Chapter Eight

AN: Again, references to Both Sides Now made in this chapter. Also, heading into the M-territory because after two stories and ten collective chapters, they deserve it, no?

Carlton gazed down at Juliet—peaceful, utterly beautiful, and undeniably and completely dead to the world asleep. Normally he'd worry—was she bored? Regretting her decision? Couldn't stand to be conscious in his presence? Despite his certainty of the emotion and connection between them, it was all still so new and he was who he was and worrying was something he did so well, after all—but she'd mentioned that deep exhaustion was a common side effect of pregnancy. Growing a human took a lot of energy and really it shouldn't come as such a surprise that his child should require rather a lot and had a way of leaving her with a sudden need for naps that she hadn't experienced since she was in kindergarten. The gentle smile she'd worn as she had offered her explanation had soothed his fears while her huge yawn convinced him of the depths of her exhaustion and shot his already revved-up protective streak into redline territory.

And if that hadn't been enough, her quiet acquiescence to his declaration that he was going to drive her home and call someone from the station to pick up her car would've tipped the scales.

She'd been out almost before they hit the first stop light, not even stirring when he cut the engine. He'd been able to carry her up to the condo and get her into bed without so much as a twitch, although when he tried to leave, she'd whimpered and blindly reached for him, settling only when he'd grasped her hand.

Words couldn't even begin to describe how that had made him feel.

He'd gently pulled free with a murmured assurance he wasn't going anywhere and after quickly changing, had slipped into bed beside her, his heart damn near stopping when she immediately curled against him, her head finding a natural resting place on his chest. Initially, he'd thought there was no way in hell he'd ever get to sleep—not with Juliet in his arms, her breath a teasing caress against his neck—but weeks of restlessness and worry and heartsickness had taken their toll and soon enough, he drifted off.

Now he was awake, the pale gray of early evening bathing the room in a soft, almost magical light, but it couldn't even begin to compete with the magic in his arms. Juliet. His Juliet.

Finally—his Juliet.

Never mind the simple act of holding her—of knowing he had the freedom to hold her—was almost overwhelming in and of itself.

The first night they'd spent together had been about attempting to put structure to the fantasy if only in the hopes of containing it while their second night had the been the fantasy breaking free from those constraints.

Now, Carlton held the fantasy in his arms and accepted that yeah, it was real. They'd been foolish and headstrong and had very nearly lost each other, but against all odds, the fantasy had survived to become his new reality.

"You're thinking."

"I do a lot of that, yes," he said, threading his fingers through her hair as he met her drowsy smile with one of his own.

"Are you overthinking?"

He considered the question. "I don't know. Probably."

"About?"

"Us," he said simply. "This. How unbelievably unlikely yet completely inevitable it all feels."

"It does, doesn't it?"

As he nodded, her gaze sharpened, the last of the sleep haze disappearing as she glanced around the room—registered where they were.

When her gaze returned to his, expression carefully neutral, he ventured a quiet, "She never even crossed the threshold, you know."

A combination of relief and guilt overwhelmed the neutral and sent a pang through his chest. Dammit.

"She ended it same day she was released. And thank God she was smart enough to realize it had been done long before then." He toyed with Juliet's hair, breathing in the expected scents of vanilla and lavender along with a new sweetness reminiscent of coconut that clung to her.

Gaze cast resolutely down, she nodded. "You're really… okay?" she finally asked.

"Yes." He tilted her head back and gently kissed the tip of her nose. "Especially now." He took a deep shuddering breath. "I didn't know how to tell you it was over and that I was fine with it being over, that it was best it was over—then you disappeared and I was so damned scared and you know me, Juliet—I don't get scared. Only where you're concerned. Please, sweetheart," he said, hearing the naked plea in his voice and not giving a damn because there was no room to hide from this woman. Hiding and fear and sheer cowardice had nearly cost them everything.

"Please don't ever leave me again."

She captured his hand in hers and briefly kissed the palm before drawing it down to her abdomen and easing it beneath the hem of her shirt. Laying his hand over the curve of her belly she said quietly, "We're not going anywhere—ever."

"God… we," he whispered, still stunned at the reality.

As he started stroking instinctively, she arched against his touch with a pleased sigh. "Oh, that feels so nice."

"Nice doesn't begin to describe it." Her skin was as soft and smooth as velvet beneath his hand, the warmth an intoxicating invitation to touch more—touch everywhere—an invitation he fully expected to accept, as often as she'd allow him.

"You really like it?"

A slow burn started in his chest at the tentative note in her voice. "Did that asshat say anything else to you?"

She shrugged, her fingertips teasing light soothing yet unbearably arousing lines along his forearm. "Just some crack about my being under duress or drugged to have slept with you. That's as far as he got before I punched him."

The anger vanished as he laughed. "That's my girl," he whispered with a kiss to her forehead. "But remember what the doctor said about strenuous duties."

"Pfft. Taking Shawn out hardly qualifies as strenuous."

Couldn't argue with that. As far as soothing her fears, however…

"I will always love touching you, Juliet," he said as he carefully spread his hand across her abdomen, deep slow heat spreading through him at the new fullness and knowing what lay beyond. He'd done that.

Guess Karen hadn't been completely wrong—he was feeling more than a little Neanderthal about it, but dammit, he'd done that.

Dear God, he'd done that.

"You're thinking again."

He shivered as she reached up and rubbed between his eyebrows until he relaxed.

"What is it?"

Gaze fixed on his hand he said softly, "Am I going to be a good father, Juliet?"

"Oh, God, Carlton… yes." Her hand rose to his cheek. Gently easing his head up, she held his gaze steadily, her own filled with deep blue reassurance. "Why on earth would you think otherwise?"

He rubbed his face against her palm, picturing the gray and outright white that now dominated his beard and that was distributed more than liberally through his hair. Imagined the habitual frown with which he faced his mirror most days and his irascible, short-tempered, prone to say the worst thing possible nature. He couldn't envision any scenario where Juliet wouldn't have kept their baby, but right now, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why on earth she'd want him. At least, as a father for their child.

All of this and more flitted through his mind all-too-easily, but all that emerged was a miserable, "I'm old."

She snorted, amusement evident. "You're barely forty-four and in better shape than men a dozen years younger."

"Cranky," he muttered, his fears not in the slightest bit appeased.

"Loving."

"Hair-trigger."

"Protective," she countered. "And sweet."

"Am not," he muttered, although he felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips in response to hers.

"Oh, you most certainly are, Carlton Lassiter. One of the sweetest men I know. But don't worry—I wouldn't dream of letting the cat out of the bag," she whispered as she leaned forward. Breath warm against his skin, she added, "That'll be our little secret, 'kay?"

His head fell back as her seeking mouth found purchase on the skin of his neck, the tip of her tongue tracing a maddening path along the edge of his beard. "Ohhh-kay," he sighed, ready to agree to damn near anything, so long as she kept doing what she was doing. With her tongue… and oh, God, her hands… Her hands were wandering beneath the hem of his t-shirt, nails scoring light, fiery trails along his abdomen and up to his chest where she lay one hand flat over his pounding heart while the other slid around to his back, urging him to roll more fully over her.

Instantly, a new fear assailed him.

"Juliet—"

"This does not fall under the auspices of 'strenuous duties', I swear." Her voice was a seductive vibration against his throat, sending shivers down his spine and straight around to his already painfully aroused groin.

She leaned back, her skin flushed to a seductive glow, her gold-streaked hair spread across his pillow. "Because I know you and I know how your mind works, a quick—very quick—primer. I'm in perfect health, you heard the doctor say so yourself."

Silently, he nodded.

"I'm in my second trimester and while I require a lot of sleep, my energy levels are actually elevated."

He nodded again, experiencing the distinct feeling that although her expression was completely serious and solemn, she was laughing at him. Gently, but laughing, nevertheless.

"There's also another side effect that arrives with the second trimester."

"Oh?" he managed, although to his ears, it emerged sounding more like a strangled gurgle.

Drawing his head down alongside hers, she turned just far enough for her lips to rest against his ear. Very softly, she whispered, "I am incredibly horny—all…" Her teeth tugged lightly at the lobe. "the…" tug "damned…" tug "time…"

While electricity sizzled along every nerve ending and fried every hormone he possessed into one giant ball of lust, she eased back onto the pillow and regarded him very seriously.

"And I know you won't be able to keep that beard for much longer, so before you have to shave it off, I'd really like to enjoy it."

He blinked. "Okay."

"Everywhere."

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, dammit. "Okay."

A small smile, knowing and seductive and yet somehow still innocent turned up the edges of her lovely full mouth. "Now would be nice, Carlton."

Why did men ever imagine themselves to be superior again?

"Oh dear God, yes." He moved to quickly shed his clothes, pausing only to ask, "You're absolutely certain about that not too strenuous thing?"

Her gaze unashamedly raked over him, smile broadening into an obvious appreciation he'd never before felt from a woman. "Absolutely," she breathed, reaching out to skim a hand along his bare thigh and brush lightly against his erection, so clearly wanting him—spiking his own want up to unimaginable levels.

"Good," he all but growled as he lay over her, mouth finding hers, his tongue demanding entry she she not only granted, but demanded in turn, sucking and stroking in a way that left him lightheaded as he imagined her doing that over the rest of his body. As they exchanged increasingly heated kisses, he pushed her slacks and underwear down, his hands exploring before he began working his way down her body with his mouth, letting her divest herself of shirt and bra while he tasted and explored every inch of newly exposed flesh.

Each new curve demanded time and attention he was only too happy to give. Her breasts alone were a marvel—fuller now, a fine network of pale blue veins barely visible beneath the surface of her creamy skin, like the finest marble—except unlike marble, soft and so very warm to his touch, her nipples providing spectacular contrast. Larger and much deeper in color, they were so damned inviting, he couldn't help but linger for long moments, rubbing his cheek against one while using tongue and teeth on the other, before turning his head to give the other equal attention. Attention she was only too happy to receive given how she writhed and moaned beneath his ministrations, begging for more, her hands buried in his hair and nails teasing his scalp in a way that spurred him to give her more. Moving down her torso, he placed gentle reverent kisses along the curve of her belly, stroking with his hands as he felt increasingly powerful surges of possessiveness with each caress.

His woman. She was his.

The further down her body he traveled, the more urgent and restless her motions and the more he wanted to give her exactly what she wanted—which was why he bypassed the apex of her thighs in favor of descending all the way to her ankles, earning a groan of protest and a frustrated jerk of her legs.

"Temper," he murmured with a kiss to one ankle. "I'm giving you what you want, baby. But it's the way I want to give it to you."

An enormous sigh shuddered through her body and sent renewed heat coursing through his system. Honestly, Carlton wasn't certain how much longer he could hold out, but then Juliet had always had a way of encouraging the best from him.

Gradually, he worked his way up both legs, draping them over his shoulders and relishing the feel of them caressing his back. Long moments were spent high on the insides of both thighs, strong and smooth, widening as if to welcome hands and mouth, then closing, as if to draw him closer still. A siren's call he was finally unable to resist.

The first touch of his tongue to the most sensitive heart of her left her arching hard and crying his name, her climax overtaking her immediately. Before she could fully come back down, he set to work building her desire back up, holding her bucking hips firmly and giving her everything her body—and his—demanded. As her arousal built to a second, equally powerful orgasm, he finally gave in, moving up her body and sinking into her deep, welcoming heat. Mindful even amidst the intense desire enveloping them, he kept his weight braced on his forearms, even as he curled his hands over her shoulders and yielded to his body's demands that he drive into her. Harder… faster—claiming her.

Owning her.

The way she'd owned him for years.

The way she would always and forever own him.