Chapter 17

"Lois?" Clark was beginning to worry about her. He was surprised to find a mountain of clothing on the bed. "Going somewhere?"

"Clark, are you aware that I don't have one blouse that doesn't advertise my cleavage?"

"Uh, yeah, I actually had noticed."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

Clark shook his head. "Nope."

"What am I gonna do? I can't go downstairs like this and I don't want to wear my over coat."

Clark grinned at the mental image she'd created. He walked past her and into his closet, pulling one of his shirts off the hanger. "Here, let's put this on you. It'll be really big on you, but it should work. Tomorrow we'll get you a turtle neck." She relaxed and smiled at his teasing tone.

He helped her shrug into his shirt. She watched his hands move over the buttons, starting from the bottom and working upward. The attention he gave even such small gestures left their mark on her heart. She then noticed the slightest shift in his mood, the air surrounding them seemed to become electrically charged. His fingers grazed over the swell of her breast, traveling up to her collar bone, surveying the love bites and bruises that marked her delicate skin.

"I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

It was barely a whisper. His lips were very close to hers, and when be spoke the words seemed to brush against her lips. Her throat went suddenly dry and she found it hard to speak. She licked her lips.

"You didn't. Hurt me." His nearness made it hard for her to think clearly—or to form complete sentences. She looked up at him through her lashes and saw passion smoldering in his eyes.

He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so tender and compassionate that tears gathered and stung the back of her eyelids. The kisses they'd exchanged earlier were urgent and primal . . . and familiar. By contrast, she was struck by the idea that that way he was kissing her right now was new and that he had never before kissed her with such restraint and reverence—and for reasons that she could not have known, she sensed a dangerous undercurrent.

A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. Clark caught it with his thumb as he placed another gentle kiss on her lips.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I know you'd never want to hurt me." She whispered.

"Never." He sighed against her mouth again, gently drawing her lower lip into his mouth. Warning bells clanked in Clarks' brain. What am I doing? I need to avoid these situations, not create them. Just then he remembered the distraction plan he'd organized earlier. He pulled away, leaving them both a little breathless, resting his forehead against hers.

"Chloe and Jimmy—"

"—are waiting downstairs."

"We should--"

"—go downstairs."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." They pulled away from each other and headed downstairs to greet their guests.