He wasn’t the type of man to chase after a woman, and there were too many reasons why he should not chase after Antonia. Instead, he settled into the soft leather and picked up his beer.
Forrest dropped into the chair beside him. “You truly are an idiot.”
“So you’ve said on more than one occasion,” Clay acknowledged.
“You’re really just going to let her go?”
“Obviously she wanted to go.”
“If you want her, and I don’t think there’s any doubt that you do,” Forrest noted, “you should go after her.”
“And then what?”
His brother’s brows lifted. “Since you already have a kid, I figured you got the logistics and mechanics of sex.”
“And if Antonia was anyone else, I’d already be out the door,” Clay admitted.
“But you don’t want anyone else.”
Which was, unfortunately, all too true. Since the first minute he’d set eyes on her, he’d felt an attraction that was as inexplicable as it was undeniable. At first he’d thought it was a simple matter of his hormones waking up after nearly a year of self-imposed celibacy, but no other woman stirred his blood the way that Antonia did.
And he’d tried—he’d flirted with the pretty barista at The Daily Grind, he’d checked out the checkout girls at the Super Save Mart, and he’d even contemplated the offers of various happily married cousins to set him up with a sister or niece or friend. But no other woman tempted him the way that Antonia did, and the only thing that had prevented him from succumbing to that temptation before now was the fact that she was pregnant.
He’d assumed that, being in the latter stages of pregnancy, Antonia’s sexual desires would have waned. The way she’d responded to his kiss had him reassessing that assumption. Still, it seemed necessary to remind his brother of that one salient fact: “She’s pregnant, Forrest.”
“At least you won’t have to worry about knocking her up.”
“Instead I would have to worry about Antonia expecting that a casual hook-up might lead to something more.” He shook his head. “No, getting involved—however temporarily—with my pregnant landlady is more complication than either of us wants or needs right now.”
His brother didn’t disagree. He just looked at Clay long and hard for a minute, and then he shrugged. “Your call,” he said easily.
It was his call, and he’d made it. He was not going to pursue Antonia. He was not going to think about the warm, lushness of her mouth, or the softness of her curves, or the way she trembled in his arms—
Dammit.
He set his half-full glass back on the table and pushed to his feet.
“Don’t worry about me,” Forrest said. “I can find my own way back to the ranch.”
Clay took him at his word, because now that he’d made up his mind to go after Antonia, he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way. And if she was already in the house, he would bang on the door until she answered. However, the possibility that her father or one of her brothers might answer the summons presented a potential snag to that plan. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, determined to catch up with Antonia rather than risk that scenario playing out.
Thankfully, the roads were clear—no doubt most of the residents of Thunder Canyon were at The Hitching Post—allowing him to ignore the posted speed limit. At least until he came up behind a blue pickup whose driver was cruising along at a conservative fifty-two miles per hour.
Clay cursed under his breath and started to pull out to pass the vehicle, then realized that he didn’t need to be in such a hurry after all because the driver of the truck in front of him was Antonia. He eased off a little and pulled into the driveway of the Wright Ranch immediately behind her.
When Antonia climbed out of the truck, his game plan flew out the window. She slammed her door and strode toward him, her hands on her hips. “Are you crazy?”
Since he wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted the question—and because he wasn’t sure that his sanity wasn’t in doubt—he didn’t respond.
“You raced up behind me like a bat out of hell.”
“I was anxious to get back,” he said now. “To make sure that you were okay.”
“And how many ordinances did you violate as you sped through town?”
“It’s not against the law to look out for a friend,” he countered. “And why did you take off in such a hurry, anyway?”
Now it was Antonia’s turn to fall silent, confirming his suspicion that her excuse for leaving the party was just that—an excuse.
He took a step closer, noted that the pulse in her throat fluttered. But she didn’t step back and she didn’t look away. She held his gaze, waiting, wondering, and Clay knew that the next move was up to him.
He lifted his hand to her cheek. “What were you running from?”
She didn’t respond, but when he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, it trembled.
“If you’re not interested, tell me you’re not interested,” he said. “But you better say it fast, because I really want to kiss you again.”
* * *
Antonia wished that she wasn’t interested. But although lack of interest wasn’t an issue, there were other issues. Too many issues to allow them to take the next step.
“It’s really bad timing,” she said instead.
“This definitely wasn’t in my plans when I came to Thunder Canyon,” he agreed.
“I mean—you have a baby. And I get that he’s your priority, because I have a baby on the way. But until I have my baby, I have a huge belly—and I can’t imagine that any man would be attracted to a woman in the last trimester of pregnancy. Unless he was her husband or the father of her baby, which, of course, you’re not.”
She knew she was babbling, and almost incoherently. But how was she supposed to make any sense when she couldn’t even think straight around him? Not on a good day, and especially not after that mind-boggling, body-numbing kiss he’d laid on her at The Hitching Post.
“So I know you can’t be attracted to me,” she continued babbling. “And I can’t figure out why you would kiss me, why you’d want to—”
Clay effectively halted her rambling by covering her mouth with his own.
The kiss was long and slow and deep, and it stoked the fire of a passion that had been burning since that first unexpected kiss at The Hitching Post—or maybe even before that.
It didn’t make any sense to her, but Antonia was beyond caring. She just wanted to be kissed like he was kissing her, like no one else had ever kissed her before. And he did—his lips hot and persuasive and very, very talented. They teased, they toyed, they made her burn.
And when his hand slid from her hip to her breast, her knees nearly buckled. When his thumb circled her already taut nipple, she did whimper.
Clay immediately snatched his hand away. “I hurt you—”
“No.” She took his hand and placed it back on her breast. “It just feels...sooo good.”
His thumb moved over her nipple again, and she sighed. He rolled the peak between his thumb and finger, and spears of heat shot to her core. Then his lips were on hers again, his tongue in her mouth, and she could taste the desperation of his passion and knew that it matched her own.
She didn’t think she’d ever experienced a desire like this before, so fierce and needy and demanding. When he pressed her back against the door of her truck, she could feel his erection against her belly. Tangible proof that he did want her, maybe as much as she wanted him. His hands slid down her body, over her hips to the hem of her skirt, then underneath. His fingers traced up the backs of her thighs, and the heat of his touch was almost unbearable—and not nearly enough—making her whole body tremble.
She could feel the tightening in her belly, knew that she was on th
e verge of orgasm. They were both still fully clothed, but she was almost ready to explode. She reached down and pressed her hand to the front of his trousers, gently squeezing his hard length through the fabric, and he groaned. She reached for his zipper. They were both near the point of no return, and she didn’t care.
But apparently Clay did, because suddenly he pulled away. “This is crazy,” he managed, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
She was grateful for the door of the truck at her back, because she wasn’t sure her trembling legs could support her. He was right—it was crazy. But acknowledging the insanity of the attraction between them did nothing to dim it, and it certainly did nothing to cool the heat still coursing through her veins.
“You started it,” she said, aware that she sounded just a little peevish.
But she was hurt by his abrupt withdrawal and angry that she’d let herself succumb to his seduction—and furious that her body was still aching for the completion of joining with his.
She’d never known anything like this. She’d never wanted anyone with such desperation. Even with Gene, she’d never experienced such an intense hunger. Or such an overwhelming sense of rejection. Even when the father of her baby had walked out on her, she’d been more disappointed than hurt.
Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that were responsible for her feeling so much, so deeply, because there’s no way that she could have been foolish enough to fall in love with Clay after knowing him for only a few weeks. No possible way.
Besides, she wasn’t thinking about happily-ever-after right now, she was only thinking about how much she wanted to be with him. “And you shouldn’t have started if you had no intention of finishing,” she continued.
“There’s nothing I want more than to get naked with you and finish,” he told her.
“So why do we both still have our clothes on?”
“Because we’re on the driveway outside of your house where your father and brothers are sleeping.” He glanced toward the dark windows on the upper level. “At least, I hope they’re sleeping.”
She dropped her gaze so Clay wouldn’t see the tears that filled her eyes. Being rejected was bad enough; she wasn’t going to let him see her cry. Instead, she said only, “Forgive me for not thinking about my father or my brothers while your tongue was in my mouth.”
He rubbed the back of his knuckles over the line of her jaw. “I wasn’t thinking about them, either,” he said. “I was only thinking about stripping this sexy little dress from your sexier body—”
She pushed him away. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he sounded genuinely baffled.
“Don’t lie to me. You took it further than you intended and now you want to back out. I get that. But I have no illusions about how I look and I don’t need any clichéd lines to make me feel better.”
“Apparently you don’t have a clue about how you look,” he told her.
“I’m almost eight months pregnant.”
He took a step closer. “You’re lush. Feminine. Gorgeous.”
He sounded completely sincere, which only confused her further. “And that completely explains why you don’t want me.”
“I do want you,” he insisted. “I don’t want to hurt you or your baby.”
She wondered if he was telling the truth, and decided there was only one way to find out. “My doctor assured me that there was no need to avoid sexual activity during pregnancy.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she said. Not that Antonia had paid much heed to what Louise was saying at a time when she’d still been feeling so betrayed by Gene’s abandonment that she’d been certain she wouldn’t ever want to have sex again—or at least not before her child had graduated from high school. “So if that’s the only reason you backed off...”
“It’s the only reason,” he promised, and took her hand, linking their fingers together.
She looked down at their joined hands. “I was kind of hoping you would prove it by kissing me again.”
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said, leading her toward the boarding house. “I’m going to take you to my room, lock the door, strip you naked and kiss every inch of your body.”
The heat in his eyes and the promise in his words left her breathless so that the only response she managed was a soft “Oh.”
“And then—” he slipped his key into the lock of the main door, released the deadbolt “—I’m going to do all kinds of other things to your gorgeous body. Things I’ve been fantasizing about doing with you for several weeks now.”
“You’ve been fantasizing...about me?”
“You’ve haunted my sleep,” he admitted. “Tortured me in my dreams.”
“Really?” She’d been convinced that the desire she’d been battling was entirely one-sided, and she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of satisfaction in response to his words.
“Really.” He led her up the stairs and down the hall, unlocked the door of his room and gestured her inside.
She was familiar with the layout, of course. Most of the rooms in the boarding house had a similar setup. A bed, a dresser and night table, a desk and chair. But Clay’s room was a little more crowded than most, with a crib squeezed between desk and the bed.
It wasn’t until Antonia saw the crib that she remembered Clay’s son, and felt a twinge of guilt that the little boy had been completely absent from her mind until that moment. “When are you supposed to pick up Bennett?”
“Not until the morning.” He slid his arms around her waist, drew her close—or at least as close as he could with her rounded belly between them. “Which means that we have all night.”
She was already so incredibly aroused from Clay’s kisses that Antonia figured she needed only about five more minutes before she’d be ready to explode.
“Or we would,” he continued. “If my landlady didn’t have some ridiculous rule against overnight guests.”
She smiled at that. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t see me sneaking out of here in the morning.”
* * *
Though he hadn’t turned on any lights, the open curtains allowed the faint illumination of the crescent moon into the room.
Antonia let Clay set the pace—at least at the beginning, because she thought he was as anxious to get naked together as she was. And the first thing he did after locking the door was to whisk her dress up over her head and toss it aside. Then his hands explored and admired the red bra and matching bikinis that she was wearing beneath.
“Did you put this on for me?”
“I hate to disappoint you,” she told him, “but I had no reason to suspect that you would see my underwear tonight.”
He lightly traced the scalloped edge of her bra with his finger, making her shiver. “Are you telling me that you wear this every day?”
She swallowed, tried to maintain a casual tone when everything inside of her wanted to beg him to take her. Right here, right now.
“Not this particular set,” she said. “But I do have a weakness for silky fabrics. I like the way they feel against my skin.”
He cupped her lace-covered breasts, squeezed gently. “So do I,” he said reverently.
“Speaking of skin,” she said, her fingers moving to the buttons that ran down the front of his shirt. “I want to get my hands on yours.”
He shrugged out of the garment, happy to comply with her request. Now it was her turn to look and admire—and she definitely liked what she saw. But looking wasn’t enough, and she laid her palms on his chest, stroking them over the smooth, taut skin. His muscles were gloriously sculpted and rock-hard, proving that he was every inch a real rough and rugged cowboy. And right now, every inch of this cowboy was hers.
She unfastened the button at the front of his pants and lowered the zi
pper. She’d wondered if he was a boxers or briefs guy, and smiled when she discovered that he was a boxer briefs guy. She inched her hand beneath the waistband and closed her fingers around him.
His groan sounded equal parts need and frustration, and he carefully removed her hand from his pants and steered her toward the bed. He eased her back onto the mattress, then unfastened the clasp of her bra and slowly peeled the fabric away from her skin. Then he hooked his thumbs in her panties and eased them down her legs.
“You are...so...incredibly...beautiful.”
And in that moment, with Clay looking at her with intensity and sincerity, and touching her with gentleness and reverence, she felt incredibly beautiful. And incredibly aroused.
His hands slid down her body, and the baby kicked sharply in response to his touch. Antonia stilled, wondering if this reminder of the child she carried would dampen his desire. But Clay didn’t miss a beat. His lips followed his hands, skimming down her torso, over the roundness of her belly, and lower.
“Clay.”
He must have heard the impatience and frustration in her voice, because he rose up again and brushed his lips over hers.
“We have all night,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she agreed. “But I was kind of hoping ‘all night’ could start right now.”
He chuckled softly. “Let’s see if we can’t release some of your tension.”
Then he parted her thighs and lowered his head between them, and all of the breath whooshed out of her lungs. His tongue found the sensitive nub at her center, flicked over it—once, twice. Her hips lifted instinctively, her heels dug into the mattress, and her body completely shattered.
“Better?” he asked, just a hint of smugness in his tone.
“Yes,” she could only sigh her response, then she shook her head. “No.”
“More?”
Before she even had a chance to respond, his hands and his lips were on her again, stroking and teasing. She’d already had one mind-boggling, earth-shifting orgasm, but she still felt unfulfilled, as if something was missing. And she knew what that something was: Clay. She wanted him inside of her, filling the aching emptiness that throbbed between her thighs.
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