He always knew exactly what to do to drive her absolutely crazy. Actually, all he had to do was be there and she ended up needing a new pair of panties.
Clay shifted just a tad to his left, just enough so that he could trail his hand down the center of her body as if he owned it to cup her bare privates with his fingers, the slide of his middle finger between those soft lips, right to the sopping wet center of her, already slick and waiting for his attention. The pad of that finger began to torture her. There was no other word for it. He was so big that, when he was on top of her, she could barely move. Her free left hand and arm were entirely useless against him—trying to move him in any way was like trying to adjust the position of a brick wall.
That finger was going to drive her crazy. She was always simmering at a high level of desire around him, and it was almost embarrassing how easily he could bring her to pleasure. "Please, Clay, please!" she breathed, knowing that he liked to tease her sometimes and would stop in the middle of things and bring her down a notch or two, only to build those ever present fires back up again, slowly and carefully stroking and stoking her, bringing her to a fever pitch where he would hold her for the longest, hardest moment of her life, then finally send her flying over that cliff as he joined her body with his...
For some reason, Elodie started out of her near sleep fantasy at the exact moment he entered her, her body spasming with pleasure as if he were lying right next to her. She was in a cold sweat, wondering if she was doing the right thing, if going out with Clay was going to lead to a point when she would never see him again, worrying herself into a frazzle so that she barely got any sleep that night.
Chapter 5
It was the quietest, most awkward dinner either of them had ever had. Early on, Elodie had started to think that maybe this wasn't the best of ideas. She was just so damned uncomfortable—she feared she looked as though someone was peeling away her skin a strip at a time. Just before they placed their orders with the extremely attentive waiter, Clay leaned towards her and said in a playful tone, "I promise no one around here bites."
He watched her intently as she felt her face heat up and she couldn't help but bite her lip, her eyes scanning the menu to find the cheapest thing to order—not an easy task at all.
His eyebrow rose, and his chin automatically tilted down a notch as he caught her eye. "This meal is on me. You are to order everything, from soup to nuts, anything you want. And if you don't, I will."
He didn't look like he was bluffing at all, and he'd already threatened to spank her once, and she knew they weren't idle threats, either. Somehow she doubted that he would hesitate one instant to take her over his knee. Elodie now had to look at him a little differently than she had been doing. He'd always been a take-charge guy, confident and dominant and more sure of himself than any ten men. But all of that had always been focused on someone other than her.
Even during their lunches, where she got to drink him in for an hour or two at a time, she could feel the warmth and comfort of his undivided attention, but something had changed between them... ever since she'd called with the intention of canceling their dinner but he hadn't let her. Things had somehow become a notch or two more intimate, just from that discussion, and now all that intensity had settled squarely on her, and she didn't know whether to revel in it or run and hide in the corner.
It seemed easier to give in to him, to a point. But Elodie didn't want him ordering for her—she was too darned fussy for that. He would never be able to remember all the myriad things she refused to eat. The menu wasn't huge, but she was surprised to see that there were several items that looked interesting. There were no prices on the menu, and she knew that she could never have afforded to pay for her own meal here. She hadn't intended to order an appetizer, but when he raised his eyebrow at her in that tone, she was forced to reconsider. Elodie ended up with a prosciutto and melon appetizer, which seemed to surprise him, followed by a flat iron steak, cooked medium, and a baked potato.
Clay gave his own order and the waiter scurried away. "There's one thing that I have always wondered about you and I've never asked. Would you mind a somewhat personal question?"
Elodie squirmed in her chair, refusing to meet his eyes, saying, "No," in a long, drawn out, extremely tentative manner.
"You're so timid—how did that scumbag ever get you to marry him in the first place?"
"Oh, you mean Randy?"
Clay nearly choked on a sip of his water. "That was really his name?"
She nodded vehemently. "It was a pretty good descriptor, too."
He leaned forward and beamed the most seductive smile a man could. "Was it?"
"Oh, yeah..."
"So how'd you guys hook up?"
"School. I tutored him. We talked a lot, even though we didn't have much in common..." she knew she was growing redder by the minute, "and he was a smooth talker."