Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Lou
Clay’s mouth on me is heaven, but having him back is everything.
He takes his time with leisurely licks and gentle sucks and holds me right on the edge until he lets me go. And after, when all I can do is smile, he kisses his way back up my body, then collapses next to me, his arms around me.
“What about this?” I ask, nudging his erection with my hip.
“Later,” he says, kissing my shoulder. “Sleep first.”
I’d argue, but I was up late last night, worried about all the things that could go wrong with the money transfer, and my eyes are already fluttering shut.
We wake up around noon, when the temperature inside the cabin hits stifling.
Clay gets me off again in the cool shower, this time with his long, elegant fingers, but he only allows me to bring him to the brink.
No orgasm for him yet, though he’s shaking with the need to come.
I don’t mind—he can wait as long as he likes, especially when he kisses me so sweetly and growls when I accidentally brush against his cock.
“Don’t get dressed yet,” he says when he wraps me in a fluffy towel. “I have something for you.”
My gaze dips down, and he swats my ass. “Not yet, horny girl.”
I pout, but he laughs, wraps a towel around his waist, and beckons for me to follow him out of the bathroom.
“As beautiful as you look in borrowed T-shirts and yoga pants,” he says, plucking a handful of bags off the dining table, “I miss the old look.”
I peer into one of the bags. “You bought me clothes?”
“You don’t have to wear these if you don’t want to—I’m not trying to pick out your outfits. But I want you to have the option to look like a sailor’s tattoo if you so choose. There’s also some makeup. Specifically, several shades of red lipstick that will look very nice smeared on my skin.”
I laugh as I drop the bag to wrap my arms around him. “That’s exactly why I wear it. Shall I put on a fashion show? See if you hit the mark with your choices?”
“I don’t miss, sweetheart. But go on.”
The man has an eye for clothing. Everything fits perfectly, and if I could afford it, I might have bought these clothes myself.
Something about trying on a black bustier with red roses or a white blouse with small cherries printed all over it brings back a spark of something I thought I’d lost in the fire—the Louisa Gallo who can do anything, from ending a drunken brawl by throwing a punch to rebuilding a family legacy.
The clothes don’t make me that person, but they remind me of who I am.
“I have one more thing for you,” Clay says when I finally let him up for air after an onslaught of kisses. “But you’re going to want to wear comfortable shoes. And this dress.” He tugs on the bodice.
It’s not quite a replica of my skulls-and-roses dress, but it’s close. I take the skirt in each hand, swinging it back and forth while blinking up at him. “You want to fuck me in the woods?”
He gives me a look of mock horror. “There’s a perfectly comfortable bed I can fuck you in, so no, Ms. Gallo, I have no plans to fuck you in the woods.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking hand in hand down the trail that leads to Benji and Gina’s cabin, making plans for Gallo’s and teasing each other over cherry red leather and expensive wood.
The clearing is empty, no sign of anyone around, but Clay motions for me to keep quiet and follow him.
We’re almost to the RV when we hear it. A moan, and the sounds of a bed creaking.
My eyes widen, and I smack Clay’s arm, pointing at the RV, because that’s definitely the sound of two people fucking. That moan sounded a lot like Milo.
Clay gives me a stern look, taking my hand and quickly pulling me onto the trail behind the RV.
When we’re out of earshot, I stop. “That was Milo. And Briar.”
“Yeah,” Clay says with a soft laugh. “He was supposed to be spending the day cutting up a tree or something.”
“How long have they been fucking?”
Clay tugs my hand again, and we resume walking. “Who knows? Maybe the whole time.”
He might be right. It would explain a lot, especially their reaction to my clumsy attempt at resurrecting my situationship with Milo all those weeks ago.
The trail ends at the back of a large shed. Clay leads me around to the front, where there’s a door to one side and a larger sliding door to the other.
“Is this Milo’s workshop?” I ask. There’s no sign above the door or anywhere that I can see.
“He never brought you here?” Clay lifts the key from the top of the door frame.
I shake my head. “Never.”
“I thought he would’ve shown it to you.”
Why would he? I wasn’t interested in his woodworking. “He’s really private about it.”
“True,” Clay says as he unlocks the door. “If it weren’t for the locked gate across the access road, we could’ve spared ourselves the hike.” He holds the door open for me, and I step inside.
The front room is a tiny office, with a beautiful desk and a few of the cheap filing cabinets like the ones I had in Gallo’s. The sleeping bag on the floor is out of place, as is the nearby water dish. Briar’s cat must be a regular visitor, although I’m surprised Milo would allow that.
Clay touches my back lightly as he walks past me on his way out of the office. I follow.
The workshop smells like wood shavings and leather, with a hint of something metallic. Vanilla, too, probably from the reed diffuser sitting on a table next to a handful of notebooks and those thick carpenter’s pencils—and oddly enough, a cat toy.
A beautiful dinning table of rich dark wood, finished and ready for delivery, sits next to the sliding door.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” I ask.
“He said I could show you,” Clay says in a casual way that isn’t exactly an affirmative. “Turn around.”
I do as I’m told and am rewarded with a devilish grin as he grabs my waist and walks me backwards across the room. The backs of my thighs hit something solid, and he lifts me, setting me on the surface. “Your new desk.”
Warm delight rushes through me, and I smile. “You bought me a desk?”
“More economical to go straight for a desk that will be able to withstand some serious fucking, rather than burning through flat pack furniture,” he says, leaning over me. His lips brush the corner of mine on their way to whisper in my ear. “But you can still give it a ridiculous name if you want.”
I grab the waist of his pants and pull him between my legs. “Are we allowed to try it out?”
He kisses just under my ear. “Milo said under no circumstances are we to use his workshop that way.” He takes me by the hips and slides me to the edge of the desk. “So I think we need to.”
I’m already unbuckling his belt. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“And he’s busy right now,” Clay says, his hands sliding up my thighs. “But mostly, when it comes to you, Ms. Gallo, I can’t help myself.”
The End