by Tawny Weber
She took a deep breath. “Me too.”
“Shave! I forgot to shave.”
“I like it.” She touched his beard-roughened jaw. Tentatively at first, then growing bolder.
Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. “I don’t want to give you beard burn.” He backed up toward the bathroom.
“Marc...” Tabby tugged on his hand, refusing to give him up one more time. “Beard burn. Rug burn. I’ll hold up. You’re stalling.”
She heard the sharp intake of breath before he let it out. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I just want everything to be perfect.” He stroked her hair. “I’ve waited all my life for you.”
“Then why wait any longer?” she asked in a throaty whisper because her heart stuck there.
His mouth found hers again. Like champagne after the cork popped, all her emotions bubbled over into the kiss.
“Tabitha...I promised myself the next time would mean something. This does—”
She stole his next words with another kiss. “Are we through talking yet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Permission to touch.”
Chapter 17
“Permission granted.”
Tabby explored the heat of his skin. The breadth of his shoulders. The tautness of his muscles. Nothing was off limits.
The towel became an obstacle. “You’re out of uniform, Commander,” she purred, getting rid of it with one tug. She examined the obvious evidence of his arousal. “But you pass muster.”
“If the Uniform of the Day is naked, Lieutenant, you’re overdressed.”
Looking up, she saw that familiar control on his face. This was her chance to break it. Slowly she unzipped her skirt, then dropped it and kicked it aside. Excitement made her fingers clumsy. But she tortured him with deliberate slowness, taking her time over each button on her shirt. Looking at him though half-lidded eyes, she stopped on the last button.
“Don’t even think you won’t pass muster,” he said in a husky voice. He brushed the shirt from her shoulders, trapping her arms and pulling her to him. “I can take it from here.”
Large calloused hands guided the material down her arms, sending shivers through her. The shirt fell to the floor, leaving only her lacy white bra and panties.
At his indrawn breath, she felt the heady sense of power known to women since Eve in the garden of Eden.
He wanted her. He wanted her bad.
His hot hands traveled up her arms, over her shoulders, across her back. Fever spread wherever he touched, looked. Unhooking her bra, he coaxed the straps off her shoulders. The bit of lace joined the pile on the floor.
She arched into his touch, her budding nipples greedy for his attention. He cupped them fully, filling his hands and fulfilling her need to be touched. He lowered his mouth to suckle. But the time he spent on one was torture to the other.
He laid her back on his bed and removed her panties. Then he kissed her. Touched her. Everywhere.
She felt whole in his arms. Wanted. Loved. Safe. Secure.
She groaned when he initiated a more intimate kiss. Her knees became jelly. “No!” she cried out. Her mind screamed, yes! “No, please,” she panted out the feeble protest. She needed him to cover her trembling body with his.
She needed him inside her.
Without conscious thought she pressed his head closer as her world rocked, then shook, then erupted in an explosion of pure pleasure.
Marc nipped the inside of her thigh, the curve of her hip, her flat stomach, her peaked nipple, then took her mouth in a deep probing kiss. His roaming hand wandered back to her warm wet center. He broke their kiss to look at her and his mouth curved into a self-assured smile. She was his for the taking.
“Why are you stopping?”
“Believe me, I’m not that chivalrous. I don’t just want you. I need you.” He needed to make her his in every sense of the word. He reached for a condom.
It wasn’t really necessary. A pang of regret stabbed him. Then guilt. Tell her. “Tabitha...”
“Shh.” She put her finger to his lips.
And he slipped inside her warm and welcoming body.
Later. He’d tell her everything later.
Tabby stretched her hand across the bed to Marc’s empty pillow and pulled the feathered comfort to her. She inhaled. It wasn’t a dream.
She hadn’t even been asleep that long.
But where was he?
Rising from the bed, she padded barefoot to the dresser, put on one of his T-shirts, then made her way through the dark house.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Her heartbeat quickened. Where was Marc? Why had he left her alone?
The French doors were open slightly and movement on the patio deck caught her attention.
Hugging her arms around herself, she joined him and stared out over the rail at the ocean beyond. She heard the lapping of the waves, felt the cooling breeze and sighed. “You’re one of those deep thinkers, aren’t you?”
She turned and he held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her into his lap.
“Penny for them,” she said.
“They’re about you.”
“I won’t overstay my welcome,” she reassured him past the lump forming in her throat, easing away a fraction. If he wasn’t comfortable with what had happened, she could catch the next flight back to D.C.
Lacing his fingers through her hair he pulled her back against his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?” He spoke with his lips pressed against her temple.
“I don’t know. I suppose I want you to kick me out of your bed because that’s the only way I’m going to leave here.” She let out a frustrated sigh. With his body her pillow, the stars overhead her blanket, she closed her eyes.
“Regrets?” he asked softly. “It’s too late to turn back the clock.”
“I want more time...” Her voice held a note of desperation.
“Would a lifetime be too long?”
Her eyes popped open in surprise.
“This weekend isn’t going to last forever. And I think the only way I could survive a three-thousand- mile separation is if we were married.” He paused. “There’s always the chance the Navy would honor a transfer so you could be with your husband.” His proposal was a strange mix of romance and crazy logic.
“I’m coming back as a SEAL trainee.”
“But what if you’re not? Or what if it takes longer than you think?”
“What if I am?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was low and serious, but his eyes sparkled with animation. “I just know that every morning I wake up at the same time, I eat the same breakfast, I go through the same routine. When I get dressed, I make sure all the hangers in my closet are two finger-widths apart. Tonight I woke up with you sleeping beside me and I like the change. Besides, the least you can do is make an honest man out of me.”
“You’re talking crazy.”
“I’m feeling crazy.”
“We barely know each other.”
“I could spend a lifetime getting to know you.” For every objection he had an answer. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He was sweeping her off her feet. Isn’t that what every girl wanted?
She wanted it all. And he was handing it to her. At least the parts that he could give her. The rest she had to fight for. But when she tried to imagine her life without him—she couldn’t.
You love him. What else matters?
And it was love—right?—not lust that made her want him so bad.
“You want to...” She was afraid to say the words. Afraid they weren’t real. Afraid she’d wake up. “...marry me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She kissed away his smug smile. “Make love to me again.”
Marc shook his head. “Mexico’s twenty minutes away. Let’s make a run for it. Once we’re man and wife I promise you, I won’t let you out of bed for the entire honeymoon.”
Not until he had to see her off at the airp
ort.
He’d use every bit of pull he had to get her back to Coronado. There were plenty of support positions. She’d be mad as hell at him when she found out about his counter-study, but he wouldn’t let her out of bed long enough to let her work up a really good head of steam. And he had a lifetime to make her fall in love with him.
He wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to her father. But nobody got along with their in-laws, right?
But there was another piece of unpleasant news. Now was the time to tell her there’d be no children. Knowing it had made a difference once with another woman, made the words that much harder to say. He didn’t want to lose Tabitha, not when he was so close to winning her over, but he couldn’t marry her without talking about this.
Differences like missing toothpaste caps and feasibility studies could be worked out. But to have or not to have children was a decision that both of them had to agree on.
“You should know, I don’t want children. I can’t have them, and adoption’s not an option I want to pursue.” He couldn’t raise another man’s child. He had firsthand experience with how impossible that was.
“And you should know, I already know.”
“How—”
“Carol let it slip today. She’d assumed you’d already told me. It doesn’t matter. But you have to tell me why or we’re not going anywhere.”
‘‘The why should be obvious,” but he continued anyway. She wanted the whole story and he’d give it to her. ‘‘I was nineteen going on twenty—too young to know any better, I suppose. At the end of SEAL training I went home to ask Carol to marry me.” He searched her eyes and liked the hint of jealousy he saw there. “I wanted to do it right. Ask her parents’ permission. The whole bit. Well, I got an earful. According to Carol’s father I wasn’t good enough for his little girl. I’d heard it all my life so it wasn’t anything new. But usually it was whispered behind my back—”
Marc took a deep breath, remembering exactly how he’d felt. “I thought I’d left it all behind when I joined the Navy, but I’d only left. Instead of returning from liberty, I went UA—to see him. He was in San Quentin.”
‘‘You mean the man who fathered you?”
He nodded. “Rell, Ralph, no middle name.” He could have recited the man’s prison number if he’d wanted to. He’d memorized it and every detail concerning Rell. “It was the first time I’d ever seen him, but right away I noticed the similarities. Not just looks, but mannerisms. He was the last man in the world I wanted to be and seeing him was like seeing my future.”
“I can’t imagine you were ever like him.”
“I thought I was. And the people back in Harmony thought I was. It’s no wonder they hated me.”
“What about Carol? She didn’t—”
“After her father said no, we planned to elope. But by then your father had tracked me down.’’
“It sounds like something my father would do.” It wasn’t typical for a CO, but the Toad lived by his own set of rules. “I still remember what he said once he caught up with me. ‘There are no deserters on my watch. You got that, son?’” He’d yelled back, I’m not your son! I’m not anybody’s son!
“Were you planning to desert?”
“I really wasn’t thinking that far ahead.” He chuckled to relieve some of the tension, or maybe because he was a little nervous about telling her the rest. “Anyway, your father hauled my butt back to Coronado. Then over to San Clemente Island. There’s a camp there, complete with ramshackle huts and a bamboo prison. Instructors use it for the trainees during mission scenarios. You get caught, you get locked up.
“That’s where he took me—just the two of us— said he didn’t know if I was ready for a team. He tied me to a chair in a hut.” Marc heard the sharp intake of her breath and felt her stiffen.
“Do you hate him?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No. But I did then.” And for a long time afterward. For a kid who’d been abused most of his life it was a pretty helpless feeling. But Prince never raised a hand to him. “I guess you’d call it deprogramming because for hours on end he reaffirmed everything I’d ever heard or believed about myself by repeating it and then showed me that I was making it a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Marc had seen a kinder, gentler side to the Toad—one he hadn’t revealed in twenty-five weeks of training. He’d become a father figure. Only he hadn’t called Marc son when he’d given his departing advice. Miller, you can’t run away from yourself. So what are you going to do about it? Sit here? Or get on with the rest of your life?
“He untied me and left. I went to Captain’s Mast for the UA, but got my act together and the team assignment I’d earned,” Marc said. “I accepted my paternity, but decided not to pass along my heritage. At the first opportunity I had a vasectomy courtesy of Uncle Sam. And when I went home on leave to see Carol she rejected me—or rather a childless marriage, which is pretty much the same thing.”
Marc searched Tabitha’s eyes. “I know what I’m asking—”
“Shh.” She put her finger to his lips. “We have each other. That’s enough.”
As they went back inside, Marc silently vowed to make her so happy she’d never regret marrying him. But he wasn’t sure he could keep that promise.
Chapter 18
1800 Sunday
HOTEL DEL MAR
Tijuana, Mexico
Rolling from her stomach to her back, Tabby stretched her naked body with the languid movements of a contented cat. It wasn’t the Hotel del Coronado. But they were husband and wife.
Marc got up from his side of the bed. “Look what you’ve done to me, woman.”
Propping herself on her elbow, she did just that.
He had to-die-for legs and broad shoulders tapering to trim hips. The firm muscles of his butt bunched and beckoned as he hobbled away.
“Poor baby,” she sympathized. “Used and abused.”
She’d let him make it to the bathroom this time.
Plucking the last strawberry from the bowl of fruit, she bit into it with a sly smile. He’d been very creative with them earlier.
The rest of their breakfast tray lay forgotten on the table next to the window. Sheer curtains billowed inward on a sea breeze. The sun had made the air hot and heavy, stealing any cooling effect.
Tabby dropped the hull back into the bowl and settled against her pillow then brought her hand up to admire the gold band on the ring finger of her left hand.
“Mrs. Marc Miller.” Fingering the unfamiliar weight of the ring, she was unable to regret their rush into marriage.
She heard the shower and climbed out of bed. Surprised by the weakness in her own legs, she padded to the bathroom. They’d married Saturday morning, and from that moment on they’d spent their time in bed, making love as husband and wife.
Sunday had come all too soon. Tabby tried not to think about leaving. Instead, she focused on returning.
“Trying to sneak up on me?”
She pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped into the tub behind him. “Just coming to do my wifely duty and soap your back.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t be fooled into thinking I married a dutiful bride.”
She took the soap from him and worked it into a lather. Massaging him, she pressed her body close to his, kissing him between his shoulder blades as the water poured down on their heads. ‘‘We have a few minutes....”
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
‘‘Liar.”
Marc turned to meet the lips tracing his shoulder. Drawing his wife into his arms, he kissed her. He couldn’t get enough of her not to feel the loss of her leaving.
Damn duty. The Navy. And the whole friggin’ world.
‘‘What about your flight? You’re going to be late.”
“I can catch the red-eye back to D.C.” He stole her breath and she moaned. ‘‘As long as...I—I’m there by morning.” Panting, she clung to him.
Oh
, God, he didn’t want to let go.
Hand in hand they raced through the airport terminal, pausing only once to check the overhead monitors for flight information. Tabby stretched her legs to keep up with Marc.
‘‘We didn’t leave you enough time,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ll call Gromley’s secretary when I get to the office. Maybe she can buy you some. If your layover’s delayed—”
“I’ll make it.” She couldn’t feel sorry considering the way they’d spent it.
“Do you have your ticket?”
“Yes,” Tabby reassured him for at least the third time since she’d traded in her military travel voucher.
“And the marriage license?”
“Yes.”
“Just as soon as you check in with Personnel get the yeoman to make a Page Two entry in your service record.”
“I know how to change my marital status, Marc.” Page Two recorded all personal information. It wasn’t necessarily the second page or even a single page entry.
She squeezed his hand, acknowledging his concern. Their haste and the fact that she was leaving made her short-tempered. Him too. He brushed her forehead with his lips and didn’t watch where he was going. Dodging a passenger at the end of a long ticket line, Marc pulled her out of the way, bumping the man’s suitcase and knocking it over in the process. The gentleman glared at them.
Marc shrugged. Tabby burst into giggles.
“Sorry,” they said in unison and kept going.
“I’ll call your detailer this afternoon and try and get you back to Coronado, ASAP. San Diego, or anywhere in southern California would be close enough,” he added. “There’s got to be an admin job for you somewhere.”
Tabby stopped, tugging on his hand to halt his progress. “I’m not coming back to fill some administration slot. I’m coming back as a SEAL trainee. Remember?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four weeks? Rear Admiral Gromley arranged a meeting with the congressional committee for next Monday. If they approve—“
“Reality check,” he said tersely. “Nobody in D.C. is going to take that feasibility study seriously, Tabitha.”