with a sharp cry that shredded her throat. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! There was a spring inside her, tightening, tightening. His lips nibbling her clit, his fingers inside her, delirious, deep…she was teetering on the brink of an orgasm that she knew would jar her to her bones and annihilate her very soul. The coil tightened until it couldn’t tighten any more and she let out a scream. “Oh, God, Clay. Oh, God! Clay! Ohgodohgodohgod, I’m coming, I’m—”
“Yes, Leah, come! Come, baby. Give me your pleasure.” Clay sped up his movements as the quivering of her muscles grew more and more frantic.
For a moment there was silence as her entire body seized, arching into a rigid bow. Frantically she pulled air into the bottom of her lungs and held it there, not breathing, not moving, except for tiny, spastic gestures of her hands. Then, lungs emptying on a blistering scream, she exploded, limbs flailing violently as pleasure blasted through her, shattering her into a billion scintillating shards of light, pulsing through her in convulsions so powerful, it was as if her heartbeat had become the heartbeat of the entire world.
While she was gasping, desperately trying to re-fill her lungs, Clay maintained her pleasure by little touches and twitches of his tongue against her clit, manipulating it with wicked skill, building up a second, even more excruciating orgasm. It tore through her, followed by yet another. Her head thrashed back and forth on the bed as wave after powerful wave of ecstasy crashed over her, into her, through her. He kept the aftershocks going for what seemed like an eternity, until finally, with a sobbing groan, Leah went completely limp. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it would burst. As she lay there, dragging in huge gul
ps of air, Clay wiped her juices off his face on the insides of her thighs and stood up, looking down at her with an expression so tender, it made her want to weep.
He crawled onto the bed and laid down, rolling her onto her side and pulling her toward him. He snugged her against him, her back to his front, fitting her ass into the cradle of his groin. Then he slid his left arm beneath her head and nuzzled his face into her damp hair. His right arm, he draped over her waist, bending his wrist upward to palm her breast, letting its weight rest in his hand. Even though he’d wiped off most of her moisture from his face, her scent still clung to his skin, soaking into his heart and soul. He’d never get enough of her. Never. Not even if he lived ten thousand lifetimes. His cock, constricted by the denim fabric of his jeans, was so hard it was painful. It would be a miracle if he didn’t wind up with a permanent zipper imprint embedded into his skin. He’d never been more aroused, but he was determined to delay his own pleasure. It wouldn’t be easy. Leah tested his control in ways he’d never thought possible, but he was disciplined enough to deny himself. He needed to give her a chance to drift down from that long string of orgasms he’d just given her.
She lay quiescent in his arms, unable to move, unable to think, unable to speak, three things she had excelled at not twenty minutes ago. But he had stripped her of all that with the skilled manipulations of his tongue against the most sensitive part of her body. That was okay, though. He had given her something far more precious. He had given her herself. She was not, as Richard had so often told her, frigid. Incapable of pleasuring a man. An “Ice Princess.” She was a wanton, highly sexual woman who had never had so many orgasms in her life. Who had never even thought herself capable of having so many orgasms. At least not all at once. Her body was still tingling. She sighed and raised up slightly. Clay’s grip on her breast loosened, but his arm remained draped over her waist as she turned around to face him. As the rough fabric of his polo shirt scraped across her sensitized nipples, she sucked in her breath. They both straightened their legs, aligning their bodies groin to groin, her head still resting on his upper arm for a pillow.
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