his erection slid against a part of her that obviously wasn’t connected to her damned brain.
Daphne pushed hard against his chest. “No.”
Clay flopped back, taking the sheet with him, leaving her naked in the morning light. Daphne squeaked and grabbed at the sheet. Clay held it tight with a knowing gleam in his sleepy eyes. “Nu-uh. If I can’t touch, the least you can let me do is see what I’m missing.”
He rolled over and looked at the body she was trying desperately to cover. “And it’s a nice view. I mean, these tits are—”
“Stop it,” she said, covering her breasts with an arm as she cupped the other hand between the legs she’d squeezed together. “This is . . . crazy. I can’t believe we did what we did.”
Clay grinned. “Twice. And as you can tell”—he looked down at the tented sheet barely covering his hips—“I’m more than willing for a third round.”
Daphne covered her eyes. “We can’t. We just . . . oh.”
Clay had rolled over and started kissing her stomach, sliding down, dipping his tongue into her navel. “Oh, but we can. I’m not supposed to be at work for another hour. Oh wait, I’m already at work.” He slid a hand up her leg to her thigh, making her nerve endings tingle.
She grabbed his hair and made him lift his head. “Ellery will be here in twenty minutes. You have to leave. If she sees your truck . . . oh . . . my . . . goodness.”
His hand squeezed her hip. “So how many times do you want to come this time?”
Orgasms. Yeah, she’d had multiple orgasms both times they’d had sex. Like an engine with a head of steam, once started she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d lost track of how many times her body had stretched and then shattered against his mouth, his fingers, his hips. Never in her life had she felt so incredibly alive as she had last night.
But last night was over, and even though she’d finally solved the mystery of female arousal, what they’d done had been a colossal mistake.
“Oh God, I think I may vomit,” Daphne said, jackknifing to a sitting position and pushing Clay off before running toward the half-finished bathroom. Then she remembered the water was still shut off, so she reversed directions and steadied herself on the chest of drawers. The room spun a little, and she was certain she should be appalled that she stood naked in front of a twenty-five-year-old guy who could model underwear. She pointed at him. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Your eyes. Close them,” she said. She swallowed down her nausea and scooped up the robe draped on the chair in the corner.
“Hey, are you okay?” Clay asked.
She looked over at him. His eyes were closed.
“Hold on,” she said, taking deep breaths and willing her stomach to settle. She shrugged into the robe and jerked the belt tight, as if that could fix the mess she’d gotten herself into. “Okay.”
Clay opened his eyes and slid out of the bed.
“Oh God,” Daphne said, averting her eyes from the gorgeous naked perfection. Clay tugged the ecru throw at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his hips. He looked rumpled and beautiful. Her personal Greek god. The giver of orgasms.
Somewhere in the bowels of the house, a door thumped against a wall. “Morning!”
Daphne gasped. “No! No, no, no, no. She’s never early.”
Clay blinked. “What? Who?”
“Hide, you fool. Ellery’s here,” Daphne whisper-yelled, glancing around the bedroom at Clay’s jeans crumpled at the foot of the bed. Boots had been dropped by the dresser, and a pair of boxer briefs were wedged in between the footboard and the mattress. Holy hell.
“Yoo-hoo? Mama? Are you still in bed?” Ellery called. Daphne heard the thump of the office door. “I’m going to start on the new promo for the Mardi Gras book. Mark Anderson sent some comps . . . Mama?”
“You have to get out of here,” she said to Clay, trying to find some measure of calm and utterly failing. Ellery could not find out what she’d done. Absolutely could not. “I’m going out there to keep her from coming in here. You get out.”
“How?”
“Uh, the window,” she said, pointing at the one that would drop him into the backyard.
“This is stupid. I’m not climbing out the window. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
Daphne turned toward him as she heard the click of Ellery’s shoes coming through the living room. “Please, Clay. I can’t deal with