Unchained Memories (17 page)

“Did you bid on anything in the silent auction tent?” he asked, pouring some normalcy over her overheated libido.

“I did. There’s a designer bag and a basket of Italian wine I wouldn’t mind winning.”

“It’s hardly winning. You pay at the end, you know.”

She laughed at his solemn explanation. “I know. It’s just more fun to think of it my way.”

“Come with me to the tent. I need to donate some money to the hospital, and that’s as good a way as any to do it.”

He guided her back toward the auction area where over a hundred gifts were displayed to perfection. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, sending heat sizzling up her spine before detouring into her blood. She was not helping herself. Getting sucked into Clay’s aura had not been her intention when she came here today. Although, if she were truthful, she did put on a pretty white sundress with the thought of catching his attention.

And she now hoped it had worked, for she wanted more than life itself to turn Clay’s head, as he seemed to be doing to her. If she’d had any thought of keeping her guard up while in his presence, that resolve had been destroyed at the first sighting.

“What are you going to bid on?” She feigned a casualness she wasn’t feeling.

“How about this overnight stay in New Hope? Dinner, a room at a quaint little inn, breakfast. Not too far, but far enough. A weekend getaway.”

“Sounds nice.” Her mood deflated. Who would he take on his little weekend getaway?

“Or here’s one in New York City. The Ritz Carlton, Broadway tickets. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “It depends on where you want to go. They’re very different.”

“Which one would you like better?”

He couldn’t mean to invite her. “What difference does that make? You’re the one who’s bidding.” She hoped she didn’t sound surly, or worse yet, disappointed.

“You wouldn’t go with me if I win?”

Her heart stopped beating and she mentally pinched herself. “Why would you invite me?” Stupid, stupid question.

“You heard Richard the other night. We both have a workaholic problem. What better way to start on our path to balance than to have a weekend away? Supposedly we’ll be happier, he’ll be thrilled we’re taking his advice, and the hospital wins because the bids are already up to fifteen hundred dollars. So pick one.”

Before she rationalized her way out of responding, she blurted out, “New Hope.”

He picked up a pencil and upped the bid. “That should assure we get it.”

His smile reached his gorgeous green eyes and she had to admonish herself to stop staring.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a flash. Charlotte challenged Clay in the game tents, encouraged him to dance the polka with her in the music tent, and they wended their way through junk food heaven, tasting everything from hot dogs with potatoes and peppers, cheese fries, caramel apples and fried cookies. They’d even taken a ride on the Ferris wheel.

By six o’clock, the crowd was thinning and the fair was winding down.

“So, Charley, what are you doing tonight?” Clay’s question sounded casual, with the hint of an invitation. Or was that just wishful thinking?

She paused before answering. “Nothing much. I thought I’d work on a few files I brought home. Give me a jump on the week ahead.” She grimaced. “It’s a very exciting life I lead.”

“Would you like to come back to my place for a drink? It’s early, and this is the first free Saturday night I’ve had in a month.”

Joy bubbled up and fizzed through her blood, sending bits of euphoria directly to her brain. The word yes sprang to the surface, but something intangible held it back. The unspoken questions swirled. Could they put aside their differences? Or would they just hurt each other in the end?

Charlotte assessed him. A suggestive smile inched over his perfect mouth. She ached for him to kiss her. And more.

She nodded ever so slightly, her libido taking charge. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

****

“What would you like to drink?” Clay laid his keys on the end table and switched on the lamp while Charlotte’s inner voice suggested to her butterflies to settle down.

“I don’t know. What are you having?” She didn’t want to be presumptuous and suggest a glass of wine if he were only having soda.

“I’m not thirsty.” Those three words held a world of meaning, and Charlotte turned to face Clay, confirming her suspicion.

His slow smile burned a trail through her body, and she had to keep from fanning herself.

“You invited me up here for a drink.”

“So I did. I asked you what you wanted.” The sparkle in his eyes belied the devilish intention barely hiding beneath his words.

She all but stopped breathing as he walked across the room and stood in front of her. “Yes, you did,” was all she could manage.

“From the second I saw you today, looking amazing in this white dress”—he placed his palm on her waist and drew her closer—“I’ve wanted to be alone with you, away from all those people, all the noise. And I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

I’ve wanted to be alone with you and kiss you since I was eighteen
, whispered the voice in her head. But another, more intrusive, voice weighed in.
This is a mistake. It can never work. You’ll just get hurt.

Clay’s eyes, so serious, bore into hers, pulling her toward him, silencing her critic. He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers, tender, cautious. And the yearning she’d built up since their last kiss came flooding back. She moved her lips under his, demanding more. She didn’t care about her fear of getting too close. Not now. Not at this moment. She’d worry about it later. He slipped his other hand behind her head and held her, increasing the pressure and sending her into a tailspin. Moving her arms around his neck, she clung to him, opening her mouth and inviting him in, wanting more, wanting everything.

Even if it was just for tonight.

Clay’s hand moved from her waist upward, sending tingles to every extremity. She blindly felt for the buttons on his shirt, easing them open so she could feel the heat of his chest against her palms. His mouth inched its way down her neck, and she leaned her head back, silently begging him to make this fluttering sensation last forever.

A moan escaped her lips, intensifying his passion. His hands were everywhere, transferring shivers and heat to her arms, her shoulders, her breasts. With nimble fingers, he loosened the tie at her neck and her dress fell to her feet. All she had on were white bikini panties and strappy white sandals.

Clay stood back, and desire burned in his dark green eyes. “My God, you’re beautiful.” His reverent words echoed through the haze, raising her to the status of a Roman goddess as he studied her almost nude body. Then he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.

Setting her down next to the bed, he yanked off the comforter and pulled the sheets down. “In a hurry?” she asked, ever so sweetly.

His gaze settled on her breasts and he pulled her toward him, moving his hands expertly over them until her nipples were hard and peaked, straining for more. She yanked at the button on his pants before easing the zipper down and sliding her hand over his pulsing erection. He grabbed her wrist. “I need a moment,” he breathed, closing his eyes and groaning. “I am so turned on by you.”

Those words, coming from Clay, had Charlotte inside out and upside down. The man who had inspired her fantasies as a teen was now standing before her, all raw desire and delicious words, sparking every nerve in her body. Heat pooled between her legs and longing roared through her blood.

“Take off your clothes.” She couldn’t believe those imperious words were coming from her mouth. They were so demanding. So carnal. So male. But his smoldering eyes and easy smile told her he was more than willing to follow her orders.

She was desperate to have him like this. Yet, she needed to slow it down, to enjoy it. For this is what she’d wanted when she was eighteen. What she still wanted.

She held up her hand. “No. I’ll do it.”

Raising her hand to his face, she traced his full lips before trailing her fingers down his neck to the remaining buttons of his shirt. Clay’s Adam’s apple moved in his throat, and she reveled at the thought she could drive him crazy. Pulling the tail of his shirt from his pants, she slid it over his shoulders, allowing her fingers to whisper over his hot skin. The muscles in his chest tightened with each touch until she drew the shirt off and tossed it on the floor.

His eyes were on fire, and she lost herself in them as she kissed his mouth, sweet, sensuous, hot.

He eased out of his pants while deepening the kiss, staying connected until he was naked before her.

“It’s your turn.” He nodded toward her panties.

She stepped out of her shoes, hooked her thumbs into each side of her undergarment and slid the white silk down her legs.

Clay took her hand and pulled her toward him, ravaging her mouth as his hand slipped between her legs, all patience gone, replaced by pure erotic need. His finger slid easily into her wet opening, rhythmically driving her into another galaxy. The sensations ricocheted through her body, making her weak with need. When she could no longer stand, she pushed him backward onto the bed and straddled him, pushing her mound against his length in a sensual massage. Within seconds, he stilled her hips and reached over to his nightstand, hastily pulling a condom from the drawer. Ripping the foil open with his teeth, he sheathed his manhood before guiding himself inside of her. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, feeling the ecstasy of Clay’s movement as his hands fondled her breasts. She picked up speed and rode him, finding their rhythm within seconds.

After all this time, she was here, making wild, passionate love to the man of her dreams. Her fantasy come true.

Charlotte clung to Clay, pushing them to the edge, determined to make this a night neither of them would soon forget, determined to take everything she could from this coupling.

Because once the sun rose, they’d both be in their corners of the ring, wondering what magic could have made them drop the gloves.

****

Clay awoke in a dreamlike state, conscious, but hovering in space, as he tucked Charlotte into his embrace. His inner alarm always woke him at five but he’d managed to fall back asleep, a luxury which underscored the perfection of this day. Contentment echoed through him as he pulled Charley even closer, reveling in the fact he not only held Charlotte in his arms but today was another day off.

Her fingers intertwined with his and he became acutely aware of her soft breathing, trying to inhale in tandem, so their rhythms were the same. Silky strands of chestnut hair fanned the pillow and he rubbed his cheek against them, catching the familiar flowery scent, making him inhale longer, and thus ruining their synchronized breathing.

He tried again.

This wasn’t like him.

If he’d bothered to have an overnight guest, which seemed in the distant past, he’d made sure he was up and off to the hospital at daybreak, with the unlucky lady sent back to her place before dawn. But he didn’t want that with Charley. He wanted to laze the day away in bed, having sex, reading the newspaper, eating breakfast, talking.

He couldn’t pinpoint the reason for this abnormal desire. Except he felt comfortable with her, as if he knew her. As if she knew him. At certain moments during yesterday’s fair, he’d seen glimpses of the young woman he’d tutored so long ago. In the art tent, her intense interest in the paintings done by sick children brought him back to a day long ago.

“What’s all this?” Clay asked as he entered the children’s ward, practically tripping over a table set up in the middle of the floor. Several children stood at the table dipping paintbrushes into water colors then swishing them around their canvas.

“I found my art supplies that day you brought me home.” Charley’s smile lit up her paint-smudged face. “We decided to paint pictures to decorate the drab walls around here.”

Clay knew the “we” was “she.”

“Did you get approval?”

“From who? I mean whom?” she corrected. “If anyone gives us a hard time, I’ll just say you okayed it.”

Exasperation crawled up Clay’s spine. “Charley, I am not in charge here. I’m just an intern. You should not be making up your own rules.”

“You’re always so serious. You need to lighten up.” She made a duck face with her lips and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It would only encourage her.

A little boy named Sam cut in. “Look. I painted my family.” He held up his creation of stick figures holding hands. They had circles for heads and big smiles. So did Sam as he proudly shared his work.

“That’s beautiful,” said Charley, beaming at him. “Where would you like to hang it?” She grabbed some masking tape and her crutches and followed Sam to his bed as he pointed to the wall above his head. “That way they’ll always be with me.”

A lump clogged Clay’s throat. Charley had lost her own family, but she gave her heart and soul to these children to make them happy and surrounded by love.

He shook his head and murmured. “I’ll get the approval.”

Charley still had a sweet spot for children. Yesterday, while listening to the foster children’s choir, emotions had played across her face, so easy to see, happiness, excitement, concern, caring. He’d seen those emotions before. It was like spending time with a long lost friend. But better. Because this long lost friend sent his sexual desire into overdrive.

He inched closer and sprinkled her neck with kisses. She sighed and snuggled deeper into him.

Within seconds his playful amorousness turned passionate, and he slid on a condom before sliding on top of her, capturing her lips while nudging her legs apart. Her erotic response sent sparks flashing through his system and his need for her turned into a wildfire. She writhed below him, opening herself up, pushing, pulsating, taking him with the same force he exerted upon her.

Until she strained against him in a final gasp, contracting around him in an intense orgasm that rocked him straight down to his toes. He came fast and furious, taking her with him until their strength was gone.