A New Forever by Carolyn Faulkner, Alta Hensley Page A

down to instantaneously divine where the next strike should land.
    Elodie could barely wrap her mind around what had happened. She should have stayed at home, she thought belatedly, but then jettisoned the thought. He would have come after her in a shot, she knew. There was no hesitation in that man—if what he wanted didn't come to him, he'd go and get it, no doubt about it.
    And there was obviously no couth in him, either, since he seemed to be making a move on his dead wife's sister. But she wasn't exactly fighting it. He had seen everything from the waist down! And no doubt his lap was wet from her signs of arousal. Why? How? What was it about this man, the spanking, everything? She couldn't breathe right. She couldn't think right. Nothing about this was right… and yet, the warmth in her body spoke otherwise.
    Elodie lay in bed with visions of the only adult spanking she'd ever had dancing in her head, turning it around and around in her mind until she let it go and fell asleep.
    *****
    Across town, Clay was sitting in his study—the scene of the crime—with a shot of twelve-year-old scotch in front of him. Well, okay, a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch. The shot glass was a mere formality to prevent the complete breakdown of civilization that he knew would surely result if he should drink directly from the bottle like some wino.
    Spanking Elodie had been, outwardly, a relatively easy event. He'd given her an order, and made it plain as day clear to her that there would be consequences if she didn't obey him. He didn't know what the big deal was about a winter coat, but that was neither here nor there. She had disobeyed, and in his world—of which she was an ever growing part—that meant a spanking.
    But inwardly, spanking her had made him feel two parts guilty for every one part positive. He really believed that spankings helped some women be better than they might on their own, if they didn't have the reinforcement of sound, logical rules. April had been one of those women. She'd positively blossomed under the safe umbrella of his adoring discipline; she'd taken better care of herself, been more aware of her own safety than she probably ever would have if they hadn't gotten together, and he had been strong enough to implement some very painful reminders that he loved her, and he expected her to look out for herself at all times, because of that strong, abiding love.
    Elodie was another matter entirely. In some ways, he felt like he had definitely overstepped his brother-in-lawish bounds by spanking her, not to mention when he kissed her at her front door. They hadn't had any other intimate physical connection—unless you counted the mind-blowing kiss—and yet he'd tipped her over and given her a very sound spanking—on the bare bottom. Clay couldn't deny that he was becoming attracted to Elodie—the proof was painfully obvious even as his palm had begun to hurt; he could still have split a diamond with his erection.
    Although, thinking back on it, she could have protested a lot more than she did. She acquiesced more quickly than he expected, and although she certainly hadn't appeared to be happy with the turn of events, she hadn't slapped his face or threatened to call the police on him once he'd let her up.
    Slightly buzzed, Clay's eyes settled where they always did when he was at his desk—on the photo of April staring back at him, in all her vivid beauty and vitality, with that big grin of hers, and curls like streamers blowing out behind her.
    Silently, he raised his glass and nodded in salute to her, his eyes filling with tears. "I love you, April," he said, his speech barely slurred. "Pardon the indiscretion."
    He knew that if April had been standing there, she would be laughing at him, that tinkling laugh that always brought a smile to his lips even when he didn't want it to. April would never have wanted him to go through any angst on her account. She was too much of a free spirit—and had been