I had scooped her up in my arms despite her giggling protests and kissed her with a possessive fire I hadn't known I had. Clarity had melted in my arms and I had moved quickly to get us to the soft sanctuary of the bedroom.
The second time we had made love was a slow exploration that had stripped me down to bare want. Clarity was everything that I had ever wanted and more. The taste of her skin intoxicated me, the catches of her breath were like music, and the connection of our bodies so deep that I didn't know where I ended and she began.
My lungs stopped, as if any slight move would shatter the thought. It circled around and around my brain, but I couldn't let it form. I shifted farther away from Clarity and felt the loss of her warmth like something was torn away.
I loved her. It rang inside my head, coursed through my already convinced body. All I wanted to do was gather her close to my body and stay in the peace of our shared bed.
What would she say? Did she feel anything near the same?
Clarity was young, she was on the cusp of big changes, and last night was probably nothing more than a celebration to her.
I shook my head. Clarity was different. She didn't do anything casually. My heart turned over. We couldn't have come together without a balance; that just didn't seem right. The blood pounded in my head as I hoped. Clarity had to feel the same otherwise she wouldn't have given herself so openly to me.
I couldn't breathe. I rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up, but that was as far as I could make myself go. I sat and watched her from the corner of my eye.
It would be better if I disappeared before she woke up. How could Clarity end up with someone like me? All her optimism and enthusiasm was wasted on me. I was too old for her, too jaded by far, and, now, thanks to my latest attempt to regain what I'd lost, I was now jobless.
A heavy weight clutched at my chest and I forced myself to concentrate only on getting a deep breath. Why did it hurt so much to think about pushing her away?
Clarity deserved more. She deserved someone as young and buoyant as her. I would only weigh her down.
Unless she pulled me up.
The thought pushed its way into my head and then expanded. It took over the way sunlight could fill a room. Clarity had already given me a spark of inspiration and a chance to recapture some integrity. Then she had willingly given me the sweet, rapturous feel of her body.
I hung my head. This was bad. It was awful. I couldn't be in love with her because the best thing for her was for me to get out of the way.
I couldn't shield her from Michael Tailor. If the rich donor decided he wanted to turn the screws harder on Dean Dunkirk, then Clarity was certainly going to get hurt. After the internship was gone, Tailor would find another way.
The frustration pushed me to my feet. Knowing the way men like Tailor and Barton worked, I could guess that Clarity would have paperwork problems and any number of bureaucratic nightmares. Or they wouldn't be so subtle.
Why would Tailor be above physical intimidation?
I thought of Clarity joking about a road trip but the idea seized me with a wild thread of hope. She and I could take off over winter vacation and not return. Dean Dunkirk would be able to settle the truth with the college president thanks to our expose. There was no reason we needed to be around for the aftermath.
Clarity would complain about missing school, but there was a whole wide world we could go see. She would be safe and we would be together.
I shook my head. I wanted to steal her away from the life she knew and the gesture was not entirely unselfish. Some hero I would turn out to be.
I stomped into my small kitchen and fought the urge to punch a cabinet door. Why hadn't I thought things all the way through? We put everything into the expose and left ourselves no small, torrid detail as leverage. All our cards were on the table and I didn't even have an ace up my sleeve.
The kettle barely fit in my sink above the dirty dishes. We hadn't touched a single thing after dinner. In fact, I didn't even remember if we finished our food.
"Maybe she'll run away with me," I muttered.
I spooned out coffee grounds and hoped the caffeine would clear my head. The only problem was I knew before Clarity was even awake that I would be lost as soon as I saw her emerald-bright eyes. She drew out parts of me that I thought were gone. For the first time I was seeing a future, but the best I could come up with was an extended road trip far away from Clarity's home.
There had to be a way I could shield her from retaliation. Barton was out. I would have assumed he'd come after us too, but the look on his face during our golf course confrontation showed a sliver of respect. Our business was over. The mess with Michael Tailor had just started.
Clarity's presence drew me back to the bedroom and I stood in the doorway. It was strange to be so still while inside everything roiled. Her phone started to buzz. If only she could sleep for a few moments longer, maybe I could come up with something for her.
I snatched up her phone and retreated back into the kitchen. The number was blocked and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It could have been anyone, but a cold flicker of certainty made me answer.
"Clarity Dunkirk?" A heavy male voice tried to sound cheerful.
"This is her phone," I said.
The man cleared his throat. "I need to talk with Ms. Dunkirk. She had an appointment with me on campus this morning and I have yet to see her at Landsman College."
"Who is this?" I asked. I crushed the phone in my fingers as I waited for him to respond.
"One of her professors. When is she planning to come to campus? This isn't something she should avoid."
The sharp edge of his voice cut my last scrap of peace to shreds. Tailor's men were waiting for her. Most likely for a harmless conversation that would tie her up in knots that Clarity would never be able to untangle.
I hung up on him and tossed her phone under the sofa cushions.
The scent of coffee permeated the bedroom and I heard Clarity stir in the bed. I sat down next to her just as her eyes opened. She blinked at the unfamiliar pillow, then squinted up at me.
"There you are," she murmured.
Relief made it easier to breathe. There were no traces of regret or even embarrassment in Clarity's sleepy voice. She didn't jump up with a horrified gasp and rail at herself for bad choices. Clarity was happy and relaxed.
Her hand slipped out of the sheets and squeezed my thigh. "Can't we just sleep in a little longer?" she asked.
She slipped across the bed, the sheet pulling aside to give me a glimpse of her pail skin. I leaned down and kissed her, sinking farther into her lips than the mattress. Then both our phones started buzzing and reality dragged us back.
"Don't answer it," I said.
Clarity slipped on a Landsman tee-shirt I had left thrown over my bedroom door handle. She padded on bare feet to the kitchen. "Ooh, good, there's coffee," Clarity said. "Have you checked the websites?"
"No," I admitted. "I've only been up for a few minutes."
"Good," Clarity smiled at me over the rim of a coffee mug. "I was beginning to think I didn't tire you out enough."
I slipped my hands around her waist and leaned us both against the kitchen counter. "I slept like a rock."
"A very solid, very warm, very comfortable rock," Clarity purred. Then she peeked over my shoulder towards my desk.