Christmas with the Marine

by Candace Havens

  “You don’t eat pizza, do you? Or chili pies. You’re a health nut. And here I thought you were pretty much Mr. Perfect.”

  He chuckled. “Being healthy makes me less than perfect? Not that I consider myself that.”

  “Oh, no. As far as I can tell, you’re perfect. But I happen to have the worst eating habits ever. I admit it, I’m a fan of junk food.”

  He nodded. “I don’t judge. But I have to be careful about what I put in my body. Part of it’s for the job, but there are other reasons.”

  She cocked her head. “It obviously works for you. Those abs made the kid’s cancer fund a good ten thousand, but can I ask what the other reasons are?”

  He followed her past the staircase and down a hallway.

  “My dad died when I was twelve from a heart attack. He was in his late thirties and had seemed healthy, but they learned too late that his arteries were clogged.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her all of this. “When he died it was really hard on my mom. She’d been staying home with me and my little sister, who was only two months old. He was a chef in Austin.”

  She stopped so abruptly he almost ran in to her. Then she turned and gave him a hug. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry for your mom. Did you have other family around to help?” She let go before he could even wrap his arms around her.

  But he wanted to.

  “Not really. Her family was in Wisconsin, and she never talked about them much. It was a long time ago,” he said. Thinking about the past didn’t do any good. It had been rough. At twelve, he’d become the primary carer for his sister so his mom could work. When he was old enough, he’d had odd jobs sweeping up, or cleaning out houses that had been abandoned for one of his dad’s friends to flip.

  They’d made it through, and that was all that mattered. Taking on that responsibility so young had helped make him who he was, and he was okay with that.

  She stepped through an open doorway and into a large kitchen, so large his whole apartment would fit in it. There were creamy white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. The stove alone was probably a few months’ pay for him.

  “This is—”

  “Ginormous,” she said. “This was the one part of the house that had already been remodeled before I moved in. They knocked out a bedroom down here to create the extra space. It’s maybe a bit over-the-top, but I like it. I just wished I knew how to cook because it’s definitely a chef’s kitchen.”

  “So cooking isn’t your thing? Is that the reason you eat the way you do?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “That, and when we were growing up my dad was into fitness. He still is. He’s obsessed with the body being a temple and all that. Believes that a healthy body and mind are what led to his success. So I grew up on green beans and brussels sprouts. It’s childish, but my bad food habits are probably a late reaction to that. Do you know how to cook?”

  “It’s in my genes. At least, that’s what my mom says. When my mom got a job and was gone for long hours, she did her best to prepare what she could ahead of time, but a lot of the meals were left to me. At the start, a lot of the food came from cans. It was easy to fix, but I got tired of that kind of quick.

  “And my sister was superpicky. Finding stuff she liked was hard, and we didn’t have money to waste. I wound up spending less time on the sports channels and more on the cooking ones. I learned to cook off the Food Network.”

  At first, it had seemed like another unfair chore, but then he’d discovered cooking was relaxing. He could lose himself in creating dinners for his family, and he didn’t even worry about all the stuff he was missing out on, like the football team or track.

  Ainsley shook her head. “I admire that you did that when you were so young. I can’t believe you were taking care of your sister when you were still a kid yourself. It’s like when we were talking about what you did right after high school—I was such a spoiled brat in comparison. I was probably more worried about boy bands and wearing the right jeans.”

  He laughed and she joined in.

  He tried to be jealous, but he couldn’t. That was just sweet.

  “Yep. I worshipped a bunch of those groups. I used to spend the majority of my days on fan boards just praying they’d show up and post something. It’s sad, but true. For the record, they never did. And they never showed up on my doorstep, which I just knew if they understood how much I loved them, they would have.”

  Okay, maybe he was feeling a little jealous right then. “Their loss.”

  She slapped a hand on the counter. “Exactly. That’s what I think.”

  “Funny. I never had a crush like that when I was young. Though, maybe when I was in high school. My sophomore English teacher, Dr. Hatcher, believed in me. She’s the reason I love books. She could see I needed some extra help so she made me read out loud to her—and by made, I mean, I sat in her classroom during lunch every day. At first I hated her for making me miss my one free period during the day. But I loved the book. It was To Kill a Mockingbird. And after that one, I read Catcher in the Rye. And then she introduced me to fantasy and sci-fi novels and I was hooked.”

  “That’s such a great story. I was lucky. I was a total nerd who loved school. And I had so many great teachers, except for Mr. Brown. He was my geometry teacher. Ugh. Triangles still make me cry. But the rest of my teachers, I just loved them.”

  “They do make a difference to a lot of lives. Dr. Hatcher did to mine. Books were how I kind of lost myself in other worlds.” It had been one of the biggest blessings of his life.

  “So, do you actually have food in that Sub-Zero?” He pointed to the gigantic fridge. “Maybe I could cook us something that doesn’t involve artery-clogging pizza dough.”

  She waved a hand toward the appliance. “We keep it stocked, or Bebe does. She’s like you—with the exception of the occasional sweet, she eats pretty healthy. You’re welcome to take a look. And if you don’t see anything, I can order from a different place.”

  He opened the fridge door. He found chicken, lemons and minced garlic in a jar. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Can you maybe make a salad?”

  “If you’re asking if I can chop stuff without cutting off my fingers, probably.”

  After showing her how to cut vegetables so she never had to worry about her beautiful long fingers again, he went to work.

  A half hour later the kitchen smelled of lemon and garlic.

  “True story—if ever you get tired of the Marines, you could so be a chef. Your mom was right.” She took her last bite of chicken. “This was better than any restaurant meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  He chuckled. “I was worried I might be rusty, since it’s been a while.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

  “I’ve been living on base most of my career, so I eat what’s in the mess hall. They’ve made a better effort of trying to provide better, healthier food. Same as when we’re deployed, although, depending where we are the choices can be restrictive for obvious reasons. So I haven’t cooked much. I only moved into my own place last month and we’ve been away doing training exercises for most of that time. To be honest, my fridge doesn’t have much more than the makings for protein shakes and grilled veggies.”

  She leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar. “I haven’t wanted to be too nosy, but what exactly do you do? You fix helicopters, but you can also fly them?”

  “I’m a pilot and I also teach pilots how to do maintenance on their aircraft as well as what to do in extreme situations. On the base, I’m a senior staff officer of the squadron. But we do things a bit differently here in Corpus.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We share the base with the Navy. We’re a special squad. All of us do a bunch of different things. We’re support staff for other branches of the military, as well as the Marines. What I teach s
pecifically is emergency mechanics while in the field. So if the navigation goes out, or something is wrong with the fuel tank and the squad has to land in the middle of nowhere, they can maybe fix the problem and get out of there.”

  “That’s impressive. You’re pretty and smart—such a dangerous combination,” she said.

  He batted his eyelashes and did fluttery fingers on his cheeks. His sister used to do it while singing Disney songs at the top of her lungs. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “And I forgot funny.” She was nearly bent over laughing at him.

  She straightened and tried to be serious. “Thank you for dinner. I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time.” Her hand landed on his chest and the heat seared through him. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. There was a connection, and while they might dance around it, there was no denying it.

  “I’m not much for games,” he said as he let go of her hand. She didn’t pull away—in fact, she twisted her fist in his shirt. “And I’m not much one for pretending.”

  She leaned into him then, lifting her face until their eyes locked. “What do you mean?” Her words were barely a whisper.

  “I want you.”

  “I want you, too.”

  “Then I’m giving you three choices. Take off your clothes right now so I can bend you over this breakfast bar and make love to you. Show me where your bedroom is so I can make love to you there. Or I’ll sit in that comfy living room chair and you can straddle me.”

  She blinked.

  “Pick one.”

  Her tongue teased her top lip. She glanced at the breakfast bar, and then back at him.

  “Here is good.”

  8

  “STRIP,” HE ORDERED. They were in the middle of the kitchen and he wanted her. Here and now. Never in her life had she been more turned on. This night was so much better than she could have ever imagined. He was hot and he cooked.

  Cooked her. She was heating from the inside out, and couldn’t get her clothes off fast enough.

  “Someone might walk in,” she said, but unbuttoned her blouse anyway. She wasn’t about to let this moment pass by.

  “Do you have a lot of clients show up at seven thirty at night? Ones who just walk in the front door?”

  He had a point.

  “Right. You’re so smart, as well as built.” She tossed the shirt over one of the bar stools.

  “That’s the second time tonight you’ve said something like that. I almost think you might want me for my body,” he said as he pulled his T-shirt over his head.

  Wow. She hadn’t imagined those abs. They were as perfect as she remembered.

  “Like I said, here is good.” She reached back and unzipped her skirt. It dropped to the floor. His eyes traveled down her body, and his look sent a delicious shiver through her.

  Thank the universe she had the foresight to wear decent lingerie. The azure bra-and-thong set had been a last-minute addition to her wardrobe.

  She started to step out of the red Louboutins, but he held up a hand. “Leave those on.”

  “Um, okay. But only if you start stripping, as well.” She pointed to his jeans. “More than the shirt.”

  He smiled and her body actually shook.

  “I was hoping you might do that for me,” he said.

  He didn’t have to ask twice. Her hands were on his belt, zipper and, soon, on his erection. No wonder she was still delightfully sore from the other night. He was so hard and his cock had hit all the right spots.

  Before he could say a word, she kneeled down and began sucking him. She couldn’t resist, especially considering the pleasure he’d given her after the auction. That and she really wanted him in her mouth.

  His cock twitched.

  He moaned and then whispered her name. His pleasure was unmistakable.

  She glanced up to find him watching her and the look in his eyes made her body tremble.

  She teased him with her tongue and then teased just the tip of his erection.

  “Ainsley.” He said her name as if it required all of his control. As she increased the tempo, they hit a rhythm and she enjoyed every moan, every bit of his praise and encouragement. Suddenly, he pulled out and reached down for her to help her up.

  “Lean over the bar,” he whispered in her ear. She smiled and turned her back to him, heard the rip of the foil package.

  His hand caressed the length of her spine. Then those fingers found her heat. She was ready for him, but he found that same spot, the one that only took a few strokes before she was shuddering and crying out.

  Never had sex been this good for her. Mind-bendingly good. The kind that made her worry he may have ruined any other man’s chance with her.

  Before she could catch her breath from the orgasm, he pumped his cock into her. His fingers found her clit. He caressed, and teased, and all the time thrust harder and faster until she forgot to breathe.

  It was pure, glorious sensation. And when his other hand squeezed her breast, causing her to groan again, she couldn’t seem to find the words.

  “So good,” he said, as if speaking for her. She held on as tightly as she could, overcome by the sheer outright bliss she was experiencing. This was so much more than she’d ever felt before. Thanks to Ben. He was a gifted lover, a good guy, honorable, kind...something she didn’t want to think too much about.

  “You are perfection,” he murmured in her ear. “Like you were made for me.”

  She couldn’t agree more and pushed her ass out to meet him, to feel his thrusts deeper. The orgasm came then, sure and swift, with black dots swimming in her vision and every muscle tingling with satisfaction.

  “Yes,” he said, and didn’t stop. His thrusts were strong, relentless. She was going to come again. It was too much, too—and then she was lost. He lifted her chin back toward him and he kissed her with such passion.

  As he came, he moaned her name. The syllables vibrated through her. And never in her life had she felt so fulfilled. So wanted and cherished.

  They stayed like that for a few moments as he trailed kisses along her neck and then her shoulder and down her spine.

  She then turned around so that she could kiss him. “So sexy,” he said against her lips. “I could barely hold on.”

  She pressed her mouth to his and then broke away. “I say you held on just fine. But maybe don’t let go of me anytime soon because there’s a good chance my legs aren’t going to work. You seem to do that. I’m thinking you give new meaning to the phrase weak in the knees.”

  He smiled and she beamed right back at him.

  “I should probably help you do the dishes,” he said.

  Dishes? Who could even think about dishes? This Marine had some stamina. She tilted her head toward his. “You cooked, and um...gave me the best orgasms of my life. Well, you did that on Saturday as well, so not to worry, I can handle the dishes.”

  “Hey! What are you doing in the kitchen? I didn’t think you even knew where it was. It’s weird. The house smells like real food. Food that hasn’t been burned,” Bebe called out from the hallway.

  Ainsley stammered, her mouth refusing to work.

  “I was at the store, and thought I’d drop off some snacks. Don’t freak out, I bought fruit. You should try it sometime.”

  “No,” Ainsley yelled.

  “Ains, you’ve got to get some vitamins in you somehow.”

  “No,” Ainsley yelled again as Bebe entered the kitchen. She did a full stop just as Ben unceremoniously tucked Ainsley behind him.

  “I was trying to say don’t come in here right now. I’m—”

  “Bloody brilliant. You’re shagging the Marine in the kitchen,” Bebe said. “About time you had some sex. What do you know? Miracles do happen.” Then she ploppe
d the groceries on the counter and walked out.

  “Uh,” Ainsley finally said. “Sorry.”

  “What for? That chest of his is the best thing I’ve seen in years,” Bebe shouted from the hallway. “Good choice, luv. Excellent choice. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to put the almond milk in the fridge. And I’ll lock the front door so you don’t get any other visitors tonight. Toodles.”

  The front door slammed and Ainsley stood there mortified.

  He turned to face her. “So I’m guessing that was Bebe?” He had a big smile on his face. The tension eased from her shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Why? Funniest thing that’s happened to me in a long time. It’s not often I get caught with my pants down.” And he did—still had his pants around his ankles. Thank goodness the bar hid the rest of his body, or her best friend would have seen a whole lot more than his chest.

  “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “She’s going to throw innuendos at me for the next week, maybe month. Heck, probably for a year.”

  He leaned back. “Are you embarrassed by me?”

  She frowned. What was he talking about? “You? Of course not. You’re the best thing ever. It’s the situation of having been caught in my own kitchen with a man. I haven’t dated in over a year.”

  “That’s a long time.” He pushed her curls behind her ear. Her hair must have fallen down. She probably looked like an unmitigated mess.

  “Yep. Right now, it’s business first, which is why I told you about my no-dating policy. And then, of course, I asked you to be my date. So you probably think I’m crazy.”

  “Not even close,” he said and kissed her cheek. “Trust me on that. I need to clean up, but then I have a fun idea about how to do the dishes. You up for it?”

  She loved how he didn’t care that her best friend had caught them at it, or technically post at it, in the kitchen.

  “Oh, I’m up for whatever you’ve got, Marine.”

  * * *

  THE WOMAN WAS addictive and that brought him up short. And she hadn’t lied about being up for whatever he desired. She was as open a lover as she was a human being. He’d never met anyone like her.