No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) (14 page)

“Did anyone ask where you were going?” Sally glanced at him. He’d been engrossed in studying the three page, single-spaced contract she’d had drawn up, she’d told him, by a legal site online. No way in hell he planned on missing this chance. He stood and slipped off his jacket, stuffed the tie in the pocket and walked up behind her.

“Oh.” She shot him a quick glance, her beautiful cheeks blushed crimson.

“Let me do that.” He eased her hands to her sides and leaned forward to place a kiss on the corkscrew tendrils at the back of her neck. He’d thought about this more times than he cared to admit. Unfastening the clip, he threaded his fingers through her hair, fascinated in watching it tumble in rich, red waves over her bare shoulders. His fingers brushed her skin and he heard a soft gasp, felt her body stiffen. He moved closer, breathing in her scent, something floral, sexy and so like Sally. A mystery, a mustang—all woman. He wanted her out of that gown, and his hands moved over the front of her following every curve. “I’ve been trying to decide if the zipper is on the side or in the back.” Half aroused already, he realized she wore no bra beneath all this glitter.

“The side,” she purred, leaning back into him.

He spied the zipper, eased it down partway and slipped his hand inside covering her bare breast.

“Oh, okay,” she said, releasing a breathy sigh. “Before we go any further, there’s a couple of things we should talk about.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He rolled her rosy nub between his fingers, eliciting the languid response he’d hoped for.

“N-not exactly.” She looked over her shoulder. “I need you to do something for me.”

He chuckled. “I thought that’s why I was here.”

She turned to face him then. “I meant about the contract.”

He eyed her. “I’ve read it, and agreed to everything, and signed it.”

Sally swallowed, visibly nervous about something. “Thank you. I think it’s best for both of us, don’t you?”

“Sally.” He leveled her a direct look, hoping to make her see she was killing the mood. “My knowledge is limited on some things, but I’m pretty certain no one has ever been conceived by lengthy discussions.”

She nodded. “I know, but what I have to say… might cause you to change your mind. And I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did. But I feel I need to be honest with you.”

Despite the cold water moment to his libido, he appreciated her desire to be transparent. “Okay, what is it?”

“I... I can’t quite pay you what I indicated in the contract—that is, unless you’re willing to take payments.”

“Sally,” he said, softening his voice, “money is the last thing on my mind, right now.”

She wrung her hands and then looked at him. “I just want you to understand. I used most of what I’d planned to give you on bidding for you.”

He ran his hands down her arms. “Then let’s consider it even. It’s what I’d planned to do with the money, anyway. Now,” he lowered his head, brushing his lips to hers with a teasing smile. “At some point, this night becomes less about talking”—he gently bit her lower lip— “and more about doing.”

“I haven’t done this in a while,” she said breathlessly. Her hands cupped his face, her mouth demanding, seductive… in short, driving him mad with need.

“Like riding a bike,” Clay whispered, brushing his mouth along her jaw. God, she smelled like heaven.

Her fingers tugged his shirt from the waistband.

“Hang on, sweetheart. This is a rental.” He stepped back, his gaze holding her appreciative, smoldering gaze. He removed his shirt and tugged his undershirt over his head.

“You look like a fantasy from a James Bond movie,” she said, reaching out tentatively to touch him, tracing the tattoo over his heart.

He hooked the skinny straps of her gown with his fingers, drawing it past her waist, letting it slither the rest of the way to the floor. His gaze traveled past those lips he already loved to taste and stopped. “What the hell… are those?” Clay blinked, then peered at the flesh-colored flowers covering her breasts.

“Oh,” she hunched over to cover herself, grimacing as she quickly removed each one. “They’re meant to lift your… breasts when you don’t wear a bra with a tight gown.”

Seduction, as a rule—at least for him—had never held much humor. He glanced away, covering his mouth to hide his grin.

She batted his shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself by holding it in. Go on, laugh. Guys don’t have to worry about stuff like this.” She frowned, absentmindedly rubbing her breasts.

Oh, hell, yeah. His dick snapped to attention. Clay eyed her as he cleared his throat. “You are…without a doubt, the most unpretentious woman I’ve ever met.” He touched her cheek, watching her expression soften. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

She blinked and looked away, seemingly embarrassed by his tender remark. He was equally surprised. Poetic words had never come easy for Clay.

“I-I’ve never thought about it.”

He smiled. “Your breasts are perfect, Sally.” He curled his hand around the back of her head and brought her lips to his. She pulled him to the edge of the bed and savoring one more kiss, he took a step back. Old wounds from his past crept into his brain. He raked his hand though his hair, sighed, and tried a diplomatic approach. “Sally,” Clay said. He took a step back, his hands on his hips. “Let’s just acknowledge the elephant in the room.”

She tilted her head, a smile curling her tempting lips. Her gaze lowered to where his erection tented his trousers.

He ran his hand down his face and blew out a sigh. “My leg, I’m talking about my leg.”

“Your leg?” she asked, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Oh, I see. Well, is there a position that’s more comfortable for you?”

He raised his brows. He hadn’t expected that answer. Hell, she still had the bedside light on. Given his ex-fiancée’s reaction, he assumed she’d need some time to get used to it. Or that, in fact, it might completely change her mind about being with him.

His gaze met hers. “You mean it doesn’t bother you?”

Sally leaned forward and dipped her fingers over his waistband, drawing him close. She unfastened his trousers. “I don’t know, maybe you better show me.”

His hand covered hers, halting the task. “I’m not kidding here.”

She studied him a moment, before responding. “This is about your fiancée, isn’t it?”

He hated to admit it, but as long as they were being transparent. “Yes.”

“You want to know what I think?” She took his hands and drew him to sit beside her. “I think she did us all a favor. If things hadn’t gone as they did, you might never have come to the ranch… to End of the Line.” She shrugged and gently pushed him back on the bed. “Besides, just one less appendage to tangle with,” she said, unzipping his fly. “And there’s only one that really matters to me right now.” She smiled. “I’ve done my research, Clay Saunders. I figure we’re only limited by our imaginations.”

He sat up, capturing her face in his hands as he kissed her. It was fierce, hard. All the pain, the rejection coalesced into a powerful need to please her.

She scooted to the headboard, resting on her elbows as she watched him remove the rest of his clothes and unlatch his leg in what seemed very little time. Her eyes grew wide as he crawled toward her. He couldn’t avoid what life had thrown at him. But he was lean, hard, ripped from a flawless workout regime and work on the ranch. Freed from his jockey’s, his proud erection was, quite frankly, a thing of beauty.

“Forgive me.” Her gaze bounced up to his. “But your ex… seriously stupid.”

“You won’t be needing these,” he said, skimming her panties off and tossing them over his shoulder with a grin.

Having no need for protected sex offered a wild kind of indulgence. He covered her body, sliding into her tight warmth, wasting no time with soft words. Their love-making was primal. Curling her legs around him, she rose to meet his every thrust, her fingers pressing into the hard muscle of his butt as she held him close.

His body was on fire, blinded by the power he felt in the freedom of her acceptance. Clay felt an inexplicable pleasure as he watched her facial expressions, heard her soft sighs—how, lost in bliss, her lids fluttered shut.

“Sally.” Clay wanted her to open her eyes, yet when she looked up at him, he was slammed with desire, yes, but also with something more than the connection they shared. “How are we doing?” he asked, hanging on by sheer willpower.

She grabbed the head board, and, arching her back, locked into his gaze with a look of challenge. He grabbed her hip, shifting his angle as he quickened his thrusts. His desire to see her pleasure drove him until, with a soft, sigh, her body closed around him. Only then, did Clay follow her over, his body trembling with the intensity of his own release.

Crazy. Amazing. Catching his breath, he braced on his elbow, their bodies still fused, and waited.

She turned her head and reached up to touch his cheek. A sheen—
were those tears
—caused her eyes to glisten. “I don’t think the leg will be an issue.”

He leaned down and touched his lips softly to hers. Damn. That was a mistake. Too close. Too intimate. He searched her eyes, hoping for something profound to enter his mind. “Did I see a bathroom upstairs? Did you need to…?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. It’s just outside the door on the left.” Clay drew on his briefs and maneuvered his leg in place. He thought about what he was doing. Sally had turned out to be more than he’d planned. She wanted sex. For a specific purpose, yes, but not with intimacy. He’d thought that after all he’d been through, all that had happened, that wall he’d built around his heart was a perfect candidate for this particular mission. But something had shifted, causing that perfect wall to crack. And he cautioned himself that he couldn’t allow himself to be hurt by a woman again. He walked back into the bedroom, and just when he thought his armor was intact, she threw him a curveball.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” He walked around the end of the bed and sat down next to her. She had her long legs propped vertically on the headboard, the sheets drawn over her to cover her nakedness. Her ankles were crossed and he noted the splashes of her hot pink toenail polish.

“Giving your swimmers every possible chance to hook up down there,” she answered, glancing up at him. “I read it in a medical journal that it can help.”

He wondered if he might ever tire of how she could surprise him. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I like it when you laugh. Even if it is at my expense.” She smiled.

This was borderline dangerous. First great sex, then laughter, and pretty soon she’d be making him coffee some morning. “I have to say, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Sally Andersen.” He lay back on the bed, for the first time in a great while—content.

“May I ask you something? And please,” she said, turning her head to look at him, “tell me, if it’s none of my business.”

He propped up on his elbows. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Did you know that woman tonight?” she asked, plucking a thread on the sheet.

“There were a lot of women there tonight, Sally. Which one?”

She glanced at him. “The gorgeous woman in the red dress who looked like she’d stepped out of Vogue magazine.”

“Oh, you mean Dr. Lawrence?” He’d seen her arrive, offered a pleasant hello, but hadn’t lingered, hadn’t a desire to linger. She reminded him of his ex. All make-up and glitter. Little substance, aside from her book smarts.

“So you did know her?”

He nodded. “I do. She happens to be the clinical psychologist that I went down to Billings to see for a time.”

Sally shot him a shocked look.

“Sally, I can almost hear your brain going from zero to sixty about now. And yes, we did have dinner a couple of times, after she released me with a clean bill of mental health. Was there something huge between us? No. It was sex, a lot like--” He stopped.

“You can say it. Just like us,” she said, averting her gaze.

“Sally,” Clay started.

Sally chuckled. “Yeah, let’s talk about the elephant in the room.” She pressed her lips together. “You probably ought to go. It’s getting late. We don’t need this to get all over town.”

She stared at the ceiling as he dressed and he started to leave, wondering if the next time they met on the street, it would be awkward. There wasn’t even a ‘call you later’ or ‘until next time’. It left him unsettled.

***

It wasn’t the kind of news you wanted to hear while flipping pancakes on a Tuesday morning. He’d come in to help with the morning crowd, due to Betty’s Tuesday specials designed for the many delivery trucks with scheduled stops in End of the Line. The counter was full, as were most of the tables. There’d been no slowdown of breakfast platters since they opened at six a.m. Still, in the kitchen where he and Angelique were busy, the silence was deafening. It was as though a vacuum had sucked the joy out of the day.

“I should have gone out there. I should have insisted she go to Billings right away.”

Clay stepped around the counter and put one arm around her.  “There’s nothing more anyone could have done, Angelique. It’s not fair. But sometimes nature knows best. We’re lucky that Liberty is okay. Losing a baby is terrible for both of them, but if Rein had lost them both….” He shook his head.