Chapter Twenty-One

Forrest's POV

She was sleeping on her back, with one arm thrown over her head and the other hand resting on her belly, and I was obliged to pass the time staring at her and memorizing every single feature, even though there was a fair amount of work that needed to be done. It had been two weeks since she'd told me about the baby growing in her womb, well, since I saw that she was changing, that is, and every day brought new alterations to her form, and each morning started exactly as this one had, with me waking to see that she guarded our little one with her hand. It was a sight that warmed my heart, and almost diverted my attention from her naked body…almost, but not quite, you catch my drift?

I wanted to touch her, I wanted to slide down on the bed and move her hand off of her stomach, so that I could kiss our little one good morning, and then I wanted to move back up, so that I could kiss my wife as well. I even entertained the notion that I might slip my hand between her thighs at the same time that I laid my lips onto hers, but she was always so tired, and if I was to wake her up she would remember that there was breakfast to fix and dishes to do and a hundred other things that I thought could wait awhile, so I forced myself to be content with watching her instead, even though I knew that my patience wasn't liable to hold out for very long.

She shifted in her sleep, and smiled very softly, and sighed something that I had to strain to hear, and then I smiled when I recognized my name escaping her lips. She was dreaming about me, and based on the way that she'd said my name it was a good dream, one of those that made her feel all lovey-dovey toward me, and I reckoned that I'd just hit the jackpot, which meant that there was no need for me to lie there motionless, aching all over for her, when I could always mosey on over to her instead and use my hands and my lips to get her in the mood for a morning of loving.

There was only one hitch in my plan, one fly in the ointment, you might say, and that was my fear that I was going to cause her pain, what with her being in a delicate condition and all. I was also worried about how the sight of my pecker might be harmful to our little one. I suppose it was a goofy thing to worry about, hell, I didn't even know if the baby could see just yet, but I could easily imagine that if they could, it might scare them out of their wits, to get an eyeful of their Daddy's dingle moving straight toward them, as if it meant to do them some sort of harm.

I suppose that it was a little late for me to be worrying about that sort of thing, after all of the times that we'd made love with our little one nestled in her womb, but I couldn't help but think that I was more and more of a pig by indulging myself in the soft warmth of her. A man ought to be gentle with his wife when she was expecting, he ought to be loving and patient, and understand that there were some things that he'd just have to do without for a while, but no matter how hard I tried, no matter that I knew these things, I still couldn't keep my hands, not to mention my pecker, to myself.

"Mmm…Forrest," she sighed, stretching a bit, then, aw, hell, running her hand up from her belly to her breast. "Ohh…Forrest."

Well, hellfire and damnation. That pretty much ruined any chance that I had at behaving as a good husband would, that pretty much ruined my half-assed attempt to act like a gentleman, didn't it? How could a man possibly be expected to stay away from his wife when she was touching herself and moaning his name? I had a hard enough time resisting the urge to take her when she was dead to the world and not making a sound, other than the slow, steady beat of her breathing, so how could I hope to do so while she was shimmying about on the bed and making those breathless whimpering sounds?

I wasn't certain if my actions were the sort that a man could be punished for, but at that moment I didn't really care. I scooted up next to her, kissing my way from her belly to the breast that was covered by her hand, moving it aside, so that I could stroke her nipple with the tip of my tongue, then I drew it into my mouth and paid it all the attention that it deserved, tracing her flesh, and circling it with my tongue, then biting it, very gently, before I sucked on it and make it press itself against my tongue.

She was naked, I was naked, she wanted me, well, at least she did in her dreams, and I was hornier than a two-peckered goat and just about out of my mind with my need for her, and that was why it made perfect sense for me to slide my hand between her thighs and touch her. She was wet, and swollen against my fingertips, and I could feel the warmth that drew me in and charmed me, and all that it took was that small touch to have me tossing any of my reservations about whether or not I ought to make love to my wife aside. The only thing that remained was for me to wake her up, because there was no way that this would feel right if she was asleep, and imagine my surprise when I raised my eyes to look at her face and saw that she was wide-awake…and the smile that was on her face said that she'd been that way for a good, long while.

"Good morning, honeybun," she said softly, with a smile in her voice that went hand in hand with the one that was on her face. "I was beginning to think that I was going to have to reach over and make the first move myself before you took the hint, and that was going to be kind of tricky, given that I was supposed to be asleep….."

"You mean that you were awake that whole time?" I interrupted, feeling a little hurt by the knowledge that she hadn't been chasing after me in dreamland after all, but not so much that I felt the need to move my hand away from her warmth and wetness. "I thought that you were dreaming about me…hmm…I guess you were just teasing me, wasn't you?"

She gasped when my fingertip brushed over her tiny swollen pearl, and just like that, the tables were turned, and I was the one who was doing all of the teasing. I wasn't inclined to torment her in a bid to get back at her for fooling me, I wasn't partial to that sort of behavior, but I was all for tempting her if it meant that I would hear her gasping and whimpering my name, because that meant that all it would take was the feel of me sliding into her soft and silky flesh to make her come apart beneath me.

"I always dream about you, Forrest," she moaned, grabbing hold of my shoulders with her hands and pulling me close, while she threw her leg across my hip, drawing me in, until I was a whisper away from her sweet honeypot, and all that was between her flesh and mine was my hand, which I was all too happy to move out of the way. "When you're away from me in the day, and all night long, after I go to sleep, you're all that I think about…I think that I'm kind of smitten with you, honey."

Nothing ever felt better to me than her warmth as it closed all around me, hugging me close, and this time was no different, and all that it took was that first caress to make her arch against me, digging her fingertips into my shoulders, while she screamed out my name, just like I hoped she would. Momma had always told us that vanity was a sin, and it was something that I'd managed to avoid for most of my life, but I couldn't help but smile in a way that might have been just a tad bit smug while I listened to her gasps and moans.

"Hmm…that's alright, darlin'," I murmured, reaching down to take hold of her legs, so that I could twine them around my waist. "Because the truth is that I'm pretty smitten with you too."

I was still thinking about Emma, about how she felt and how she sounded, about how she looked, and the sweet smells that clung to her, and needless to say, I was a little distracted from the chore of going over the inventory out in the shed with Howard and Jack. I tried to do my share of the counting in a way that said that my mind was solely on the task at hand, but I kept losing my place, and before long I had to give up and turn to ask Howard a question, but only after Jack had moved over to the opposite corner of the shed.

"Howard, I need to talk to you about something," I murmured, trying my best not to look him in the eye, because I knew that I was bound to blush if I did, and then I'd never hear the end of it. "I need a little bit of marriage advice, and I figured that you'd be the best man that I could ask, since, hmm, well, you and Lucy, that is, hmm….."

"Aw, hell, Forrest, just spit it out, will ya?" he asked, irritated to be interrupted while he was counting. "There ain't no reason for you to be stumblin' over your tongue, is there…unless this question has to do with you 'n your missus makin' them old bedsprings yonder squeak and squeal, that is. Is that why you're sweatin' like a preacher in a whorehouse, little brother?"

Damned Howard, I might have known that he'd find a way to have a laugh or two…or a hundred…at my expense. I had to have been the world's biggest fool for trying to have a serious, adult conversation with him, but who in the hell else was I supposed to ask? I suppose that I could have talked to Dr. Worrell, or to Pa, but I just didn't have the nerve to bring up the subject with them, though, if I had to choose between the two, I'd take the Doc over Pa any day.

"How long is it safe for a man to love on his wife when she's in a motherly way?" I whispered, staring at my feet and kicking at the dirt.

"What was that, Forrest?" Howard fairly shouted, chuckling softly when I turned to glare at him. "I didn't catch what ya said. You're gonna have to speak up a little if'n ya want me to be able to hear ya. My ears ain't never been the same since I got back from the war, ya know?"

"Bad hearing, my ass," I muttered, which only made him laugh harder. "I said how long is it safe for a man to love on his wife when she's in a motherly way? I'm worried that I might be hurting Emma, or the baby, and if I am, then I need to stop right now, but if I'm not, then I can….."

"…..Keep on lovin' on her until she goes into labor?" he said, finishing my words with ones that I hadn't necessarily been thinking about, but which sounded pretty damned good, now that I heard him speak them aloud. "That little critter is wrapped up nice 'n snug in your missus, and you ain't gonna hurt 'em with your pecker, no matter how big ya might think it is. It's perfectly safe for you to snuggle bug with her as long as she feels like it, so don't be feelin' guilty for doin' so…enjoy that while it lasts, 'cause she might not be in that frame of mind with the next one that ya plant."

I ignored his smartass comment that was aimed at my manhood, because I knew that he was hoping that I'd rise to the bait and give him something new to laugh about. I guess that I was just showing my ignorance in the way that a woman's body is formed, but I'd never had any reason to think about that sort of thing. I knew the basics, of course, and there were a few wonders that I'd discovered the last couple of months, but there was still a great deal that remained a mystery to me.

"Well, Emma seems to like things just as well as she always has, even more, to be perfectly honest, but….."

"Whoa, now, slow down a little bit, Forrest," he interrupted, turning to look at me with a big ol' shit-eating grin on his face that told me that I was in big trouble. "I need a little more details here, I need to get me a picture formed in my mind where that missus of yours is concerned…..aw, hell, there ain't no need for you to get all het up, little brother. I was just havin' a little fun's all, I didn't mean no harm, or no disrespect, and you know that too, don't ya?"

He was backing away from me, with his hands held up in front of his body, in what I suppose was an effort to talk me out of whooping his ass, but my blood was pumping a mite bit too fast for me to pay any attention to his surrender. It was bad enough for him to even consider thinking of my wife in the altogether, but it was at least a hundred times worse for her to be all hot and bothered in that picture, and I wasn't going to stand by and let him get away with that, joke or no joke.

"Or, if you're still worried about it, you could always concentrate your attention on having a little taste of peach, can't ya, if you want her to be satisfied, but ya don't feel that you ought to….."

I would have thought that he'd know better than to mention something like that to me when I was already all lathered up, but for some reason he didn't pick up on what a huge mistake he was making until he'd already stirred me up good and proper. I was all set to let my fists swing, when suddenly Jack came wandering over, undoubtedly drawn by the tension in the air, which he seemed to forget about in a heartbeat, when he overheard the words that our big brother had just spoken.

"Alright, Forrest, where are you hiding it?" he said, looking behind me, rooting through the boxes of corn like a hog snuffling through the slop, searching out the tastiest bits for itself. "You might as well tell me, because you know that I won't leave you alone until you give me a piece."

Howard looked just as bewildered as I felt, but he looked relieved as well, to have the heat removed from him, at least for a moment. "What in hell are you going on about, Jack?" I asked sharply, irritated to be interrupted by my pain in the ass baby brother when I'd been all set to wallop my pain in the ass older brother. "I ain't hiding nothing, so why don't you get back to work and mind your own damned business?"

"I heard you and Howard arguing. I heard him say Emma's name and something about a peach, and I know that means that she made a peach cobbler and you're trying to hide it from us, so hand it over, Forrest. I know that you're a selfish son of a bitch, but you can't think that I'm going to let you keep all of that cobbler for yourself. Emma's peach cobbler is the best that I've ever tasted, it's sweet and spicy, and when it's that perfect temperature, the perfect level of warmth…mmm-mmm, that's some damn good peach cobbler, and you know it to, don't you, Forrest?"

I'd only thought that I was angry before, I'd only thought that I'd been seeing red and tasting blood, but now I knew that I'd been mistaken, because now I was really and truly as mad as hell. My fist wasn't clenching and unclenching by my side any longer, it was tightly flexed now, so much so that it was starting to hurt, and I knew that the only thing that would help would be the knock the tar out of someone, not Howard anymore, though God knows he could use a good ass whooping. Nope, I figured that Brother Jack was the one who'd taken the spot as the one who begged the hardest, and I decided that it would be my honor to give him exactly what he was asking for.

"Don't you be getting all bent out of shape with me neither," he said, moving back to stand in front of me, a spot that I might have told him was dangerous, had I felt like warning him about anything. "There ain't a man around who's had a taste of what your missus has to offer who wouldn't agree with me, ain't that right, Howard?"

"Aw, hell, leave me outta this mess, Jack," Howard said, backing away slowly, with his hands firmly in place in front of him. "Don't be too harsh with him, Forrest. He don't know what in hell he's talkin' about, otherwise he'd know to keep his mouth shut, wouldn't he?"

Maybe Jack didn't know what he was saying, and it would have been best, for him, to fess up that he didn't, but he was a stubborn little shit, one who hated to be left out of any conversation or of any situation, and this time was no different. I can't remember how many times he'd gotten thumped for not knowing when to keep quiet, and he just kept talking himself deeper and deeper into that hole that he'd dug for himself.

"Dammit, there ain't a man 'round these parts who's enjoyed the taste of their own wife's peach cobbler since they sampled Emma's, and you're just going to have to get used to the facts, Forrest. Men come from miles around just to get a sniff of what she has to offer, and one taste only whets their appetite. I'm a mighty hungry man, so bring out what she gave you, or I'm going to go inside the station and ask her to give me some hot, fresh…..oomph.

His words died in a heartbeat as my fist made contact with his stomach, and I knocked him off of his feet and onto his ass with the second punch, which landed smack-dab in the center of his eye. I suppose that I ought to have been satisfied with the two blows I'd already given him, but the truth was that my blood was pumping mighty fast, and I wasn't quite ready to stop, which was why I picked him up off of the ground with my left hand, while my right hand continued to hammer into various parts of his body.

He was crying by the time I got finished with him, and I'd cooled down enough that I was able to fully grasp what I'd just done. I felt like dirt, hell, I felt lower than dirt, and that was why I reached down and pulled him up off of the ground, when a few moments ago I wouldn't have pissed on him if he'd been on fire. I brushed off his clothes and pulled my handkerchief out and cleaned him up as best as I could, and then I walked out of the shed, before I took to hammering my fists against the walls as a penance for what I'd done.

I'd always had a hell of a temper, it was something that had always been present in me, but it was something that I'd never given much thought to, not until now. I could say, without a doubt, that I'd just as soon cut off my hands with a dull and rusted blade than to ever lay a hand on my wife that wasn't loving in nature, and I was just as certain that I'd never hurt our little one either, so why in the hell had I hurt my baby brother? Why couldn't I control that part of myself where he was concerned?

I suppose that I needed someone who'd do like my Momma used to do when I'd get to acting ornery. I needed someone who wasn't too scared to make me straighten up and fly right…and as it turned out, there was someone who was willing to do just that, and all that it took was one look at Jack's face and my fists to have her flying off of the handle.

Emma's POV

I was in a fine mood, smiling while I worked, even humming a tune every now and then, and it was all because of Forrest. I don't know how he managed to do it, but I figured that there must have been magic in his hands, to touch me the way that he did, not to mention his lips, and his tongue, and then there was the one thing on him that was the most captivating of all, that beautiful example of manly perfection that was all mine, the one that made me scream with ecstasy whenever he…..

"Well, Jack, now what in the Sam hill happened to you?" I exclaimed, all of my naughty thoughts forgotten for the moment when I saw my youngest brother slinking into the station, the way that he did when he was trying to hide something, a something that appeared this time to be his bloodied and battered face. "Who would do something like this to you? Where were your brothers at?"

I had every intention to question him further as I hustled him back toward the kitchen, in the hopes of keeping him out of the line of sight of any customers that might come in, but then the screen door opened again, and Howard walked through, looking very uncomfortable, followed closely by Forrest, who looked downright sheepish, not to mention guilty as hell, with his swollen and scraped knuckles.

I suppose that he could see my temper sparking in my eyes, it wasn't as if I'd made any attempt to keep it a secret, and he raised his hands in front of his body, like a man who was attempting to offer a surrender. "Now, Emma, don't go flying off the handle," he said softly, in a tone that said that he was doing his best to placate me, and that made me even angrier. "I know that I shouldn't have hit him, but I apologized to him, and he's forgiven me, so there isn't any need for you to hit the roof….."

"The hell there isn't!" I thundered, leaving Jack standing in the doorway of the kitchen while I stalked over to his brother, wishing with all my heart that I was wearing my tallest pair of heels, so that I could be closer to looking him in the eye, as opposed to my flats, which meant that he had a good six inches of dominating height on me instead. "What could he have possibly said or done that would make you beat him this way? Enlighten me, Forrest; tell me one good reason that you had for treating your brother this way!"

I'd halfway expected him to argue back at me, or at least he would have wanted to, but this time there wasn't any answering anger in his eyes, and that should have calmed me down a little as well, I suppose, but it didn't, if anything, it only added fuel to the fire of my temper, and before I realized what I was doing, I started shoving him backward, little by little, until I'd backed him into the bar.

"Why do you have to bully him, Forrest?" I raged, feeling tears prick at the back of my eyes. "He's your brother, for crying out loud! Why do you have to act that way? Why can't you be sweet and gentle with him like you are with me? Is that the way that you used to be with him too? Are you going to be mean to me one day too? Are you going to….?"

I don't know why I was so upset, or why I was suddenly so emotional, and I especially don't know why I would accuse him of something that was so awful, but I do know that I was thankful that he moved forward and took me into his arms. I was grateful to him for shutting my mouth with his own before I could say anything that was worse than what I'd already said, and just like that my anger dissolved within me, and I went limp in his arms, kissing him back with everything that I had…until I heard two throats being cleared, very quietly, and very discreetly, and I could feel my face burning as I moved back away from my husband, who I was happy to see was blushing just as furiously as I was.

"Ahem…well, Jack, why don't you come back here with me and I'll get you all patched up, and then I'll bring you all a little something to eat."

That perked them right up, and all three of them went to wash while I gathered up my supplies. "I made a big pot of chicken and dumplings, with a pan of cornbread, and fresh, homemade peach cobbler for dessert…now doesn't that sound yummy?"