Chapter 6

6

CLAY

S he was coming. Again. Those words were music to my ears.

I could only take partial credit, but I loved that she’d discovered how pleasurable making love could be. I loved that her first experience had been so phenomenal.

I loved her.

Those three words flashed through my mind as Amber was crying out, saying “Oh Clay” over and over as she did. Every mention of my name warmed my heart. This went beyond sex. This was a connection like nothing I’d ever felt. Or like anyone I knew had felt, for that matter. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

Oddly, that thought was what pushed me over the edge as I moved faster and faster while still trying not to go too deep. I didn’t want to hurt her, but this felt so damn good. Only in the final moments, as my cum blasted into her, did one sobering fact hit me.

We’d forgotten protection.

I closed my eyes, stilling with my cock still throbbing. The idea of putting a baby in this woman made me the happiest of happy, but that wasn’t necessarily what she wanted. And I certainly didn’t want to make that decision for her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

I slowly pulled out and looked around for my clothing. I wanted to have a talk with her, but I didn’t want to do it while naked. She might not want to, either, so I should track down her clothes too.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, heading out of the room.

I pulled on my underwear and jeans, leaving the fly open as I walked back to her, clothes bundled in my arms. But when I entered, she was on the chair, looking down at her hands.

God, she was beautiful. I had to hang onto this woman. If I did something stupid that scared her away, I’d never forgive myself.

“We have to talk,” I said.

She looked up at me, and that was when I saw her expression. Regret. There was no denying it. That was exactly what I was seeing.

“I’m not an easy woman,” she said.

That seemed to be a sticking point for her. It made me want to track down whoever made her feel guilty about sex and punch him in the nuts.

“I know.” I nodded. “It’s not that. It’s?—”

“We should go.” With that, she was on her feet, reaching toward me. “May I have my clothes, please?”

I didn’t move. I knew I needed to do something to make this right, but I was at a loss. I could easily make things worse.

“Sure,” I said, because what else could I do? “Can we talk?”

“Maybe later,” she said. “Please work on getting us out of here.”

That plea was all I needed to hear. There was one easy way out of here, and I didn’t have too much pride to use it. I tracked down my phone—I’d left it on the counter near the front door—and called my buddy and fellow volunteer firefighter, Zane.

“I need your help,” I said.

Zane didn’t ask questions, aside from where to be and when. As I hung up, I knew I’d at least be able to get her out of here as she wanted. But that self-satisfaction was short-lived when I thought about the fact that she wanted to get out of here in the first place.

Was this it? Maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep her in my life, after all.