Page 12 of Clay

His words were delivered so matter-of-factly that she found herself absolutely believing them. And they made so much sense, were so abstractly logical, when she’d given up logical thinking about two weeks ago.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, centering herself.

“Okay, what do we do next?”

“Given the fact that we’re still tracking down your mystery caller, I’ll be staying on your couch for the foreseeable future, unless you’d like to reconsider that safe house. There are too many variables at play right now and I’m not comfortable in leaving you alone.” His words were calm, measured. Exactly what she should have anticipated from him. And hadn’t.

The thought of having him in her living space for more than the now was momentarily paralyzing. Not because of fear, for some reason she had absolutely zero concerns about her safety with Clay, but because she’d never had anyone stay over in the spare room besides Katie, and that’d been right after she’d moved to Vegas.

Having this amazingly hot specimen of man staying with her? Well, that was temptation in a bottle, even if he’d given her absolutely zero signals the attraction was returned.

But he was the professional, knew what he was doing. Had done this before. So she’d trust in his experience and try not to make an ass of herself.

~

Ivy bedded him down in the spare room. The room had acted as her studio before she’d finished the downstairs space to her satisfaction, and then as a landing spot for Katie when her friend moved west.

Now it held her protector, whether she wanted him here or not. He’d made that crystal clear when she’d protested, albeit weakly. Said he didn’t need anything, just had to move his bike to a more secure location.

He’d called whoever kept texting him as well--she thought the name was Devin--and given him what he called a sitrep. It all sounded very secret and military. She’d thought she’d seen and heard it all throughout her childhood, but apparently, she’d missed some things. Then again, it wasn't as if her father hadengaged in serious military conversations with her. It'd been clear from her youth that she was destined for things less rigid than the military.

Clay had explained there’d be some kind of plan for them to enact in the morning, and hopefully more information on where Katie could possibly be. And since she’d set these wheels in motion, she headed down to her studio to catch up on her commission work.

Of course he accompanied her, but once she became immersed in her latest project, a series of five panels depicting the Neon Museum and various old casino signs, the world around her ceased to exist. It was an on-spec job for one of the newer hotel conglomerates, and while it wasn’t her normal style, she was having fun with it.

This painting was more suited to neon and night, at least in her estimation, so instead of working on it when the morning light was flowing and bright, she’d set up a night schedule, relegating her pet portraits and work of the heart to the daytime hours.

She surfaced hours later, halfway done with a stylized conception of the Sands, the Mirage and the Dunes signs, alight and stacked in a row against a vibrant purple sky, and realized it had to be past midnight.

Clay hadn’t moved, was still seated in the comfy armchair she’d rescued from Goodwill. He watched her with that same unnerving gaze, his head tilted slightly as he looked at what she’d accomplished.

“That’s really good,” he said, and warmth spread through her. She wasn’t used to people seeing her work until it was finished and ready for the customer.

“I don’t know a ton about art,” he said, “but I know what I like and I like that.” He stood and moved to see the painting from a different angle.

She laughed and it felt good to feel joy after what seemed like weeks of worry and anxiety. Felt like the space she normally inhabited.

“You want a nightcap?” she asked as she stood and stretched up, up, up, working out the kinks before folding her body in half, her head resting against her knees for a long moment, releasing the tension that’d accumulated while she sat, focused on her work.

“I’m good,” he replied, his voice rough.

She unfolded herself, found his gaze on her again, but this time it wasn’t calm and steady. No, now he looked at her like he wanted to eat her up with a spoon.

Warmth swirled in her belly as she stepped to him, into his space, into his scent, into his safety and heat and intensity. And this time she went with her gut, rose to her tiptoes, and kissed him.

Chapter Four

Clay stood frozen for a long second, and then his body took over.

His hands caged her hips, pulling her against him as he took over the kiss.

She went pliant beneath his hands for a moment, then gave as good as she got, surging against him before she gave a little jump and wrapped herself around him.

It was like being enveloped in pure happiness, pure sensuality, and something that’d been lying dormant within him for so, so long flared to life.

He mapped her mouth with his own, drenching himself in her taste when she opened her mouth, took him even deeper into sensuality, tapped into an area of himself that had been dying of thirst.

Without even being aware that he’d moved, they were suddenly against one of the walls, the solidity shocking him for one brief second, bringing him back to time and place long enough to pull his head away, to take a gulp of air that didn’t give him clarity, simply a lungful of the vibrant scent of her and thatquickly he was swept away again, diving into the lushness of her, the taste that promised sin and salvation all at once.

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