Their entrées arrived and were presented to them with a flourish. Once they were alone again, Clay leaned towards Elodie, grabbed her hand, and played his trump card. "It's what April would have wanted. You know that as well as I do. She wouldn't want me to leave you alone."
How could Elodie ever hope to argue with that? She cut into a steak that practically fell apart when she threatened it with the knife and fork. It literally melted in her mouth, and a small groan escaped her as she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation for a moment. It had been a long time since she'd had a meal like this.
When she opened her eyes, Clay was staring right at her, as if she was dessert. "Uh, how do you know that April would want you to look after me?" She was groping for something—anything—to say to distract him. Those eyes were robbing her of what few remaining shreds of flimsy protection around her fragile heart she had. He could see into her soul, she was sure; see all of the things she'd dreamt of doing with him, she was certain he could discern those innermost secrets he should never know.
"Because she mentioned it one time—that, if anything happened to her, she wanted me to keep an eye out for you. It's my manly duty… to watch over you," Clay said.
Elodie took a swig of her water, hoping it would cool her down from the inside out, but no such luck. The more they talked, the more she felt the need to fidget. His effect on her was tangible. She was still breathing much more heavily than she usually did, although she was consciously trying to hide it. Her skin was hot and tight all over, not considering the blushes he caused with nearly every sentence. Her fingers were frozen with nerves, yet that nether area between her legs surged and throbbed with excess heat, and she could feel herself dripping into her panties.
He was too close. He was too damned close, in more ways than one.
Meanwhile, she was trying desperately not to let any of it show. If he even suspected... she would never recover.
So she cut and took another bite of her steak, but she'd lost the enjoyment of it, chewing robotically and swallowing so hard it might as well have been a clump of dryer lint. "And you think that April meant you should oversee my wardrobe?" she said.
He was eating his meal as if she wasn't just about to explode two feet away from him. "I most certainly do. I have been lax in my duties, and I'm going to rectify that situation as soon as possible." Clay leaned forward, looking her directly in the eye. "I want you to go out and buy yourself a winter coat, and I want to see it the next time we get together, or you will not like the consequences, I promise you."
"Consequences?" She giggled uncomfortably. "What? Are you going to spank me if I don't?"
"Yes." His look made it very clear he wasn't joking.
"Ha ha, very funny." She was trying to make light of the situation, even though the look on his face showed he was serious, and the ache deep within her pussy revealed that she wasn't one hundred percent opposed to the idea.
"I'm a man of my word, Elodie. So I advise you to get a coat, or you won't be sitting comfortably for quite some time."
Her eyes widened. How the hell was she going to do that? She was barely making her rent, paying her bills, buying groceries and painting supplies. Sometimes groceries took a decided back seat to everything else. A new coat was out of the question. She could go to Goodwill, she supposed, but she didn't really want to. Elodie wasn't much on wearing other peoples' clothes. But the bigger question… was he serious? Would he actually spank her?
"And I want us to get together more often than once a month, too. I don't have much of a social life, and I don't imagine you do, either, no offense. It wouldn't hurt either of us to get out more often and go do things. We can see movies, and go out to dinner, and go bowling… or I don't know. Whatever we want."
Elodie was wondering how she was going to pay for all of this, but she didn't say anything, concentrating instead on her meal.
"I don't want to lose contact with you, Elodie. I don't want to push you too hard or piss you off—although I can't remember a time when I have ever seen you angry. But I realize that I want to take care of you—that it feels good to have someone to look after again. April was a handful—all bounce and go. You are more fragile, but with the familiar stubborn streak that your family is cursed with." He reached over and took her hand in his. Elodie instantly tried to pull her hand back, but he refused to let her go, holding gently but firmly, not allowing her to wiggle her way out of his careful grasp.
She was practically in a panic. She did not want him touching her. The man was sharp as a tack, and he was sure to discover her immediate response to him if he was able to lay hands on her any time he wanted. So she concentrated all of her effort—every ounce of her being—on retrieving that hand, but got absolutely nowhere. He wasn't hurting her at all, he was merely holding on to her hand with calm determination.