Staking His Claim

by Karen Templeton

  "You still want more stew?" he said.

  She shook her head, which only made her dizzier than she already was, then cleared her throat and said, "No. I changed my mind."

  He came back with his own mug, settling into the sofa. "So I noticed," he said mildly, spooning in a bite.

  To calm herself, she'd started fiddling with the jigsaw puzzle spread out on a table near the fire. He'd always loved puzzles, as long as she'd known him. But as usual, he'd assembled chunks of the middle before doing the border, which just drove her nuts. She glanced over, catching just enough of his annoyance to send her gaze skittering back to the puzzle. "I'm sorry. That probably wasn't very fair of me—"

  "And you can stop that right now," he said, making her look up again. "I was just seeing how far I could get before you did what you did."

  She frowned. "You…weren't planning on stopping?"

  "Why would I do that?"

  "Because…"

  "Lemme tell you something," he said, setting the mug on the end table, then leaning back to cup his hands behind his head. "Contrary to popular belief, seduction isn't about getting somebody to do something they don't want to do. It's about knowing when to make your move." His gaze was steady. "You're not inexperienced, Dawn. I know you know what I'm talking about."

  She turned toward the fire, hugging herself. "Only too well."

  "Then what happened?" Curiosity, not irritation, colored his words. "You were right there with me, I know you were. Until something spooked you."

  "Wouldn't do much good to deny it, would it?"

  "No. It wouldn't." Then, softly: "What do you want, honey? I mean, really want. Right this minute."

  Her fingers tingled when she skimmed them across the mantelpiece, cluttered with framed photos both old and relatively new, of the brothers when they were kids, of Mary and Hank, Sr., of Ryan and Maddie and Hank and Jenna and all their kids.

  "Right now?" she asked. "If I could do anything I wanted without any ramifications, any consequences?"

  "That's what I'm talking about."

  She turned. "To make love with you until my eyes fall out of my head."

  Both sets of dimples came out in full force. "So what's the problem?"

  "The problem is, my body wants to mess around, but my head is telling me this is a very, very bad idea."

  "Why?" he said softly.

  "Because it won't change anything. About…us."

  A log popped and tumbled; behind the firescreen, sparks danced.

  "Who says it has to?"

  "Oh, right. You expect me to believe we could go to bed and it wouldn't mean…something?"

  The heat in his eyes made her insides flip. "Oh, it'll mean something. Just like it meant something when we made that baby. But if you're afraid I'm gonna expect…well, whatever it is you seem to think I'm gonna expect, you can rest easy on that score." He leaned forward, his hands knotted between his knees, his eyes locked with hers. "Dawn…if you want sex, all you have to do is ask. I'm ready, God knows I'm willing, and unless something drastic's happened in the past few months, I'm more than able."

  She faced the fire again, for some reason unable to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

  "And," he added, "if your hesitation has anything to do with some fool notion that I'm gonna be put off by the changes in your body, you can forget about that one right now."

  Dawn spun around. "I don't have a problem with my body, either! I've never felt more feminine in my life!" Or, judging from the look in his eyes right then, more powerful.

  "You do realize you're killing me, don't you?"

  Oh, buster—you don't know from killing.

  "From all the way over here?" she said.

  "Considering I've been hard since the minute I saw you in the barn, proximity isn't even an issue."

  That's not good, some brain cell piped up, only to have another one chime in with, Like hell it isn't!

  "Tell you what," Cal said, interrupting this fascinating argument. "Why don't you come over here and sit down beside me—" he patted the sofa, one of the dogs jumped up, Cal pushed him back down "—and we can just, I don't know, make out or something, see where that takes us."

  She barked out a laugh. "I know where that will take us."

  He lifted one eyebrow, and she laughed again.

  She meant what she'd said, about this not changing anything between them. Not in the long run. But between her hormones and—she swallowed down a sigh—her simply wanting to be close, to somehow connect to this man's confidence and serenity, she could no more resist his offer than she could a fifty-percent off sale at Barney's. Just for a little while, she wanted to feel safe.

  Even if that safety was as illusory as holding a magazine over your head to keep the rain off.

  With a half smile, as if he knew what she was thinking, he held out his hand. Once again her brain cells left the room.

  Unfortunately, she didn't follow them.

  Chapter 10

  Cal watched Dawn slowly cross the room, his heartbeat in his ears a hundred times louder than the sleet ticking against the windows. She stopped in front of him, her hands clenched at her sides; he looked up, frowning.

  "You come over here to fool around or belt me one?"

  "I haven't decided yet."

  He reached up and grabbed one of those knotted fists, tugging her down onto his lap. "Let me help you with that decision," he whispered, wrapping his arms around where her waist should have been and assaulting her neck.

  "Oh, geez, Cal! I must weigh a ton…"

  "Not even close," he said, cupping her jaw to draw her mouth down to his. After, oh, a minute or so of some of the hottest kissing of his life, he reached under her sweater.

  "I thought we were just going to make out," she murmured against his mouth.

  "I lied," he said, snatching another kiss, skating a fingertip along the top of her cotton bra. "And anyway, since we've already determined where this is headed, I didn't exactly think I needed to ask permission. And I heard that," he said in response to her gasp.

  "Heard what?"

  He dipped under the bra, past breath-stealing softness to sweet hardness. This time her gasp had some real substance to it. "That," he said, thinking, if this is all she would let him give, then this is what he would give her.

  "Oh, you ain't heard—" she swallowed "—nothing yet."

  He smiled. "I take it that means I can keep going?"

  "Uh, yeah, I think you're safe with that assumption."

  So he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and did just that. She tangled her hands in his hair and said, in a Kathleen Turner voice, "Oh, man…you have no idea how good that feels," and Cal decided this was going to be one of those times a man knows he's going to remember for a long, long time. Then they kissed some more, slow and frantic, gentle and demanding, mouths desperate and tongues eager to get aquainted, her breasts so heavy, so right in his hand.

  Then she wriggled her soft little fanny on his anything-but-soft lap and he said, "Whoa, cutie pie…I want to take this nice and slow."

  "Says you and whose army?"

  He thought for a moment—which was the biggest challenge he'd faced in quite a while—and said, "Okay, this time fast, next time slow?"

  "Whatever," she said, standing up long enough to ditch the sweater, then straddling his lap. And, oh, man…there they were, right in front of him, the breasts of his dreams—

  "Hey. You down there," she said, planting her hands on the back of the sofa. "Quit staring and do something, already."

  —and, glory hallelujah, all his.

  It quickly became apparent that, one, while the sofa was fun to get started on, it kinda limited options, and two, they both still had on far too many clothes. Within ten seconds, give or take, they'd remedied both situations to their mutual satisfaction, and were now on the floor in front of the fire, Dawn's skin pale and luminous as he traced her fullness with his tongue, his lips, kissing her belly again and again, lovi
ng her, loving the child asleep just underneath her skin, the child he'd put there…

  "Touch me," she said.

  "I thought I was."

  She laughed. "Not there." She lifted her knees, unafraid, unashamed, doing the whole Dawn-going-after-what-she-wanted thing. "Here."

  "Any preferences?" he said.

  "Whatever floats your boat," she breathed. "Just make it snappy."

  Snappy? Cal grinned, shifting to lie on his side so he could see her face. Then, savoring his own ache, his mouth watering with anticipation, he slo-o-owly traced one finger down the inside of her thigh, barely touching.

  "Harder," she said.

  "No." He leaned over, brushing his lips over one erect nipple, then kissing her on the mouth. "Not yet."

  Her breath caught as he did it again, skimming down the other thigh, then pulling back…stroking…retreating…knowing how sensitive the skin was there, knowing she was even more sensitive now—he hadn't forked over a hundred bucks on pregnancy and childbirth books for nothing—each time passing closer to that spot he wanted to touch as much as she wanted him to touch it.

  "Cal!"

  "Shhh…see, your problem is, you're far too goal oriented." He brushed his fingers closer, closer…finally touching, but so lightly, so gently…"Bet you're one of those people who skips ahead to find out how the book ends, too."

  "So what if I…am!" Her breathing hitched. Among other, very unladylike things, she muttered something about him making her crazy.

  He smiled, thinking this was more fun than he'd had in a dog's age. "That's the idea," he said, his breath teasing the hair at her temple as he staked his claim in the only way he knew how, by making her want him badly enough to beg. He hadn't lied—he kissed her again, enjoying the hell out of the desperation in her response—when he'd told her he didn't expect this to change anything…

  "And now I'm going to…do…this."…because he couldn't be more in love with her than he already was.

  It was as if all his previous experience had only been practice for this moment, when nothing else mattered but giving her the time of her life. His own breathing grew ragged as he stroked and teased and spread and dipped inside, watching her…wanting her…wishing harder than he'd ever wished for anything in his life, loving this woman who was so afraid of being loved. He paused, just for a moment, then applied exactly the right pressure at exactly the right spot, whispering, "Now," in her ear…and with a cry, she spasmed, and a vicious Yessss! hissed inside him, and he felt like he wanted to beat his chest or do one of those dumb victory dances or something.

  "How was that?" he asked when her breathing slowed. Her eyes popped open, followed by a very wicked, very dangerous smile.

  "Oooh, I'll show you—" like a turtle on its back, it took her a couple of tries to right herself "—how that was!" Her breasts and belly arrogant and proud and more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen, she pinned his shoulders to the floor and straddled him, surrounded him, and he nearly lost it right then at how it felt like this, with nothing between them. Her darkened nipples peeking through her long hair, the ends teasing his chest, she leaned over and whispered, "Move a single muscle before I tell you it's okay and I'm outta here."

  Panic sliced through him. "I'm not sure I can—"

  "Try," she said, sitting erect. Grinning. Then, without any movement on her part that he could tell, she did…something.

  "What was that?"

  She smiled. And did it again. "You mean this?"

  "Yes!" he got out on a strangled breath.

  "Oh—" she flipped her hair back over one shoulder, completely exposing one breast. "I'm just doing my Kegel exercises. To keep my pelvic floor toned. I'm supposed to do them whenever I think about it." She traced circles around his nipples with her fingertips. "And I'd read this was a good way to practice—" he sucked in another breath as she did it again "—but this is the first chance I've had to see if it works. It does, I take it?"

  He sucked in a painful breath. And tried to buck his hips to meet her.

  "Uh, uh, uh," she said, pushing him back down. Damn, she was strong for such a skinny thing. "You didn't say 'may I?'"

  Cal tried to laugh, but he was in too much agony. Especially as she then decided to adjust her position.

  She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "My, my…such language."

  "I'm gonna lose my mind here!"

  "Good," she said, grinning, sliding up…so…damn…slowly…then down…then up…then—

  He roared. And thrust. And thrust again and again and again until, with a shout that originated somewhere around the soles of his feet, he climaxed so hard he thought he was gonna pass out.

  When he recovered enough to open one eye—he half expected to see his brains splattered all over the room—he saw victory flashing in hers.

  "What…the hell," he panted, "was that…all about?"

  "Rule Number One…" Dawn leaned as close she could, her nipples brushing his chest, her breath soft and warm in his ear. "Don't mess with the pregnant lady."

  * * *

  Dawn had no idea what time it was when the phone jerked her awake. Reality rushed in much more quickly than either full consciousness or coordination: her attempt to bolt from the bed at the same time Cal lunged across her to answer the phone resulted in a brief but fierce tangle with a large, naked man and a wily phone cord.

  "Ho-hold on," she heard him mumble into the phone as she finally broke free. "Hey," he whispered, "where the hell you think you're going?"

  "If I leave right now," she said, yanking the blanket off the bed and awkwardly wrapping it around her, "I might just make the last train back to Sanity."

  "Hold on, dammit!" she heard again, followed by the click—and subsequent glare—of the bedside lamp being turned on. "That means you, too," Cal said, now grabbing a pair of discarded jeans off a nearby chair and trying to put them on with one hand. "You're not going anywhere!"

  "Like hell!"

  "Stay!"

  Dawn froze—though more at the sight of the wild-haired idiot gawking numbly back at her from Cal's mirror than his bellow—as the evening's sexual euphoria collapsed like a soufflé. Fear billowed up inside her, thick and acrid and suffocating, buoying along the horrible truth she could no longer ignore: She'd fallen in love. With every hormone-drenched atom she had in her.

  A realization that any normal person would have greeted with joy. Or at least equanimity. Not this choking, brain-sucking terror that made her feel like tossing her cookies.

  Why am I so screwed up? she thought wearily. Why, why, why?

  Cal's sudden "What?" into the phone startled her out of her pityfest. She turned, her stomach free-falling at the expression on Cal's face. "Dammit…is he okay?"

  "What is it?" she mouthed, clutching the blanket to her breasts. He held up one hand, focused on the call.

  "Yeah. Yeah," he repeated on a sigh, glancing over at her.

  "Yeah, I think she'll want to know, too. I'll be sure and tell her. Thanks." He hung up the phone, then dragged a hand through his rumpled hair. "That was Ryan. Seems Elijah decided to take his daddy's truck for a joyride. Hit a patch of ice and ended up in a ditch—"

  "Oh, God, no…"

  "It's okay, he's more shaken up than anything else. Least, that's what Ryan said the sheriff told him." A wry smile twisted his mouth. "And scared spitless. Since Ryan'd get there before the paramedics, he's on his way to the accident, but the plan's to take him over to the hospital in Claremore."

  Her eyes stung. "We have to go."

  Cal's mouth curved, just enough. "I'm one step ahead of you, darlin'."

  * * *

  "I still can't believe Eli'd do something that stupid," Cal said for probably the twentieth time in the past half hour. It had stopped sleeting, leaving the sky deep and clear and sprinkled with stars and the roads treacherous as hell.

  "He's twelve," Dawn said in an oddly calm voice beside him. "Among other things."

  He didn't nee
d to see her expression to know what it was.

  "You wanna say 'I told you so' so bad you're about to pop, aren't you?"

  Her sigh filled the cab. "Not hardly. After all, I was the one who thought buying the kid a magazine and spending a few hours with him raking leaves would somehow…"

  "Fix him?"

  "Focus him, maybe. I should've followed up, checked on him, instead of letting his father creep me out."

  Cal frowned. "You never said that before."

  "I don't think I fully realized it until a moment ago. Something about the way he looked at me, though, made my skin crawl."

  "But you didn't feel Eli was in any danger, either?"

  "No, much as it pains me to admit that. Or believe me, I would have called Family Services. But I guess I felt Jacob's animosity stemmed more from his simply not wanting anybody to interfere. And Eli wasn't showing any signs of abuse…" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rub her belly. "And anyway, it's not as if I don't have problems of my own to deal with."

  The regret in her voice arrowed through him. One hand on the wheel, Cal reached over to squeeze her hand. "He's gonna be fine, honey. Ryan didn't think it looked too serious, remember?"

  "It's not that. Well, not completely that. It's just…" She sighed. "God, it's scary, thinking about all the things that could happen. To your own kid, I mean."

  Cal let go of her hand to get a better grip on the wheel, trying to do the same with his thoughts. "Okay, obviously I can't guarantee that nothing bad's ever gonna happen, but I sure as hell can promise you that no twelve-year-old of mine is gonna be out in a sleetstorm, going for a joyride." He paused, then said, "Now, when he gets to fifteen, that's something else again."

  She gave a weak laugh. "Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

  "Boys do dumb things, no doubt about it."

  Her laugh was stronger this time. "And you think girls don't?"

  "Oh, no, not the way boys do. Not even close. But…there's dumb, and then there's insane. I always knew the difference."