Convicted (Consequences)

car.”
    Claire’s expression beckoned, her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and her words came between butterfly kisses to his neck, “I don’t think”—“Eric would mind”—“waiting a little longer”—“Besides”—“you’re going to be gone”—“for almost two weeks”
    As Claire’s fingers moved toward his belt and her lips touched his newly exposed chest, Tony’s travel plans seemed suddenly insignificant. Then, before Tony could take this moment any farther, Claire kissed him, smiled, and said, “Give me a minute.”
    “Seriously, you’re going to do this to me and walk away?”
    Claire didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom, giggled, and mumbled something about ‘it’ being his fault . She was right. The pregnancy was his fault; nonetheless, watching her in nothing but her long silk nightgown, he couldn’t help grinning. Her normal clothes didn’t accentuate their growing baby, but in that nightgown, he could see her growing midsection plain as day. When she returned, he was back in bed. His travel clothes neatly piled on a nearby chair.
    As Claire started to climb in bed, their eyes met and Tony shook his head.
    “What?” she asked, as her smile melted his soul.
    He tried for his most formidable voice. “Ms. Nichols, you started this. I believe you are excessively overdressed.”
    Her demeanor looked anything but intimidated. She barely hesitated as she ignored his comment, climbed onto the bed, and pushed Tony back onto his pillow. Hovering above him, he inhaled the scent of toothpaste as Claire’s freshly brushed hair swept across his face. With a sexy smile she challenged his demand, “Then, Mr. Rawlings, I suggest you do something about that.” Within seconds, their worlds reversed. Claire was pinned to her pillow, her nightgown gone and her hands secured above her head. Her giggle quickly became a moan as her eyes closed indicating her approval of his actions.
    It wasn’t just the moan that indicated her approval—no, her entire body approved, as did his. For the next forty minutes they were lost within one another. Tony couldn’t help caressing and kissing her midsection as he moved up and down her sensual body. Her soft skin and amazing scent dominated his thoughts. Any concerns of his impending departure disappeared.
    When he finally redressed and started to leave, her aura pulled him back for one last kiss. “I love you and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I wish you were coming.”
    Her eyelids fought an unseen weight. “Travel safely. I love you, too.”
    As he pulled the covers over her soft exposed skin, he asked, “Are you going back to sleep?”
    She nodded. “Yes, I think after that strenuous morning workout, I need a nap.”
    Grinning, he kissed the top of her head and watched as her smile faded, her eyes closed, and she appeared blissfully serene. It was then Tony remembered something he wanted to say. With more authority in his tone, he added, “Claire.”
    Her eyes immediately opened. His tenor wasn’t playful. Although Claire didn’t speak, she obviously recognized his change in meaning. Perched on the edge of the bed, Tony reminded her, “If you leave the estate—”
    She stilled his words with the touch of her hand. The large diamond on her left hand glistened, as she responded appropriately, “I promise, I’ll take Clay.”
    “This isn’t debatable.”
    “Tony, I’m not debating – I’m trying to sleep.”
    He kissed her lips. “I’ll call when I touch down in London.”
    She nodded. “Be safe. I think Eric’s waiting.”
     
    Tony hadn’t relived that memory in over a week. All the questioning from the FBI brought it back along with so many others. They seemed so real, he wanted to reach out and touch her. For just a moment, Tony believed he could actually smell her perfume.
    The slap of the binder hitting the aluminum table pulled Tony from his fantasy and back to reality. He must have fallen asleep. “What the hell?”
    “Food’s here.” Brent’s voice sounded strained.
    “What were you reading?”
    “I gave it to you, but you might want to eat first. It sure as hell ruined my appetite.”
    Tony looked suspiciously at the binder as Brent continued, “Since I’m your personal counsel, we need to talk about it. As your friend, I don’t want to.” Brent grabbed a Styrofoam box and leaned against the wall.
    With an overwhelming feeling of doom, Tony pushed the food aside and picked up the binder.