by Laura Kaye
Aw, hell. Maybe he was reading too much into it. He shoved the mental churn away. “Oh, yeah? Small world. What does he do now?” he asked, cutting a slice of bread off the warm loaf and offering it to her.
“I don’t actually know,” she said with a humorless chuckle. “He works for a defense contractor, but I’m not sure what he actually does. We haven’t been as close since he got out.”
Bingo. That was frickin’ good enough confirmation about Seneka as far as Marz was concerned. If it looked like a zebra and sounded like a zebra, it was a damn zebra. So, SWS T-shirt plus sister’s confirmation that Garza worked for a defense contractor added up to him. Also interesting was the insight into their relationship. Not as close anymore. So how did the stash end up in her basement? “Sounds like a decent place to land,” he said, making sure to keep his voice casual. “But sorry to hear you’re not as close. Maybe it’ll change, though. Growing up like I did, I don’t have family, but I do have close friends I consider like brothers. I drifted apart from them over the past year, but we’re back in touch now and we’re tight. Maybe that’ll happen for you two.”
“Maybe it will,” she said, shrugging. “I’m just hoping he won’t disappoint our mother by not showing on Saturday.” She sighed. “Anyway. Did you do computer stuff in the Army, too?”
Marz nodded, not at all missing the abrupt change in topic nor the confirmation that Manny was at least invited to her party. “Yeah. Was in charge of communications and computers. Army’s where I got most of my training. I did some community college after high school, but I couldn’t afford college full-time. Part of the reason I went in the Army.”
“Manny, too,” she said. “My parents divorced when I was young and my father split, so we had to earn our own way after high school. I did it with scholarships. He did it with the Army.”
“Nice,” Marz said, finding more and more reasons to admire Emilie. Her devotion to family, that she’d made her own way through hard work and effort, and the work she did to help others, some of it unpaid.
Their food arrived, and they both dug in. Marz had ordered the chicken parm and Emilie, the cheese ravioli. Both smelled like heaven on a plate.
“I could never go in the Army,” Emilie said as she speared part of a ravioli and took a bite.
Marz smiled. “Why’s that?”
“Manny told me about the survivalist training he had to do. All the gross things he caught in the wilderness and ate. I couldn’t do it.” She shuddered.
Laughing, Marz nodded. “It’s not so bad.”
Eyebrow arched, head tilted, Emilie’s expression was one of total disbelief. “I would starve before I could eat a . . . squirrel. Or, oh God, a snake.”
“Snake tastes like chicken,” Marz said. When Emilie’s face squinched up, Derek laughed again. “It’s true.”
“No. Just no. Snakes violate my leg rule. Spiders, too. Don’t even get me started on centipedes.”
Oh, he had to hear this. “What’s a leg rule?” he asked, grinning.
She pointed her fork at him. “Anything with more than four legs or less than two must die. No questions asked. Snakes and spiders squick me out so bad.”
Marz burst out laughing. Emilie had just unknowingly issued him a death threat. Not that he believed for a moment she’d meant her words in any way other than as a joke about gross creepy-crawlies, but still. That was damn funny. “That so, huh?”
“Totally,” she said, smiling. “I know, I’m such a girl, right?”
Marz chuckled. He wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.
As they ate and talked and laughed, Emilie’s sadness and hesitancy melted away. Marz was equal parts glad that he’d had a hand in lifting her spirits and remorseful that they’d shared some meaningful connections when he wasn’t being fully honest with her.
Not to mention still not knowing just how much he could trust her.
Still, when the meal was over, Marz wasn’t ready to part from her. Even though he knew he really shouldn’t prolong their time together, either. Not when his heart was this engaged.
This was why soldiers didn’t get involved with mission assets. Sometimes the means to the ends sucked ass even if you were one of the ones wearing a white hat. Sonofabitch.
Outside the restaurant, darkness had fallen over the crowded streets, and Emilie looked beautiful in the golden glow of the streetlights. “Thank you for being so kind. About my patient,” she said.
Marz could only nod, because her compliment cut like a blade through his guilty conscience. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips and wished they were two different people in a whole other time.
Emilie leaned into his touch. “It’s a nice night. Wanna walk over to the water?”
No. No. Say no. “Yeah,” he said, taking her hand into his.
They walked down to Eastern Avenue, and Emilie felt so damn right at his side that Marz could barely stand it. He wanted to push her away and tell her to run. He wanted to haul her into his arms and hold her tight. Instead, he just stroked the side of her finger with his thumb, needing to touch her, to feel her.
Following Eastern toward the water, they didn’t talk, but it was a comfortable silence. The kind he rarely found, and then only with people he’d known for much longer. Ahead, the skyline shined with the harbor lights and the lit triangular glass of the National Aquarium.
Emilie tugged on his hand. “Is that a lighthouse?” she asked.
He looked toward the water, where some sort of building appeared to sit up on stilts. “I don’t know. I’ve never explored here before,” he said. “Let’s go see.”
Her smile was instant and made the yearning burn more brightly inside him. Maybe after all this, they could have something? They could be something?
Although the list of things standing in front of that possibility was so damn long.
At the far end of the pier was indeed a lighthouse. The red circular building stood atop black iron legs, with the light itself projecting out of the top of the roof. It had a charm about it that read old, and it had almost certainly come from somewhere else. A sign on a locked gate at the bottom of the stairs confirmed that and read, “Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse, c. 1855, moved to this location 1988.”
“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Emilie said as they walked around the outside of the building, the sound of the water lapping against the pier providing a backdrop. “I love lighthouses. I collect little figurines of them.”
“Do you have this one?” he asked. She shook her head. “Why do you love them?”
They came back around to the locked staircase again, and Emilie grabbed onto the railing and looked up. “I guess . . . they’re romantic, I think. Places from another era. And so tied to the water. I think of the keepers who used to live in them, and wonder what it would’ve been like to ride out a storm or a fog so thick you could only hear the water all around you.”
Drawn in by the passion and imagination of her words, Marz came up close behind her and braced his hands on the railing beside hers. The position brought his front up tight against her back. The contact sent an electric jolt through his body. Marz was playing with fire. He damn well knew he was. But that didn’t make him want to pull away.
He just wanted more of the heat.
Marz nuzzled the side of her face with his nose, his lips. “Emilie,” he whispered.
She turned her face toward him and offered her lips.
He couldn’t refuse.
Capturing her mouth on a tortured groan, Marz poured every ounce of his longing and confusion and desire into the kiss. They grasped at each other and Emilie turned in his arms. He pinned her against the railing and planted his hands in her hair. She opened to him and accepted his tongue, sucking him in until Marz’s blood ran hot and his hard-on ached. He ground himself against her and devoured every little moan and whimper and gasp she spilled.
Trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw to her ear, Marz dragged a hand down her body and grasped her breast i
n his palm. She cried out and her head dropped back, drawing his mouth to her neck, where he licked and sucked and nipped as he kneaded her soft flesh. “You are so damn sexy.”
Her hand flew to his hair and grasped the back of his head. “Touch me,” she said. “Don’t stop touching me.”
Marz pulled away long enough to do a three-sixty scan. The lighthouse cast a dark shadow over them, and the pier was otherwise empty. His heart raced and his pulse hammered. He dove back in, trailing kisses down her neck to her collarbone, which he traced with his tongue. Her nails scratched deliciously at his scalp and her grip urged him down.
Through the thin material of her blouse and bra, he mouthed and flicked at her nipple. He shifted the deep vee of the neckline to reveal a lacy royal blue bra. He tongued her through the lace until she was panting and moaning and writhing against the railing.
“Oh, my God,” she rasped as he shifted her shirt and moved to her other breast. This time, he tugged the lace down to bare the deep pink of her nipple. She tasted and smelled like something fruity and sweet, and it made Marz hunger for more. “Derek,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Her palm cupped and squeezed the bulge of his erection through his jeans. His hips jerked into the touch, craving more of her, all of her. He groaned and it seemed to egg her on, because she pressed and rubbed her hand against his trapped cock until he was panting and imagining taking her down to the ground.
“Jesus, Emilie, you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he said as he worked kisses back up her body to her mouth.
“I know just what you mean,” she said. Her molten hot gaze met his. Eyes hooded, lips shiny and swollen, cheeks flushed, she was a freaking goddess standing under the moonlit sky. He felt the force of her beauty every bit as much in his chest as in his cock.
“You sure about that, babe?” he asked as he took her mouth in a deep, wet kiss. “Because my imagination has me stripping you of those fuck-hot jeans.”
“Yeah?” She rubbed his cock in a long stroke with the heel of her hand. “Mine has us getting a room at the hotel back there. So I’m sure,” she said with a smile.
Marz’s heart hammered against his breastbone and his cock jerked, clearly liking her idea, too. Except, if he took her up on it, he was going to end up buried inside her for as long as she’d have him. And so long as this clusterfuck of a situation defined their relationship, he couldn’t take things that far. Could he? No. Goddamnit, what was he doing? The haze of lust made it hard to think and easier to push the question away.
But maybe he could give her something.
Claiming her lips in another kiss, he ran a firm hand down the front of her body until he cupped the hot space between her thighs. She moaned and rocked into his touch, like she was as desperate for him as he was for her. He rubbed his fingers over the seam of the denim until she was moaning and pushing her hips forward into his hand. Their hands and arms bumped and rubbed in the tight space between them.
Boxing her body in tight against the railing, Marz leaned his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. “Does this feel good?” he asked as he continued to tease and rub.
Her breath caught and she gave a fast nod. “Oh, yeah. So good.”
He flicked his tongue over her lips, loving the way she attempted to capture it. “I bet you’re really fucking hot here,” he said, pressing a little harder between her legs to make sure she knew exactly what he was saying.
“Yeah,” she said in a breathy little gasp that made him thrust against her palm.
“Bet I could make you feel even better,” he said, sucking her bottom lips between his and giving it a little nip.
“Please,” she said, one hand fisting around the side of his shirt.
The word speared through him, spiking his pulse and turning his cock to steel. “Right here, Em? Right now?” The very idea turned his blood molten and silenced every bit of argument against taking this even one step further.
Her body trembled everywhere they touched. She stared at him a long moment, and then she nodded. “Here,” she breathed.
Marz had enough presence of mind to do another visual sweep of the end of the pier, and, finding it empty, he tugged the button free at the top of her jeans. Her eyes widened, like she was surprised, or excited. Watching her carefully for any sign of reluctance, he drew down the zipper slowly. One metal tooth at a time.
“Shit,” she said. “Hurry. I need it. Need you.”
Her urgency had every part of him achy with desire. “Yeah?” he asked as he skimmed his palm down the curve of her belly and into her panties. His fingertips encountered a soft patch of hair and then hot, slick feminine flesh. “Oh, you do need it, don’t you? You’re so wet for me.” He circled his fingers over the top of her sex and devoured the string of little whimpers and moans and pleading words that spilled from her lips.
He could’ve lived on them.
She reached for his zipper, but Marz gently blocked her. “This is all for you, baby. I want to have all my wits about me when I watch you come.”
“Derek, faster,” she said, her hand reaching up to hold the railing above her. “Please.”
“Anything you need, Em.” Their lips so close they breathed each other’s air, Marz swirled his fingers right where he knew she needed them.
Moments later, every one of her muscles went taut. “Derek, I’m . . . oh . . .” The word died in her throat as she held her breath through the orgasm.
“Aw, yes,” he said. When her knees went weak, he wrapped an arm around her lower back to support her and slowly gentled his fingers.
She heaved a long, contented sigh. “Oh, my God. I’m lightheaded,” she said with a chuckle.
Marz grinned and withdrew his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad,” he said. And then he cupped her face and held her so she could watch as he sucked each of his three wet fingertips into his mouth. “Next time, you’ll come on my tongue,” he said. Somewhere, way far in the back of his mind, a very small part of him questioned the idea of a “next time.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, pushing off the railing and wrapping her arms around his neck. He arched an eyebrow and nodded, loving that she wasn’t too shy to talk about this stuff. “Next time, you’ll come on my tongue, too.”
Which pretty much made “next time” a sure thing.
Chapter 11
At her taunting words, Derek licked his lips. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said with mischief in his eyes.
“I hope you will,” she whispered against his ear. She wasn’t sure where this brave woman had come from, but Emilie liked her and hoped she stuck around. Jack had been conservative in the bedroom, so, over the six years they’d been together, Emilie had gotten used to censoring the way her mouth tended to run away when she was aroused. Apparently, that was done.
And thank God for that.
Derek gave her a hug and stepped back to right her clothing.
“I got it,” she said, smiling up at him. God, he was so freaking gorgeous, especially with arousal sharpening the angles on his masculine face. Arousal for her.
Well, this day sure has been full of high highs and low lows, Emilie thought as she zipped and buttoned her jeans. Her heart panged for her patient, Cecelia. Derek was right. She’d been so damn young. The woman’s death filled Emilie with the urge to live. To embrace life. To not waste a single second.
And right now? She was as high as she’d been in a long, long time. And hearing what else Derek wanted to do? She was pretty sure he could take her higher.
She was certainly willing to let him try. No more waiting, no more questioning herself, no more fear.
She’d just had an orgasm out in public. Where anyone might’ve seen them. Or heard them. And it had been freaking phenomenal.
Taking a deep breath, Emilie stared up at the sky and let herself bask in the moment. Derek came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly. It was just a hug, but it made her feel special and cherished and . . . not alone for the first time
in a long time.
“There are a million stars tonight,” Emilie said, gazing up at the star-brightened sky while he held her tight. Finally, she turned in his arms. They looked into one another’s eyes and slowly but surely she realized that he was moving them, rocking them, slow dancing with her under the stars. She smiled. Sexy, gave good orgasms, and romantic. “We don’t have music,” she said.
He grinned, grasped her hand, and started to sing. He picked up the pace, and the dance turned playful.
Emilie was smiling so big her cheeks hurt, and chuckling, too. Because cute as he was—and he was freaking adorable, really—his singing was . . . atrocious.
“And yoooou, my brown-eyed girl . . .”
When they got to the sha la la’s, Emilie joined in. And then they were both singing and dancing and laughing through to the end.
When they’d finished butchering the song, Emilie hugged him and grinned. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” he said, returning her smile.
“You give excellent orgasms.” His face totally lit up. She wrinkled her nose for this next part. “But, um, has anybody ever told you that—”
“I can’t sing?” he asked with an almost proud smile.
“Uh, yeah?”
Marz nodded. “All the time.” He shrugged. “I can’t hear it, so it doesn’t bother me.”
Emilie burst out laughing.
“But I love how you softened the criticism with the compliment. Very nice.”
She laughed so hard, tears sprung to her eyes. Happy tears, this time. “Derek, you’re a good guy,” she said when she finally calmed down.
He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffled his feet like her compliment made him uncomfortable. “I’m just really glad you agreed to go out with me tonight, Emilie. I . . . I hope you know how much I mean that.”