All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(49)

“You’ll be fine,” she said, staring into his dark eyes. “This is a setback, but one you can manage.”

“I know. Mayor Marsha came by. She said if I needed to buy more land, she knows a guy.” The smile briefly returned. “Okay, she didn’t say it like that.”

“Good. Because I don’t like thinking of the mayor as someone who knows a guy.” She dropped her hands. “You’ll get your fall alfalfa planted and all will be well.”

“I’m telling myself that.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m still questioning myself on picking Nate. Maybe that was a mistake. Even Dante said to listen to my gut and I didn’t.”

“Are you unhappy with Nate’s work?”

“No.”

She tilted her head. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Rafe’s always been in charge. He was running the family when he was ten. Shane managed one of the biggest Thoroughbred breeding programs in the country. I’m a former underwear model.”

Self-doubt she understood. She took his hands in hers. Again, a conscious and slightly uncomfortable action, but it seemed appropriate.

“You’re a smart guy. You have the education and a vision. Drive matters more than experience. If you need help, ask. Until then, don’t assume you’ve made a mistake until the evidence is in. If you do screw up, then fix it.”

“Advice I’ve heard before.”

“Then why aren’t you listening?”

He leaned in and kissed her again, more slowly this time. His mouth lingered, which caused her thighs to heat up and her br**sts to start that achy thing they were so good at.

When he straightened, she found herself wanting to protest.

“Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You’re in it for the sex and this is not me at my most appealing.”

She squeezed his hands and stared at him. “Hey, we’re friends. Whatever else is going on, that won’t change. As for you not being sexy, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Into the vulnerable thing? I don’t think so.”

“You’re wrong. You being real is much more appealing than any guy on a calendar. I didn’t pick you because of how you look. If you’ll remember, that actually freaked me out a little. I picked you because I trusted you. I still do.”

He pulled one of his hands free and stroked the side of her face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I think of us as friends, too.” He kissed her mouth. “Good friends.”

She felt the exact moment his intentions shifted from conversation to something more. They weren’t touching anywhere except her hand in his and his fingers on her cheek, yet she knew she was right.

If asked a few days ago, she would have honestly claimed to be more interested in coffee and a Danish than anything a man could offer her. This morning, she was far more intrigued by Clay moving closer and pressing his lips to hers.

She parted her lips before being asked and met his tongue stroke for stroke. As the kiss deepened, she wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to get as close as possible.

He put his hands on her waist and quickly moved them higher. When he cupped her breast, she felt the contact all the way down to her toes.

She’d changed out of her uniform before leaving the station. Now she wore her usual jeans and a T-shirt. He explored her br**sts through the fabric, pausing to run his fingers across her tight ni**les. She shivered with delight.

He reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She helped him pull it off. Her bra went flying. Then his mouth was on her right breast with his hand on her left. He licked and sucked, drawing her into his mouth.

Desire turned liquid. She trembled, hanging on to him, wanting him to never stop. The heat inside intensified. With each pull, she felt an answering tug between her legs. She needed this, needed more.

Her breathing ragged, she ran her hands up and down his back, then tugged at his shirt. He stopped and jerked it over his head before tossing it away. Then they were kissing again, her bare br**sts nestling against his perfect chest.

“Not like this,” he murmured against her mouth. “Not in the kitchen. But Charlie...” He swore. “I just have to—”

His hands dropped to the waistband of her jeans. He undid the button and then the zipper.

She drew back from their kiss, her breathing still fast. Apprehension battled with need. She saw the passion in his eyes and knew he was as aroused as she was. He gave her a gentle smile.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

The smile turned into a grin. “Turn around. That way you can run if you need to.”

Aware she was topless, she did as he requested. He drew her close and put his left hand on one breast then the other. At the same time, he kissed the side of her neck. The combination of sensations chased away lingering doubt. His body was warm against her. Almost protection. This was Clay, she reminded herself. She trusted him.

He put his right hand on her belly, his fingers pointing down. He didn’t move them, even as he continued to stroke her br**sts and tease her aching ni**les. The tension returned and with it a need she hadn’t experienced before.

She knew about the whole concept of orgasms. After the rape, she’d done her best to avoid any sexual feelings. She ran from them, figuratively, most of the time. Occasionally literally. Now she found herself curious about what really happened. Was her body capable of surrendering that much? Would it be as great as everyone claimed?