Caleb (21 page)

“This
is us together,” Caleb growled. The rough pad of his thumb began a gentle
massage that sparked an anything-but-gentle response. A whole chorus of yeses
took off in her core, riding the timbre of his growl as well as the knowing
stroke. “
This
is how I know you’re mine.”

No
amount of deep breathing could control the surging passion, the drive for the
magic moment he invariably delivered. She didn’t even try, giving him this
“win” because he needed it so much, letting him bring her to the orgasm he
wanted. As her body jerked and contracted, his stroking slowed, but didn’t
stop, keeping her humming in the aftermath. He pulled her against his chest,
enfolding her in his strength as if he knew what a lure it was to her. “This is
how I know your protests to the contrary are just so much pride-puffing hot
air.”

“Why
is it so hard for you to separate sex from love?”

“I’m
not talking love.”

He
could have fooled her. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Commitment,
and the fact that the primitive vampire in me is wild about the primitive
vampire in you and, that being the case, neither of us has a choice on being
together from here on out.”

“You
mean you didn’t choose me?”

“No
more than you chose me.”

Oh hell,
that hurt. She might not be up to marriage commitment but she’d definitely been
leading with her heart. She shoved against his chest. Caleb didn’t let go. She
bared her talons. He just gazed at her, infuriatingly calm in the face of her
threat. Allie dug the points into his chest. He winced, but instead of pulling
away, he sat there, letting her do as she willed, strange lights swirling in
his gaze. His thumb stroked her harder as blood seeped into his shirt. “Sheathe
your claws.”

“No.”
She wanted to hurt him the way he’d just hurt her. Deeply. Permanently.

“You’re
just making him happy.”

“Who?”

“The
vampire.”

“You’re
the vampire.”

“I’m
not.”

He
was. “Let me go.”

“Just
as soon as you accept what’s going on, I will.”

She
raked her nails down his torso, glad when he grunted in pain, furious when he
wedged his hand farther between them, his thumb stroking as his fingers probed.
Her body’s immediate betrayal galled her pride. “Fuck you.”

“If
you keep this up, the only one who’s going to be fucked is you.”

“Go
to hell.”

“I’m
already there.”

“You
are so clichéd.” Despite her anger, her body opened for the thrust of his
fingers and her mind opened for the intrusion of his.

“But
you want me.”

“No.
I don’t.”

It
was a lie. No matter how angry she was, it didn’t matter to her body. It wanted
him, and nothing she did dimmed that fire.

“But
she
does,” he whispered in her ear as he lifted her. “And you can’t fight her, can
you?”

“Yes.”
She could. She was mistress of her body.

He held
her still while he unzipped his jeans, then pulled her back against him until
his hard cock pressed against the well of her vagina. A little pulse and jerk
slid silky fluid across her flesh, burning hot as it imprinted his need into
her skin.

“Prove
it,” he whispered in a hard, tight drawl. “Tell me to stop.”

Stop.

The
order never made it past her throat as her body wept and pleaded for the inch
she needed to complete the union. The burn spread inside, burrowing deep into
her need, amplifying it.

“C’mon,
baby. Tell me to stop.” Caleb lowered her a fraction more, just enough to tease
her with the fulfillment she craved. “Before it’s too late.”

Oh
God, she couldn’t. She couldn’t. Her entire body throbbed and ached, begged for
the potential joining with mindless fervor. She wanted him, needed him, with a
yearning that went so much deeper than anger or lust. Whether he felt the same
or not. Whether he differentiated what part of him wanted what or not, she knew
what she needed. Him. She wrapped her legs around his waist. The back of the
chair bit into her calves. The sharp pain blended into the moment, driving her
need higher.

He
gave her a fraction more, the whimper that slipped past her lips a deeper
betrayal than the internal need. There was compassion mixed with the lust in
his drawl as he lowered her hard onto his erection. Her high-pitched cry
wrapped around the truth as he said quietly, “In this, Allie girl, we’re both
fucked.”

“I
do not consider myself fucked.”

“Your
body hasn’t even stopped pulsing around mine,” Caleb said, his drawl sleepy and
sensual, “and you’re already arguing?”

She
nodded against his bare chest, her muscles like Jell-O, unable to do more.
“Yup.”

His
hand on her back stroked softly. “Fess up, you just like to argue.”

“Not
really, but I have a genetic incompatibility with lies.”

“Meaning?”

“I
can’t just let something go if I don’t believe in it.”

He
grunted. The chair creaked as he shifted her higher. The shiver that went
through her as her body adjusted to his was echoed in his moan. “So what aren’t
you agreeing with?”

“I
don’t agree that I’m now schizophrenic. There isn’t a vampire me and a ‘me’
me.”

“Then
what do you see?”

“Me
with a slightly altered reality.”

“Slightly?”
She didn’t need to look to know he arched his right eyebrow. His sleepy, dry
tone said it all. “How do you figure that?”

She
traced the ridge of his pectoral, pushing the edge of his shirt aside, noting
the missing buttons as she did. She had a vague recollection of them popping
off as she’d ripped it open, anxious to get to his skin. She really was a wild
woman with him. “I’m still in this world, still in touch with who I am, and
still in control.”

“Except
when you dream.”

She
pursed her lips in exasperation. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Johnson.”

He
lifted her off him and settled her against his side. “It’s important.”

She
clenched her thighs against the sense of loss. She felt so empty without him.
So incomplete. She cuddled into his warmth, her hand dropping to the top of his
stomach and then down to his washboard abs. She pressed. There was no give. The
man was hardheaded and hard-bodied. “I don’t see how. It’s not even a dream,
more like a delusion brought on by pain and chemical deprivation.”

One
arm curved around her shoulder. “So you hope.”

He
had her there. She was seriously hoping that’s all it was. “It can’t be more.”

“Haven’t
you figured out by now that anything is possible?”

“Then,
if anything is possible, it’s possible the dream is just an illusion.”

He
looked at her from under his lashes. “So why aren’t we talking about it?”

“Because
you’ll go all eighteen sixties on me and will want to wrap me tighter in cotton
wool than you already have.”

“It’s
that bad?”

“It’s
weird, the way all dreams are.”

“In a
way that has you worried.”

“What
makes you think that?”

“The
way you cling to me when you come out of it.”

With
the sliver of strength that returned to her muscles, she pushed back. She
reached the bend of his elbow before he put a stop to her retreat. Looking up,
she realized he’d allowed her that much just so he could see her face. She
poked her finger at his chest. “One of these days I’m going to perfect my poker
face, and you are so going to be out of luck.”

“Then
I guess I’ll just have to read your mind.”

Not
if she learned to block him first, he wouldn’t. “An alternative would be to
just allow me some space in which to work out my own problems.”

The
small smile faded. “There’s no such thing as your problems. Everything that
happens to you is my concern.”

“Just
because everyone else indulges your nosiness doesn’t mean I have to.”

His
finger under her chin again had her looking him in the eye. “Keeping abreast of
all potential threats has kept us alive for the last two centuries.”

“The
phrasing of that sentence would imply a threat exists.”

“There’s
always something ready to come at what a man has.”

He
said that with the utter calm of a man used to conflict, who regarded it as a
way of life. She didn’t know whether to be comforted or be dismayed by that
point of view. “War doesn’t have to be a way of life.”

“I’m
not at war.”

Allie
blinked, checked his expression, and checked again, but nothing had changed.
“You’re serious.”

“Don’t
I look it?”

He
always looked serious. “If you’re not at war, why do you hole up here with your
army of weres behind a wall of illusion, guns always at the ready?” She shook
her head. “Either you’re at war with something or you’re highly paranoid.”

“Implying
what?”

“Implying
I don’t think you’re paranoid.”

The
corner of his mouth kicked up. “Some would argue with you on that.”

“Then
they would be wrong, but that just leaves the question, what are you?”

“Careful.”
A floorboard creaked as he adjusted their position. “Very careful.”

Allie
hitched herself higher. “Maybe too careful?”

Caleb
laughed and kissed her lips. “There’s no such thing.”

She
kissed him back before she realized what she was doing. “Statements like that
will get you another argument.”

He
shrugged, unconcerned, his fingers ruffling her hair. “I can handle it.”

Yes,
he could. Allie was beginning to believe he could handle anything. Except her,
because he had this idea that she needed peace. All the time.

“Caleb?”

“What?”

“You
know this stress-free zone you’re trying to set up around me?”

The
ruffling stopped. “Yeah.”

“It’s
one of the things that’s fraying my nerves.”

“I
think you’ve had enough excitement for this year.”

She
opened her mouth to retort when a commotion in the hall redirected her energy.
Allie grabbed her jeans and tugged them on, shooting Caleb a resentful glare
when all he had to do was adjust and button. She wasn’t going to fight with
Caleb as his brothers bore witness. Not because she feared a public discussion,
but one thing she’d learned over the last two weeks—the Johnson brothers stuck
together. Didn’t matter if they all agreed on the point under discussion, let
an outsider disagree with one of them, and they all landed squarely on the same
spot in an astounding display of loyalty. Something one rarely saw today in
society’s more “open” mentality. It was one of the things she really liked
about the Johnsons. It was just a pain in the butt that they saw her as an
absolute outsider when it came to disagreeing with Caleb.

She
pushed Caleb’s hands aside as he pulled her T-shirt down over her breasts. Jumping
to her feet, she snapped her jeans just as the kitchen door opened. Jared
tipped his hat as he strolled in. Jace wasn’t far behind, their smiles letting
her know they knew what she and Caleb had been doing. She smiled back. The
werewolf who brought up the rear got a glare. She still hadn’t forgiven Derek
for imprisoning her that first night.

Derek
reached for a bear claw as he cleared the door. Allie snatched the plate from
beneath his hand. Caleb cocked an eyebrow at her as he rolled to his feet with
lazy grace.

“They’re
not good enough for company yet.”

Derek
smiled. “I’m not picky.”

She
met his slate gray eyes squarely. “But I am.”

She
put the plate on the stove out of his reach. Behind her, she heard one of the
men chuckle, and then Jace said, “Looks like you’ve got a bit of ground to make
up, Derek, before you get baked goods.”

A
chair scraped across the floor. “Don’t see why. It was Jared’s order I was
following.”

Allie
turned in time to see Derek settle his big frame into the chair, dwarfing it
with nothing more than muscle and bone. “Next time you might consider
exercising independent thought.”

He
leaned back and the ladder-back chair squeaked a protest. “Nah. Too much work.”

She
really wished the chair would break. He was so arrogant that he needed to be
brought down a peg or two. “Then I guess you’ll be doing without.”

As
one, the men broke into laughter. “What?”

Caleb
shook his head and smiled, taking a seat beside Jace. “One thing a were never
is, is without.”

She
rolled her eyes. “You just had to go to the sex factor, didn’t you?”