Again? Was he remembering, too?
His eyes, so dark when he was aroused it was difficult to tell where his pupils began and ended, snared hers. The slow slide of a smile across his well-shaped mouth held a feral edge. “Again.”
God, yes, he remembered. The last time. She’d still been riding the final wave of an orgasm when he’d slipped one long, talented finger inside her, curving it to find and stroke the spot on the front, inside her…She’d looked at him and gasped, “Again?” He’d smiled that same smile, all the while his finger stroked against the magic spot he’d found, winding her up tighter and tighter. She’d cried out “again” just as she shattered a second time.
Every time he touched her, looked at her, something inside shifted, melted. She was ready to scream. How long could one wedding rehearsal take? And they still had the dinner to get through. It felt as if the night would never end. On the other hand, she was dreading that end. There was a sad pathetic part of her that wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, near him, because she had no idea how long it would be before she saw him again.
The really frightening part was she hadn’t felt this alive in years. It was as if every sense, every part of her body had gone on red alert.
She retraced her steps to the lineup left of the altar and waited with the other bridesmaids until it was her turn—their turn. With a measured step she walked toward Eli with his smoldering eyes and his sensually chiseled mouth. The gleam in his eyes sent a shiver through her.
He held out his arm and she slipped hers through. Even through two layers of clothes—his and hers—the contact sizzled. A slick hot moisture gathered between her thighs and her nipples tightened, a purely instinctive response on a cellular level to the memory of the slide of his bare, hair-roughened skin against hers. It was as if she was programmed to respond to him with an intensity she could never know with another man.
Finally, mercifully, Mrs. Cantrell was content everyone could manage their way through the ceremony and they all headed to Lambert’s, the nicest restaurant in Jackson Flats. Tara welcomed the bracing cold of the February night. It sobered her, helped her get her head back on straight.
The tables had been set up in a T formation. Greg, Lisa and their parents were all seated at the top part of the T, with the rest of the wedding party at a long table running perpendicular. Somehow, she wound up seated across from Eli, which was actually worse than if she’d been next to him.
Even though she, Traci and Mark Elliott were wrapped up in a discussion about Jackson Flats’s town-square renovation—they were all committee members—only part of her brain was engaged. Every time she glanced up, she couldn’t seem to avoid looking at Eli. She could feel his eyes on her, as if he couldn’t ignore her, either.
“So, Eli, I understand you’re a big dog now,” Greg’s father said as everyone was being served a shrimp-cocktail appetizer. Megaphone voices must run in the Waddell family, Tara assumed. Greg was as loud as anybody’s business.
Eli nodded and his smile was different—it spoke of accomplishment, of a goal realized. “Yes, sir. I finished jump school today. I report to Fort Bragg on Monday for Special Forces training.”
How had she not heard this? Everyone knew everyone else’s business in small towns, especially one as small as Jackson Flats. Her belly clenched and an icy dread slid down her spine. “But that’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Tara blurted before she even stopped to think. It was one thing to know he was in the Army but Special Forces…
Eli shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders. “It’s all a matter of perspective. What’s dangerous is going into a situation you’re not equipped to handle. But with the proper training—”
She interrupted him, cutting to the chase. “Will you be sent in to places where people are trying to kill you?” She knew he’d been stationed in Europe for a while but so far, he’d avoided being sent to Afghanistan or Iraq. Special Forces? That was about to change in a heartbeat.
“Easy, Tara,” Greg said.
Tara held Eli’s eyes and the entire table was quiet, waiting on his answer.
“Yes.”
She nodded past the lump in her chest. “And Airborne Special Forces? That means you’ll parachute into bad situations?”
He didn’t have to answer, she saw it in his eyes. Bad situations was giving it a positive spin. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But hey, look at what inner-city cops face every day. Or firefighters like Danny.” He nodded toward Greg’s brother who sat halfway down the table. “It’s really pretty much the same kind of deal. You train to handle what comes your way and then you go out and do it.”
Danny nodded in silent acknowledgement and Tara caught the look that passed between Danny and Eli—a shared camaraderie of men who put their lives on the line every day in service to community and country.
He could’ve taken the opportunity to boast, to impress the table with the level of danger he could handle, but instead, he’d quietly deflected talk away from himself.
“I don’t think I could jump out of a plane, and sure as hell not when some sucker’s shooting at me.” Greg whistled under his breath. “Man, you must have a set of brass ba—”
“Greg,” Lisa cut him off with an elbow to his side. “Your mother. My mother.”
Greg nodded in apology. “Sorry, Mrs. Mosley, Mom.”
The rest of the table laughed and the tension lightened. Conversation began to flow around them again. Tara broke eye contact, her hand unsteady as she reached for her water glass, realizations washing over her. There was a part of her that wanted to scream no, no, no don’t do it, don’t go to the Special Forces training, and there was another part of her that felt as if she might burst with pride in his accomplishments, his discipline, his willingness to serve their country.
Underlying both those parts was the knowledge that she was sunk, lost, a goner. She’d sensed it the moment she saw him in his ROTC uniform ten years earlier. It was the reason she couldn’t keep her panties on and her legs together at those other two weddings.
She was stupidly in love with Eli Murdoch.
5
IF HE COULD JUMP OUT OF A DAMN plane under enemy fire, as Greg had pointed out, he could damn well go for what he wanted with the one woman who was driving him crazy. Time to man up.
Eli interrupted her as she was about to walk out the door with a bridesmaid he didn’t know. He snagged Tara’s arm. “Can I see you a minute, Tara?”
The other woman looked from Tara to him and back again. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” she told Eli, while nodding for the other bridesmaid to go on without her. They stepped to the side, out of the flow of traffic in and out of the restaurant. She turned to face him, her lips slightly parted. Would he ever get to the point that he didn’t feel as if he was slightly off balance every time she fixed those green eyes on him? “You wanted me?”
That was an understatement.
Color washed her face. “I mean, what can I do for you?”
He had a whole long list. It was one thing to decide to keep his distance when she wasn’t there. Now he was having a damn hard time remembering why being with her was a bad idea.
“Can you give me a lift to my folks’?” he said.
For several long seconds she simply stood there, as if she was waging the same internal war he’d just fought.
“Sure. I can give you a ride.”
Was there a look in her eyes or was it simply wishful thinking on his part? He wasn’t going to waste time wondering. “Give me a minute to grab my duffel bag out of Greg’s car.”
Eli held the door open for her as they headed for the parking lot. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll warm up the car.”
“Be right back.”
He ran across the parking lot and waylaid Greg. “Hey, man, Tara’s giving me a ride home.”
“Okay. You know we’re all heading over to Smokey Joe’s around ten. Last night of freedom.”
Eli was so no
t game for the strip-club scene. But he wasn’t gonna stand in the parking lot and argue about it. “I’ll give you a call later.”
He made short work of getting back to Tara’s Mini-Cooper. He tossed his duffel into the back, slammed the door and folded himself into the front passenger seat. Her scent wrapped around him before he even had the door closed. God, she was hot and he was hot for her.
James Otto’s “Just Got Started Loving You” was playing on the radio. The guy had that damn straight—one weekend with Tara wasn’t going to be nearly enough, but it’d have to do.
Tara broke the silence. “Are the guys picking you up for the bachelor party?”
“I’m ducking out.”
She slanted him a look as she pulled up to the Stop sign, her left blinker on. “I’d think after three weeks of training, you’d be honor bound to visit a strip club. Besides, it’s a bachelor party.”
She drove a manual and her hand gripped the gearshift knob. Eli reached between them and trailed his fingertip down the back of her hand, to the delicate bones of her wrist. He felt her tremble, or was that him? “That’s not what I’m interested in.”
Heat exploded in the air between them in shimmering waves. Damn, but it was always this way between them. His briefs were suddenly much, much tighter.
She caught the fullness of her lower lip in the edge of her teeth and then eased her tongue over the spot. She drew a deep breath, made her left turn and announced, “I’m going to exercise a woman’s prerogative and change my mind.”
What the hell? He’d overplayed his hand. “You’re not going to give me a ride?”
She rolled to a stop at a red light and turned to him. “I can give you a ride to your parents’…or you can stay at my place.” An I’m-gonna-rock-your-world promise curved her lips and gleamed in her eyes. “There’s room for your duffel bag at the end of my bed, Captain.”
“Tara, are you sure?” What the hell was wrong with him? Why give her a chance to back out? Because she was more than he deserved after the way he’d treated her. He knew it had been a crappy thing not to contact her the last two years.
What the hell was he supposed to say? The first time I wasn’t ready for a relationship because I was just starting my military career and didn’t want to be tied down? And the last time I woke up in bed with you, I realized I wanted to crawl inside your skin. It scared the hell out of me, so I ran?
She leaned over, closing the gap between them and nibbled at the edge of his jaw, sending his pulse into orbit. “I’ve never been surer.”
The traffic light turned green. “Then how far is it to your house? Because, baby, I can’t kiss you the way I want to when you’re driving. And I really, really want to kiss you.”
She laughed, low and sexy. “I really, really want you to do a whole lot more than kiss me.”
He realized he’d been waiting two years for that very thing.
6
TARA THREW THE CAR INTO PARK, killed the engine and turned to face the man she’d wanted for two long years, the man she’d loved for even longer, even if she’d never acknowledged it before. This time would be different. This time they had longer. A whole weekend. Still, she didn’t dare touch him because the front seat of the Mini was too tight for sex. And once she touched him, they were going to have sex. “We’re here.”
“I’m not going to touch you until we get into your house because once I start, I’m not going to stop.”
The low gravel of his voice and his words sent an express train of desire hurtling through her. They were so on the same page. She ached for his hands, his mouth, all of him on her, in her. “Grab your duffel bag and I’ll unlock the kitchen door. It’s closest.”
Her hands were shaking so much she couldn’t get the key in the lock. Eli came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist. His warm breath stirred against her shoulder, “Here, baby, let me.”
She let him. She’d let him do anything.
And then they were in her house. He toed the door closed and she turned in his arms. It was right where she wanted to be. Right where she belonged.
She wrapped her arms around the column of his neck and their mouths fused in a scorching kiss. His hunger, his frantic need matched hers. He cupped her breasts in his big hands through her thin sweater. She moaned into his mouth, pushing her breasts, her nipples harder into his hand. She slid one leg up his hip and wrapped it around his waist, bringing the bulge in his slacks into direct contact with her aching core.
It was as if he touched her in a place only he could, somewhere deep inside her, at the very center of her being. She tugged his shirt free of his pants and winnowed her hands beneath the material, plying her fingers over the sculpted muscles, his hot skin. He was so hard where a man should be hard—all over. Her warrior.
He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged. “Where’s the bedroom? If we don’t move there now, I’m not gonna make it at all, Tara.”
Here. Now. “Too far. I want you in every room before you leave.” She was making memories. Once he left, she wanted to be able to remember making love to him, regardless of where she was in her house. “Here is a good place to start.”
She relinquished her hold on him. She stepped out of her skirt and panties and tugged her sweater over her head, but left on her heels. He used to like heels. The hiss of his indrawn breath told her he still did. He dropped his pants and briefs and ripped his shirt off over his head, leaving him standing in her moonlit kitchen totally naked. He was leaner, harder than two years ago. His arousal jutted out from a thatch of dark curling hair below six-pack-ripped abs. His eyes glittered as he rolled on a condom…or at least tried to. It took him three tries to sheathe himself.
Tara lay back on the kitchen table, propping herself on her elbows. Eli wrapped his big hands around her thighs and leaned forward, his mouth finding hers, his erection nudging between her slick, ready folds.
And then he was inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she shifted up at the same time, using her feet to pull against his tight buns, taking him all the way home.
“Tara…oh, baby…so, so sweet…” He drew her eager nipple into his hot, warm mouth and she arched up off the table, into him.
“Eli—” She gasped his name as he suckled her. “Harder—” His teeth scraped against her sensitive tip even as he thrust into her. “Yes…yes…yes.”
She tightened around him, already halfway to finding her own release. She didn’t say the words, but as she rocked with him she imbued each thrust with a silent I love you.
The first threads of an orgasm rippled through her. Eli threw his head back, pumping into her harder and faster. Claiming her. “Tara…Tara…Tara…” he roared as she spasmed around him.
He might not want it, but he owned her heart as well as her body.
7
DAMN! WHEN HAD HE EVER FELT so good? He was stretched out facedown on Tara’s soft flannel sheets and she was working some massage magic over his shoulders and back. Her sheets smelled like her. Spicy, sensual, his for now. The other two times they’d hooked up, it had been a Saturday night and they’d only had a few short hours. This was different. They had time. They had all weekend, except for the hours they were obliged to be at the wedding.
This was so much better than a hotel. Her house was a lot like he’d come to think of her—earthy, yet sensual.
“Relax, soldier-boy,” she said, her fingers working at a knotted muscle. Damn, but it was sexy the irreverent way she called him that.
“You’re a woman of hidden talents,” Eli murmured.
She stroked across his shoulders, a soothing rhythm. “We lived with my aunt for a while when I was about twelve. She was a masseuse and she taught me a lot.”
He could get used to this. He’d had a massage once before but it hadn’t felt like this. Tara’s touch was magic. “You were obviously a good student.”
She laughed softly. “I thought you might enjoy getting pampered after spending the last three week
s jumping out of planes.”
“Everything you do feels good.” He’d never been the possessive type but a sudden thought speared him. He didn’t want her making any other guy feel good. Right. She was supposed to wait around for him to show up every two years or so and sleep with her? He couldn’t see that working for her, but he didn’t want to think about some other guy stretched out on her bed. Or plunging into her on her kitchen table.
She slid her hands down his spine and began to knead his ass. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
In the kitchen, his cell phone went off. “Damn. That’s probably Greg, wondering why I haven’t shown up at the bachelor party.”
Her hands stilled. “Do you want to go?”
He rolled to his back. She was serious. “Woman, why in the hell would I want to go to a strip joint when everything I want is right here.” He circled her nipple with his fingertip and watched it harden at his touch.
A slow smile curved her mouth and lit her eyes. “That was the right answer.” She leaned forward and kissed him. Slow, long, deep.
His phone went off again. Tara sat back and laughed. “I think you better tell him you’re unavailable.”
Eli sat up and swung his legs over the mattress’s edge and then paused. “You know Greg isn’t exactly discreet. Everyone in Jackson Flats will know I stayed here tonight before Greg and Lisa even get to saying their I do’s tomorrow.”
She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her bare breasts pressed against his back, and kissed his shoulder, her hair a silken slide against his skin. “Does that bother you?” she asked.
“I’m a big boy—”
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