Chapter 21
CLAY
A few hours later, fully dressed, steaming mug of coffee in hand, Clay stood looking out his bedroom window which opened onto the back porch and the views beyond.
The undulating expanse of pastures and trees provided the sweeping foreground to the rise of the distant mountains, their jagged peaks crisply defined against the backdrop of clear blue sky.
Icy snow crowned the very tips and shimmered in the sunshine.
And he normally couldn’t get enough of this view. Until this morning. Where a much more fascinating view lay just behind him.
Turning, he leaned his ass against the pane, his gaze falling on naked, gangly limbs playing peek-a-boo with his sheets, the curve of an ass cheek, the long line of a spine, a hint of nape, the fall of silky hair against his pillow, the jut of a shoulder, a relaxed profile, mouth softly parted in slumber.
Stephanie Everhart in his bed.
The sight of her filled up his chest. So full he found it difficult to breathe and look at her at the same time.
Last night had been a smorgasbord of sexual delight.
Stevie had been eager to learn all the ways and Clay had been hell-bent on teaching her, showing her how to give and receive pleasure in all its many splendored forms. And, just as with her riding, she had grown in confidence throughout the night.
But it hadn’t just been the sex – it had been the intimacy of their husky laughter and their low voices in the night as they’d swapped stories and shown each other pictures from their lives on their camera rolls.
And it had been the deeper talking. The stuff about her mom, the awful details of what had happened with Yolanda.
He felt he knew a side to her now that she rarely confided in anyone. She’d trusted him with her most devastating memories, she’d shared her wounds. It had probably been too much for something that didn’t have time to amount into anything of consequence, but it had felt right at the time.
He just wished he didn’t have to leave now.
But he’d already overslept – thanks to a night of scant sleep – and the guys would be waiting for him to start the day.
There were also several texts from his mother about the breakfast he’d missed.
Which meant there was some fires he’d probably have to put out and he’d work on that between his cabin and the ranch house but whatever excuse he came up with would be less believable the longer he dallied.
His phone buzzed and he looked at it to see another text notification from his mother. Reluctantly, he pushed off the window and strode to the bed. He should just leave her a note and go but it felt wrong after all they had shared last night.
She stirred the second he sat on the mattress, her eyes blinking open slowly against the light, Clay watching as her sleepiness cleared and a pinkness crept into her cheeks.
‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ he said with a smile.
‘Morning,’ she murmured, returning his smile.
‘You feeling okay today?’
Her smile turned sexy. ‘I feel ah-mazing.’
‘I feel amazing too,’ he admitted with a laugh.
Clay doubted he’d ever said those words to a woman the morning after. That was great. I had so much fun. Stand out night. Blah, blah, blah. All of which he’d meant.
But never how he felt.
Maybe because he’d never felt like this. Like every kink he’d ever had in any muscle – and in his line of work that was an occupational hazard – had been ironed out.
‘What time is it?’
‘Six thirty.’
‘Ugh.’ She grimaced. ‘You barely had three hours’ sleep. Come back to bed.’
She peeled the sheet back in invitation and Clay almost groaned at the sight – long, lithe body, pink nipples and soft curls at the apex of her thighs. His cock perked instantly to life but he couldn’t stay without rousing suspicion.
‘Witch,’ he muttered, leaning in, her arms winding around his neck as his mouth took hers in a lingering kiss that was not helping the situation in his jeans.
Reluctantly he pulled back, but her arms stayed locked around him.
‘I have to go,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m already late and questions will be asked.
But you stay. Stay all day if you want.’ He waggled his eyebrows.
‘Coffee in the pot, food in the fridge, hot water in the shower and a TV with every streaming station you could want. I’ll get back as early as I can. ’
She sighed as her hand slid from his shoulders. ‘While that does sound lovely, I’ve got the group trail ride this morning and some business stuff to deal with. If you give me two minutes to throw my clothes on, could you give me a lift to my cabin on your way?’
‘Sure.’ Clay had never seen any woman be ready in two minutes but if it meant he got to watch her try, he was prepared to keep ignoring his mother’s texts.
Much to his surprise, she was ready in two minutes, stomping into her boots as she scraped her hair back into a haphazard high bun, half of which wisped down immediately, which seemed to not concern her in the slightest.
‘Ready,’ she said, grabbing her phone off the bedside table.
She smiled at him, her lips full and lush, her eyeshadow from last night almost worn off, her eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes, her clothes rumpled to shit. She looked like she’d been thoroughly bedded, and his erection surged to full strength knowing he was the one responsible for her state.
He chuckled. ‘Okay then.’
Sliding an arm around her shoulders, she snuggled into his side as they walked to the door. ‘So this is what your place looks like in the daylight,’ she said, looking around the open space, her gaze drifting over the high wooden beams, the wide floorboards, the large stone fireplace.
‘Yeah.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry I didn’t stop last night to give you the tour.’
Her lips twitched. ‘I would have been most disappointed if you had.’
Clay grinned. ‘How about I pick you up this afternoon and you come back here for dinner. There’s a grill out on the back porch, and a great view. I can give you the proper tour then.’
He didn’t stop to think this was not only the first time a woman had stayed in his cabin but the first time he’d ever engineered a second night with one; he just knew he wanted to see her again.
Her smile was the sweetest. ‘I’d like that.’
The front door was nearby and Clay crowded her gently backwards, bumping her into it as he lowered his head to kiss her, his body pressed to hers, his hands bracketing either side of her head.
She leaned into him, raising on her tiptoes and moaning, which slithered like the scrape of a fingernail down his dick.
God… he was never going to get out of here if they kept doing this.
With a giant effort he pulled out of the kiss, his hands still planted either side of her head. ‘It’s going to be a very long day.’
She smiled and it was smug as fuck, and it looked good on her.
‘About today.’ Her fingers smoothed up his shirt, toying with the open buttons at his neck, her expression serious now.
‘Would it be okay if we kept this… thing just between the two of us? I’m not ashamed of it or anything and I don’t regret it,’ she hastened to add.
‘It’s just that everyone in the country seems to know so much about me and it’d be nice to keep this private. ’
‘Of course.’ His hands moved from the door to cup her face. Since leaving the circuit he’d refused any and all media approaches to talk about his derailed career or his injury or his chances of a comeback. ‘I don’t want anyone knowing our business either.’
She huffed out a sigh. ‘Thank you.’
She went to kiss him again but Clay shook his head with a laugh. ‘No way.’ He grabbed the door knob and twisted. ‘You’re too tempting.’
Swooping his arm around her waist, he pulled her away from the door as he swung it open, walking her outside with her clinging to him, laughing and kissing her despite the temptation because he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this damn happy.
Until he broke off the kiss and discovered his father was standing still as a statue on the porch stairs.
Well… fuck.
‘Surprise,’ John Calhoun said, looking between the two of them, his lips twitching.
‘Hey,’ Clay said, noticing his father’s horse tethered to the porch railing, which explained why he didn’t hear a vehicle approaching.
‘Oh, hey, Mr Calhoun.’ Stevie’s voice was high as she stared askance at his father.
‘I think John’ll be fine,’ he murmured, the smile kicking up slightly before he turned his attention to Clay. ‘Your mom texted a few times to see whether you wanted some breakfast sent up.’
Damn it. Why hadn’t he checked the content of his texts? When he was first back from the hospital, Clay’s appetite had not been great and many mornings breakfast had arrived on his doorstep whether he’d wanted it or not.
‘I volunteered to bring it as I was going past.’ He brandished the brown paper bag in his hand before passing it to Clay.
‘Ah… thanks,’ he said taking it on autopilot.
John Calhoun tipped his hat at Stevie, bidding her a polite goodbye before eyeing Clay. ‘See you later, son.’
He turned away then, unhitching his horse and mounting it before turning it around and clopping calmly away.
‘Oh God.’ Stevie’s hand clutched her stomach. ‘So much for keeping this to ourselves.’
‘It’s okay.’ He slid his hands onto her upper arms, meeting her gaze. ‘Dad’s not going to say anything to anyone.’
‘He’ll tell your mom, though.’
Oh shit. ‘Yeah…’ He sighed. ‘Probably.’
She rubbed her forehead as she stared past his shoulder.
‘What if she… disapproves, or thinks… I’m using you.
I mean, I suppose I am, right? Or what if she thinks that it’s more than it is, like…
something serious?’ She turned panicked eyes on him.
‘I have to leave here in two weeks, Clay. I have a tour and an agent and a record label and responsibilities to fans and my mother—’