Claiming Him 1

Nobody in this story is under 18 years old.

*****

"You know what?!" she growled, her voice reaching me across the house and through my closed bedroom door. "I'm sick and tired of this! I'm tired of you always making time for everybody but me. You knew I wanted you to go with me!" A moment of silence. "Look at me!... Why would you make plans to work on his fucking car when you knew you needed to be somewhere else?"

"Because I thought it was more important to help somebody who genuinely needs it than to go to a fucking birthday party for a... woman who doesn't even like me."

"She doesn't like you because you do shit like this!" She groaned, long and loud. "Don't you get it?! Being in a relationship with somebody means being there for them. It means not breaking plans to go do something more fun and interesting!"

"One, I made no such plan with you, and two, changing a water pump is not fun and interesting. I'm doing it because that's what friends do."

Whereas his voice barely reached me, her loud 'Fuck!' made it through, loud and clear, as did the slamming of the door several moments later. I turned onto my back, releasing a breath, not realizing until that moment I'd been holding it. This wasn't the first time they'd fought, and it wasn't the first time she'd left, slamming the door in her wake. It was getting tiring, though, and I knew I needed to say something, before one of the neighbors called the police. I gave him a few minutes to calm before going in search of him. He was sitting on the sofa, head back, hands in his lap. His eyes opened as I neared, his gaze following me as I detoured to the back of the sofa. I leaned over the back, bringing my hands down to his shoulders and my lips to his cheek, pressing a kiss there while I massaged him. "For what it's worth, I think you're a fine man."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm. I think it's a rare man who puts the needs of others above his own, and it's a pity she can't appreciate that." I moved my hands out, slowly working my way down to his biceps, watching as he relaxed. "Maybe it's time you start looking for a new woman," I said, my tone quiet. "Somebody who knows a good man when she sees one." I kneaded the muscles that strained his sleeves. He lifted weights as a hobby, and his chest and arms made my mouth water. I knew he had that effect on most women. But even without the muscles he was a very handsome man, with gorgeous, dark, curly hair, warm brow eyes, a strong jaw, and lips that were made for kissing. I'd long ago stopped beating myself up for admiring his good looks. He's a handsome man and I'm a warm-blooded woman, and since I'm not responsible for the wiring in my brain, I can hardly be faulted for finding him attractive.

I kissed his cheek again, then I kissed his temple. "Safe to say you're officially without dinner plans?"

He nodded. "I'd say that's pretty accurate."

"Wanna take me out to dinner? Take your mind off of that bit of unpleasantness?"

He blew out a breath, nodding. "Think I need a shower first."

I moved down, inhaling his scent. "I'd beg to differ. You smell nice."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "I, on the other hand, need a shower. Give me an hour to get ready?"

He nodded. "Where are you taking me?"

I laughed softly. "I'm not. You're the one who needs practice."

He turned, meeting my gaze, his brows drawn. "I need practice?" I nodded. "With what?"

I shrugged. "Dating. You're attracting the wrong women. We need to find out why that is."

He nodded slowly. "So...what, I take you on a date, so you can point out my flaws?"

I tapped his nose. "It isn't that you have flaws... I want to know why it is that you haven't found a good woman to love."

"Where are we going?"

My brow twitched. "Well, considering it's our first date, how about a burger joint?"

He gave me a look that said I was crazy. "Never, I repeat, never take a woman to a burger joint on a first date."

"No?"

He shook his head.

"And why is that?"

"First impressions..." he said, shrugging. "You want her to pick you over all the other potential mates. A man should be freshly shaven for a first date, and he should smell nice and be dressed to impress." He shook his head. "A smart man never forgets that dating is a competition, and that the stakes are high."

I nodded, impressed. "Where are you taking me?"

He nodded. "Nothing says 'I want to impress you' quite like Marelli's."

My brow twitched. "Marelli's?" He nodded. I kissed his cheek again then stood, clapping my hands excitedly as I made my way down the hall.

One hour later I stared at my reflection, giving myself a nod of approval. I'd put my hair up, leaving a few tendrils dangling to frame my face, and I'd gone all out with my makeup, something I don't ordinarily do; eye shadow and liner, and mascara. My gaze dropped to my lips, the rich, dark, red lipstick drawing my attention there without screaming at me.

I smoothed my gown, turning to make sure the back was behaving. It was a clingy, black sheath that reached halfway down my thighs, the neck swooping down to expose a good bit of décolletage.

With a final nod, I turned the light out and headed for the front room. It was empty. I found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a glass of wine in his hand. He hadn't yet noticed me and I took the opportunity to admire his ass in the well-fitted slacks. I brought my gaze up to his shoulders then to his neck. At six-three, he's a lot of man, and staring at him then I felt an overwhelming desire to feel the weight of him on me, crushing me, his lips on my neck as he forced my legs open with his own.

I shook my head to clear it, waving a hand to cool my face. I took and released a calming breath and entered the kitchen. He turned as my shoes hit the hard floor. His gaze dropped immediately to my chest, lingering there a moment before moving down to my hips, then lower, finally landing on my feet. He shook his head, bringing his gaze back up to meet mine. I approached him then, taking the glass from him and sipping it.

"You look beautiful."

I smiled. "Thank you." I straightened his tie, though it didn't need it. "You clean up rather nicely yourself."

He laughed softly. "Not bad for a mechanic, huh?"

I shook my head, laying my hand flat on his chest, rubbing it there. "Trust me, big boy, men who work with their hands are far more appealing than desk jockeys."

"Even grease monkeys?"

My gaze on my hand, on the contrast between my red nails and his black silk shirt, I said, "You are anything but a monkey." I patted him, taking a last sip of wine before setting it on the counter. "Shall we?"

He offered me his arm for the walk to his truck, and held my door for me. I watched his profile as he drove, wondering how it was that Melanie couldn't see what she had. He was a good man; honest, caring, even-tempered, hard-working, and drop dead gorgeous. And she was going to lose him if she wasn't careful.

He came around to my door, offering me a hand, shifting his gaze as I swung my legs out. "Such a gentleman," I said, when he pulled me up.

He shrugged, looking shy. We walked in silence toward the entrance, my hand on his arm. He checked in with the hostess and returned to me. "Be a few minutes." He gestured to a small loveseat and sat beside me.

There were several others waiting, but one man in particular caught my attention. He stole one glance after another at my chest and legs. In his defense, he was very discreet.

Nick leaned close. "Got an admirer," he whispered.

I nodded, waiting until we were shown to our booth before saying, "That kind of thing doesn't bother you. Why is that?"

He shrugged. "People look at people. It's how we're wired. It's harmless."

I nodded slowly. "That isn't how James saw it." I shook my head, the ghost of a smile pulling my lips. "At the least, he'd have scowled at the guy. More than likely, though, he'd have said something."

Again he shrugged. "Guy was a territorial little bitch."

I laughed softly, my head shaking. "He told me he thought you didn't liked him."

"I don't."

"He treated me pretty good."

His brow went up. "What made you two break up?"

The waiter showed up then and we ordered our drinks and listened while he went over the specials. Alone again, I said, "Not any one thing, really. I just don't want to belong to someone else when Mr. Right shows up."

"Interesting choice of words."

My brow went up. "Mr. Right?"

He shook his head. "Belonging to someone else."

"What's interesting about it?"

He shrugged, his gaze moving to the menu he held. "Not sure it's healthy to allow somebody that kind of power over you." He met my gaze. "You don't belong to anybody, Linda"

I nodded slowly, my gaze on his. "Sometimes a woman wants to belong." At his dubious look, I said, "Not all women think it's necessarily a bad thing to be a man's possession," I said, my tone quiet.

He broke my gaze, returning his to the menu. I decided to let the subject drop. And a few minutes later the waiter returned to take our orders. When he left, Nick said, "Don't ever let a man convince you that he owns you, Linda."

"Even if I want him to?" He met my gaze then, but only for a moment. "Part of a man's appeal is the dominant side of him. It gives a woman a sense of security, kind of like how a baby feels secure when it's bundled up tight in a blanket and held to its mother's chest." He met my gaze again, his eyes nearly black in the low light. I said, "Having a man want you so much that he's willing to fight to hold onto you can be terribly empowering."

He nodded slowly. "So... you broke up with James because he wasn't willing to fight for you?"

I shook my head. "Not..." I blew out a breath. "You make it sound as though he lost me to another man because he wouldn't fight him for me." His gaze dropped. I said, "It wasn't anything so overt. I just... Sometimes a woman wants a man to lead, to be in control of the relationship. It feels comforting somehow."

He nodded slowly. "Kind of like a father."

I couldn't help the smile. "Well, you know what they say: a girl tries to find a mate that reminds her of her father."

He nodded, smiling himself. "I believe they say the same about men and mothers."

"They do."

His gaze dropped to my lips, for the third time in as many minutes. "Please tell me I don't have something in my teeth," I whispered, covering my mouth with a hand.

He laughed softly, his head shaking. "No, it's just... your lipstick."

My brow went up. "What's wrong with my lipstick?"

"Nothing. Relax. I just like the shade. It suits you."

I lowered my hand, unable to withhold a smile. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

He shifted his gaze, taking in the other patrons, and when he returned his gaze to mine he lifted a brow. "What?"

I shook my head. "She doesn't deserve you," I said, the words coming out before I could sensor them.

He held my gaze for a moment before looking away.

#

He reached for my door, pulling it open. I reached for his offered hand, watching as his gaze made a brief stop on my panties as I swung my legs out. On the way to the door I said, "Thank you again for dinner. I had a nice time with you."

"You're welcome. I had a nice time too."

He gestured me in and I stopped in the foyer, waiting until he turned. "Share a glass of wine with me?"

He smiled, nodding. "Let me go change."

I brought my hand up, running my fingers over his tie, my head shaking. "You went to so much trouble to look nice. Be a shame to waste it." I brought my gaze up to meet his, feeling small despite my three inch heels. I patted his chest. "Go pour the wine. Meet me in the front room."

He left me with a nod. I dropped my purse on the table and turned the stereo on, selecting something soft and setting the volume low. I waited in the middle of the floor, nervous. I was now very aware that I was trying to seduce him, the thought thrilling and also very crazy. I took several deep breaths to calm my nerves, blowing out a long, slow breath as he approached. I smiled, taking my glass. "A toast?" He tilted his head. I brought my glass up and brushed it against his. "To a very nice first date." He immediately dropped his gaze, looking more nervous than I felt. "Nick." He looked up. I smiled. "You're supposed to sip your wine."

He nodded once and tipped the glass up, taking a long sip. I followed suit, then took his glass and set both on the coffee table before again facing him, moving closer, my gaze on my hand as I brought it up, working at the two buttons of his jacket. Wordlessly I removed it and draped it over the arm of the sofa, then I returned to him, meeting his gaze. "Dance with me?" He looked like he wanted to run. I shook my head, smiling, and reached for his hands, pulling them to me, placing them on my hips and releasing them. I ran my own hands up his back to his shoulders and layed my cheek against his chest, inhaling his scent as I did. And within moments I was in the most wondeful place, completely at peace, wanting to be nowhere else. I moved my cheek against his chest, the slightest movement, enjoying the soft silk against my skin. I had the sudden urge to unbutton his shirt and to pull it back, to expose his chest, to lay my cheek against the hair there. I resisted, knowing that if I pushed too hard, too fast, I'd only scare him away. Instead, I squeezed him with my fingers, easing myself closer to him. I wanted to cry a few moments later when I felt his hands move to the small of my back, pulling me into him. I released a soft moan, again flexing my fingers.

"Gotta pee," he whispered, several minutes later.

Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I released him, moving slowly out of his embrace, turning my face up to meet his gaze. "Me too."

"You go first."

I smiled, then reached up to kiss his cheek. "Such a gentleman."

I returned to find him sitting on one of the bar stools, his wine glass empty. I drew a fingertip down his arm as I passed. "Go. I'll refill your wine."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he left in silence. I refilled our glasses and took a seat on the sofa, sinking back into the cushions, my mind tormenting me with images of he and I in bed, me on my back, him laying between my open legs, pushing his cock into me, making me delirious. I pushed a hand into the top of my mound, trying to quell the itch there. As expected, though, that only fueled the fire. He appeared a few moments later, his gaze finding mine before slipping down over my legs, warming me. On impulse, I uncrossed my legs and stood, slightly annoyed when he diverted his gaze. But he was a gentleman, and that was one of the things that attracted me to him most. I moved to stand near him, silent while he sipped his wine. But when he set the glass on the counter, I set mine beside it and ran my fingers down his arm and into his hand, pulling him gently to me, willing him to wrap me in his arms.

"More dancing then?"

I nodded, laying my cheek against his chest, inhaling, closing my eyes, sighing when he pulled me close. "This is where I belong," I whispered.

"Hm?"

I shook my head, smiling in contentment. We swayed through several more songs, and when a particularly pretty one came on I began to sing, quietly, not sure if he could even hear me.

But...

"You have a beautiful voice."

I smiled, flexing my fingers, pulling myself tighter to him, continuing to sing, a bit louder now. I was completely derailed a few moments later when I began to feel his erection pressing against my stomach. He tried to pull away but I held him fast, my head shaking. "No."

He settled then, and it was a few more minutes of me humming softly to him before I felt him begin to relax against me, his arms tightening their hold on me. I nodded and he laughed softly. "Hard for you sister?" I whispered.

"Mm?"

I shook my head, smiling, moving my hips the slightest bit, rubbing against him, thrilling at the feel of him hard against me. He tensed again, and again I flexed my fingers, moving my hips again, inciting him. "You're making me hot and bothered for you."

Either he didn't hear me or he was too nervous to respond. It was just as well, for I knew that, as much as I wanted him, I didn't want him tonight. Even after the several glasses of wine I'd had throughout the evening, I knew that having him tonight was likely to be a one night thing. I knew, though, instinctively, that once I had him inside of me, I'd never be satisfied with any other man. That realization solidified my resolve to pull myself away from him, though I allowed myself the luxury of finishing out the song before I eased my hold. I turned my head, tilting it up, focusing my gaze on his lips as I settled mine over them for a brief but warm and improper kiss. I pulled back, dropping my gaze, moving my fingers nervously against his silk-covered chest. "Night," I whispered.

"Night."

I stopped to wash and brush and pee. In my room I stripped, keenly aware of just how wet I was. I pulled open the drawer in my nightstand and grabbed the smooth, plastic toy I kept there, knowing I'd need it to get to sleep. I stretched out in bed, turning the thing on and bringing it down to the base of my stomach, sliding it gently over the skin there, just above my pubic bone, my legs opening in response.

#

I woke to the morning sun, its rays warming me. I stretched, groaning as I did. Then I settled back down, my mind immediately supplying me with images from last night; of Nick and I dancing, or more accurately, swaying to the music, my cheek against his warm chest, his erection pushing insistently into my stomach. I shivered, moaning, stretching again, my hand going down to push against my mound. But that only reminded me that I needed to pee.

I pulled a long tee shirt on and made my way to the bathroom. And as I peed it occurred to me that Melanie hadn't come home last night, that or she came in after I was already asleep. I stopped to peek in his room, confirming my suspicions that she hadn't come home. I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, then I curled up on the sofa and pulled my current novel onto my lap.

I don't know how long he'd been standing there before I noticed him, but I met his gaze with a warm smile. "Morning, sleepy head."

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Hungry?"

He nodded. "I was gonna have a bowl of cereal."

I shook my head, setting the book on the coffee table as I stood, knowing that, were he to look, he'd see I wasn't wearing panties. But he didn't look, instead he preceded me into the kitchen.

"How does an omelet sound?"

He smiled and I returned it, shaking my head. As I set to work, I said, "What time is Rich due?"

He shrugged. "Told him I'd call him when I got up."

"Mm."

We'd just sat down to eat when we heard the rattle of keys in the door. I met his gaze, shaking my head at the look of anxiety I saw there. "Don't let her beat you up," I whispered.

He nodded once. A moment later she appeared, slowing, her gaze meeting his then mine then moving back to his, a smile working its way onto her lips. "Morning, hon. Morning, Linda."

We greeted her, him with more enthusiasm than I. For some reason I wasn't ashamed of the fact that I was now on a mission to steal him away from her. As I'd told him last night, she didn't deserve him.

I watched, willing myself not to gag, when she leaned down to kiss him, a lingering kiss that I'm sure involved her tongue. I shivered, though, knowing he hadn't yet brushed. I don't care how in love with a man I am, there is no way in hell I'll kiss him unless he's brushed his teeth.

I heard her whisper an apology, and I heard him return it, much to my dismay.

I learned later that she'd actually told him that he should help Rich with his car, and that she'd been selfish in reacting the way she had. According to him, she'd blamed her lack of graciousness on hormones. I'd grudgingly admitted that I, myself, had been known to lose my mind once or twice a month.