Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance)

by Sharon Hamilton

  "We, uh, have a problem." Crash’s voice coming from behind her brought Trish’s attention around.

  She spun to face him. Was he talking about his makeshift bed for tonight? Maybe he had a bad back and was afraid sleeping on it would mess him up. "What’s wrong?"

  He hooked a thumb in the direction of the closed bedroom door and pressed his lips together. "I hate to have to tell you this since he’s your brother and all, but Zippy’s getting busy with Dawn in your bed."

  Her brows rose. "How busy?" Maybe she didn’t want to know.

  "Let me put it this way, when I came out of the bathroom she had no shirt on and his uniform was in a pile on the floor. It about killed me to not pick it up and hang it, but she was about to—" Crash shook his head and let out a laugh. "Never mind. In any case, I wasn’t fixin’ to stick around for it."

  "All righty." Noise from the bedroom halted whatever more Trish had been about to say. Dawn had a loud voice on a normal day. Drunk, and in the throes of passion, she was even louder.

  Crash hiked up one brow and reached for the remote control. "Maybe I should turn on the television."

  "Yeah. Good idea. Loud." Trish sat on the edge of the mattress. Maybe Danny had done her a favor. What a perfect excuse to spend more time with Crash.

  He grinned and then shook his head. "I really am sorry about this. I know it must not be funny for you."

  "It’s not your fault. It’s my brother and my friend." She drew in a big breath. "So, I guess I’m out here with you for the night."

  "You can take the open-up couch. I’ll sleep in the chair."

  Was that offer from Crash his way of being a gentleman? Or was he simply not interested in sharing the bed with her?

  "No, don’t be silly. We can both fit on the—" Another sound, this time Danny’s voice, filtered through the closed bedroom door.

  Crash pushed the remote and raised the volume a little higher. He tossed the control onto the table before turning back to her, looking pained. "Trish, I’m gonna be perfectly honest here. Since I’d planned on sleeping on the boat tonight, I don’t have any other clothes with me. I can’t sleep in this uniform and still be presentable enough to be seen in it tomorrow morning when I check back in. I’m gonna have to sleep in my underwear."

  "I understand that. There’s sheets and blankets, if you’re worried about modesty."

  "That’s not the problem." He let out a breath. "I’ve got enough booze in me that I don’t think I can lie next to you without it getting to me. Especially if I have to hear them doing that in there."

  A smile twitched her lips at his confession. Nothing like a man admitting he was going to get a hard-on just from being next to you in a bed. Sick as it seemed, Trish was going to take that as compliment. It was more than she’d gotten lately in her woefully pitiful social life. There was a serious man drought in New Jersey. Or maybe Trish was a walking guy repellant. Either way, she’d been sans boyfriend and in fact lacking in any sort of male companionship for far too long.

  The man before her looked yummy in his uniform and, she was sure, without it. He was just the recipe to end her fast. She certainly could make a feast out of Crash. "Can I be honest with you too?"

  He dipped his head in a nod. "A’ight."

  "I understand what you said earlier about not wanting to get involved with anyone right before you deploy and I think you’re right about that. But I also believe that two mature, consenting adults can engage in pleasurable activities together without getting involved and it doesn’t have to be complicated if they both agree to that condition up front." Trish was fairly impressed with herself.

  That had been quite a speech she’d come up with on the fly while her heart was pounding so hard it was beginning to shake her whole body. She watched for a reaction from Crash, and boy did she get it. His mouth dropped open before he clamped it shut again.

  His sandy-colored brows drew low. "Um, Trish—"

  Crap. That was not a promising start to his statement. And he was frowning. She must have misinterpreted everything he’d been trying to say to her before. He wasn’t interested. She could tell that by his hesitation now, which meant she’d just made a huge ass of herself and probably made him think she was some sort of loose woman who routinely slept with a guy the first night she met him. A New Jersey ‘ho like all the girls on that reality show she hated with a passion. The sad thing was if that were true her sex life wouldn’t have been on a year long dry spell.

  Trish held up one hand to stop him before he tried to let her down gently. "No, it’s fine. I was kidding anyway. A joke that was in bad taste. I guess a few beers and a purple shot and my good sense disappears."

  He reached out and wrapped that incredibly big and strong hand around her arm. God, how she’d love to feel those hands all over her body.

  "Trish, stop. There’s nothing I’d like more than to spend tonight with you, engaging in all sorts of pleasurable activity. Believe me. But you’re Zippy’s sister. That’s pretty much the worst thing one guy can do to another guy."

  He’d leaned closer while he’d spoken, keeping his voice low and just for her, as if Danny could have heard them anyway over the sound of the television and Dawn’s moaning.

  His hand remained on her arm. Warm. Strong. It had her insides heating. She found herself leaning closer to him. "First of all, I’m my own person and I make my own decisions. Second, what Danny doesn’t know won’t hurt him."

  Crash swallowed. His gaze dropped to her lips before he pulled it back up. His eyes were narrowed as they captured and held hers. "I guess all it takes is a few beers and some purple shots to do in my good sense too."

  As he moved closer, Trish’s pulse vibrated her from within. This was going to happen and damn, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

  His eyes remained on her until their mouths touched with the spark of barely held restraint on both their parts. She’d imagined but hadn’t allowed herself to assume this would happen, but now his hand was in her hair and he was angling his mouth across hers.

  His tongue slipped between her lips and the kiss rocketed to another level. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her. The sound had him pulling back and drawing in a shuddering breath.

  Crash cradled the back of her head with his palm as, breathing hard, he leaned his forehead against hers. "You sure you want this?"

  "Yes. You?"

  "Oh, God, yes."

  He leaned back and started to unbutton his short-sleeved khaki shirt. She watched as each button opened revealed more of the tight, white T-shirt stretched across the muscles of Crash’s hard body beneath.

  It was like a ritual watching him undress. The uniform shirt came off but it didn’t go on the floor like Danny’s had. Crash hung his on the back of the desk chair. He even adjusted the shoulders so it hung straight. The belt and pants came off next. Those got draped just as neatly over the back of another chair. His black shoes, still looking shiny and polished even though they’d been walking around in the dirty city all day, he lined up beneath the desk. He’d taken off his cover the moment they’d entered the building. That sat on the desk where he’d laid it when they first walked in.

  Crash glanced up and caught her watching. He cocked a brow as his gaze dropped to take her in from head to toe. She realized she’d yet to take anything off herself. That could come later. She was enjoying the show now. Besides, maybe he’d like to help her get undressed. That might be nice.

  His black socks came off. He laid those over his shoes and then took off his wristwatch. That left him in nothing but his underwear and a T-shirt when he walked toward her, closing the distance in a few long strides. Her breath came in short bursts as he put his hands on her waist, leaned down and took her mouth.

  Those hands didn’t stay idol as he kissed her. He gathered up the fabric of her dress and raised it over her hips, all the way to her waist. She felt the cool air of the room brush the skin, newly exposed as he pushed higher. He leaned away from the k
iss and pulled her sundress up and over her head.

  He shook it out and carried the dress to the far arm of the sofa where he draped it carefully. Trish’s lips twitched with amusement. She understood the care he’d taken with his uniform—he had to put it back on in the morning and he needed to look presentable when he checked in. But for him to take such care with her dress gave her the impression this wasn’t about the uniform. This was Crash. This was the real him. Obsessively neat and absolutely adorable.

  The smile finally won out and spread across her face so wide there was no hiding it so she figured she’d better say something. "Are you going to fold my bra and underwear too?"

  Those sandy brows rose until his lips curved in a smile. "Maybe. Let’s take them off and find out."

  He came back to stand toe to toe with her, so close they almost touched. So close he had to lean away to pull his T-shirt over his head. She waited and watched the conflict visible in his expression as he held the shirt.

  "Go on. You can hang it over the chair. I know it will kill you if you don’t and I want all of your attention on me, not on thinking if your shirt will be wrinkled in the morning."

  "Thank you." Crash spun to the desk chair, shaking out the shirt with one brisk flip of his wrists as he walked. While he went, she got a look at the tattoos the shirt had hidden. An eagle, globe and anchor on his back. A confederate flag on one shoulder. An American flag on the other shoulder. She liked them. She’d have to take a closer look. Later, when she wasn’t so distracted by other things, such as anticipating what this bad boy could do to her with that tattooed body of his.

  The T-shirt neatly draped over the chair and safe from wrinkles, he was back to her in an instant, gloriously shirtless with all those tempting, hard muscles exposed. She ran her hand up the skin of his chest, moving her fingers over the fine blond hair covering him.

  He reached around and unhooked her bra before sliding it down her arms and clear of her fingertips. Holding it out to the side, he dangled the item from one finger. Wearing a smirk, he let it drop to the ground.

  She smiled. "Very good. I’m impressed."

  "You ain’t seen nothing yet." Crash lifted her as if she weighed nothing, tossing her onto the mattress and following her down.

  As his body covered hers, she spared a brief thought that they shouldn’t be rolling around mostly naked right out in the open in the living area. Her brother was in the next room. But so was Dawn, and the bathroom was in the bedroom, so why would Danny come out here? She couldn’t think of a single good reason he or Dawn would leave the bedroom and discover her and Crash.

  That was good because the last thing she wanted was for this to be interrupted. Trish forgot her worries about her brother as Crash’s weight pressed her into the mattress. He slid one of his legs between her thighs, parting them.

  God, it had been too long since she’d had a man over her or between her legs. And it was very possible she’d never had a man quite as manly as Crash ever. Idiosyncrasies aside, he oozed masculinity. She felt it in his every touch. In his kiss as his lips possessed hers, soft at first, and then harder, more demanding.

  In between punishing kisses and thrusts of his tongue against hers, he pulled back far enough to say, "I leave in a couple of weeks."

  "I know. It’s okay."

  His blue eyes focused on hers. "Predeployment sex can get pretty wild."

  If that was meant to be a warning to get her to change her mind, it did the opposite. He’d only made Trish want it more. "That’s fine. Go for it."

  Crash groaned. "Oh, God, you’re perfect."

  He moved down her body and closed his mouth over one of her breasts. She hissed in a breath when he tugged her nipple with his teeth. Sex with a man about to leave for a seven-month deployment that held no possibilities for sex of any kind . . . Just the thought had her getting wet.

  He moved lower, down her stomach, his mouth spreading heat over every inch of skin it touched. She grasped for his head and felt the soft brush of his cropped hair against her palms. He slid his hands down her torso to hook his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear. She knew any second that last item of clothing was going to end up on the floor next to her bra. With any luck, his boxer briefs would join them there shortly.

  Crash paused with his hands so temptingly close to baring her to him. "I need you to know something."

  "Okay." Trish could think of far better uses for Crash’s mouth than talking, but he had something to say, so she was willing to listen. Besides, he could talk all he wanted, as long as he finished taking her underwear off some time in the near future.

  "I have a couple of condoms in my pocket, but that’s because Zip—uh, the guys—made me bring them. Medical gives tons of them out for free on the boat whenever we pull into a port."

  Trish smiled. He was so cute, not wanting to tell her it was Danny who’d been the guy who gave him condoms.

  "All right."

  "I just wanted you to know that I didn’t come packing—with the condoms, I mean—because I was expecting something like this to happen. I wasn’t."

  "Thank you for telling me."

  Thanks to Danny too, as weird as that felt. Now, Trish wouldn’t have to worry about protection. She could enjoy Crash without fear of consequences. They had what they needed because of her brother’s quest to get himself and his friend some action on their trip to the Big Apple.

  It would have been nice to think Danny had been most excited about seeing his dear sister before deploying, not about getting laid on this trip, but she’d get over it. Being with Crash would definitely help her move past that slight.

  "Anything else you need to confess?" she asked.

  A self-deprecating smile on his lips, Crash dropped his chin. When he raised his gaze to hers again, he said, "No. I’m done."

  "Not quite, you’re not." She glanced pointedly at her underwear.

  He let out a short laugh. "I’m done talking. I haven’t even begun with the rest."

  Trish smiled. "That’s very good to hear."

  Crash pulled her underwear down and there was no more smiling because things were beginning to get serious. Trish ached from wanting to be filled by him and as if he could sense that, he slid his fingers into her.

  His eyes narrowed. He hissed in a breath through his teeth as he stroked in and out of her. "I need to be inside you."

  "That can be arranged." She licked her lips, her mouth dry just from thinking about it.

  His gaze focused on the action. With a groan he moved back up her body and crashed his mouth against hers. Reaching between them, he zeroed in on her clit, working her with his fingers even as his mouth worked hers. His fingers were large, but they handled the delicate task beautifully.

  His touch was light to start, waking up her tight little bundle of nerves slowly, circling her first in one direction, and then the other. As the pressure of his fingers on her increased, so did her pleasure. His touch sped faster and her muscles bore down, coiling for release. She tipped her hips. He took the cue and responded by working her harder.

  Her breath began to come in quick bursts as he brought her closer to orgasm. She was gasping for breath and bucking against him when he broke the kiss. He latched his teeth onto his lower lip and intensified the speed of his fingers as he studied her face. He was going to watch her as she came and there was nothing she could do about it. Trish couldn’t think about that much more as she felt her muscles clench and the climax broke free, sending her body into incredible spasms of pure ecstasy.

  "Shh." Crash shushed her before his mouth covered hers again and she realized she’d been making much too much noise considering her brother was just a wall away.

  Crash didn’t let up on her though. He kept working her, pushing her to the next level of pleasure, all while he muffled her cries with his kiss.

  She was weak and breathless when he finally eased his touch on her over-sensitized body, but he didn’t go far. He slid two fingers inside her and g
roaned. "So wet."

  He wasn’t kidding. Trish could feel the truth of his statement. She echoed his groan, waiting for what he’d promised her before he’d taken the detour to make her come—him inside her. "Maybe you should take advantage of that."

  "I’m not going to last. I know that already."

  "Then we’ll have to do it again. You said you have two condoms?"

  "Yeah, I got two." His voice sounded gruff, husky with need.

  "Good." And good thing Danny was very thorough in his equipping them for this trip. "Put one on."

  For a big man, Crash moved fast. He was up and across the room in no time, pulling the foil packets out of his pants. He shoved his boxer briefs down his legs, stepped out of them and left them on the floor where they’d landed.

  Yes, there was at least one thing more important to Crash than neatness. Trish was happy to see sex rated higher on his list than properly putting away his underwear. There was something else she was happy to see as well. He was hard and ready for action.

  He tossed one packet onto the table next to them and tore into the other. She watched him roll it down his length. Maybe she’d offer to put in on him for the next round. There would definitely be a second time if she had anything to say about it, and if Danny and Dawn stayed put.

  A renewed sense of urgency hit. She wanted him in her now before anything happened to interrupt this. Crash didn’t make her wait. He was covered and ready, and moving over her again. She spread her legs and made space for him between them.

  Braced on one arm, he slid the other beneath the small of her back, raising her off the mattress and driving into her with one hard thrust. Her back bowed with the force of it and the relief at finally being filled after lusting after this man for hours. He repeated the move, plunging inside, over and over, driving her beyond reason until she no longer thought, only felt. Until he was grunting out every labored breath he took, before he plunged deep and held there.