6. Clay
Chapter Six
CLAY
I guide Ruby into my bedroom, my hand firm against the small of her back. The heat of her skin burns through her thin tank top, sending electricity straight to my core. My cabin’s dark except for the soft glow from the bedside lamp I flip on, casting her in amber light that makes her hair look like living flame.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her.
“Nice place,” she says, but her eyes aren’t on the room. They’re fixed on me, pupils dilated with the same hunger that’s been clawing at my insides since I first laid eyes on her.
I don’t respond with words. Can’t. My throat’s too tight with wanting her. Instead, I step closer, close enough to smell the light floral scent of her shampoo mixed with something uniquely her that makes my head swim.
Ruby’s fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging lightly. “You’re overdressed.”
Her touch against the strip of skin above my jeans sends a jolt through me that nearly buckles my knees. I grab the back of my shirt and pull it off in one fluid motion, watching her eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest. The way she looks at me—like she’s starving and I’m a feast—makes my blood run hot.
“I want to see all of you,” I tell her, my voice dropping to a graveled whisper that I barely recognize.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her tiny shorts, seeking permission in her eyes. She answers by pressing closer to me, her hands splaying across my chest. Slowly, I slide the shorts down her legs, revealing more of her tattooed skin inch by inch. She steps out of them, standing before me in just her tank top and panties.
The ink on her body is vibrant and beautiful, curving around her thighs and calves in patterns that make my fingers itch to trace them. I help her pull the tank top over her head, and she stands nearly naked, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her breasts are small and perfect, her nipples hardening under my heated gaze.
Mine. The thought slams into me with startling clarity. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.
“Your turn,” she says, reaching for the button of my jeans.
I let her undress me, watching her face as she realizes the size difference between us. I’m a foot taller and twice as broad, and when my jeans hit the floor, her breath catches at the sight of my arousal straining against my boxer briefs.
“Clay...” she whispers, my name on her lips sounding like a prayer.
“Lie down,” I tell her, the words soft but unmistakably a command.
She complies without hesitation. Her red hair fans out across my pillow as she stretches out on the bed. I move toward her, lowering myself until my larger body covers her delicate frame. Her skin is hot against mine, her heartbeat a rapid flutter I can feel through her chest.
“You’re so sexy, baby,” I groan. “I can’t wait to taste all of you.”
I capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her soft gasp as I deepen the kiss.
She tastes like cinnamon and desire, and I’m already addicted.I break away to trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath my lips. My tongue traces the outline of a phoenix tattoo on her shoulder, learning the topography of her body through touch. I move lower, exploring a delicate lotus flower on her ribcage, then a geometric pattern that snakes around her hip.
She squirms beneath me, her breath coming faster as I move down her body. When I reach an intricate mandala design on her inner thigh, I look up to meet her gaze.
“Tell me what you want, Ruby.”
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her cheeks flushed with desire. “I want your mouth on me.”
The directness of her response makes my cock throb painfully. I press a kiss to her inner thigh, deliberately misunderstanding.
“Here?”
Her eyes flash with defiance and need. “You know where.”
I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the fire in her expression. I want to hear her say it. I need to hear the words from her lips.
“Where, exactly?” I press, my breath ghosting over her center.
“I want your mouth on my pussy. Now.” Her demand comes out breathless but commanding.
Fuck. The crude word from her perfect mouth nearly undoes me.
I part her with my tongue in one long stroke, and her entire body trembles in response. She tastes sweet and perfect, and the small sounds she makes drive me wild. I slide two fingers inside her while my tongue focuses on her clit.
She’s so tight around my fingers, her body gripping me like it never wants to let go. The thought that I might be the first to touch her like this sends a surge of possessive heat through me. I want to be the only one who ever makes her feel this way.
Her hands tangle in my hair, alternately pulling me closer and pushing me away as the sensations intensify. I can feel her getting close, her thighs tensing on either side of my head.
“Stop fighting it,” I growl against her sensitive flesh. “Let go. I want to feel you come apart on my tongue.”
Her back arches off the bed as she crashes over the edge, my name a broken cry on her lips. I work her through it, easing back only when she tugs gently at my hair.
She looks dazed, her eyes heavy-lidded as she catches her breath. Then she beckons to me with one hand.
“Come here,” she says, and I move up between her thighs, positioning myself above her.
I shed my boxer briefs, watching her eyes widen as she takes in all of me. There’s a flicker of nervousness in her expression that confirms my suspicion—she hasn’t done this before. At least not much. The knowledge makes something primal roar to life inside me.
“I’ll go slow,” I promise, brushing her hair back from her flushed face. “But I need to be inside you. Need to feel you around me.”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine as I reach into the nightstand for protection. Once I’m ready, I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat.
“Breathe,” I instruct, watching her face carefully as I push forward, just the tip breaching her tight entrance.
Her breath hitches, fingers digging into my shoulders. I pause, giving her time to adjust.
“More,” she whispers, lifting her hips slightly.
I push deeper, gritting my teeth against the almost painful pleasure of her body gripping mine. She’s so fucking tight, so perfect around me that it takes every ounce of control not to thrust all the way in.
“You feel incredible,” I murmur, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. “So tight. So perfect.”
A small whimper escapes her as I sink deeper. I freeze immediately.
“Too much?”
She shakes her head, her eyes dark with desire. “No. Don’t stop.”
I continue my slow advance until I’m fully seated inside her, our bodies completely joined. The sensation is overwhelming—not just physically, but something deeper, more profound than I’ve ever experienced.
“You’re mine now,” I whisper against her ear. “Do you understand? Mine.”
She shivers beneath me, her inner walls clenching around me in response. “Yes,” she breathes, the single word igniting something fierce in my chest.
I begin to move, setting a rhythm that’s gentle at first, watching her face as pleasure replaces any trace of discomfort. Her body opens for me, accepting me deeper with each thrust.
“That’s it,” I encourage as she begins to move with me, her hips rising to meet mine. “Take what you need.”
Her inexperience is evident in the way she moves—slightly hesitant, learning as she goes—but there’s nothing hesitant about the sounds she makes or the way her body responds to mine. She was made for this.
Made for me.
I shift my angle slightly, hitting a spot that makes her gasp and arch beneath me. “There?” I ask, though I already know the answer from the way her nails dig into my back.
“Yes,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed. “Right there.”
I maintain the angle, driving into her with more force now that I know she can take it. The sight of her beneath me—flushed, panting, completely surrendered to the pleasure I’m giving her—is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Open your eyes,” I command, needing to see her. “Look at me while I fuck you.”
Her eyes snap open, locking with mine. The connection is electric, intimate in a way that goes beyond our joined bodies. I can see everything in her eyes. Her pleasure, her surrender, her trust.
“You’re close,” I observe, feeling the telltale fluttering of her inner walls. “I can feel it. Your body’s trying to pull me deeper.”
She nods, biting her lower lip as her breathing quickens.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell her, increasing my pace. “Let me feel you come around my cock.”
My words seem to push her closer to the edge. Her movements become more frantic, less coordinated as she chases her release.
“Clay,” she gasps, her voice breaking on my name. “I’m going to?—“
“Yes,” I growl, driving into her harder. “Come for me, Ruby. Now.”
She shatters beneath me, her body clenching around mine in rhythmic pulses as she cries out.
The sight of her coming undone, combined with the exquisite grip of her body, triggers my own release. I thrust deep one final time, groaning as pleasure tears through me with an intensity I’ve never experienced before.
For several moments, we remain locked together, both of us panting as the aftershocks ripple through our joined bodies. I’m careful not to crush her with my weight, but I can’t bring myself to pull away just yet. The connection between us feels too precious, too perfect to break.
Finally, I ease out of her, both of us gasping at the sensation. I dispose of the condom and return to find her watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, her body gloriously naked and flushed with satisfaction.
“Stay here,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
She makes a small sound of protest as I disentangle myself, but I need to take care of her. The urge to tend to her, to make sure she’s comfortable, is almost as powerful as the desire that consumed me minutes ago.
I pad to the bathroom, running hot water into the tub. I add a capful of the pine-scented bath oil I sometimes use for sore muscles after training. The steam rises, filling the small bathroom with a woodsy scent that reminds me of the forest surrounding my cabin.
When I return to the bedroom, Ruby is exactly where I left her, looking thoroughly claimed and impossibly beautiful. Her hair is a tangled mess of fire against my pillows, her lips swollen from my kisses, her skin marked in places by my mouth and hands. The sight of her like this—in my bed, bearing the evidence of my passion—sends a fresh surge of possessiveness through me.
“Come on,” I say, lifting her into my arms. She weighs almost nothing, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She loops her arms around my neck, looking up at me with something like wonder. “You’re running me a bath?”
The surprise in her voice makes me wonder what kind of men she’s been with before. Men who didn’t take care of her afterward. Men who didn’t understand that claiming a woman like Ruby comes with responsibilities.
“Of course,” I answer simply, carrying her to the bathroom.
I set her down gently beside the tub, keeping a steadying hand on her waist as she tests the water with her toes.
“It’s hot,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“The way it should be.” I help her step in, watching as she sinks into the steaming water with a sigh of pleasure.
I kneel beside the tub, taking a washcloth and soaking it in the hot water. Gently, I begin to wash her, starting with her shoulders and working my way down her arms. Her eyes drift closed as I tend to her, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“No one’s ever done this for me before,” she admits quietly.
The confession tightens something in my chest. “Their loss,” I tell her, meaning it. Taking care of Ruby like this feels like a privilege, not a chore.
I wash her back, careful around the areas where my fingers left marks on her delicate skin. Then her breasts, the cloth gliding over her nipples and making her breath catch. Down her stomach, between her legs where she’s still sensitive, making her gasp and shift in the water.
“Relax,” I murmur, keeping my touch gentle. “I’m just taking care of you.”
She opens her eyes, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
The question catches me off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ruby shrugs, water droplets sliding down her shoulders. “Most guys aren’t.”
I set the washcloth aside, cupping her face in my palm. “I’m not most guys.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for something—sincerity, maybe, or deception. I let her look, having nothing to hide. What I feel for Ruby may have started as raw desire, but it’s already evolved into something more complex, more powerful.
“No,” she agrees finally. “You’re definitely not.”
I help her wash her hair, massaging her scalp with firm fingers until she’s practically purring with contentment. When we’re finished, I help her stand and wrap her in a large towel, drying her with the same care I used to bathe her.
“Your turn,” she says, gesturing to the tub.
I shake my head. “I’ll shower later. This was for you.”
Ruby steps closer, still wrapped in the towel, and places her palm against my chest, right over my heart. “Thank you.”
The simple words, spoken with such genuine gratitude, affect me more than they should. I cover her hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my chest so she can feel my heartbeat.
“You don’t need to thank me for taking care of what’s mine,” I tell her, the possessive words slipping out before I can stop them.
Instead of pulling away or looking offended, Ruby’s eyes darken, her lips parting slightly. “Is that what I am? Yours?”
I should backtrack. Should apologize for being too intense, too possessive, too soon. But I can’t bring myself to lie to her.
“Yes,” I say simply. “If you want to be.”
She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she rises on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that’s achingly tender.
“I think I do,” she whispers against my mouth.
The admission sends a wave of satisfaction through me that’s different from the physical pleasure we shared earlier—deeper, more profound. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, breathing in the clean scent of her damp hair.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I murmur, leading her back to the bedroom.
I find one of my t-shirts in a drawer and help her into it. The sight of her in my clothes, the hem hitting mid-thigh on her shorter frame, stirs something primal in me again. I pull on a pair of boxer briefs and join her in bed, pulling her against me so her back is pressed to my chest.
I press a kiss to the nape of her neck, inhaling the scent of her clean skin. “Sleep, then. I’ve got you.”
Ruby turns in my arms, facing me with those incredible eyes that seem to see right through me. “This wasn’t what I expected when my dad said he was sending protection.”
I chuckle, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “I’m guessing he didn’t expect this either.”
Her expression grows serious. “Do you regret it? Breaking the professional boundaries?”
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “I should, but I don’t. Not for a second.”
Relief flickers across her face. “Good. Me neither.”
I trace the curve of her cheek with my thumb, marveling at the softness of her skin. “We’ll figure it out, Ruby. The protection, Holloway, your father—all of it. But right now, in this moment, it’s just us.”
She nods, her eyelids growing heavy. “Just us,” she echoes, the words slurring slightly with exhaustion.
I pull her closer, arranging the blankets around us. Her breathing gradually deepens, her body relaxing completely against mine as sleep claims her. I stay awake a little longer, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, memorizing the pattern of freckles across her nose, the exact shade of her hair against my sheets.
The fierce protectiveness I feel for her hasn’t diminished. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more resolute. Holloway, her father, the world—they’ll all have to go through me to get to her now.
As I drift toward sleep, Ruby tucked securely in my arms, one thought circles in my mind: Mine to protect. Mine to cherish.
Mine, period.