All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

Two simple words that asked a whole lot of questions. Was she ready? Was she scared? Did she want to postpone the actual deed?

“Very,” she told him, locking her gaze with his. “I stopped being afraid a long time ago.”

Which was about him, she knew. About how he’d been so careful to earn her trust and make her laugh at the same time.

“I can wait,” he told her.

“I can’t.”

He opened the box and pulled out the condom. It was only when he went to slip it over his erection that she realized his hands were shaking.

At first she didn’t understand. Why would Clay be nervous? But then she saw what she’d missed before. The tension in his muscles. The tightness in his jaw. He wasn’t nervous—he was aroused. He wanted to be with her as much as she’d wanted to be with him.

The knowledge added to her confidence. When he knelt over her, she instinctively reached between them to guide him.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch. Probably to give her time to adjust to him, but it had the added benefit of increasing her anticipation. He stretched her as he sank in deeper. The sensation of fullness excited her and she pulsed a little, wanting all of him.

Then it was done and he was inside her. He stayed still for several seconds.

“Still okay?” he asked, his teeth clenched as he spoke.

She smiled up at him, aware of their intimacy, loving all of it and wanting to complete what they’d begun.

“Show me what you’ve got, cowboy.”

He gave a strangled laugh, then slowly withdrew. When he pushed in again, she arched her hips forward, taking him deeper. His breath came out in a hiss. His arms started to shake.

She sensed he was holding back, trying to be gentle. She touched his shoulders. “I’m not scared. It’s okay. Just do what you want to.”

He shook his head.

She squeezed his tense muscles. “I mean it. I’m perfectly okay. Do you really want me to have to report back to the town that your performance was disappointing?”

That earned her another laugh, then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll go for it, but if you get uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.”

He would, too, she thought, closing her eyes to better enjoy the sensations. He would stop and start as many times as she wanted. He would suffer so she would feel safe. Pretty irresistible.

There were probably more nice things she could think but he started moving and she was too distracted by sensations to do anything but feel.

He did as she requested, moving more quickly, pushing in and pulling out. He went faster, then faster still until he tensed and groaned. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in all the way, savoring his release.

Even at the end, he was careful. He didn’t rest his weight on her, probably so she wouldn’t feel trapped. Next time, she promised herself, running her hands up and down his back.

He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. They faced each other.

“Not bad for a rookie,” he told her.

She stared at him, then started to laugh. With the sound came a warm sensation deep inside. That cold, angry wound had finally healed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DOMINIQUE PASSED OVER the half cup of brown sugar, then watched as May stirred it into the contents of the bowl.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought the visit was going well. I was only trying to help. To save her.”

May cracked an egg into the batter and picked up the wooden spoon. “By telling her Clay is too good for her? I’m his mother and even I’m offended by that.”

Dominique paced the length of the small, old-fashioned kitchen. The farmhouse needed a major renovation. The furniture in the living room was beyond appalling. Still, she found the place oddly homey. It looked nothing like her beautifully decorated residences, but there was something here that went beyond appearances.

“I wanted to help,” Dominique insisted, not sure why her position was so difficult for everyone to understand. She’d spoken the truth. Why was she the villain?

“Trying to help isn’t an excuse for bad behavior,” May said bluntly. “You hurt Charlie’s feelings. You were mean and thoughtless.”

Dominique flinched. “How can you say that?”

“I’m only trying to help.”

Dominique opened her mouth, then closed it. “Not a very subtle lesson.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle. When it comes to interpersonal relationships, you tend to miss subtle cues.” Her expression softened. “Think about how your words sounded to her. She didn’t hear the concern. All she understood was criticism. You’re her mother. You’re supposed to be on her side. Yet there you were, telling her she wasn’t pretty enough or special enough. I like Charlie very much. As far as I’m concerned, Clay would be a lucky man to have her in his life.”