Page 38 of Clay

So instead of telling him how sorry she was about his father, about the loss of his mother, she drew him in for another kiss. Whispered against his lips, “Thank you for sharing that withme, it means more than you know.” She deepened the kiss, not as a reward for his soul baring, but because she wanted to feel that connection with him again, and when he moved to pull her beneath him, she smiled and shook her head. Slid down his body, took him in her mouth. And loved him in the only way he’d allow. Right now.

~

Clay woke again, Ivy nestled against his side, her hair fanning out over his chest, her hand on his heart once more.

He replayed what he’d said in his head. Why in the world had he opened up like that? And as soon as he had the thought, he had an answer. Because she got him, right down to his soul. Even if he knew so much more about her than she did him, it almost seemed like she knew what he was thinking. It was a connection he’d never experienced before, hadn’t believed was possible.

She cuddled deeper against his side, murmuring against his shoulder and his heart turned over.

He’d been attracted to her from the moment he’d seen her, and last night had been the natural extension of that attraction. But it was more. So much more that he was afraid to even name it, lest it disappear. All he knew was that right now, Ivy Foster was the only woman in the world he cared about. And until she was safe and Hamilton was behind bars, that was the most he would allow himself to feel. Because he couldn’t lose another woman who was important to him. Not after his mother, his grandmother.

He wouldn’t.

She pushed up on one elbow and looked him over, her hair gloriously tangled from his fingers. “Good morning…again.” She smiled. “This time we probably actually need to get out of bed.” Her expression was wry, a bit self-deprecating.

He fought against the laugh that originated somewhere in the vicinity of his heart… and failed.

She was going to be the death of him.

~

Clay pulled on a pair of jeans that conformed to each and every curve of his body and made her sigh just a little in appreciation and remembrance before she slipped into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Last night had been a night for the ages, something she couldn’t wait to repeat, but now the sun was shining, and it was time to leave their bedroom cocoon of awesomeness and face reality. Figure out what they were going to do now that Katie was safe.

But first, coffee.

She wasn’t overly surprised to see that it was past ten and saw Clay glance at his watch in surprise as they walked into the kitchen. “I’ve never slept this late,” he said with a little bit of horror that made her laugh out loud.

“I promise it won’t kill you,” she said, and scooped coffee into the gazillion dollar machine. She was pretty sure the price wasn’t going to make it brew any faster, but a girl could hope.

She felt remarkably refreshed despite the lack of caffeine. “You’re lucky you’re great in the sack, because normally I can’t form more than two words before coffee.”

He smiled, a slow, beautiful thing that lit up his face. “I’m aware.”

She waited for a beat, then laughed again. “Aware of how good you are in bed or how much I need my coffee?”

The grin stayed in place. “Both.”

The man was insufferable. He puttered while the coffee brewed, putting together his tea, and she wondered how often he stayed here. Then she figured why shouldn’t she ask?

“So, Airman, do you come here often?” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, keeping it light.

He looked up from his fiddling, surprise on his face. “No, first time I’ve been here.” He looked down at the tea, and a look ofunderstanding crossed his face. “I suspect Dev had everything set up yesterday, while we were at your mom's.” He shrugged. "It's just his way."

Ivy considered that for a moment. Even though he was the consummate professional, Dev had seemed... nice. So yeah, she could see him having the hotel set everything up the way she and Clay would want it, all the way down to the kind of tea that Clay preferred.

She was inhaling her second cup of coffee on the sumptuous leather sofa when her cell rang. She grabbed it and crossed over to Clay, while he madly texted Dev, she assumed. When he gave her a quick nod she swiped right.

“This is Ivy,” she said keeping her voice bright and professional. If it was the asshole, it wouldn’t matter how she sounded but if it was someone else, she still had a business to run.

“Miss Foster, my name is Rich Chastain, and I was just hired to spruce up the Zephyr. I’ve seen some of your work at the other casinos and down on Fremont, and I’d like to chat about what we might be able to do for each other.”

Ivy barely managed to contain her squeal of pleasure. Everything she’d done so far had been piecework. A job like this would take her to the next level, would allow her to finish up the things she wanted in her home, maybe even take a vacation. And to have it in the casino next door, so beautiful and classy, made it even sweeter still. She looked over at Clay, who was rolling his finger telling her to draw it out, so she did.

“Mr. Chastain, I’d be more than happy to meet. What would be convenient for you?”

“If you could meet here at the casino, that would be great. I’d like you to really get an idea for what my vision is. And then we can talk some pricing. Would today, say one o’clock, be all right?”

She glanced quickly at Clay who was nodding, a look of relief on his face.

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