Chapter Thirty
Pepper
I wake to the feel of Clay’s warm lips moving down my neck. “Morning,” I say sleepily.
“It’s not morning yet.” He nips at my lower lip, and I realize it’s dark outside. “I just couldn’t wait another second to taste you.”
Thrills skitter through me like we didn’t leave a movie early last night to ravenously devour each other. We barely made it into the house before tearing off each other’s clothes and getting frisky with the silk scarf he bought me in Paris. It’s hard to believe that was only a little more than a month ago. I swear time moves in a blur when we’re together. We’ve done so much in the week and a half since I hired Clare, it feels much longer. Clay’s working hard on moving forward with his foundation and practicing with Ben and the other guys, and I watched my first Super Bowl, beat Clay in his video game fair and square, and although I didn’t get the funding for the migraine device, MS Enterprises is still considering funding the hands-free mouse alternative. Life is good , and while I know my work stands on its own, I also know the incredible man who is currently looking at me with emotion that feels a lot like love is the reason behind its wonderfulness.
“Then don’t let me stop you,” I say sassily. “Carry on.”
He makes a gruff, appreciative sound and does just that. I revel in the feel of his hot hands caressing my breasts, his talented mouth nipping and kissing along the swell of them. He lowers his mouth over one nipple, rolling the other between his finger and thumb, and I bow off the mattress. “Clay—”
He smiles against my skin, then does it again, drawing a loud moan from my lungs. I push my hands into his hair as he drags his scruff along that sensitive skin, sending prickles of pleasure radiating outward from my chest, down my limbs to the tips of my fingers and toes. His hand skims my ribs as his mouth blazes a path south, obliterating my ability to think about anything other than the desire growing hotter with every touch of his lips.
He teases me, kissing my inner thighs and all around my sex until I’m drenched with desire, squirming and begging for more. When he finally lowers his mouth to where I need it most, the first slick of his tongue nearly sends me over the edge. But he’s become a master at making me want , holding me at the verge of madness until my entire body pulses with need. He pushes my legs open wider, continuing the exquisite torture. I dig my heels into the mattress, my fingernails into his shoulders. “Clay, please— ”
He takes my clit between his teeth and pushes his fingers inside me, masterfully finding that hidden spot that has my toes curling and my breath hitching. He does something incredible with his fingers, sending electricity arcing through me. My hips shoot off the mattress as pleasure explodes inside me like rapid-fire missiles. I cry out, and he pushes my hips down, devouring me as incoherent sounds fly from my lips. I’m pretty sure I’m speaking in tongues, but as I surrender to the pleasure bowling me over, I don’t care.
As he does so often, he stays with me until I sink into the mattress, and then he kisses his way up my body. Every touch of his lips causes a sharp gasp of pleasure. “ Need you ,” I whimper, reaching for him as he aligns our bodies. His weight is deliciously familiar, and the feel of his hard length nestled against my center has me opening my legs wider. Those loving blue eyes reach deep into my soul, and I love you whispers through my mind. It doesn’t shock me. I’ve felt it building for weeks, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me.
“My beautiful, brilliant girl,” he whispers, his dimples coming out to play. “How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”
“You charmed your way in and left me no choice.”
“I’d do it all over again.”
His mouth comes coaxingly down over mine and he thrusts, burying himself to the hilt. Pleasure consumes me, and “ Ohgod ,” comes out in one long breath, as he grits out, “ Jesus. How does it get better every time?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, reclaiming my mouth in a merciless kiss, which is a good thing, because I couldn’t form a word if my life depended on it.
We thrust and grind, grasping and clawing, our moans and murmurs filling the air. He lifts my legs at the knees, driving into me deeper, rougher. “ Yes. Don’t stop ,” I beg, and he makes a low, guttural noise as he pounds into me. I feel every blessed inch of him stroking that secret spot as our mouths reconnect in messy, urgent kisses. My body trembles with desire so hot it burns. I claw at his back, and he fists his hands in my hair, sending streaks of pain and pleasure whipping through me, unleashing a torrent of pure, explosive ecstasy. “ Clay— ”
He’s right there with me, gritting out my name as our bodies shudder and pulse, binding us with something as true and vast as the dizzying world around us. And then I’m floating on a cloud of happiness, coming down from the high.
He kisses me tenderly and brushes his lips over mine. “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”
“ Mm . To you, too.”
“Are you still nervous about going home?” We’re driving to Oak Falls after breakfast and meeting my family at the festival.
“I’m sure I will be later, but it’s hard to be nervous about anything when I’m so blissed out.”
He smiles, and we lie nose to nose, tangled together like mating snakes, whispering and kissing, his warm hand moving soothingly up and down my back. “If you’re up to it, we can cuddle under blankets on a lounge chair on the deck and watch the sunrise.”
We’ve been spending so many nights at his place, it’s starting to feel as much like home as my house, which it shouldn’t, since it’s not even Clay’s property. But it is for now. I’ve got clothes in the closet and in the drawers, and he even bought a latte machine. I like coming here after work, seeing his hoodies and shoes lying around and spending time in the hot tub and on the deck. He got me to work out with him a couple of times in the home gym, but we prefer horizontal workouts.
“I’d like that,” I say. “But I need a minute to wash up.”
“Let me brush my teeth, and then you can do your thing.” He kisses me again, then heads into the bathroom.
I’m still lying in bed when he comes out. He pulls on boxer briefs and strides over to the bed, looking gorgeously lickable.
“What’s that grin for, temptress?”
“I like looking at you.”
“I like devouring you.” He leans down to kiss me and then heads over to the dresser and puts on sweats and a hoodie. “Take your time. We’ve got about twenty minutes before the sun rises. I’ll get the blankets and make you a latte. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I lie sated and happy, thinking about how much has changed. It’s been weeks since I felt the pressure to check email and catch up on work in my off hours. That’s a little scary, but my work hasn’t paid the price. If anything, I’ve been more productive lately. We finished the design for the sensory glove, and we pick it up this week from Kenji for a trial run. I had no idea that being happy could make me more focused in the time I have at work, clearing my plate to spend time with Clay in the evenings and weekends.
That man is good for me in more ways than I can count.
I get up and head into the bathroom. My heart skips at the sight of an envelope on the counter with my name scrawled across it in his blocky handwriting. I open it and withdraw a card with red hearts scattered around the message:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have a list
of naughty things
I want to do with you
I open the card, and there are several pictures of teddy bears in dirty positions. The male has hearts for eyes, and the female has long lashes and red lips. There’s a picture with the female on all fours and the male taking her from behind, another of her riding him, and one of her on her knees in front of him. There’s a picture of her lying on her back with his head between her legs and another of her hanging from a chandelier with him lying prone beneath her. Beneath the pictures Clay has written, Happy Valentine’s Day, Reckless. There’s no one else I’d rather call mine than you. He drew a lopsided heart and signed his name.
I read it again, bubbling over with happiness, and look in the mirror. I’m smiling at nothing. I’m always smiling these days. Clay’s voice whispers through my mind. Nothing is as impressive as that unstoppable smile of yours. I remember how much his words affected me in Paris, but that’s nothing compared to how they affect me now. I study myself for a moment.
My hair is a tangled mess, and I look a little tired, but there’s no mistaking the joy in my eyes staring back at me. I thought I looked different when I returned from Paris, like I’d left a piece of myself there. Now I see another change, and I know what was missing. Before going to Paris, I thought I was happy. But now I know I was happy enough —enough to survive and be content. I hadn’t just left a piece of myself in Paris when I left Clay. In the short time we had together, I’d found true happiness, and I’d left that behind, too.
Now I look like myself again, only better. And that man downstairs is the reason.
I need to find a way to let him know.
After brushing my teeth and washing up, I pull on leggings, thick, fuzzy socks, and one of Clay’s hoodies and head out of the bedroom. My pulse quickens at a trail of red rose petals leading down the stairs and into the living room. I lose my breath at dozens of bouquets of gorgeous red and pink roses on every surface, and there in the middle of the room, is Clay, with a coffee mug in one hand and a loving smile on his lips.
“ Clay …?” I say breathily.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” He sets the mug on the coffee table and steps aside, motioning toward the couch he was standing in front of.
My gaze moves over several large photographs of my favorite things, with a big red bow on the corner of each elaborate frame. The frames could only have been decorated by Morgyn. I recognize her signature mix of colorful elements and repurposed metals, which are as eclectic as they are beautiful. Tears spring to my eyes, and I point at the picture of my mother standing in her kitchen, smiling warmly like she always does. “How did you…?” My voice cracks.
“I hired Hawk to take the pictures.” He reaches for my hand, leading me over to them. “Your mom’s smile, because it always makes you happy every time you walk into their kitchen and see it.” He nods to the picture of my father standing by the barn, holding out his hand, as if offering it to me. “Your father’s hand, because it makes you feel safe.”
Tears spill down my cheeks as he motions to each picture, reciting what I told him about each one weeks ago.
“The lake near your parents’ house where you and your dad used to sail the boats you built.” The sun is glistening off the water, and on the side of the lake are the boats my father and I built together. “Your father saved all of your boats.”
I laugh softly, more tears falling.
He motions to the picture of the lab in the barn. “I asked him why he kept the lab all these years, and he said, So my princess can sneak out there anytime she wants to .”
“I have a few times when life was overwhelming,” I admit, wiping more tears.
He nods to the front of the Stardust Café, with its old-fashioned sign and big picture window. “Because you have so many great memories there.” He points to the next picture, the sun setting over the creek. Sable’s old guitar is leaning against the rocks we used to sit on. “The beautiful creek where you and Sable used to go for walks.”
“And she’d play the guitar,” I say as more tears spring free.
“And tell you all her secrets. You felt closest to her there.” He motions to the next photograph. “And the tree by the old church in town, where you felt like you did when we were in Paris.”
“Like I could just be me. In the moment,” I say just above a whisper.
“That’s right, baby.” He guides me in front of the last two photographs, of the Eiffel Tower and the carousel we rode in Paris, both taken in the dusky morning light without any people around them. “I thought you might like them for your office even though they weren’t on your list.”
“I do want them there. I love them all.” I turn to hug him, but he holds up his hand.
“We’re not done yet.” He goes behind the couch and picks up two more picture frames. “I thought you might like these for your house.”
He turns them around, and my heart nearly stops. One is a picture of us at the top of the Eiffel Tower as the sun sets. His arm is around me, and we’re gazing at each other. The adoration in our eyes is as palpable and real as the emotions clogging my throat. The second picture is of us holding hands on the carousel, both of us laughing.
My throat thickens anew. “Who took those?”
“I can’t divulge my sources.” He sets them in front of the couch.
“I can’t believe you did all of this and remembered everything I said. Thank you.” I throw my arms around him, holding tight.
“I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them, and I love my card.” And I love you .
He gazes into my eyes, and he looks so serious, it feels like he’s going to say something important. But the seriousness fades, and his dimples appear. “I wish I could have taken the pictures myself.” He kisses me softly. “Ready to watch the sunrise? I put the blankets outside.”
“Yes. I have a gift for you, too, but I can’t give it to you until we’re in Oak Falls.”
“That’s intriguing.” He hands me my latte, and as we head out to the deck, he says, “Christening your lab in the loft of the barn?”
I shake my head, laughing softly.
“Revisiting the site where you lost your virginity to obliterate those memories with better ones?”
God , he loves to make me laugh, and I love that about him. “You’re impossible.”
He wraps me in his arms and kisses me. “And you’re my reckless girl, which means anything is possible.”