Automatically sucking her lower lip in her mouth, Claire grunted, "You're smashing your baby."
His weight shifted and thin branching crow's feet developed outside his eyes as Shepherd observed the female trapped beneath him.
Scarred lips pressed to her neck, the behemoth sucked in a deep, rasping breath. "I favor you this way, little one."
His body flexed against her and suddenly the massive killer was playful, setting his hip between hers. Immediately unsettled, Claire realized she had behaved badly in her fatigue. She had invited attention, she had engaged... and he seemed very happy about it. Taking her hand, he put her palm on his chest and drew it down the length of his torso, arching into the compelled touch like a spoiled cat.
Claire watched her fingers on their course, wondering idly if he even registered, or cared, that it was only his force on her wrist which continued the caress. She wondered if the thread spoke to him as it did to her. What manipulations was it working in his mind?
The ripple of knotted muscles over Shepherd's ribs, the hard line of his belly, so much mass and heat. Her eyes traveled up to find him watching her clinically, gauging her expression. The moment became far more confusing, as did the light furrow of his brow and the almost intrigued expression surrounding his liquid mercury eyes.
His body shifted, Shepherd drawing Claire's palm higher until it rested against the swirl of tattoos on his thick neck; the forefront of his Da'rin markings. He sniffed and growled low, releasing the pressure of his hand on hers. "I am sore here."
The beast stilled and waited, covering but not crushing her; his complaisance urging her only to stroke him. It seemed a reasonable thing, but she hesitated. Touching him in coitus while her mind was on another plane was one thing; giving him relief simply because he wanted her to... she was resistant to offer it.
When his hand moved to her breast and began to knead the mound of flesh, Claire stiffened, bracing as she understood his point. His erection had been growing between their bodies and was already pulsing and ready. She could rub him, or he could fuck her.
He was giving her a choice.
Her small hand reached for the covers, to recreate the wrecked burrow, then her hand went back to the thickly muscled nape of his neck.
The beast released her breast, growling low and long at the feel of her hand kneading his spine.
The sensation of touching him seemed so very bizarre. Thinking of it as a chore, considering the act clinically, Claire let her hand recognize where there was tension in the musculature, where she could feel scars. The more she dug in, the deeper his purr became. It seemed the behemoth was nearing sleep, his weight settling a bit more atop her, but that was not what distracted Claire's attention. It was the still hard meat of his cock, and how it would jerk, as if Shepherd were flexing a muscle every so often, butting against her sex. Secondly, her breast, the one he'd caressed in the unspoken offer, was sensitive, and the nipple distended to the point where it ached. Claire had to take great care, as she rubbed Shepherd's neck, to ensure the mound of flesh did not come into contact with him, that the inappropriate thrill when the peaked nipple scraped heat was ignored.
It was maddening.
Even in the early stages of pregnancy, her body reacted to his nearness far more strongly than it had before. Where there had been disgust, Claire began to feel stirrings. It was only a physical reaction, but it felt like a betrayal of her very self when revulsion disappeared and her mind tried to shut off the torrent of endless internal reproofs.
That was why he'd done it, she was certain; pregnancy made her crave the nearness of the father, almost inspired the interest Shepherd seemed to demand. A long worried breath passed her lips. The giant shifted just a little. As if some threshold had been crossed, some test finished, he seamlessly began to ease the head of his cock into her supine body. Claire pretended it was unwelcome even as she continued to stroke his neck.
She moaned.
Her expression hinted that she found his callused fingers distasteful, but the flush on her cheeks gave her away when slowly he returned his large hand to her swollen breast.
There was something under the surface of the act she could not put her finger on, something in the way the pad of his thumb circled her flesh, his cock still slowly pushing inside her, as if testing the waters. It was too much as if he was waiting for some revelation, some great moment, and like a bucket of cold water Claire realized what had happened.