Paige's breasts ached. She needed him to touch them, kiss them. But he didn't. He teased around them, driving her crazy. Heat gathered between her thighs, a heat like she'd never known.
She arched against him. Clay looked up, his eyes filled with green fire. His gaze moved from hers, to her lips, to her breasts, rosy with passion. The fire blazed brighter. She arched against him again and he swallowed hard.
"You're really trying to hurry me, aren't you?" he asked in a raspy voice.
"I ache for you, Clay. I want you inside me."
He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Patience, Paige."
"I have plenty of them," she mumbled.
He grinned and bent his head to her stomach. He kissed along her ribs while his hands sketched delicious patterns on her thighs. When he laved her navel, she threaded her fingers in his hair.
She felt soft, enticing pressure behind her legs and she shivered. He was urging her to raise her knees. She felt so vulnerable, so open, and suddenly she was scared.
His breath was warm on her skin, his expression was gentle. "Don't be afraid, Paige. I won't hurt you. I want to give you the pleasure you gave me last night. Trust me."
She moved her hands from his hair, down his strong neck. "I do."
His smile bathed her in safety, comfort, and promises.
He combed over the silky hair protecting the heart of her womanhood. Then he touched her layered softness reverently with exquisite tenderness. Tears came to her eyes and she blinked them away. The preciousness of Clay's touch melted her body and her heart. He explored farther into her heat and she moaned. Nothing in her entire life had ever prepared her for this.
She'd been alone for so long. It seemed she'd been lonely forever. She knew her parents loved her, but she'd been away from them so much. The friends she'd made at boarding school had temporarily pushed the loneliness away. Eventually, she'd poured all her passion, her heart, her soul into her patients and the science of healing. Work kept the loneliness sealed tightly in a corner of its own. But in Langley, loneliness had tapped her on the shoulder, reminding her it was still there. The child she couldn't save in Africa had unsealed the box.
When Paige was with Clay, the loneliness dissolved. She felt connected to someone for the first time in her life.
Clay removed his hands from her, and she twisted to try to find them again.
"Easy, Paige. Easy." He stroked her inner thighs so lightly she thought she imagined it until her legs quivered, and she shook all over. She opened her eyes to get Clay's reassurance.
He kept petting her, caressing her, watching her. He was looking at her as if she was something beautiful, something to cherish. When he lowered his head, she closed her eyes.
The erotic satin of his tongue made her gasp and clutch the sheets. He touched, probed, teased until she rolled her head from one side to the other, saying his name over and over. He penetrated, withdrew, surrounded until an indescribable radiance focused at that one point. Swirl after swirl of pleasure tormented her until he finally enclosed the bud of her desire, bathed it in his tenderness, and Paige cried out.
She moaned as ecstasy swept her in a circle again and again, each spin around reaching deeper inside of her, ravaging her with pleasure, searing every part of her body.
And then finally she had Clay in her arms where she wanted him, where she needed him to be. He was inside her and she was complete.
She tried to speak but couldn't say anything that could nearly express the engulfing love, the fulfillment that Clay gave her. She moved her hips to take him deeper, and when she did, the pleasure overtook her again. She clung to him, giving in to elemental needs and fires that raged out of control.
****
The picnic had been Paige's idea. But instead of going to the lake, Clay had suggested they take their lunch to the clearing in the woods behind Doc's house. While Clay had scavenged in the refrigerator, Paige had showered and changed into turquoise shorts and matching top. It clung to her soft curves, making Clay long to strip it off. But for now he just wanted to enjoy being with her.
Clay spread out their blanket on a patch of ground under a tall maple. He pulled out the turkey sandwiches he'd thrown together. "Hungry?"
Paige opened a bag of pretzels. "Starved." She smiled shyly. "I think we missed breakfast."
He laughed. "That depends on what kind of breakfast you wanted."
She blushed and he reached for her hand. Every time he looked at her now, every time she smiled or touched him, he thought about making love with her. He was sinking in, deeper and deeper, and he was letting it happen. What would he do if she left?
He did know, of course. He'd go on. Just as he had before. But this time the remembered loss would be far greater than any he had forgotten. He knew he should bring up the future. But he couldn't. Not today.
Glancing around, he released her hand and pushed himself to his feet.
"Where are you going?"
He tossed over his shoulder, "Be right back."
He went to the side of the sunny clearing and plucked flowers from the scattered beds. Black-eyed Susans, daylilies, bluets. It was a small variegated bouquet. Suddenly it didn't seem nearly enough. He should be ordering two dozen long- stemmed roses for her to show her exactly how special she was. Maybe he should just put these aside.
But she was watching him, and he wanted to give her something. He took the flowers to her and laid them in her lap.
"They're lovely, Clay." She reverently touched a vibrant orange daylily.
He settled beside her. "I'd like to buy you a whole room of flowers. Last night meant a lot to me, Paige."
She brought the dainty bluet, a tiny four-petaled flower, to her nose and smelled it. "These mean more than anything you could buy."
He could see she meant it, and his heart opened to her even more. "You haven't asked me any questions."
She lay the flower back in her lap. "You'll tell me what you want me to know."
"I've told you a little bit of everything."
"Tell me about your dad," she requested softly, crossing her legs Indian fashion, cradling his flowers in her lap.
Paige's intuition shouldn't surprise him. She was a perceptive lady. Clay leaned back against the tree trunk. "If Mom and Trish had trouble accepting what happened to me, they worked through it. Mom made sure Trish talked to her and they both saw a counselor for a while. What they were teaching me, the hours they spent with me would have been hard enough for professionals."
"They love you."
"I know. And I'll never be able to repay them for all they did. But my dad's an entirely different story."
"He didn't accept your amnesia as permanent?"
Clay realized she'd listened to everything he'd told Ben and filled in the gaps. "That was part of it. He couldn't believe the memories wouldn't return. He thought I wasn't trying hard enough. After a second doctor at a head injury center confirmed the fact, Dad still wouldn't believe it. He wanted me to try hypnosis. And I did. But when something's wiped out, it's wiped out. I had this big blank bank and all I wanted to do was get on with filling it up."
"He couldn't let go of the past."
Clay drew one leg up and looked into the woods, wondering when thinking about his father would stop hurting. "Dad wanted back the son he knew. He wouldn't go to counseling with Mom and Trish. He didn't help in the reteaching process. And although no one would admit it, I could tell that he and Mom were pulling further apart. That's another reason I left Reisterstown. I figured with me gone, their lives could get back to normal."
"Have they?"
"I think so. That's the one thing Trish and I have never talked about. But Mom and Dad are still together."
"You felt responsible for all of it, didn't you?"
Clay's gaze met Paige's. "I was responsible."
"The accident was responsible."
Her blue eyes, her intent expression told him that was so, but he grimaced. "It doesn't seem that simple wh
en you're in the middle of it."
She nodded. "I know."
Paige was in the middle of a complicated situation now. The deeper they felt about each other, the more complicated it would get. Clay didn't want to waste any time they did have together. "I'd like you to meet Trish."
"I'd like that, too."
"Mom and Dad are giving her and her fiance an engagement party. Would you like to go with me?"
"I'd like that very much."
He grinned. "You know what I'd like?"
"What?"
He took the wild flowers from her lap. Then he picked up one small viola and brushed it across her cheek. "I'd like to kiss you until nothing matters but the touch of our lips, the tangling of our tongues, me inside you."
She smiled, a soft sweet smile that wrenched his insides. "That would make me even happier than your gift of wild flowers."
He lay her down on the blanket and as the summer sun dappled them with warmth, as the scent of green grass and trees and wild flowers wound about them, Clay kissed her and nothing else did matter.
****
Doc was sitting on the deck when Paige and Clay emerged from the woods after their picnic. Clay was sure Doc would know something had changed between himself and Paige. The older man didn't miss much.
Doc gave Clay a probing look, then grinned at Paige. She blushed prettily and took the picnic basket from Clay. "I'll put this away."
They hadn't made arrangements for the rest of the day, and Clay wanted to be with her. "Do you want to go to the lake this afternoon?"
"I usually spend Saturdays in the office working on notes and updating files if there aren't any emergencies. But I think a day at the lake sounds much more therapeutic."
When she smiled at him like that, he could forget where he was. It was going to be a short afternoon at the lake. His bedroom sounded like a much better idea.
She went into the kitchen and Doc commented, "She's much more relaxed than when she arrived." He looked at Clay. "I think you've had something to do with that."
"What do you think the chances are she'll stay?"
"Truthfully?"
Clay nodded.
"Even if she's thinking about it now, and realistically I don't know if she is, it will be a different cup of tea when her mother arrives."
"She's got to want what's best for Paige."
"Do you know what that is?" Doc's gaze was too penetrating, too knowing.
Clay looked out over the backyard. "I know what I want it to be."
Doc's voice brought Clay's gaze back to him. "I'm not sure Monica has ever really seen Paige as her daughter, but more as an appendage of herself. Monica and Charles' vision for their lives was so intense, Paige couldn't help but have it, too."
Clay ran his hand through his hair, more troubled by Doc's insight than he wanted to be. "So there's nothing I can do to help Paige with this."
"She has to make the decision on her own."
Anger rose in Clay. "With her mother pulling her her way."
"If you pull too, Paige will be torn apart. She has to decide what she wants for her life, Clay. If you influence that and she makes the wrong decision, she'll resent it. She'll resent you."
The anger subsided and Clay shook his head. "Why is it when I think I finally have a handhold on my life, I don't?"
A faint, wry smile touched Doc's lips. "Because life's constantly changing."
An idea had been forming in Clay's mind. "Do you think Paige would like to get dressed up and go someplace special?"
Doc grinned. "As in a real date?"
Clay grinned back. "Yeah. Women seem to like that sort of thing. It's just that Paige seems so different sometimes."
"I think she'd like it a lot." He stood. "Clay, if you're going to wage a campaign to get her to stay, you have about two weeks. Monica's due in around July first."
A campaign. Did he want to do that? He only knew he didn't want her to leave. "I'll keep that in mind."
****
Clay tugged at his tie as he walked to Doc's door the next Saturday evening. He hadn't worn a suit in at least a year. But he'd made reservations for dinner at a posh restaurant along the Chesapeake Bay. Paige's eyes had lit up like stars when he asked her to go dining and dancing with him.
The past week had seemed unreal in a way. He'd seen Paige almost every night. For propriety's sake she hadn't stayed overnight again and he didn't push it because he was still concerned about the nightmares. But after they made love, he'd wanted to keep her curled up next to him. Something seemed wrong about getting up, getting dressed, and going their separate ways.
He didn't have the chance to knock. Paige opened the door and his heart somersaulted. She'd swept the left side of her hair away from her face and clipped it with a pearl barrette. Her floral-patterned sundress was a natural bloom of colors in pink and lilac. The top fitted to her body perfectly while the knee-length skirt had three tiers. The neckline in front looked like the top of a heart.
She asked, "Would you like to come in for a few minutes?"
His mouth had gone dry. He cleared his throat. "No, I'm not sure how long it will take to get there. Are you ready?"
She lifted her small white purse. "All set."
She couldn't seem to take her eyes from him any easier than he could take his from her. Finally, she broke eye contact and turned the lock on the door before pulling it shut.
"Doc's not here?"
"He went to get a newspaper and a few groceries."
"He's almost back to full steam, isn't he?"
"He's doing well. He really doesn't need me here anymore."
Clay did. Yet how could he ask Paige to give up a dream when he didn't know if they had a future together? They needed time, just to be together. This was Paige's first serious relationship. He couldn't rush her into something she didn't want.
When Clay and Paige arrived at the restaurant, the maitre d' asked if they would rather sit in the dining room or on the screened-in porch. They chose the porch.
Towering lights stood between trees at the back of the restaurant and cast their glow down levels of steps and a path along the bay. Clay could make out sparkling ripples under the moonlight.
Paige smiled. "This is lovely."
"You're lovely."
Her voice was husky. "You look different tonight."
"Different how?"
"I almost feel you're a stranger. You're very impressive in a suit and tie."
He took her hand and held it to his cheek. "I'm no stranger, Paige. I'm the same man you made love to last evening, the same man who wants you more each time he sees you."
"It's not just physical for you, is it, Clay?"
He couldn't say the words yet. Maybe because he wasn't ready to risk that much, maybe because he didn't want to pull her in two directions. But he could be honest. "No. It's not just physical."
The waitress came then with the wine list and he released Paige's hand.
Paige didn't know what she'd expected Clay to say. She certainly didn't want him to say something he didn't mean. What if he said he loved her? What would she do about it? Yes, she loved him. But she wasn't sure yet what that meant to her life. Her path had been mapped out for her since she was born. She'd never taken the reins herself to change direction because she thought she wanted what her parents wanted. Now she didn't know.
As she read over the menu, Clay asked, "What do you think? I've heard the chateaubriand's excellent. Is there anything you haven't tried before?"
She grinned. "The one without the price."
"Lobster? You've never had lobster? Then you haven't lived." He closed his menu. "We'll both have it."
"But you don't know how much--"
He took her hand. "There's no price limit on tonight, Paige. There's no limit at all."
The deep green of his eyes embraced her, and she felt as if she'd ascended to heaven.
Paige had tasted a multitude of foods ranging from snake to shark, both considered delica
cies in some countries. She'd always tried to fit into her surroundings, to see the country through the eyes of its inhabitants. Tonight she wanted to see clearly, through her own eyes.
After the lobster arrived, she watched Clay dip a forkful into his melted butter. She did the same. The taste was sweet, tender, succulent.
Clay tilted his head and raised his brows as he waited for her verdict.
"It's wonderful."
His eyes twinkled then leapt with hot desire. "It can be even more wonderful." He took his fork, secured a small bite and dipped it into the butter. Then he held it in front of her.
She opened her mouth and he gently placed the fork on her tongue. Her gaze locked to his, she closed her lips and he pulled the fork away. She savored the taste; she savored the intimacy.
Clay traced her bottom lip with his thumb, catching a drop of butter. He ran his thumb back and forth across her lip until she tingled to her fingertips. She licked her lips and his finger.
Passion flared brighter in his eyes. "Eating is supposed to satisfy hunger, not make it worse."
"It depends on what kind of eating you're doing." She picked up her knife and fork and cut off a piece of lobster. She dipped it in the butter and offered it to him.
He closed his lips around it and smiled.
Music wafted into the porch from the dining room. When they'd finished eating, Clay asked, "Would you like to dance?"
She wouldn't like anything more. At least she'd be closer to him, not a table length away.
Clay led her to the dance floor, his hand warm and protective on the small of her back. She felt safe when she was with Clay. And not just safe, but valued for who she was, not what she could do.
The ballad was perfect for a first dance. Clay guided her in the traditional box she'd learned at boarding school. But dancing with a man was much different than dancing with another fourteen-year-old.
Every once in a while Clay would embellish the box with a rocking step or a walking step that took them across the room. He'd warn her by the pressure of his hand on hers, a slight shifting of his palm on her back.
"When did you learn to dance?" She was eager to know everything about him. He'd told her what he'd learned from his family about his childhood, his college days. But she was much more interested in the years since the accident.
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