Chapter Seventeen
Ford
Even without a buzzing alarm clock, my eyes flew open at 5:30 am. Formative years in the Army had embedded an early morning habit in me that was impossible to break, no matter what I had been doing the night before. I squeezed my eyes shut and chased the remnants of a very sweet dream.
Red wine spilled into kisses from Clarity's sweet, plum-soft lips. I dreamt about her body in candlelight, lit from a fire in my long unused fireplace.
Something wasn't right. The flashes of the dream held tactile memories so real I could still feel her soft skin under my fingertips. My hands flexed, and my eyes flew open.
Clarity was curled up next to me in my bed. She murmured against the pillow and nestled farther under the covers. I moved my hand a scant millimeter and realized she was naked against me. The throbbing response of my body was nothing compared to the tsunami of images that flooded my brain.
Clarity straddling my lap, her back arched to let me taste her delicious breasts. Clarity's red hair brushing my bare chest as she pressed her cheek to my heart. Her moving beneath me, opening, as we fell together onto the sofa.
My hand stroked up and down the bare length of her thigh, and my vision was unfocused by awe. I buried my face in the back of her neck and breathed her in. She was real, and she was there next to me. My heart pounded against her back, and I closed my eyes to calm my racing pulse.
I remembered the exact moment Clarity had let go. I was still shocked at myself for admitting I would declare our relationship. The idea that I would go to the administration and declare my feelings for her had lifted all the doubt and worry from her deep green eyes. Clarity's quick mind had ran over all the possibilities and seen that the policies that held us at bay were flimsy excuses. Once she saw I would go above them and clear the way, she had let her passion ignite her flame.
A molten wave passed through my body at the memory. Clarity had lit me up like no woman had ever done before. The awkward innocence of her moves combined with the searing hunger of her lips had burned me up completely.
I hadn't even been able to make it to the bedroom. The brush of her cheek against my chest, the tease of her taut nipples against my bare stomach, had been too much. I had never lost control so fast, and she had welcomed every inch of my passion.
Afterwards, we had stayed wrapped in each other's arms. I remembered rolling over and tucking her against me. Clarity had sighed with such easy contentment as her fingers traced electric circles across my chest. We had let the fire die down to embers as neither of us had any desire to part.
I released a shuddering sigh against the sweet curve of her neck. Clarity was different from any woman I had dated. Even before I started at Landsman, I had always held back. There had been reasons and obstacles—many made-up—and I had always felt the need to keep my distance from the women I saw.
With Clarity, we were close the moment we met. I remembered the intimate space beneath the stairs, the removed murmurs of her father's party. Clarity had strolled right up and fit into a place in my life I didn't know was there. She filled a place in me that I hadn't known was empty.
Clarity shifted in her sleep and responded to the strokes of my hand down her thigh. She pressed her hips back, rubbing against my throbbing body, before she nestled back into sleep. Every inch of me pulsed with desire for her. I was keenly aware of every delectable, naked inch of her, and it took all my willpower not to throw back the covers and explore her in the brightening sunlight.
She muttered in her sleep, and I thought I caught the word 'exposé.' Clarity was fretting in her dreams about the article we had published and the consequences we would have to face. I lifted my hand from her silken thigh and smoothed it over her hair. The worrisome dream disappeared under my soft touch, and I felt her body relax back into a deep slumber.
It was too early for her to wake up and worry. I kept still beside her, guarding over her peaceful sleep even though my body burned and throbbed for her. I eased back an inch only to give myself a tantalizing view of the curve of her hip. My mouth watered, but I kept still.
I pressed my heated thoughts into my pillow. It was a miracle we had made it to the bed at all last night. Clarity had been languid and so comfortable with our naked lounging on the sofa. It wasn't until the loose spring started to stab at our backs that she shifted.
I had pushed past the lump in my throat and asked her, "Do you want me to walk you home, or do you want to stay?"
"Can I stay?" she had asked with such an open, hopeful look that my heart tumbled right out onto the floor.
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 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 were 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, coursing 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 exposé. 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 exposé 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 pale 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.
I let go and stepped aside. "Alright, fine, go check the websites, but I bet I can predict what you are going to find," I said. I poured myself a cup of coffee while she settled in front of my computer.
"You want the good news or the bad news?" Clarity asked.
"Bad news first. Always," I sighed.
Clarity waved me over to the computer. "Well, the article is gone from both your department website and the student newspaper website."
"So there's good news?"
She squeezed the hand I laid on her shoulder. "There's a social media storm. All the students are in an uproar about something being removed from the student newspaper website. There's a mounting protest about corruption and censorship."
I brushed aside her soft, red curls and kissed the side of her neck. "I'd say that's the best news I've heard all day, but I think this might be better." I left a trail of warm kisses down to wear the large tee-shirt collar hung loosely over her shoulder.
"Thank god the Landsman students are getting involved," Clarity said, doing her best to resist my lips. "Maybe they can take it from here, and we can skip town for a few days."
I melted behind her. In one simple comment, Clarity had just voiced the hope I hadn't allowed myself. She wanted to spend more time with me, just me. It wasn't the excitement of the exposé or the convenience of hiding out at my apartment: Clarity was actually interested in me.
I knelt on the floor beside the desk chair and slipped an arm around her waist. "I've been thinking about your road trip idea—"
A heavy-handed knock on my apartment door interrupted us.
"Should we pretend we're not home?" Clarity whispered. Her eyes took on a mischievous emerald glint. "Or pretend we didn't hear. We can sneak back to bed and try to be quiet."
Clarity's lips were irresistible, and I drank in a delicious kiss before the loud rapping sounded again. This time my phone rang in conjunction with the knocking, and voices in the hallway heard it too.
"Why do you look so worried?" Clarity caught my face in between both her smooth hands.
I thought about the man on the phone, but didn't want to panic her. "It's nothing. We expected all of this." I picked up my phone and showed her the caller ID. “It's the president of the college, I'd better answer," I said.
Clarity zipped her fingers across her lips and promised to be quiet, so I put the phone on speaker and answered it.
"Professor Bauer, I'm assuming you know exactly what this call is about," the president began.
"Seems you have a student uprising on your hands," I said. "They seem to be upset about proof of administrative corruption, oh, and this whole censoring the student newspaper thing."
The president's voice turned icy. "This is a courtesy call, Bauer. Campus security guards have been sent to pick you up. I thought it would look better for you and for Landsman if the police didn't pick you up this morning. The guards will discreetly escort you to the police station."
Clarity's mouth dropped open, and she flapped her hands in panic, but I waved her quiet. "What if discreetly doesn't work for me?" I asked.
"You need to start making some serious career choices here, Bauer," the president said. "I'm trying to help you."
"You should be helping Dean Dunkirk," I pointed out.
The president ignored me. "The head of our campus security assures me they are outside your door at this moment. They know you are at home. Do yourself a favor and let them take you into the station. It won't be so quiet if the police need to come."
"I've got nothing to hide," I said. "In fact, I think you are the one that should reconsider. This makes it seem like Landsman College has something to hide."
"This has nothing to do with Landsman College," the president snapped. "You are being charged with libel by a private citizen."