Ripped!

by Jennifer Labrecque

  She turned her midnight-blue eyes on him. “I like this place,” she said.

  “I had a feeling this was what you had in mind.” Funny how he felt tapped into her. Even though they were obviously vastly different in some respects, he felt an indescribable connection to her. It was as if one kiss this morning had plugged him into her. But that kind of logic was no logic at all. “Raeleen’s is an institution with the locals.”

  Raeleen’s Rib Shack served the best damn fall-off-the-bone smoked ribs smothered in a peppery sauce that begged to be washed down with an ice cold sweet tea. Sides of coleslaw, Brunswick stew, French fried sweet potatoes and banana pudding rounded things out. Eden struck him as a woman who indulged in whatever she had an appetite for. “Every bite’s homemade by Raeleen and her daughters Shirleen and Jolene.” She leaned forward, listening intently to what he was saying. He knew these were the kind of details that would fascinate her…and it was heady stuff, being the object of her fascination. Damn. He needed help. “Every once in a while Raeleen’s husband, Paul, will call out for Lena, just to mix things up.” Eden laughed and everything inside him tightened. “They all answer to the nickname.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of stuff I like to know.” Bingo. Was he seducing her or was she seducing him? And did it really matter? “Do you come here often?”

  “Maybe once a month, sometimes more.” But he always came alone or with Murdoch and Tara. He’d never brought a date here. “So, you never said how you wound up working on the calendar project when you didn’t want to.”

  “I left the decision to be decided by my friend Patti, a bottle of limocello and a deck of Tarot cards.”

  Okay. This wasn’t exactly the way he ran his life, but he found himself more fascinated than anything. “Do you ever make normal, rational decisions?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him across the red-and-white checked plastic table cloth. Her entire demeanor screamed, don’t screw with me. Whatever and whoever she was, she had backbone in spades. “Just because my decision-making process is different than yours, it doesn’t make me irrational.”

  “But you’re telling me you took this project because you’d been drinking and playing around with Tarot cards. And you kissed a total stranger because he reminded you of a garden statue.”

  “What? Would you rather hear that I found you utterly irresistible?”

  “That wouldn’t make any more logical sense than the fact that I reminded you of a statue. How could you, in less than a minute, find me so irresistible?” And what the hell was he doing having this crazy conversation with her. Eden Walters Disease. He’d caught it apparently.

  “Now that’s disappointing.”

  She could turn him on more with just a look than any other woman could with full-body contact. “What?”

  “Here I thought you were the perfect man. But you can’t be if you don’t believe in instant irresistibility.”

  Yet once again, Mitch found himself laughing. She was so talking trash. There was nothing perfect about him, but it was fun to hear her say it. She brought out a playfulness in him he’d never known he possessed. Hell, she even inspired him to flirt, something he’d never been good at. Tough, commanding, take-charge. These were all adjectives he’d heard used to describe him. But flirtatious and playful? Who knew, maybe he wasn’t good at it now but this soldier was going to give it a try. “How often do you find men instantly irresistible?”

  “Until today? Never.” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Now’s a good time to tell me you find me irresistible, too.”

  “That could be dangerous, couldn’t it, Eden? If we found one another irresistible?”

  Raeleen herself delivered a platter of ribs, with Jolene—Shirleen had a mole on her neck—following with the stew, sweet potatoes and coleslaw. “Y’all need anything else?”

  “We’re good,” Mitch said. “Thanks.”

  Eden snagged a couple of ribs and one of the fried sweet potato wedges. “I thought Special Forces specialized in dangerous missions, Lieutenant Colonel.” She licked her fingertip, sampling the rib sauce. “Yum. Spicy but not too hot.”

  Wham! Sensation slammed him and shot straight to his crotch. And he suddenly knew he’d never been in more dangerous territory.

  He took a long swallow of iced tea to cool down. “There are some things you’re just not trained to handle.”

  “Maybe. But I get the feeling you’re equipped to take on just about anything.” She nibbled at the end of a meaty sauce-coated rib and his body responded with a strictly male, physical response. Watching her eat ribs might very well kill him tonight. But it would be a helluva way to go.

  Somewhere in the dim recesses of the part of his brain that still held on to a shred of sanity, he remembered that she wasn’t just any woman. She was the daughter of a very powerful man. One who could impact Mitch’s career and not necessarily in a good way.

  “Just about anything…except for pissed off brigadier generals.”

  “I’m a big girl, Mitch.”

  Damn it! That rib was far too phallic. He didn’t need any reminders she was all grown up. That was obvious. A bead of sweat broke out on his neck.

  “How would your father feel about you consorting with a soldier?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never consorted before…with a soldier, that is. Of course, I’ve consorted.”

  So, he was equally uncharted territory for her? “Not even a date?”

  “Nope. I’ve always steered clear. It seemed like a good policy.”

  “But now…”

  “Some rules are meant to broken. At least, on a temporary basis.”

  He’d be lying if he said that didn’t notch the whole thing up a level for him. She was potent enough on her own, but to know he was the one who inspired her to break her own rule jacked him up even further. “Why does that not surprise me about you?”

  “Let me guess. You’re a rules-all-the-way kind of guy.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” He was getting better at this flirting stuff—and his jeans were getting tighter and tighter.

  “I suppose it’s all a moot point if you don’t find me irresistible, now, isn’t it?” She put the cleaned bone on her plate.

  “Did I say that?”

  “You don’t have to. We’re still sitting here, aren’t we?”

  “You’re not subtle, are you?”

  “Almost never.”

  It didn’t matter who her father was. It didn’t matter that she’d be leaving in three days. It didn’t matter that she was the last woman he should fall into bed with. He accepted what a part of him had known since that slow slide up his body this morning and that knock-him-for-a-loop kiss. He couldn’t ignore—or resist—this thing between him and Eden Walters.

  “Jolene, I’ll take the check now.”

  SHE SHOULD BE NERVOUS. She should be mortified that she was about to hop into bed with a man she’d just met this morning. Instead, she was simply ready.

  As if to confirm the rightness of what they were about to do, he reached down and grasped her hand in his. There was something infinitely touching in the simplicity of that gesture, in the respect he offered simply by holding her hand.

  The streetlights glowed in the parking lot and he steered her around a pothole as he escorted her to her side of the Bronco. She was independent and she certainly managed to look out for herself, but she liked his gallantry, his attentiveness.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked.

  Gallant, yes. Suave, no. She laughed.

  “I guess that did sound like a cliché.”

  “Just a little. Mine.” There was something about the impartiality of a hotel room that was less intimidating than the intimacy of a house. His home. The truth of the matter was, contrarily she didn’t want to fill in too many blanks about him. Because you could get wrapped up in him way too fast and where would that leave you, a reckoning voice whispered in her ear. Yep, quick in and out.

 
Silence settled between them and butterflies took off in her stomach. “Would you let me photograph you?” she said.

  He cut her a quick glance. There was a lot less traffic heading back toward the hotel than there had been traveling out to Raeleen’s.

  “I thought you didn’t want to photograph me for the calendar?”

  “I don’t. You aren’t calendar material. This would be private. Just for me. You don’t have to let me know now. Just think about it.”

  “Are you always so shy and retiring?”

  Hmm. Eden got the impression that her arrogant, in-command paratrooper was slightly nervous and filling the silence with small talk.

  “Believe it or not, I was as a kid. But when you move as often as we did, you either drown in shyness or you learn to swim. I’m a swimmer.”

  “I’d say captain of the swim team,” he said.

  Ah, there was his arrogant smile coming through. She found the different facets of Mitch Dugan fascinating. For a man who lived his life in black and white, he was a riveting mix of shades of gray.

  “Was that a joke?”

  “I have the occasional lapse.”

  They turned into the hotel entrance and Mitch parked in a remote corner of the parking lot.

  “Take off your seat belt and slide this way a little bit.”

  “Don’t you want to go inside?”

  “Not yet.” He shifted to face her in his seat. It was dark and intimate in the front of his truck and she felt the same surge of nervous anticipation she’d felt as a teenager when she went parking with her boyfriend her senior year. Only this was much, much better because both of them had some experience under their belts. He leaned in and his breath was warm against her skin. “Any good soldier knows you need to check out the lay of the land before you move in. The more you know, the better the outcome.” He intertwined the fingers of his left hand with her right and her pulse kicked into hyper speed. “And I always aim for optimal outcome.”

  She returned his banter, her fingers curling against his warm hand. “Do you always approach sex like a military operation?”

  “You have to go with what you know.” He nuzzled the line of her jaw, his whiskers a faint scrape against her sensitive skin. “If you change your mind, all you have to do is say so. No explanation required. I’ll drive you to the front entrance, drop you off and we can forget this ever happened.”

  “That’s generous.”

  “No. Your offer is generous. I’m just trying to be fair.”

  He feathered his fingers along the line of her jaw and her breath caught in her throat. He smoothed a finger over the fullness of her bottom lip. “I’ve thought about your mouth all day long.”

  Sweet mercy. One light touch and that dulcet low murmur and her panties were soaked.

  “Me, too. I mean thought about your mouth, not mine.”

  “I wanted to do this…” His touch was gossamer light as he skimmed his palm down the length of her neck to the hollow that led to her collarbone.

  Oh. My. God. She hadn’t expected just a simple touch to quiver through her.

  He cupped her jaw in his hand, sliding his fingers past the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Your skin is just as soft as it looks.”

  She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted his mouth on hers. His moss-green eyes were intense in the shadowed cab. She slid her arm over his shoulder and wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck.

  “Ki—”

  He interrupted what was going to be a Kiss me directive. “No. I’m in charge of this mission.”

  What could have come across as peremptory just sounded hot. Really hot. He was a man used to being in charge. If he wanted to take the lead now, she was good with that.

  His breath fanned against her cheek, her mouth and then finally his lips found hers. He tasted like a combination of sweet and spicy, sweet tea and peppery barbeque sauce. It was a sampling kiss, followed by another, then another. She sighed into him. This was even better than this morning.

  He kissed her harder and she kissed him back with equal intensity. She lost track of everything except the mingling of his breath with hers, the sweep of his tongue caressing hers, the rasp of his calloused fingers against her skin.

  An ache, hot and sweet and wet, blossomed inside her. His groan echoed into her mouth and she sent it back to him.

  His breath was gratifyingly uneven when he pulled away. In a surprisingly tender gesture, he rested his forehead against hers.

  “So, do I stay or go?”

  “You’re not much of a reconnaissance man, soldier, if you have to ask.”

  NEITHER ONE OF THEM SPOKE as they crossed the lobby to the elevators. When the doors closed behind them, enclosing them in the elevator’s confines, the sexual tension in the air was almost tangible.

  “What floor?”

  “Five.”

  Mitch pushed the button and stood at parade rest. He didn’t dare touch her again until they were in her room. Just kissing her, the press of her hand against his neck, the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips had him trembling.

  That had never happened before—the feeling that he was teetering on the brink of moving beyond himself, not quite in control. And the smart thing to do would’ve been to drop her at the front door and get the hell home. But he simply couldn’t walk away from her, which was all the more reason to. But he couldn’t.

  He wanted to know what it felt like to be sheathed inside her, to be buried in her warmth and exuberance. And it wasn’t just about getting laid—that could happen on any given night at pretty much any bar in town. He was a decent-looking guy and the ladies seemed to like him. No. This was about her. And him. About the fact that he’d wanted to be inside her since she’d journeyed up his body in that sensuous slide this morning. And that the thought of McElhaney touching her left him wanting to break something—preferably McElhaney’s face.

  Eden fished her key card out of her purse.

  The elevator dinged open. “It’s this way,” she said, turning left down the hallway, leading the way. The crazy thought flitted through his head that right now, he’d follow her to Hell and back. She was a frantic need inside him. All the more reason to retreat…all the more reason he couldn’t.

  “Seems nice enough,” Mitch said, glancing around the hallway, noting the layout and the exit.

  “It is. I stay in a lot of hotels and this is one of the nicer ones I’ve seen. It doesn’t have that funky smell some of them do.”

  “You travel a lot?”

  “Enough that I’m always glad to get back home.” She slid the card into the door and the green light lit up. Pushing open the door, she quipped, “Here it is. Home sweet home, at least for the next few days.”

  He automatically scanned the room.

  To the right, the suite offered a full-size refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher and as much counter space as someone with limited culinary capabilities might require. To the left sat a dining table with two chairs. The rest of the room offered a desk, a sleeper sofa, a television and a fireplace angled into one wall. The bedroom lay through a doorway to the right of the fireplace.

  Mitch hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside, closed the door, clicked the dead bolt into place and turned to face Eden. “We’ll take this as slow…or as fast…as you want to take it.”

  “We might want to slow it down a bit.” For all that she’d been forward and bold, she looked a little unsure of herself. Obviously, she didn’t do this type of thing often, if ever. He might not be good at flirting but he knew all about being a leader. So he took charge.

  He crossed the room, turned a corner lamp on low, walked back over and killed the overhead.

  He held out his hand. “Come here.”

  She put her hand in his and he led her to the sofa in the main room. He sat down, pulling her down beside him. “Where were we?”

  Her smile rocked his world as she leaned into him. “Something must’ve distracted you, Lieutenant
Colonel.” She trailed kisses up the side of his neck, nipping at the tip of his ear. “You were conducting a reconnaissance mission.”

  “Then let me get back on task.”

  7

  EDEN DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO STIFLE her moan as she tugged his shirt free of the waist of his jeans. Finally.

  She kneaded the muscles rippling along his back. His skin was warm and supple until she encountered a ridge of scar tissue. A warrior’s mark. Later. She’d ask later where he earned that.

  He nibbled his way along the ridge of her collarbone and up the sensitive line of her neck. Oh. My. God.

  “That feels…so…good.”

  He laughed softly, his breath warm against her highly-charged skin. “Does it? Does it feel as good as this?”

  Like a magician casting a spell over her, he trailed a matching set of kisses up the other side of her neck. Yes…

  “Hmm. That might even feel better.”

  “Really? Then what about this?” He scraped his teeth over the back of her neck and sensation shot straight to her core followed by a rush of wetness.

  She gasped. “Oh…yes….”

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he said.

  She did. Though blindly following orders went against everything she believed in, she had a feeling this would be to her benefit.

  In one smooth motion he stood, scooping her up in his arms. “Do you mind if we move to the bed? There’s a whole lot more room there.”

  “Be my guest.”

  She felt his belly muscles clench against her hip. She’d thought she couldn’t be any more turned on. But when he took her in his arms, she realized she could. She was.

  He crossed the room, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a sack of groceries—which God and her bathroom scales knew she did. He deposited her on the bed, kneeling.

  “Take off your shirt,” she said. He wasn’t the only one who could issue orders.

  He complied in short order, pulling his shirt up, over and off his torso. There was certainly no doubt he was Special Forces, not that there ever had been.