Page 43 of Hayes

He gave her a wounded look that had her grinning. "I hope you know that I am never going to forget this."

"Still waiting here."

Sliding off the bed, he made his way to a small safe in one corner of the room.

"A safe?"

"Where else would I keep them?" he asked airily as he tapped in the combination. The door slid forward, and she caught a glimpse of several documents, some cash, and a sealed bag. Taking the bag out, he left the door open, and walked back to the bed, and handed it to her.

"Go ahead." he invited.

She unsealed it and took out the items one at a time. Her eyes flew to his face as she placed five of her panties on the bed between them.

"Well?"

She touched a black lace one with a torn waistline. "I was wearing this when we first made love," she whispered achingly. "You promised to buy me several more and you did."

"You said it was one of your favorites."

"And this one–" She held up the raspberry-colored lace. "My birthday–"

"When I impregnated you," he finished hoarsely. "Only, I didn't know it then."

"Why?" she whispered. "I left, and you didn't know if I was coming back. Why keep all of it?"

"The same reason, I imagine, you kept my things. Hope that one day we will meet up again. And I wanted something of yours to keep." He lifted her chin. "When you left, I would use your underwear to get me off. The scent of you was still on them, and it was enough to get me hard, enough to bring me to a climax."

"Hayes–"

"That's how much I had hoped. How much I thought about you. You were constantly on my mind, Cammy. There was never a day that goes by when I was not thinking of you, even when I was hating you."

Pushing the article of clothing away, she went into his arms and just stayed there, wrapped against him.

She was so overwhelmed; she had no idea what to say. In the past, the intense passion between them had frightened her, but she was learning to accept it. Learning to appreciate a love so rare, so pure and so fine that it made her humble.

"Hayes?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Make love to me."

"With pleasure."

*****

"You majored in French." Camelia felt as if her entire body was drenched in sensations, wonderful ones. He had worshiped her body with his hands and then his mouth, and now she was collapsed half on top of him, trying to get her breath back.

"Hmm." His eyes were closed, his hands running up and down her back slowly. His own body was still racked from the aftermath of what they had just experienced together.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you continue with the language?"

His eyes popped open to stare at her. "Why wouldn't I? Oh." He chuckled in understanding. "You thought because it was the language we spent much of our time studying, I would have given it up."

"Something like that." Propping her chin on her folded hands, she stared at him. "It was our language; we used to converse in French when we were in bed."

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