"And you didn't know what you were doing?"
He scowled. "I knew exactly what I was doing."
She straightened her shoulders. "Good. Because so did I. And pity didn't enter into it."
His green eyes grew darker. "Don't tell me you didn't feel sorry for me."
"Sorry? The only thing I'm sorry about is that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me about the amnesia before last night. How do you think I felt hearing about it at Ben's? Why couldn't you trust me, Clay? Why?" She hadn't intended to throw all that at him now, but she had to know.
He was silent and she thought he might not answer. But then he said, "Because I've been in this situation before. People don't look at amnesia like a cold or the flu, Paige. They don't look at it in the same way as a lost arm or leg. They see it as a deficiency."
He was generalizing and lumping her in with everyone else. That hurt. "We're not talking about some people. We're talking about me. Why couldn't you trust me?"
"My father still doesn't accept it."
His father might be part of it, but not all of it. "And who else?"
There was that look again, as if Clay wanted to pull her close and push her away at the same time. "I dated a woman a couple of years ago."
"You told her about the amnesia?"
Clay didn't look at Paige, but at the wall behind her. "One night she stayed, I had a nightmare. I'd gone a few months without one, so I thought it would be all right if she spent the night. But it wasn't. The nightmare was a bad one. I don't know how long it went on. She was scared out of her wits. I can't blame her. If that happened to a woman when I was with her..."
"You would hold her in your arms until the nightmare passed."
Her sureness brought his gaze back to hers. "It's different for men and women."
Paige arched her brows. "I don't see why."
He let that basis for argument pass. "After I came out of it, I explained about the amnesia."
"And?"
He sighed. "She tried to accept it."
"What do you mean she tried?" If the woman loved Clay, accepting his past or a lack of one shouldn't have mattered.
"She pretended it didn't matter."
"How do you know it didn't?"
He thought about it for a moment. "She'd give me these odd looks when she thought I didn't notice. And she treated me differently."
"Like?"
"Like I wasn't all there. Like I was less than I was before. It was a...solicitous attitude, as you'd have with a child. And she wouldn't stay overnight. She told me outright she couldn't contend with the nightmares. So the relationship crumbled. We weren't equals anymore. Everything was different. Neither of us wanted it to be, but we couldn't help it."
"What was her name?"
He seemed surprised that she asked. "Clare."
Paige sat up straighter in the bed. "I'm not Clare."
He studied her carefully. She could feel his eyes on her face, her bare shoulders. "No, you're not. But this time its worse. Can't you see I used you last night for an escape? I needed to feel strong, in control of something." He gave a bitter laugh. "Some kind of control. I hadn't been with a woman in two years. Just how do you think I feel this morning, Paige, knowing I took advantage of you?"
All of the emotion inside her, her love for Clay, her frustration with him, exploded. "You're absolutely impossible!" She threw her legs over the side of the bed and hopped up. "If you think Ben Hockensmith is stubborn and can't see the forest for the trees, go look in your mirror. I may have been a virgin, Clay, but I'm not stupid and I have a will of my own. I climbed into bed with you last night, I kissed you, I made love with you because that's what I wanted." She crossed to the door. "When you clear your head of misguided chivalry, maybe we can talk as equals."
****
Until she met Clay, Paige had never realized just how angry she could get with a person. She'd always gotten angry at circumstances, governments, man's inability to help his fellow man. Maybe she'd never gotten this angry with anyone because she'd never cared about anyone the way she cared about Clay. She wasn't sure who he was trying to protect, himself or her.
She dressed. As she went down the hall, she saw Clay's bedroom door standing open. Going downstairs, she wasn't surprised when she peered out the kitchen window and saw him in the backyard with Shep. She took a long look. He'd put on a pale blue T-shirt, but she remembered the powerful shoulders underneath. His jogging shorts emphasized the strength of his thighs, the length of his legs. She remembered them intertwined with hers. She would not regret last night even if Clay did.
She pulled a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator and was pouring herself a glass when Clay came back in. Shep trotted over to her, waited for her to scratch between his ears, then went to his food dish.
Paige was afraid to look at Clay, to have him deny again what last night had meant. So she concentrated on her glass of juice. "I didn't know if you wanted me to start breakfast or if you'd want to take me back to Doc's right away."
"I don't want to take you back to Doc's."
His gravelly tone made her meet his gaze.
He approached her slowly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the amnesia before we went to Ben's. I thought it would be easier on both of us to let it come out the way it did, but I can see now that it wasn't."
Clay was close enough to touch. But she didn't want to regret whatever happened next. "If it hadn't been for Ben, would you have told me?"
"I was coming to that decision. Ben's situation just pushed it a little."
She believed him, not just because she wanted to but because she knew Clay wouldn't lie to her. "I want to understand, Clay. About everything."
He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I know you do. But that might take some time--time we don't have if you go back to Africa."
She was purposely not thinking about Africa. She'd have to do that soon enough. "We can use the time we do have."
He rubbed his thumb across her chin. "I'm sorry about last night, too." When she opened her mouth to protest, he laid his fingers over her lips. "It should have been special for you. Not so...fast."
"It was special. For me."
He must have seen the misgiving in her eyes, her worry that last night, had been just a release for him, nothing more.
He pulled her into his chest, against his heart. "I've never known anything like last night, Paige, and I guess because of that, I tried to make it less than it was."
She leaned back and saw the vulnerability in his eyes. He still doubted she could accept his amnesia. "If we had last night to do over again, what would you do differently?"
"I'd tell you about the amnesia, I'd give you time to think about it, and then if you were still here, I'd make slow, tender love to you."
His husky voice, the underlying passion, made her tremble. "I don't need time to think about it and I'm still here."
His low groan was one of surrender to his desire for her, to the feelings between them. His beard stubble grazed her as he lay his cheek against hers, the gesture almost more intimate than a kiss. He rubbed sensually back and forth, creating the desire for more than cheek touching cheek.
But he'd said he wanted to give her slow and lingering last night and that's clearly what he was going to give her now. He moved to her hair, rubbed his cheek at her temple, and took a slow, deep breath.
"Clay?"
"You always smell like roses. I can't seem to breathe you in deep enough to make it last, to make me remember always."
"That's important to you."
"Every new memory is important. It has to do double duty for one I can't get back."
Strong emotions shook her voice, her sorrow over Clay's loss, the love she wanted to share with him. "I want to make lots of memories with you."
His arms brought her tighter against him. His jogging pants were soft, almost nonexistent against her cotton slacks. She could feel his arousal pressing hot and hard against her. He wanted her and sh
e gloried in that, afraid to wonder what type of feelings were attached to the wanting. Her own feelings were too rare, too precious to try to analyze them.
Clay whispered her name and she just held him, held on to the moment, making it an indelible memory--the tenderness, the gentleness, the passion shaking both of them.
It was almost more than she could absorb: Clay's hard heat, the gentle whisper of his lips on her forehead, her eyelids, her nose...and finally when she didn't think she could stand the waiting...her mouth.
He pecked and nipped at her until she tightened her arms around his neck and parted her lips. Still, he played with such sweetness, such slow tenderness, she wanted to beg him for more. But there were no words, only feelings. She touched the corner of his lips with her tongue and felt him shudder.
"Do you try to drive me wild, or does it come naturally?" he murmured.
"It must come naturally," she managed. "I'm not trying to do anything but get you to kiss me."
He chuckled and leaned away. "I am kissing you."
She blushed. "You know what I mean."
He laughed and locked his hands behind her back. "You have the loveliest blush."
"I can't seem to control it when I'm around you."
"Don't try." He bent his head and took her lower lip between his teeth.
She softly sighed. There was no way she was going to rush him, and deep down she knew she didn't want to try. She wanted each and every nuance of passion with Clay, because it might have to last her a lifetime.
Clay kissed her neck and sucked on her earlobe until her knees gave. He swung her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.
Last night had been shrouded in shadows. The flashlight on Clay's nightstand was a reminder of the storm. This morning was alive with light. The sun streaked across his bed, the summer's morning breeze swished past the raised blinds. Birds chirped to each other, one singing a louder song than his friends.
Clay sat down on the bed with her on his lap. His green eyes told her things his heart couldn't yet find the words for. He kissed her then, the kind of kiss she wanted. She opened her lips and he took her with deep primitive strokes she returned in full measure. Each stroke of her tongue on his told him she wanted last night repeated and he could speed up the process as much as he wanted.
He broke away, breathing hard and fast, and rested his forehead against hers. "You kiss like there's no tomorrow."
She tried to break through the daze of being kissed by Clay. "Sometimes there isn't."
"I only have tomorrows, Paige."
She knew what he meant. He didn't have a lifetime of yesterdays. But he didn't need them. Not now. "We have today."
He smiled. "Yes, we do. And we're going to make it last." Her expression must have been slightly dismayed because he said, "I'm going to teach you how exciting slow, long passion can be."
She put her hand on his chest. "I want to touch you."
He covered her hand with his, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm. "You can touch me all you want."
She pulled up his T-shirt slowly, watching his face.
"You take a guy at his word."
"I take you at your word." She slipped her hand under the soft blue cotton, loving his warmth, his chest hair against her fingers. She wanted to taste his chest, rub her cheek against it... The deep pulling inside her tugged tighter. There might be some merit in this "slow" idea.
She asked shyly, "Can we get undressed?"
He grinned. "That's definitely part of the plan."
Something was different about Clay, freer. She hoped she could give him all the acceptance, all the love that he'd needed and hadn't received.
They watched each other undress, teasing with their eyes, teasing with their smiles. She'd felt more than seen Clay's body last night. Now, in the light of day, he was beautiful, his desire imposing, his need clear.
He flopped the pillows against the headboard, propped against one, and stretched out his hand to her. His gaze swept over her, every part of her, and she felt hot all over. Her hand trembled as she took his.
She fitted against him, almost afraid to explore all the new feelings. Fast was easier in a way. There were fewer insecurities and less knowing, but much less anticipation.
She rubbed her cheek against his nipple and felt him suck in a breath. "Feel good?"
He cupped her breast in his palm. "Very good." He ran his finger in a circle around her nipple. "How about this?"
She closed her eyes, absorbed in the sensation. "Very good."
"Don't close your eyes. Don't hide from me."
She opened them. When he circled her nipple again, she swallowed hard, kept her gaze on his, and probably blushed from her eyebrows to her toes.
"Lord, you're beautiful."
She felt the blush fade as she became more comfortable with her nakedness and Clay's.
She touched the pad of her forefinger to the top of his erect nipple and watched his lids half close. But he gave her a slanted smile. She tasted him with her tongue then, swirling around his nipple, teasing the peak. When she looked up, the smile had disappeared.
His voice was a husky rasp. "I think slow's going down the drain."
She'd never realized that pleasuring Clay could be so arousing. She put her mouth on him again, tasting, twirling, tormenting. Clay's breathing became more shallow, less rhythmic. With her hip against his leg, she could feel his thigh tighten. She felt powerful and excited, and desire rushed through her faster than any heat or cold, faster than the speed of sound or light, faster than she could ever dream.
She lifted her head, lowered her gaze to the dark thatch of hair below his navel, saw his complete arousal, and without thought and giving into instinct, laid her cheek against it.
Clay gasped.
She jerked away. "Sorry."
He caressed her back with a long stroke. "Don't be sorry. But do it again and we might have to start all over."
"Clay, I don't know what I can and can't do. I don't know--"
"I know you don't. And I'm so glad."
Paige's innocence was driving Clay insane. He wanted to let her explore, to let her do anything and everything she wanted. But his desire for her was too fierce, too demanding. If he let her stroke him, it would be all over. This was about her pleasure, not his.
He'd made a decision this morning. He was tired of living on the fringe. He was going to take a chance on Paige, a chance on them. For as long as he could.
His blood pulsed in the erect flesh she'd so tenderly touched, but he ignored it, gently pulled her to him, and said, "Now it's your turn, Paige. This is going to be all for you."
CHAPTER TWELVE
A thought suddenly hit Paige, something she should have thought about last night. "Clay, I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
"We can't. I can't believe I'm a doctor and I just remembered..."
"Birth control." He opened the drawer in the nightstand and lifted out a handful of foil packets.
"Saving up for a rainy day?" she teased, not understanding. He'd said he hadn't been with a woman for two years.
"Saving up for you." He stroked her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry I got carried away last night and didn't think about it. You know if anything happens, I'll stand by you."
If anything happened... A baby. Her baby and Clay's. The decision about Africa would be made for her. She'd never jeopardize a child's well-being. She did some quick calculation, and in a way felt disappointed.
"It was my safe time, Clay. I don't think we have to worry." Did she see the same flicker of disappointment in his eyes that she felt?
If she did, it was soon replaced by a flicker of another kind. He laid the packets on the nightstand and shook his head. "I went to Westminster to buy these. I knew if I bought something like that in Langley, rumors would fly all over town."
"That would bother you? To have people know we're...together?" She didn't know quite how to phrase it.
"
Wouldn't it bother you?"
Living and traveling the way she had, seeing different mores in various cultures, she had never lived by anyone else's accepted idea of propriety. Gossip had never been an issue or a concern. She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to hide being together."
Clay's voice was low, his expression serious. "We don't have to hide, but I don't want people gossiping about my private life, either."
"Why did you come to a town like Langley if you didn't want the small-town curiosity?"
"I wanted the small-town friendliness."
She could understand how important that friendliness had been when he'd felt alienated from people in his past. But friendliness often brought curiosity. "The two sometimes go hand-in-hand."
"Maybe they do. But I'm not going to invite the curiosity." He shrugged off the seriousness and smiled. "I'm curious right now about..." He kissed her neck. "Whether you'd rather be kissed here..." He kissed just above her breast. "Or here."
The sensuous feel of his lips brought a sigh. He could melt her with a lot less. "Anywhere's fine."
"Woman," he growled. "You know just the thing to say."
Her heart fluttered and she took refuge in honesty. "But not exactly what to do."
"You do everything just fine."
He brushed his lips across hers slightly once, twice. She clasped his shoulders to pull him to her. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Huh uh. Not this time. You're not going to hurry me."
"Don't you want me to touch you, to hold you?"
"Oh, yes. But not too soon. Not yet." He took one of her hands, laced his fingers with hers, and held it above her shoulder. Then he took her other hand and drew her forefinger into his mouth.
First she felt a prick of beard, then the hot firmness of his lips. When his tongue swirled the tip of her finger, she released a small puff of air from the intense pleasure he was delivering. He sucked on her finger until she was breathing fast and moving restively against the sheet.
Smiling, he eased onto her body slowly, settling between her legs.
"Oh, Clay."
"What, Paige?"
"I feel so hot."
"And getting hotter," he murmured as he placed a kiss between her breasts.
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