Page 7 of Clint & Ivy

When Clint chuckled in reaction, his deep voice rumbled in his chest with the same power as the motorcycle.

I soaked in the heat of his body and imagined when his beautiful gaze would be on me again. This deliciously sticky and hot feeling in my belly had to be lust. I was addicted to it instantly.

Of course, I’d found men attractive before. But actors, sports figures, and rock stars were only images on my TV. With my arms wrapped around Clint, I was very aware of the reality of my current situation.

Pressing my face against his back, I struggled against my lustful thoughts. Days ago, I’d come face to face with male desire. I’d hoped to never see another strange man up close again.

Yet, Clint inspired me to imagine his hands on my body. What would his kisses taste like? Would I share his bed tonight?

Or possibly, I was reading everything wrong. Instead of obsessing about the unknown, I admired the place I hoped to call home.

The city’s downtown was filled with quaint shops and diverse restaurants. This area seemed fresher than the old-school businesses right off the highway.

We arrived at an industrial-style building with the words “Five Points Lofts” etched in steel on the front.

Rolling into the underground parking garage, Clint parked in what I assumed was his assigned spot next to a four-door black truck.

Despite feeling like a new and improved Ivy, I still tumbled off the bike. Clint slid off the motorcycle with ease. His large hand hooked under my armpit and steadied me.

“Are you okay?” he asked and stared down at me.

Nodding, I was again struck by the sheer weight of his good looks. Offering a little smile, he handed me the only property I had left in the world. I hugged my purse to my chest and stared at Clint.

His smile widened when I admired him for too long. He gestured for us to start walking to the garage door.

“Many of my club guys live in this building,” he explained while waving his key fob in front of the door’s security pad. “If there’s trouble, we’ll have backup.”

“Do you think those men can find me here?” I mumbled, unsure if I should speak or not. “They hadn’t caught up to Uncle Dwight and me yet.”

I frowned at how the men were likely waiting for us to run out of steam somewhere. Maybe Uncle Linus told them about Dwight’s illness.Did they think they could sweep in and grab me once my dying uncle gave up on running? Or were they right behind us, and I barely escaped?

I felt the past tugging me down as soon as I stepped away from my lust for Clint and curiosity about this new life.

“I don’t know who is chasing you, so there’s no way to know how persistent they’ll be,” he replied and entered the elevator. “This building is secure, though.”

“Thank you,” I said rather than declaring my undying affection for my sexy hero.

The control panel revealed four floors and a rooftop terrace. He pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the doors shut, Clint grinned at whatever he saw on my face.

Exiting the elevator, Clint guided me down the wide, brick-walled hallway to a corner unit at the other end. I counted six condos located on this floor. He opened his door and waited for me to enter.

My practical voice warned against trapping myself inside this man’s home. No one knew I was here. I could disappear without a single person tying my death to Clint Reed.

I was faced with two paths. Both were dark and filled with unknowns. One offered Clint as a guide. The other left me alone. My practical voice was filled with fear rather than sensible advice.

I entered the condo and took in the sight of the two-story family room with a wall of windows facing the city. The building’s industrial vibe mixed with what I assumed was Clint’s rustic tastes. The home felt masculine yet welcoming with earthy brown colors mixed with coppers and taupe. The open kitchen included a kitchen island with a stainless-steel countertop and knotty wood base.

A black metal staircase led to a loft bedroom. I spotted a small room off the kitchen, possibly a second bedroom.

“I have a spare room. My sister and nephew use it when they stay over,” Clint said and walked past me toward the door off the kitchen. I followed him after a glance up at the loft bedroom where I imagined Clint spent his nights. “There are two beds in here.”

The bedroom was painted a pale beige. Twin beds rested against opposite walls, one next to the bathroom wall and the other under a window facing the city.

“There used to be a single bed in here,” Clint explained as he stood inches from me. “Elle and Sutter would sleep together. It was cute. But he’s seven now. Elle worried she might turn him into the next Norman Bates if they still shared a bed.”

I took a second to understand the reference. Looking up at Clint, I was taken aback by the sheer force of his good looks.How could I ever have a normal conversation with a man so handsome?

“I don’t know what happens next,” I mumbled, too stunned by his beauty to consider the weight of my words.

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