moist tip. Then she slid him into her mouth. It was too much. A different kind of pleasure, a ripping sensation of closeness that electrified and terrified and stunned him.
“Lacey.”
Still looking up, still holding him with her eyes and her mouth—and her heart—she took him even deeper. He wanted to be inside her, he wanted to make—
Pleasure jolted as she sucked, holding him like he was precious to her. Loving him with her mouth and kisses, giving everything just for his satisfaction. The act, as sexual and hot and mind-blowing as anything, suddenly felt like so much more.
Like she was giving him all the comfort he needed, with her mouth and hands and heart.
She licked again, closed her eyes, and slowly, lovingly, sweetly ministered her special brand of comfort. He relaxed into the sensation, letting the thrill of release build and grow and overpower every other thought or feeling.
He lost any shred of control, an orgasm kicking through him, squeezing him until he called out, torturing him while he grew stiffer and more helpless. Sweat tingled and blood pumped and raw, pure, intense pleasure punched through his body until he finally let go of everything. Everything but Lacey. He clung to her shoulders, her feathery silken curls, and spilled into her mouth.
Closing her eyes, she coaxed the very last drop out of him until they both fell back on the bed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t talk.
“Clay.” She stroked his skin, her delicate touch like a firebrand over the sheen of sweat.
“Mmmm.”
“I need to know something.”
Of course she did. She needed to know why he had been upset on the phone. She needed to know how he really felt about her. She needed to know when this thing had gone from purely sexual to wildly emotional.
“I just don’t know if I can tell you what you need to know, Lace,” he said, his voice still raspy from the heavy breathing. But he had to. He had to be straight with her. “But I’ll try.”
“What are the drawings under your bed?”
He turned to face her. “You looked at them?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not really, but I thought I could use the paper for shelf liner.”
He didn’t want her to see those sketches. “I have some extra paper like that you can use.”
“But what are they?”
“Just ideas I have.”
“For what?”
He waited for his heart to slow before he answered, carefully choosing his words. “They are ideas for things I might build in the future.”
She studied his face, definitely not sold on that. “Things that include Ashley?”
So she had looked at them. “They’re personal,” he said, a little more gruffly than he meant.
She leaned up on one elbow. “If they include my daughter, they’re not personal.”
“I told you, I draw what I visualize. It’s the curse of an overactive imagination.”
“You visualize Ashley with a hammer?”
Was that all she’d seen? It had to be. If she’d seen the rest of those drawings, the one with Ashley hammering a two-by-four would be the least interesting to her. “I expect Ashley to have a role in building the resort and your house, don’t you?”
“I hope so,” she finally said.
“Well, that’s all those pictures are. Memories of moments that haven’t happened yet. You know, if I see something well enough to draw it, I can make it happen.”
“What else do you see?” The question was tentative, a little scared, and full of hope.
“Right now I’m trying to visualize how you can make ribbons out of chocolate. Why don’t you show me and then we can come back in here and…” Go ahead, man, say the thing you cannot say. “Make love.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Can you visualize that, Strawberry?”
Because he could. He could visualize it all too clearly.
Chapter Twenty-six
Later that afternoon, when Clay pulled up to Julia Brewer’s house, Lacey dipped her head to peer at the minivan in the driveway. “Well, it looks like we’re a lot less than six degrees away from Paula Reddick, town council member.” She gingerly shifted the chocolate ruffle cake on her lap. “She’s inside. Want to come in and charm her?”
He shook his head, opening his door. “I have to call my sister back and ask her about something else while you take the cake in. But hang on. I’ll help you get it out.”
Lacey’s heart slipped a little as he climbed from the truck. The afternoon had been amazing. They’d finished the cake, fallen into bed, and spent the last