Whisper Privileges (45 page)

Locked within the demand of his gaze, the
bindings broke free. Did it matter if it didn’t work out between
them? Did it matter if it lasted months and not years? And what if
he left her? Would she break down and die?

No. Desire mingled with nerves low in her
belly as the chains hit the floor. No, she would not die. Sydney
cocked a brow and excitement zipped up through her core. “If we
never try, we’ll never know.”

“That’s right.” A sexy smile slipped onto his
lips. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “No
guts, no glory.”

She linked her arms around his neck, her body
tense with anticipation. “No skin, no win.”

“Speaking of skin.” He leaned forward and
touched his nose to hers. “I’ve been thinking of yours for
days...”

Her insides ached at the mention. Clay wasn’t
asking her to move to South Carolina. She wasn’t asking him to move
to Miami. He was asking her to spend some time together. His lips
hummed against hers, his breath warm as he glided across, cozy as
he pressed forehead to forehead. She enfolded her arms around his
neck and pressed her lower body to his. Doing this wouldn’t kill
her. Longing swelled between them. In fact...

Clay delved his tongue inside.
This didn’t
hurt a bit
.

He cupped her chin and probed deeper, harder.
She opened to him, running hands through his hair. She wanted to
inhale him, wanted him to devour her like he promised. She wanted
to surrender as he made love to her. All of her, every inch, and
she wanted to do the same to him.

Clay eased away and peered at her through
hooded eyes. “Do you want this?”

She nodded.

He pushed the hair from her shoulder, slid
his cheek across hers and nuzzled back and forth, pushed at her in
a primal need to connect, to feel. He swiped his tongue by her ear,
down the length of her neck, rendering her breasts to prickly
peaks. Brushing the hair clear from her ear, he traced its outline
with the tip of his tongue, whispering, “Do you know what I want to
do to you?”

Excitement skated through her pulse. She
could only hope.

“I want to look at your naked body.” His
breath steamed against her ear, “run my hands over every inch of
you…” An image flashed into her mind of Clay doing just that,
running his hands over her entire body, and she shivered with
pleasure. “I want to look and touch and feel and then I want to
take my time...and taste you. Run my tongue.” He dipped his tongue
into her ear. “
Everywhere
,” he rasped.

Spasms erupted deep between her thighs.

Clay pulled back and gently drew his fingers
down the side of her face, as though admiring a fine piece of
sculpture. He skimmed over her cheekbone, grazed the line of her
jaw, trailed down to her neck and followed the line of her
collarbone, the round of her shoulder. Desire warred with
trepidation as his hand swept over the round of her breast,
outlined its curve beneath the black satin of her tank top. Her
nipples pulsed.

He searched her gaze.
Was she with
him
?
Was she good
? She smiled that she was and returning
a smoldering gleam, he continued down her waist, the length of her
skirt, his fingers sneaking under the hem.

Sydney’s breath caught. Her loins flushed
with heat. She’d been here before. Gliding over the curves of her
bare bottom, he raised the material until her backside was entirely
exposed and found the string of her panties. With a light tug he
said, “Glad you remembered. This is my absolute favorite.”

Sydney suppressed a nervous giggle. She
dropped her head to his shoulder, embarrassment colliding with
want.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she murmured into the cotton of
his shirt and breathed in the scent of him, the delicious scent of
his cologne. Curling her hands around his shoulders, she relished
the feel of his body, the curve of his back and shoulders, the hard
line of his chest. Clay lifted her skirt clear up to her waist, the
ridge of his pecs flexing against her breasts as he did so. Sydney
rolled her head to the side, ran her hands down his back—

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

Startled, she pulled her head up and looked
at him. “What?”

“I’m not moving my hands.” Pleasure crept
into his smile as he tightened his grip. “I like your butt.”

Sydney felt thrilled and foolish. “I wasn’t
trying to stop you...”

“Good.” Clay pressed into her. The man was
rock solid ready. “Wanna go into your room?”

In a rush of dare and spontaneity, she eyed
her couch. Her pulse whipped up. “How about we christen the couch
instead?”

“Where it all started.” He laughed softly. “I
like the way you think, Ms. Flores.” Before she could respond, Clay
released hold of her. “Now come here you,” he murmured huskily and
tugged her over and down to the cushion. “There are some things
I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Nervous expectation surged as he positioned
her length on the couch. With a hand behind her neck he hovered
above her. Staring up at him, she remembered well the things he
promised, the whispers of pleasure that had swirled through her
mind ever since.

Clay leaned down and kissed her in the
delicate way that only he could kiss. It was a combination of
feather light pressure and hungry intention. Hot greed coupled with
sultry pliancy that rocked and cradled at the same time. It made
every ounce his desire clear. A flurry of trepidation swept through
her. Sydney could only imagine how it would translate later.

He slid down her body, hands following in his
wake. Sitting back on his heels, Clay made no attempt to hide his
line of vision. Tingles singed her downy folds.

“Hot pink.” He smiled approval, his gaze
steeped in lust. Then he opened her legs and she mildly
flinched—but released. Nerves were not about to stop her now. Let
him look. Let him see her. She wanted all that, and more.

At the glint in his eyes, she knew he meant
business. Beginning at her knee, he walked his fingers up her leg.
He stopped to caress the skin of her inner thigh, retreated, bent
to kiss the inside of her knee, circled the spot with his tongue, a
satiny tickle that touch clawed at her.

Sydney couldn’t take her eyes off him. Layers
of blond lay tousled across his brow. It was the mess of early
morning, the style of a lazy Sunday and a stark contrast to the
stone of his gaze, the flames of greed licking at the blue of his
eyes. Then his fingertips crept slowly up her legs, stopping inches
away from where she needed them most.

She’d never been explored this way.
Deliberately studied, perused—in the most blatant of ways. But she
liked it. Could take him right now and rock to climax, but he had
other plans. He curved a knuckle over her panties. “You’re
wet.”

Oh yes she was
—flooded. And if he
slipped his finger inside her, she’d dissolve into a creamy mess of
nothing. Locking gazes, he rose, pulled her up, then lowered to the
center of the couch, maneuvering her so that she straddled his
hips. He gestured for her to remove her shirt, beginning the
process for her. No hesitation, no lingering, she did as he
wanted.

She unhooked the center clasp, allowing her
bra to fall away. He traced her ribs, the underside of her breasts
and she resisted the urge to angle away. Bare nipples ached for
attention and he gave it, leaning forward to suck one.

Sydney’s breath escaped in a jagged rush. She
raked her hands through his hair and pressed him to her, mouth and
nipple becoming one until he soaked the knot into surrender.
Dropping her head back, she arched her chest, and guided him to do
the same to the other.

Clay obliged, sucking, kneading, melting and
asked, “Feel better?”

Pleasure coiled tightly within her pelvis.
“Much.”

Lit only by the kitchen light, her living
room assumed a lustrous quiet. It wasn’t dark, it wasn’t light. It
was calm. Illuminating. On the verge of becoming lovers, this
moment was for them and them alone. Man and woman about to embark
on a journey of intimate beginnings, and nothing between them, it
felt right. Special. Loving. Clay took her face in his hands and
brought their lips together in a tender kiss. She yearned for him
to press, to plunge, to probe as only he could but he didn’t. He
kissed her cheek, kissed her brow, roamed to her jaw, her chin,
then sucked at her lower lip, slipping a finger inside. Suddenly he
ducked and pulled a nipple with gentle teeth and released. The thin
layer of moisture chilled in the cool air.

It was ecstasy. Thoughts overrun with
sensation she floated in a dreamy haze of suspended reality, a
place where only feeling existed. Only desire.

Clay pressed her down into his lap and she
could feel him stiff beneath his jeans. But rather than hurt, she
sank into him, giving in to the churn of physical want. Slowly he
rocked her to and fro, the pleasure of contact surging through her
loins. Sliding arms over his shoulders, she folded them behind his
neck and surrendered to the sensations filling her. Rolling her
face into and against his, she craved the feel of him, the
connection they were building. Pushing into him, she gyrated.
Harder, faster, she forced the hot pressure mounting below to seek
its release. Clay pushed and pulled with his hands. He licked her
face, her throat, their rhythm easy and natural. Waves of molten
sensation coursed through her body, fused her to him. In a sudden
burst of spasm, pleasure exploded. It fired through her abdomen,
streamed through her limbs, her breasts and she cried out, a
shuddering climax rocking her tender loins, rendering her body
limp.

Clay dragged his hand through her hair. “Give
me more,” he demanded. He swiped his tongue across her neck,
grabbed hold of her back, dove down for a savage taste of her
breasts. Tremors rippled through her.
More
?
Did she have
more
? As if in response, a swell of heat steamrolled through
her, hundreds of pleasure centers imploded, ripped through her
insides. Her breath fired in rapid gasps. Her legs quivered, her
arms dropped. She didn’t hurt, she didn’t feel, the swell of flesh
had gone numb. Sydney fell against him, expelling a sigh of
exhaustion.

Clay hugged her to him and whispered, “My
turn next.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“I think you should work for the Special
Olympics.”

Startled by the random suggestion, she
sharpened her focus. “What?”

“Yeah,” Clay said, his lazy smile easing into
his voice. Head propped up by two pillows, his naked body was
partially covered by white sheets, bed linens soaked in buttery
shades of morning light, his skin suffused with the light scent of
sex. “I think you should join the South Carolina delegation and
travel with the team.”

“Sure,” she replied, head settled in the warm
crux of his chest and shoulder. Arm slung over his torso, she was
comfortable. Content. What had begun on her couch continued deep
into the night, her comforter cast aside as they came together in a
frenzy of discovery here in her bedroom. Clay had meant what he
said about exploring her every inch. Tingles swarmed between her
legs. And she had let him. Every, single, one. “You’d like that,
wouldn’t you?” She smiled into the side of him, his skin smooth and
supple. “Move me right up next to you and live happily ever
after.”

“Sounds good to me.”

It did to her, too. Part of it, anyway. The
part where they could see one another every day, live and love as
boyfriend and girlfriend in the normal terms of the words.
Suddenly, the looming prospect of being separated from him by
distance weighed heavy on her heart.

“C’mon.” He hugged her to him. “You’re an
event planner. You plan events—big events.”

“Like the World Games?” she asked.

“Exactly.” Hot hands squeezed her firmly to
him. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. World Games, the
Nationals...”

While she liked the fact he and Q refused to
give up their dream of competing, she wasn’t convinced it was a
good fit for her. Thoughts of LBD International floated in, her
dream of living abroad, traveling the world. “What makes you think
they’d hire me in the first place?”

“You’re good at what you do. You’re great
with kids. You already have experience with the organization.
What’s not to hire?”

Work with the Special Olympics
?

“It’s a great organization. They do
everything first-class.”

Yes, she’d seen that firsthand. And they did
so with calm, level heads, unlike some groups she’d encountered
where each day brought new crisis. Not so with the Special
Olympics. There was no grumbling, no griping. It was simply, what
can we do to resolve this issue? Working with professionals of
their caliber did appeal to her.

“Do you think your boss would give you a
recommendation?”

Javier
? Well, he was the one who
suggested she work for a company like them in the first place. She
frowned. Because kids were her strength.

But were they
?

“Q loves you. His whole team loves you.”

Sam’s words came to mind about her Big Sister
kids.
Well they did like you
. Sydney paused at the
recollection. Did she have a way with kids she didn’t realize?

Clay turned his head and spoke into her hair,
the warm moist heat reminding her of their intimacy, their
chemistry from last night. “I think it’s the perfect match. We can
be together and you can do what you love.”

In South Carolina. Her chest constricted, her
breathing grew shallow and wary. Being with him, opening to him and
allowing him free reign had been easier than she imagined. But
moving to South Carolina? What if it didn’t work out as planned?
Then where would she be?

Live your passion and your career will find
you. If you and Clay are meant to be, you will find each other.