One side of her mouth quirked. “I’m open, Jeremy.” To emphasize, she lifted her pelvis again, wet heat brushing against his cock.
“Your eyes, babe.” He kissed the corner of one closed eyelid. “Open up.”
He needed to see her. If nothing else, he needed to take this one memory with him when it was all over.
She blinked a few times, then caught his gaze and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hi.” And he pushed in. Slow, steady, no force necessary. But he could see every inch of progression reflected in the dreamy look her eyes took on. As if there were nothing in the world more complete than the moment they joined together. He couldn’t disagree. Gritting his teeth, he continued until he was completely in. Dammit, heaven and hell were a fine line apart. And he straddled it.
“Jeremy.” She sighed, her eyes drifting closed again, hands coming to scratch lightly at his back. And he lost it. Just lost it. Any hope of control completely gone.
“Swear… next time… better.” It was the only thing he could say before pulling back and pushing ahead again, repeatedly, until his body took on the pattern all on its own. Like a machine, working under its own steam so he could relax and enjoy the ride.
God, what a ride. She met him thrust for thrust, actively seeking her own pleasure. And when she reached down between their bodies for just a moment to tease herself, the fight to prolong the pleasure was over.
“Mad. Madison.” He bent down and pressed a kiss to her neck where it met her shoulder and felt her—thank you, God—start to clench around him in her own orgasm. And with that final knowledge that she’d reached her pleasure, he finally took his own.
***
Wow.
Holy wow.
She didn’t have better words for it. None existed in the English language. That much she was sure of.
Madison rolled over just a little to watch Jeremy sleep. Shockingly, after a quick clean-up, he’d curled around her in bed and held on tight. She’d assumed he would make some bullshit excuse about why she had to go, to give them both space and time. Time for him to shore up his defenses and come up with some logical explanation why they should never do that again. Blah blah blah.
But the old adage about assuming was true.
Instead, she’d been able to feel him around her, his breath on her neck, one hand resting just below her breast, his arm heavy on her stomach. Nothing could ever match the feel of his chest rising and falling behind her in a slow, steady rhythm that said he was completely at peace.
And she’d helped give him that.
Oh God, she was getting completely emotional and weird about this. She’d given him peace? She grimaced into the darkness. Even she knew that was corny as hell.
So maybe he just brought out the best and the worst in her in equal measures. Not that she didn’t already know that much. They’d always bickered like barnyard cats going after the same mouse.
Even before she knew what it meant. At sixteen, she thought it was just some weird feeling that she’d constantly wanted to swipe at her brother’s new best friend. They sniped at each other, and everyone got a kick out of it. Said that was how they knew Jeremy was a part of the family, when he fought with Madison like another brother.
But when she wasn’t within sniping distance, there was nothing sisterly about how she’d felt. No, she kept her distance, but the crush her sixteen-year-old heart had developed on Second Lieutenant Jeremy Phillips had nothing to do with sibling love. Not that she’d have admitted it then. Hell, no. He was just starting off in the Marines, a shiny new lieutenant. And she’d had a boyfriend of her own. One still in high school with her.
She could have forgotten about Jeremy entirely, really. At sixteen, nothing is true love. She’d even convinced herself it was just a symptom of her wanting to break up with her boyfriend. Any new guy would have caught her immature interest. But when she saw him again at twenty-two, there was no denying she’d wanted him. Wanted him with a maturity and intensity that couldn’t be explained away on youth. And he’d still acted like she was a kid sister.
At least, around her brother. But there’d been those moments that he’d looked at her, when everyone else was busy. Those heated looks that said she wasn’t crazy to be attracted, to want. To desire. That knowledge had fed into her need for him for years to come. Even when they were separated, even when she dated other men. Even when she’d been close to getting engaged. She knew there was a reason no other man made her feel the way Jeremy Phillips did.
And now here they were. Sharing a bed after the best sex of her life. Curled up around each other like they did this every night, as if there was no reason to think they wouldn’t do this again for many nights to come.
But she knew better. Even as he slept, she was sure his subconscious was trying to rationalize their night together. Why he’d done it, how he could explain it away.
Oh, he’d have some fantastic bullshit excuse for why they had to back off, cool down, forget it ever happened.
Too. Damn. Bad. She grinned as she snuggled back against him. If he thought she’d accept his “It was fun, but now it’s over” speech in the morning, he was an idiot. She drifted off, her lips quirking as she envisioned the lovely argument they’d have over it when they woke up.
But if she was going to argue, it’d have to be with herself. Because in the morning, when she woke up, she was alone.
***
Canada. Canada would be good. Canada was constantly overrun with people on the lam, right? Surely one more person wouldn’t be a big deal. Of course, most people fleeing to Canada were likely either convicts or deserters… He was neither. Just trying to escape a well-deserved ass whipping from his best friend.
No, that definitely wasn’t the right answer. Running away to Canada had been a knee-jerk idea. Clearly, Canada wasn’t far enough. Afghanistan. That’s where he needed to be. Government-sponsored vacation to the deserts of Afghanistan. Seven months of riding around in bone-jarring Humvees, eating crap food, and sleeping on a paper-thin mattress. That would help.
Help erase the feeling of Madison under him. Of the satiny feel of her skin beneath his palms. The sweet cushion of her body pressed against his. The sound of her breathy little moans and sighs that told him exactly how much she enjoyed whatever he was doing.
No. Afghanistan wasn’t far enough. The moon. Were they sending deployments to the moon yet?
“Hey.”
Jeremy jolted and nearly tipped his rolling office chair over. He spun around, facing the door, heart still pounding in his ears. “Jesus, O’Shay. Give a guy a warning before you pull that sneaky shit.”
Tim grinned. “What? Not my fault you were somewhere completely different. I’m taking off for home.” He glanced around the office for a moment. “Your dad still in town?”
“Nah.” Jeremy shook his head. “That was a one-day-only event. Just in the state on business. He’s already gone back east.” And with him, his judgment and pressure.
“Ah, okay.” Tim tilted his head and studied him with an intensity that made Jeremy want to squirm. “You need to talk? Grab a beer or something first?”
Just what he needed. Some alcohol to loosen his tongue so the first thing he did was blurt out “I had sex with your sister.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Nope. I’m fine. Just tired.” The last part was the truth, at least. The first part, complete lie. He’d never be fine again.
Tim shrugged and slapped a hand on the door frame. “If you’re sure. Come over for dinner sometime soon. Skye misses having people around constantly, now that Veronica’s out of the house.”
“Sure. Just say when,” he said absently as Tim walked down the hall.
He waited for another five-count after the sound of bootsteps faded. Then picked up his cell phone. Then he set it back down again. What the hell was he
going to do? Text her and say… what?
Hope you got home okay.
No. That would only bring in the reminder that he hadn’t stayed around to see her off in the morning.
Wish I could have said good morning.
An untruth. He booked it out of there to avoid the morning-after talk like he was about to fail a PFT. Nerves, combined with his own inability to separate his emotions from the reality of the serious situation, meant he wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.
I miss you.
Truth. But not going to help the situation any.
I’m an ass.
Also true. But she probably knew that. He left her alone at his place, after all.
He gripped the cell phone with his thumb and finger, then gave it a spin, watching the hard case swirl over the top of his desk. Then he remembered. She was working nights this week. So she wouldn’t likely be able to answer him right away anyway. No point in texting if she can’t answer.
Reprieve. He breathed a little deeper and settled back in his chair. He closed his eyes, let the silence of the office soak in. In the mornings, the absolute chaos almost killed him. In the afternoons, the rush to get stuff done and get out as soon as possible was annoying. But now, when almost everyone was gone, he liked this best. The quiet, the solitude, the ability to work without fourteen people needing his input right that second.
God, he really was a loner cave dweller.
But was that such a bad thing? Even in the Marines, it takes all kinds.
Jeremy reached for his pen, eyes still closed, using his other hand to search for his notebook. Free writing, when he didn’t even let himself look at the paper, sometimes yielded the most amazing and complex plot points, character references, or backstories. He let his pen flow without watching, just rambling, letting his own mind drift along with the soothing sound of scratching.
Drawing. He was drawing something. Not the best artist in the world, but he’d come up with more than one physical character description from doing this. He let it go on, trying hard not to focus, which was an oxymoron in itself. The pen halted, stunted, he knew, by the fact that he was concentrating too hard. Time to let his mind wander elsewhere, completely uncensored, to keep it preoccupied and away from the paper.
And as always, when allowed to, his thoughts drifted back to Madison. But now he didn’t have to fantasize about what she was like in bed. He had the full-blown picture in his mind. What she looked like flushed from an orgasm. What she tasted like in the middle of the night. What her hair looked like in the morning after a long night of making love. The way her warm body molded against his in the dark.
“Phillips.”
His hand jerked, sliding a long, thick black mark across the paper. His eyes popped open to see Colonel Blackwater standing in his doorway, a bemused expression tilting his lips.
Well, hell.
Chapter 13
Jeremy stood and faced the CO, doing his best to slide a folder over his notebook casually without looking down. In a long list of people Jeremy didn’t want to see, the colonel was at the top. All this afternoon needed was for his dad to show back up and he’d have the trifecta of people he preferred to avoid. “Sir. What can I do for you?”
Blackwater edged into the room and wandered around, taking in the bare walls. “Did you leave your diploma back at home with your father?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, sir. I have it. Just never felt the need to bring it in.”
Blackwater’s mouth tightened a little, then relaxed. “How are things in your neck of the woods?”
Warning yellow lights flashed Caution in his mind. The CO was a man of authority over his career. And Jeremy’s duty was to follow his orders. But Jeremy also knew the man was a sneak and had no problems prying into the personal lives of his Marines. Not with friendly concern, but out of some odd sense of satisfaction when he could shape the Marine’s life. Like some weird omnipotent puppeteer, wanting control over everything.
Tim ran into the same problem last year but handled it with much more diplomacy than Jeremy would ever be able to manage. “Things are fine.”
“I notice you’re always one of the last to leave the office for the day.” Blackwater started staring, unapologetically, at the papers covering Jeremy’s desk. As if he had the right. “No family to run home to, correct?”
“That’s correct, sir,” he replied through clenched teeth. He fought the urge to yank everything away from the man’s gaze. Thank God he didn’t have anything personal…
His notebook. Fuck. Waiting until the man’s eyes were averted to a far corner of the desk, he glanced down to make sure it was fully covered by a file.
It was. Barely.
The CO picked up a form and started reading without another word.
Go right ahead, sir. What’s mine is yours, apparently.
“I’ll admit I probably stayed at the office a little later than I do now, back in my young, pre-family days.” Blackwater set the sheet back down and walked to the other corner of his desk to pick up something else. “No thoughts of settling down?”
And how is this any of your business? “No. No thoughts at all,” he lied. No practical thoughts anyway. Just a fantasy that would stay just that. Fantasy.
“A good Marine has something back home worth fighting for. I believe your father knew that.”
“My father…” Had his dad actually gone to the CO with his concerns? No. He wouldn’t have. Despite his own concern, even Jeremy knew his father wouldn’t go that far.
“I knew him, once upon a time. We crossed paths at a few points in our careers, though we never served directly together. Had his work cut out for him, raising you alone after his sweet wife died.”
Sweet wife. That’s my mother you’re talking about. Jeremy bit his tongue to keep from cursing.
“Someone who understands, even supports, the cause is important. My own Patricia is irreplaceable.” The CO set the paper down and looked him in the eye. “Now. Have you given any consideration to your next contract, where you might ask your monitor to send you?”
How the hell did Tim keep from knocking this guy’s teeth out when he was pulling this shit with his marriage to Skye? “No, sir, I haven’t.”
He nodded and headed back toward the door, one hand gripping the frame. “Time to get a move on with that, son. Re-up will be here before you know it, and you don’t want to be caught with your pants down.” He patted the frame of the desk once, wedding ring dinging harshly as it struck the metal, then nodded and walked out in the hallway, turning toward the direction of his own office.
“I’m not your son,” Jeremy muttered quietly once he heard the CO’s door shut. He flopped down, covered his eyes with one hand, and sighed. Damn, that man was draining. Thank God he was heading out soon, to be replaced by, hopefully, a more understanding CO.
Jeremy glanced down at his desk and started shuffling papers into neater piles. The thought of Blackwater’s hands all over his things just made him that much more determined to have everything out of sight and away from the man’s prying eyes.
His fingers bumped the file, and he remembered the notebook, his free-form thoughts he’d been working on before interrupted. He pushed the rest of the papers into his top desk drawer, determined to go through them in the morning, and shifted the file to the side.
And stared, equal parts horrified and stunned, as he was faced with a rather decent drawing of Madison’s face. Head tilted back, eyes tightly shut, lips slightly parted. Just like she’d been the night before in the middle of her own climax.
Holy fuck. This was what he got for letting his mind wander to Madison while trying to work on free-form.
He tore the page out of the notebook—something he rarely did, as he thought even bad ideas deserved their moment—and wadded it up. But just as he was ready t
o toss it in the trash, he pulled back. This wasn’t something he wanted some janitor to see. He’d get rid of it at home. Burn it or shred it or something. Destroy it in some way to make sure nobody else would see it.
Too bad his own mind couldn’t unsee the image. Now he had a raging hard-on and no fix in sight.
***
“Stupid jarhead.” Madison slammed the clipboard on the desk hard enough to have the desk nurse jump and glare at her. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“Trouble in paradise?” Matthew sailed by her with a cart of supplies, and she turned on her heel to follow, wincing a little at the squeak her rubber-soled shoes made on the tile floor.
“Paradise. Right.” She snorted. “Hardly.” Okay, so in the heat of the moment, the whole thing had seemed better than paradise, if that was even possible. But the morning after had totally popped that dream bubble. Because there had been no morning after. Just a morning alone. Embarrassing, really.
“What happened, toots?” Matthew stopped the cart and grabbed a few supplies, slipping into a room quietly to restock the cabinet while the new mother slept the sleep of the drugged. Lucky lady. Madison waited for him to come back out before following along once more like a puppy on a leash.
“He left. In the morning. No note, no explanation, no promise of talking later. He just left.”
“Hmm.” Matthew wheeled the cart back toward the supply closet and took out the key to unlock the door. “Why do you think he left?”
“Because he’s a chickenshit?” she asked sweetly.
“Try again.”
“Okay, fine. A stupid jarhead?” She sighed and pushed a hand over her slicked-back bun. “I don’t know. He probably wanted some time to think about what he had to say.”
“Was the sex good?”
“Matthew!” she hissed then looked around. They were alone, as usual, on the floor. Unless someone was in active labor, nights on the OB floor were relatively quiet. No hustle of family constantly coming in to see, no flower delivery services. A smaller staff, though no less capable and with extras on call at all times. Even the mothers in labor seemed to somehow calm down more. She relished the nights.
Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.) Page 16