All I Want

by Natalie Ann

Sensing his mood, she sat up in bed for a moment, looking almost uncomfortable. Vulnerable might be a better word. And he hated that by trying to get himself under control he caused her to feel that way. “How about I help you with dinner?”

  Tilting her head, gauging him, she let out a little breath, relaxing slightly and said, “I said I’d cook for you.”

  “You did. But you look a little worn out to me right now, so the least I can do is help.”

  Laughing—exactly what he’d hoped for—she replied with, “Geez, thanks for the compliment. Here I went and bestowed all sorts of sweet things on you and you come back with I look worn out.”

  If she didn’t have a twinkle in her eye, he would have grimaced, but she did, so he pulled her over and gave her a big hug instead. “That is a compliment.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because I did that to you. Best compliment for myself there is.”

  “Okay,” she said, letting him go, almost embarrassed again, though he wasn’t sure why.“But I still said I would cook.”

  “Nope. We do it together because I’m not nearly done with you today and you need to store up your energy.”

  “I could say the same to you,” she said shyly, like she wasn’t sure she should say it, but desperately wanted to.

  “I’ve got plenty of energy where you’re concerned.”

  “See, you do know how to compliment.”

  It was said mischievously, he knew, but he took it to heart. It was the truth. Something about her made him feel like the strongest man in the world. He could do it all, then again a second time with her on his shoulder. It was a corny thought and one he needed to vanish fast. “So what are we cooking?”

  She giggled at him, and it was a nice sound. Not a sound that would have annoyed him in the past, but one that was almost nervous-like. He liked that he made her nervous just now, even if he didn’t understand why she was. It was a good kind of nerves, he could see. An exciting kind. “Do you like fish?”

  “Sure do. What kind?”

  “Cod?” she said almost questioningly.

  “That will work. I’m going to show you how to make the famous Callahan fish and chips.”

  “Famous, huh?”

  “You bet. People come from all over to get my father’s fish and chips. I’ve been making it since I was twelve.” He reached over and tugged a lock of her hair. “You should feel special. I had to wait until I was fifteen to be trusted with the recipe and allowed to make it by myself.”

  “Oh, I do feel special,” she said lacing her fingers through his.

  There was a double meaning there, he knew, and it didn’t bother him in the least. “Do you have beer?” He doubted it; she was a wine drinker. One night she’d actually ordered something fruity and it was obvious she was forcing it down. When he asked her what was wrong, she’d replied that it was too sugary. Asked why she ordered it, she’d told him that it was fun to try something new.

  She was right, it was. This was new to him. Everything about her and the two of them was new. Not in a bad way, but in a good way, the best way. A sense of longing. A sense of wanting—no, needing. A sense of belonging.

  “Yes, I do have beer,” she said, drawing those thoughts out of his mind. “I asked Brynn what you liked to drink. It all went over my head and she finally said, ‘A stout. Something dark, maybe with oats in it. You can’t go wrong with that in the fall.’ So I walked around and tried to find what she said.”

  He was touched. It was crazy to be touched that she went out of her way for something as simple as a beer for him, but he could see her doing that and it meant something to him. He grew up in a pub, so of course he liked beer. He’d been drinking it at home with dinner long before he legally should have been. Responsible drinking, his father had taught him. “You can’t own a pub and drink your profits away, but you should be able to have a social beer with your customers. Know the difference.” He’d been lectured his whole life on that, and for that reason, he came to appreciate a good craft beer.

  “I’m sure you did just fine if you got one of them. Even better as that is the best beer to put in the batter for fish and chips.”

  “They really put beer in it?”

  She was just too cute. “Yes. It’s called beer-battered for a reason.”

  “Then I can’t wait to see how it’s done. I promise I won’t tell anyone the famous recipe.”

  He stilled for a second and realized what he was doing. He was showing her the recipe that he had to wait so long to find out himself. One that no one but members of his family was privy to. It’d been passed down for generations and just tweaked here and there. He was starting to doubt what he’d just offered to do. “You better not,” he said, jokingly, though he was dead serious.

  “I’ll take it to the grave with me, I promise. But if it’s something you’re used to eating, I’d like to be able to make it for you. Something to give you a taste of home since you aren’t there.”

  He stilled. He should have known she would be that way. That she would take something so simple like an old family recipe and turn the tables on him and say exactly why he offered to make it. He only made it when he was missing home.

  He never admitted he missed his family. It wasn’t like they didn’t bug him nonstop, because they did. But it was a part of him, and who he was. It was engrained in him as a person and made him that person. Which was probably why working at Harper’s was such a good fit for him. The Harper family was the same exact way.

  At odd times and odd moments he felt the need to connect with that bond he had with his family. Food often did it, so he’d make one of the pub’s dishes to remind him. Normally that was enough for him to be glad he was hours away and a phone call was all that kept them together. Then time would go by and he’d have to do it again. A reminder that they were always there when he needed them.

  Did he somehow self-consciously want Carly to help him remember his family? Did she remind him of it? Wanting to have that for himself here, so far away from everyone else?

  No, that was too much for his mind to grasp and he refused to go there.

  “Be careful. If you learn to make it too good, I might want it all the time,” he said.

  “I don’t mind. If I make it good enough for you to have it, then you should, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I should have it all the time.” He wasn’t talking about fish and chips at that moment either.

  ***

  “Are you sure it’s okay to make it without a fryer?”

  “It’s fine. As long as you’ve got a deep pot and lots of oil we can make it work.”

  Carly pulled a deep pot out as he’d instructed and set it on the stovetop. She put the oil in and turned the stovetop on to heat up, then pulled out all the ingredients he’d listed.

  She’d been impressed he listed them off the top of his head like that. She’d always been able to do that and appreciated that someone else could too. Not that she could do it with everything she made, but special things, yes. Special meals were things she remembered every detail of.

  He wasn’t lying when he said he could cook. One by one he mixed everything together for the batter. She wanted to write it down but didn’t dare do it. She’d seen the look in his eyes when she’d said she would take the recipe to the grave with her. He almost looked nervous about giving it to her.

  Normally she would have thought it was crazy for him to feel that way, but this was his family business. One she’d learned was more than a livelihood for his family. It was their life.

  So instead she tried to remember as many of them as she could, using a little song formula in her head that she’d taught her students to do when trying to study for tests. With any luck, she’d be close if she tried to replicate it.

  Once the fish had been dredged in the batter three times—“To make the batter stick”—they placed it in the pot and watched it sizzle. When the fish was done, they set it aside and dropped in the sliced potatoes—no, chips, he
corrected her—that were coated in seasoning.

  She threw together a quick salad while she kept an eye on the way he was working, memorizing it all as best she could.

  “You win. Definitely the best fish and chips I’ve ever had.”

  “Told you. See, you learned something new today.”

  She’d learned a lot of new things today, and she wasn’t talking about plate making or cooking. “I’m glad you showed me. I mean it, this is really good.”

  “Then I did my mother proud.”

  “Oh, I’d say you’ve been doing your mother proud for years.” He flushed at that comment, but it was true. She knew through Brynn that the men in the office teased Sean about his “sensitive” side, but she thought it was nice. It worked for her. He worked for her. She was just trying to keep all those feelings locked away right now.

  She’d never felt this strongly about anyone this soon before, and the last thing she wanted to do was scare him away or do anything to ruin it. She was all for taking things slow.

  Regardless of the fact that all she’d wanted was to be married and have children by now, she’d never been one to just jump into it. It had to be right. Perfect. The right guy—the perfect guy. One that made her smile, made her laugh, made her feel special, and made her feel safe.

  So far Sean was all of those things. She was going to find a way to hold onto them.

  “Glad to know you think that.”

  “I do. Very much.” He cringed. She didn’t mean to make him feel that way, almost embarrassed that she liked him being on the sensitive side. Reaching over, she clasped his hand in hers. “Listen. Don’t worry about not being manly enough or whatever. Say what you want to say around me. I’m good with it. I really am. I like you for you. I like that you are sweet and considerate. I like that you cook for me and think of different things to do on a date. And I like the side of you that you showed me earlier. You can be a little controlling and a little rough, for lack of a better word, mixed in with the sweetness and consideration. You’ve got a good balance.”

  It completely shocked her to know those words came out of her mouth. She’d never wanted a man that was controlling or rough, yet she didn’t feel scared with Sean when he was like that in the bedroom.

  Maybe because the way he did it didn’t come off that way. She’d still felt as if she could stop him at any point. In the end, though he was controlling the show, she really felt as if she was. Something she’d never thought or experienced before.

  “Can we make this conversation our little secret?” His eyes crinkled at the corners again, and he smiled at her.

  He wasn’t put off by what she’d said, and she was glad. There was a risk in insulting him, threatening his manhood by saying those things. She was glad she managed to not do that. “Sure. It can be our secret. Just like your family’s fish and chips recipe.”

  Hot and Amazing

  Carly rolled over and looked at Sean sleeping on his stomach, one arm under the covers, the other over his head shielding half his face. His light brownish-red hair was slightly messed up, looking wavier than normal, and he had a nice growth of a beard on his face. Light brown, with a hint of red, just like his hair. That beard added to a rough side of him. The one she told him she liked that he showed again after dinner yesterday.

  When he didn’t stir, she slid out of bed quietly, grabbed her silk robe and slipped it on, tying it tightly. Her clothes were scattered all over the room again, and she didn’t want to risk waking him by searching for something else to wear.

  Making her way through the house and into the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her hair was sticking up everywhere, so she grabbed a rubber band and tied it back, then went down the stairs to her kitchen.

  Flipping the light on, she made her way to the coffee maker and started a pot. She wasn’t sure if he was a coffee drinker or not. She’d rather have tea, and did more often than coffee, but she thought she’d cover her bases.

  Making as little noise as possible, she moved around the kitchen getting all her ingredients out for the makings of waffles while thoughts filtered through her brain.

  She’d never had sex with a man for the first time in her house, but she’d broken that rule. And she’d never considered letting a man spend the night at her house, especially this early in a relationship. Another rule broken.

  It obviously was the weekend for trying new things and breaking rules, and she wasn’t the least bit sorry or upset over it. Should she be? Part of her brain told her yes, those rules were there for a reason. They were there to protect her. Yet she didn’t feel the need for protection with Sean.

  Speaking of trying new things. Last night, after dinner, something came over her. Never really aggressive or suggestive in bed, she found herself wanting to surprise him. She wasn’t sure if she surprised him or not, but she sure surprised herself.

  After they washed up all the dishes, pots and pans, she grabbed his hand and led him back upstairs. She didn’t even give him a chance to finish his beer. She’d actually laughed over his expression when she told him to leave it, like it was taboo to walk away from an unfinished beer. Either way, she pulled him up the stairs and turned him around, his back to the bed.

  Standing in front of him, running her hands up his shirt, she started to unbutton each button slowly. Her head lifted, her eyes staring into his. “You can go get the rest of your beer if you’d prefer?” she’d offered.

  Smirking, he said, “No, I never have more than two in a night anyway.”

  “I figured you might enjoy this more.” Where those words came from, she wasn’t sure. Words like that were always trapped in her throat and she never felt comfortable saying them. Always so afraid someone would take them further than she wanted to go. Further than she felt comfortable going.

  “You figured right. I take it you want to step up and take control right now?”

  How he knew that, she didn’t have a clue. “Maybe.”

  “Go right ahead. Do your worst to me.”

  So she did, or attempted to. He didn’t seem to mind she was moving fast. Or if he did, he never said a word, not even when she tossed his shirt over her shoulder. Just as quickly she shed the rest of his clothes, sending them all over the room. He was an impressive sight naked. All lean and toned, just the right amount of man for her.

  With her hands on his chest, fingers spread wide, she caressed him first, watching her hands feel him. Watching them move over the muscles on his torso, then over his stomach and back up. She’d realized she hadn’t moved anything else but her hands and shifted her eyes up to look at his face.

  What she saw was a heat in his eyes, burning through her, pushing more urgency into her movements.

  With a tiny nudge, she walked him backwards until his legs hit the bed, then she moved in closer, placed the tip of her finger right in the center of his chest and pushed him down. He smiled at her the whole time, seeming to delight in her game. She was enjoying it, feeling empowered and free at the moment.

  “Are you going to undress?” he asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Of course. How else can I get my hands on your skin if you keep your clothes on?”

  “Do you want me to undress slowly?” Whoa, did those words come out of her mouth?

  He gulped, then nodded. Okay, guess they were the right words to say after all. She could do this. Digging in deep, she found her courage and ran her hands around her stomach, over her shirt, then slid her fingertips under the bottom and edged it up over her ribs, her breasts and finally her head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

  “Why don’t you help me?” she suggested, turning her back to him and offering up the clasp to her bra.

  “Gladly.” Only he didn’t move fast enough. First he dragged his knuckles down her spine, then back up again causing a little whimper to escape from her lips. When he was done after a few more paths up and down her back, he settled his hands on her waist, spanning most of her.
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br />   Giving her sides a little squeeze, he glided his hands up her ribs and over her breasts, gripping her through her bra. Her head fell backwards as she exhaled. He really did have nice smooth hands. Who needed rough, callused hands when they were nice and smooth like Sean’s?

  Over her breasts, caressing along the top of her cleavage with his fingertips, then down her sides and up again. “You have the right amount for me. The perfect handful, all soft and smooth. Any more would be a waste.”

  She’d never liked having such small breasts, but Sean made her like them. He made her like being as small as she was, period. “If you like them so much, why don’t you take my bra off?”

  “Because you’re supposed to undress for me.”

  “I asked for your help,” she reminded him.

  “Oh, you wanted help getting undressed? I thought you were asking for help in turning you on.”

  “No,” she choked out. “I don’t need any help there. Can’t you tell?” She worried then, maybe she was doing this all wrong.

  “I can tell, but I want you to tell me what to do. Don’t ask. Tell me, or take it. Either works.”

  Got it. She was learner. “Undo the clasp of my bra and take it off of me.”

  Those hands of his, smooth as silk, slid around and undid the clasp quickly, then slid each straps off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, his hands covering her and holding her. Pinching her nipples, making them harder than they were.

  “Keep doing that,” she told him.

  “You like it, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me then. Tell me what to do next.”

  “My jeans,” she started to stutter. “Help me remove my jeans, please?”

  “Is that a question, or a demand?”

  Oh man, he was good at this. “Remove my jeans,” she told him more firmly.

  So his hands moved into the waist of her jeans, undid the button and zipper, then slid them down her legs. Since he’d ruined her last pair of underwear, she’d had to get another pair, string bikinis again. Could she tell him to do it again, what he did last time? She didn’t think she could. She wanted to, but couldn’t.