Page 20

Ellie sipped her champagne and knew she should be feeling the effects, but she wasn’t.

Her nerves had returned, squeezing a hard knot in her stomach.

She realized Clay had taken the seat beside her and was speaking to her in soft tones, but his words sounded as if they came from somewhere far away.

What are you doing here? Said a voice inside her head.

You’re making a mistake.

“Ellie?”

Clay’s deep voice finally reached her.

“Dammit, Ellie, this isn’t supposed to be some sort of punishment.”

“I’m sorry, Clay.”

She moistened her lips.

“I guess the champagne isn’t working.”

Clay cupped his fingers beneath her chin.

“I think I know what will.”

He kissed her then, a soft, seductive kiss that sent shivers all the way to her toes.

He nibbled the corners of her mouth and ran his tongue inside to tease and tangle with hers.

She thought he would never stop and little by little, she didn’t want him to.

You’re all right, now, the little voice said.

Clay knows what to do.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and kissed him back with everything inside her.

Clay felt Ellie’s response and a wave of relief washed over him.

He wanted this to be as good for her as he knew it would be for him.

He was thick and hard, aching to be inside her.

Shifting his weight on the sofa, he ignored the throbbing in his groin that had been building all day. He tried to get comfortable, but he didn’t stop kissing her. He couldn’t bring himself to break away.

He nibbled an earlobe, trailed kisses along her neck and shoulders while his hand teased her breast through the fabric of her dress.

He could feel her trembling, not from nerves this time.

She clung to him, kissing him back, running her hands down the front of his shirt.

Clay unfastened the buttons and guided her fingers beneath the starched white cotton.

“Touch me, Ellie,”

he whispered.

“I need you.”

Ellie moaned.

Clay’s muscles bunched at the feel of her small hands running over his chest, circling a flat copper nipple.

With a soft buzz, Clay unzipped her little black dress, pushed it off her shoulders, then caught his breath at the sight of her lacy white teddy with its delicate pink satin bow.

The sheer material clung tantalizingly to her ripe, feminine curves, outlined her luscious breasts. He pulled the narrow pink ribbon and they spilled forward, into his hands.

Clay groaned at the picture they made. “Lovely,”

he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Clay cupped them, caressed them, bent his head to take the dusky peaks into his mouth.

Ellie arched against him, slid her fingers into his hair.

Ellie helped him out of his shirt, then traced the muscles across his chest.

Dipping her head, she pressed her mouth over his heart, ringed his nipple with her tongue, her hand sliding up his thigh until she brushed the hardness straining beneath his zipper.

With a gasp, she jerked her hand away and color flooded her cheeks.

Clay chuckled and shook his head.

Flex had said she was a terrific lover, better even than Gabriella.

She was certainly setting fire to his loins, but not because of her skills.

In fact, just the opposite. Her innocence seemed so genuine, so endearing, he found himself struggling to go slow. He wanted to take her, drive into her, possess her, but he wanted to wring every ounce of pleasure out of it for her.

He glanced down at her snowy lingerie.

The lacy white teddy and stockings enhanced the image of purity, the fetching sight making his blood pound.

If this was a game, it was one of the most intriguing he’d ever played.

He caught her wrist and drew her hand down to his erection.

She seemed reluctant at first, then she let him rest it on the bulge in his pants.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then, as if her curiosity were stronger than her fear, her fingers roamed over him, feather lightly touching the fabric, exploring, measuring the width and length.

“So big,”

she whispered, eyes wide in her flushed oval face.

A fine sheen of perspiration dampened the reddish hair at her temples.

Strangely pleased by her approval, Clay felt a wave of astonishment.

Good God, he wasn’t some preening rooster.

He didn’t need her approval to know he was a man.

Bending his head, he kissed her. He wanted her out of her skimpy clothes, as luscious as they were. He wanted her in his bed.

Shirtless, but still wearing his pants, he came to his feet, scooped her into his arms, and headed for the bedroom.

Ellie wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

When he reached the bed, he set her down gently, kicked off his kidskin loafers, unbuckled his belt, and took off the rest of his clothes.

With obvious fascination, Ellie watched him, her eyes moving down his naked body.

“I hope you aren’t disappointed,”

he teased, though he could see she wasn’t.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you, love.”

Clay kissed her, his tongue gliding over hers, hers entwining with his, making him groan.

They were both breathing hard.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly unfocused.

He pulled off her teddy and rolled down her stockings, leaving her naked and lovely.

Wanting to memorize the sight, he let his gaze roam over her.

She was luscious and sexy, full-busted, curvy and sweet.

Red-brown curls invitingly marked her sex, and it was all Clay could do to keep from tasting her there, bringing her to climax.

“Clay,”

she whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

“Please kiss me.

I don’t want to get nervous again.”

Clay complied, covering her on the mattress and kissing her deeply again.

Ellie had never felt anything like it.

Wherever Clay touched came alive.

Her skin felt hot and tight.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, gliding across her sensitive skin, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples, driving her insane. His touch moved down her body to the flat spot below her navel, then lover, lacing through the triangle of curls beneath.

When he began to stroke her, Ellie couldn’t stop a moan.

She was wet.

So impossibly wet.

Clay set up a sensual rhythm that brought her to the edge of frenzy, then he shifted, came up over her, and she felt his erection pressing against the entrance to her core.

Closing her eyes, she arched toward him, wanting him to ease the ache that burned there .

Clay eased the tip of his shaft inside.

He stopped when he felt her tense.

“Easy, love, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t stop, Clay,”

she said softly.

“I don’t want to rush you.

Try to relax.”

He eased forward a little farther, and Ellie bit her lip.

He was so big.

Much larger than she had expected.

She liked the feeling of fullness, but it hurt a little, too.

Clay inched forward, then stopped.

“Are you always like this?”

When she looked into his face, his worried expression made the decision for her.

“You feel wonderful, Clay, it’s just...”

“Just what, love?”

“I’ve never been with a man before.”

“What?”

“I said I’ve never—“

“I know what you said.”

Clay’s soft look turned dark.

“I think this little game has gone far enough.

If you have some sort of physical problem I should know about, you’d better tell me now.”

Ellie pushed against him, trying to drive him farther inside.

“Don’t stop, Clay, please.

We can talk about this later.

I just didn’t want you to worry about hurting me.”

“Damn you, do you think I’m a fool? I know about Flex and Gerry.”

“Gerry?”

“Yes, Gerry.

Flex told me about him.”

Ellie thought if Flex were there in that moment, she might kill him.

“Flex made it up.

Please, Clay, can’t we talk about this later?”

Clay looked at her hard.

“Why in God’s name would he do that?”

“It was a joke.

Please, Clay—“

“A joke!”

When she felt him begin to withdraw from her body, Ellie clutched his neck.

“Don’t go.

I promise I’ll explain later.”

She tried to kiss him, but he pulled away.

“You’ll explain now.”

Clay rolled away from her.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and strode immodestly into the bathroom.

He returned wearing a thick white terrycloth robe.

He tossed a second robe to Ellie, who pulled the huge garment up over her, but didn’t put it on.

“Now, let’s start all over.

Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“Does it make a difference? Surely it doesn’t mean you won’t make love to me.

I mean everyone’s a virgin until the first time.”

“Let me get this straight.

You’ve never been to bed with Flex, and you’ve never been to bed with Gerry.”

“Flex made it up.

He said you’d go crazy if you thought he could get me in bed and you couldn’t.

And I didn’t want you to laugh at me,”

she added softly.

The words had a ring of truth Clay couldn’t deny.

He couldn’t deny her tight little passage either.

“You’re a twenty-four-year-old virgin,”

he repeated, still trying to convince himself.

“Am I supposed to expect blood on the sheets?”

Ellie flushed and toyed with the sash on the robe.

“I doubt there’ll be blood.

I’ve been riding horses for years.”

Clay felt the most ridiculous leap of joy.

“It isn’t a crime, you know,”

Ellie said, beginning to get defensive.

“Besides there were extenuating circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

Clay demanded, but he could barely control the smile that hovered on his lips.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Ellie balled her hand into a fist.

“I want to make love.

I’m sick and tired of being a virgin.

It took all my courage to go through with this tonight, and you’re determined to spoil it. I wish I’d never told you.”

Clay tipped her chin up with his hand.

Tears of frustration filled her green eyes.

“I’m glad you told me.

It doesn’t change the way I feel about making love to you. If anything, it makes me want you more. We’ll just take our time, that’s all. When I get back from Monaco, we’ll spend a few days together. Get to know each other so you won’t be so nervous. Then when we make love—“

“Are you telling me you won’t make love to me tonight?”

Her voice rose a notch.

Clay reached over and caught her hand.

“Ellie, listen to me.

The phone call I got was from my father.

He’ll be here in the morning.

We’re flying down to Monaco with the Contessa Pavetti. I don’t want to make love to you tonight, then leave you in the morning.”

“I don’t care what you do tomorrow,”

Ellie cried, near hysteria.

“I can’t stand this one minute more.

I swear, Clay Whitfield, if you won’t make love to me tonight—this second—I’ll walk out that door, go back to my hotel, and find someone who will!”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I will, I swear it.”

Clutching the robe, she came to her knees on the bed.

“I’ll go to Flex.

Or maybe I’ll find Gerry.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

But he had seen that determined look before.

“Every word.”

“Ellie, be reasonable.

I have to leave in the morning.

I have to—“

“I’ll do it, Clay, I swear it.”

She might.

He knew her well enough to know how stubborn she could be.

“Damn you, Ellie, this isn’t some kind of game.”

“Isn’t it?”

Clay clamped his jaw.

“You little witch, you’re leaving me no choice—because I’m sure as hell not going to let someone else take you to bed!”

With that he reached out, grabbed her robe and jerked it away.

Ellie caught her breath.

Clay circled her wrist with his fingers, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss so hot and demanding Ellie’s knees went weak.

In moments, his erection pushed against her, and she heard her own little purr.

Clay shrugged off his robe and pressed her into the mattress, his hands everywhere, touching her, teasing her, heating her from the inside out.

The ache returned to the place between her legs, and her the peaks of her breasts went hard.

He nipped them with his teeth, licked and sucked until her fears receded and all she could think of was Clay.

When he began to stroke her, she cried out his name and begged him to take her.

“Soon, love,”

he promised. “Soon.”

Kisses trailed over her stomach while he continued to touch her, tease her.

Dear Lord, she felt consumed by desire, ready to burst into flame.

Clay seemed to know.

By the time he positioned himself above her, spreading her thighs with his knee, he felt even bigger than he had before.

Inch by inch he pushed into her, a little easier this time since she was so ready.

She felt no tearing, just a tightness that had her moaning and shifting beneath him.

Clay kissed her endlessly, whispering soft, encouraging words, telling her he didn’t want to hurt her.

All Ellie could think of was how much she needed the fiery ache to end.

“Please, Clay,”

she pleaded.

Clay clenched his jaw, fighting to go slow until he filled her completely.

When he eased back and slid into her again, heat rushed through her, desire so thick and hot she dug her nails into the muscles across his shoulders.

Out and then in.

Out and then in, the rhythm slow at first, then building.

She arched her hips to meet each thrust, heightening the pleasure, immersing herself until she was acting on instinct alone.

A momentum built inside her, a feeling so powerful, so intense, she couldn’t think of anything but the impact of flesh against flesh, the fiery heat of their bodies joining together.

Clay was relentless.

She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her, driving himself deeper and deeper.

He kissed her again, his mouth and tongue as insistent as his body.

With a soft sob, Ellie came apart, pleasure bursting through her in thick, glorious waves.

Stars burst behind her eyes; her skin tingled and burned as one spasm followed another, the force of her response sending Clay over the edge.

Still driving into her, he came with a shuddering climax so powerful it seemed to surprise even Clay.

Ellie spiraled down, her body limp and sated.

For long moments, she lay there, heart pounding, joy filling her.

Then the incredible feeling began to recede as Clay gently withdrew.

Insanely, she wished she could hold him inside her forever.

When their breathing eased, he rolled to his side and took care of the condom she hadn’t realized he had put on.

Clay relaxed on the bed and settled her in the curve of his arm.

They lay quietly for a time, Ellie full of wonder and contentment, praying Clay was one-tenth as happy as she.

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, and he propped himself on an elbow.

Clay smiled down at her.

“Glad you didn’t go back to the hotel and find Gerry?”

Ellie smiled back.

“You were wonderful.”

“You are, love.”

He kissed her gently while his eyes remained open in a warm caress.

When the kiss deepened, Ellie’s eyes drifted closed.

Clay’s lips felt soft and determined and to her surprise, fresh desire washed over her.

Ellie shifted restlessly on the bed.

“Such a lusty little baggage,”

Clay teased, nibbling the side of her neck.

He was hard again, she realized as he came up over her, careful to keep his weight propped above her.

“But then you’ve always been a quick study.”

Ellie gave him an impish grin and welcomed him inside.

Clay groaned.

Ellie felt no discomfort this time, just a deep hunger that seemed to match Clay’s.

Afterward, they slept, only to awaken several hours later and start all over again.

Ellie didn’t remember sleeping, though she knew they must have.

But she remembered every moment of their lovemaking.

Exhausted, she snuggled against him, the sheen of their exertion mingling beneath the crisp white cotton sheets.

Clay’s breath felt warm against her hair.

He smelled male and musky, and they shared the intimate odor of sex.

Her body still tingled, yet Ellie felt strangely complete.

Whole was the only word she could think of to describe it.

As if she’d found the lost half of herself.

It was the most wonderful sensation she’d ever known.

And the most terrifying.

Because Clay Whitfield couldn’t possibly feel the same.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself, ignoring the painful lump that rose in her throat.

She’d known what she was getting into, in the end, had forced him to take her to bed.

But she hadn’t anticipated the emotions making love to Clay would bring.

It had to happen sometime, she told herself.

Sooner or later, you would have made love to someone.

It just happened to be Clay.

But the hard truth was, she was in love with Clayton Whitfield.

Sleeping with him had only made her love him more.

She felt him shift beside her, snuggle her a little closer.

“Tell me about the extenuating circumstances,”

he said softly, smoothing a lock of her hair between his fingers.

Ellie shifted and turned on her side to look at him.

A sliver of weak sunlight peeked through an opening in the heavy silk draperies, signaling the dawn and bathing the room in a dim yellow glow.

“I had a vision disorder.

A little over four years ago, I had an operation that corrected my eyesight.

I’d been riding horses since I was a child, mostly by feel, tuning into the horse’s movements.

It wasn’t until after the surgery that I was able to see well enough to compete.”

“You mean you were blind?”

Clay looked incredulous.

“Not exactly.

I could see colors and shapes and light.

I just couldn’t focus.

Sort of like seeing through wavy frosted glass.”

“Good God.”

Clay pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t date before my surgery,”

Ellie said.

“I was kind of a loner.

People always felt sorry for me, and I hated that, so I just sort of kept to myself.”

“What about your schooling? You’re obviously well-educated.”

“I could see up close.

If I held the book just a few inches from my nose, I could read.

My parents hired the best tutors money could buy.

After the surgery I went on to college. I dated a little then, but most of my time, I was either studying or working with the horses. They were always my passion.”

Clay leaned over and kissed her.

“How about now?”

Ellie grinned.

“Now I have two passions.”

Clay hoped she was referring to him and not just the lovemaking he’d taught her.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to be accepted as an equal.

I didn’t want to be different.

I was always looked at and talked about...pitied.

I wanted to make a fresh start.”

Ellie gazed up at him.

“Flex and Jake know.

Maggie Delaine.

Nobody else. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Ellie.”

But as he said the words, his stomach tightened.

The bitter truth was, hurting her was inevitable.

He was Clayton Whitfield, dedicated bachelor, womanizer.

Bastard. If he had it to do over, he wasn’t sure he’d take her to bed.

Who was he kidding? He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He’d wanted Ellie Fletcher since the first time he’d seen her.

And he was the kind of man who took what he wanted.

Still...when she looked at him with those trusting green eyes, he couldn’t help wondering if things could be different.

If he could be different.

Clay blew out a breath.

With time a little short, he rolled out of bed, climbed into the shower, then got dressed for the day.

While Ellie showered, he ordered breakfast: eggs, bacon sausage, potatoes, juice, toast, and coffee.

The food arrived before she had time to put on her clothes so she joined him wearing the big terrycloth bathrobe, her hair damp and curling down her back.

Having Shepped dinner the night before, they ate ravenously.

Clay found himself watching her, enjoying the way she smiled at him, the playful laughter in her voice.

He was more fascinated with Ellie than before, wanting her and wishing he could make love to her again.

He didn’t because it would only be a short time before he left for Monaco with his father and the contessa, expected to play his usual role of playboy.

Ellie leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.

“I’d better get dressed.”

Holding half a slice of toast, she got up from the table.

Clay grabbed her waist and pulled her down on his lap, kissed her so thoroughly he went hard.

She tasted like marmalade and orange blossoms.

“I wish we had more time,”

he whispered against her ear.

Ellie cupped his face with her hand.

“So do I.

How long will you be gone?”

“Too long.”

He wished he didn’t have to leave at all.

“I’m not exactly sure.”

Ellie just nodded and turned to leave.

Clay smacked her playfully on the behind.

“Will you miss me?”

“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

With a saucy grin, she darted into the bedroom they had shared and made her way back to the huge master bath.

With so much to do, Ellie dressed in slacks and a pink knit top.

She’d just finished combing her hair and putting on her make-up when she heard the doorbell ring.

Ready to leave, she headed back into the bedroom and pulled open the door to the living room.

Clay stood in the foyer, an attractive, dark-haired woman, slender build, late-thirties, clinging to his neck.

The woman’s expensive blue silk blouse outlined her small, cone-shaped breasts.

She was kissing him, her tongue in his mouth.

Avery Whitfield stood beside them, grinning.

Ellie swayed against the doorjamb, watching Clay with the morbid fascination of a cobra studying its victim and feeling her stomach roll.

Clay extracted himself from the woman’s arms and turned in Ellie’s direction.

His face paled when he spotted her, a reflection of her own.

Staring at the woman whose lips still looked wet from Clay’s kiss, Ellie felt a surge of revulsion.

Fighting a wave of nausea, she closed the bedroom door and raced for the big marble bathroom, turned the lock, and emptied the contents of her breakfast into the commode.

“Ellie?”

Clay pounded on the bathroom door.

She didn’t answer.

“Ellie, please come out so we can talk about this.”

“I’m not feeling well,”

she said, her face bloodless and numb.

Beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead and dampened the hair at her temples.

“Go with your father.

I’ll take a taxi back to the hotel.”

“Ellie, please let me in.”

“No.

I’m fine, really I am.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“Come on, son,”

Avery called out.

“The plane is waiting.

We’ve got one more stop to make, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Come on, Clay, darling,”

the woman said.

Ellie bent over and wretched again.

“Damn it, Ellie, let me in.”

“Come on, son,”

Avery said impatiently.

“Pack a bag and let’s go.”

“I’ll leave some money for the cab on the dresser,”

Clay said softly.

“Don’t you dare!”

Ellie called through the door.

Clay cursed and stalked away.

She could hear him opening and closing drawers, snapping the latch on his suitcase, then slamming the door behind him.

Ellie leaned her head against the cold marble wall of the bathroom.

Tears gathered and slipped down her cheeks.

Clay had warned her.

She had no one to blame but herself. It didn’t stop the hurting, the sheer, bone-aching grief.

She slid down the wall and rested her head on her knees, wrapped her arms around them.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she?

A sob escaped.

At least she’d gotten what she deserved.