Page 52 of Clay

Ivy laughed. "More than I thought was ever possible. How can that be? We've only known each other a few days. I feel almost like this is a repeat of the firstSpeedwhere Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock fall hard and fast after being in a life-or-death situation. But by the time the sequel comes out, their romance is through. I don't think I could bear to lose him."

"That's not going to happen," Katie predicted confidently. "Because you wouldn't be the one losing anything. He would, and from the look of him last night, he knows it. So revel in this, girl. You've got something with him the rest of us only get to sigh over."

Ivy knew that was solid advice, so she hugged her friend again, hard, and drove herself home.

Clay was waiting when she got there, leaning up against his motorcycle and everything in her heart turned over simply at the sight of him. She carefully parked the Gremlin and walked straight into his arms.

"How did it go?" he asked against her hair, his arms banding tight around her. Keeping her safe, holding her close to his heart.

"Fine, we're good now," she said, lifting her face to his. He gave her a quick kiss then held out his hand for her keys.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Words, Clay, use your words."

That got an almost-smile, a quirk of those full lips that were so soft when compared to the rest of that chiseled face. "Keys please. I need to do the daily sweep. Even with Hamilton dead, we still have an unknown in play." He paused, looked deep into her eyes. "I will not endanger you, Ivy. I have to know you're safe."

So she handed her keys over wordlessly and waited just inside the locked door as he did his thing. When he returned, he walked straight to her, lifted her so quickly and effortlessly it startled a squeak out of her. She wrapped her legs around his waistautomatically, felt the length of him against her and hummed beneath her breath.

He took her mouth, there was no other way to describe it. And she let him. Allowed herself to be swept under, swept away, until she couldn't breathe without it being an extension of his exhalations. She knew they were moving, could feel his cock with each movement of his legs.

"Clothes," she breathed, "We've got too many clothes on."

He just took her mouth in another drugging kiss and began to climb the stairs. She clung to him and wondered how it could possibly get better. Every single time it was better.

"I've wanted to fuck you on this couch since I first saw it," he said, and pushed her down his body in a long slide. "Wanted to see you splayed out on it after I've made you come, your eyes glassy, your hair messy, your pussy wet from my mouth."

"Oh," she said faintly. He was definitely using his words. All of them. And very, very well.

He smiled at her, and it reminded her of that day in the elevator, when she'd wondered if she could handle this side of Clay. Now she knew she could, and so she returned the smile, even though the words he'd said still sung throughout her body.

He made quick work of her blouse, then pushed her skirt down, leaving her in her panties and bra. Today it was a matching peach set that made him hum in happy response. He ran a finger down the top of one cup. "I like these," he said, his voice almost choppy.

She would have marveled at the power of lingerie if she wasn't so turned on.

"I'll like them even better off," he said, and in response she slipped out of them, standing before him, vulnerable but not feeling the least bit scared. She jutted her chin at him. "Okay mister, you said the words, now show me."

That smile was back, the one that made her heart beat in triple time, as he eased her down on the couch, gently opened her legs, and worshipped her with his mouth and fingers, bringing her along so slowly, so sweetly that when she tipped over, it was on a sigh.

He sat back on his haunches, pure love and lust on his face, and surveyed her, a satisfied smile creasing his cheeks. "Mission accomplished," he said, standing to toe out of his boots, then shrug out of his jeans and shirt. She watched him with a happy fascination that she hoped would never, ever dim.

And when he came to her, joined with her, she knew she'd found her happy ending with the sexiest man she'd ever met.

Chapter Fifteen

Warren

Warren Bowman studied the small rosemary bush, trying to envision the shape hidden within. The events of the last week had left him feeling restless, and nothing calmed him more than unveiling the unexpected.

Over the course of his military career, he'd tried many, many things in an attempt to stay level. Booze was a perennial favorite, until you reached your late twenties and nothing came easy anymore. The older you got, the more intricate the assignments became, and the more carnage you saw.

The prescribed drugs had been a fantastic way to dull down the pain in his broken body, but he'd started to like them a little too much. In all honesty, he'd loved them, and the docs just kept handing them out like candy. He understood their motivation--the country had been at war, and the Air Force had needed people like him to get in early, usually under cover of darkness, call in airstrikes and get the hell out. The machine needed to churn on.

It'd taken the last round of therapy, where he'd met his SMS brothers and sisters, to discover bonsai, and to eventually kick what had become a raging opioid addiction. But he'd been clean now for over a year, and his house on the outskirts of Henderson had a copious amount of greenery that'd been meticulously sculpted whenever the cravings got too bad.

Now he did it out of habit more than anything else, or when he was stressed out.

Rosemary wasn't something he usually worked with, but he liked the scent of it and had heard placing one near the front door enhanced harmony within a home.

He usually employed more traditional bonsai practices, working with the plant to coax out something that flowed, but for this rosemary, he kept seeing a dragon in his head. So instead of bonsai, he'd dive into topiary. Either way he had his hands full of greenery and goodness.

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