Marine in the Wind (1Night Stand Series)

by Long, Heather

  “Did you grow up here? In Freewill?”

  “Yes and no. My parents are archaeologists. They work all over the world, so my sisters and I, we would travel with them. They homeschooled us until we were about fourteen or so. One by one, they sent us to Freewill so we could finish high school. We knew the town because we spent every summer with our grandparents.” Her tone turned wistful.

  “You’re the youngest.” He was an only child, but he’d been to enough therapy sessions to hear the different theories on birth order.

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “Because you’re disappointed in your family. You want them to set a better example and do what you’re doing.” The clarity rang through him like a hammer hitting a gong. She wasn’t trapped by her life, but by her own ethics. She just hadn’t reconciled one with the other.

  “Yeah, maybe I am. A little.” Georgia blew out a breath. “Which isn’t really fair. When Grandpa had his first heart attack, my sisters, Risa and Ginny, came. Kali couldn’t, but she called everyday, and Caro did, too. Risa’s got a job in New York, she’s an attorney, and she loves it. She got married, so she could only stay a couple of weeks. Ginny’s in graduate school in Southern California, so she couldn’t stay long either. They’re busy and they have lives.”

  “Four sisters?”

  She grinned, a broad, wide smile, and her eyes glittered with humor. “Uh huh, we’re all about a year apart in age. So you can imagine we’re a loud lot when we’re together.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you have a life?” Because the way she said it sounded like she didn’t.

  “I look after Grandpa. That’s my life.” She pushed some hair behind her ear.

  “What about a job? I don’t even know what you do.”

  She chewed her lower lip. “You’re going to laugh.”

  “I will not.” He had training. He could maintain his expression. “What do you do?”

  Georgia grimaced and glanced down.

  “Come on. What is it? Are you a sex therapist?”

  “No.” She laughed.

  “A shoe saleswoman?” He waggled his eyebrows. He loved the way she laughed. It opened her whole expression, softened her. She should laugh all the time.

  “No.” She bowed her head, and her hair fell forward, hiding her expression.

  “You’re a fuel specialist at the Git and Go? You keep the town running.”

  She fell back against the chair and giggled until tears ran down her face. “Would you still be interested in me if I pumped gas for a living?”

  “I’d be interested if you asked me if I wanted fries with that,” he replied, utterly serious.

  “Finish telling me why you signed up for the service and then I’ll tell you what I do.” The enigmatic response intrigued him.

  “Okay. Hungry?”

  “Starving, actually.”

  He rose and got the grill going, stepping inside the cabin to grab the burgers. “I joined the Marines while I was in college. Thought it would be a good fit, structure and support. My grandfather came to the boot camp graduation, and he was pretty damn proud. He served with codetalkers during World War II, and he told me that, despite our native differences with the military, we also worked really well together. I enjoyed the work, enjoyed the people.” He layered the burgers on the grill and Georgia came over to sit on the railing next to him.

  It was comfortable talking to her.

  “Did you go to Iraq?”

  “Yep. My unit was in the first wave to penetrate Fallujah in 2004.” He tore off a strip of aluminum foil and set it on the grill and added some of the vegetables to the top of it. “I’ve got buns and condiments inside, if you want to make your burger the works…. Do you want cheese on yours?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Greg glanced up and leaned over to kiss her. She didn’t retreat and he only allowed himself the one quick brush of his lips to hers.

  “What was that for?”

  “You looked kissable.” He flipped the burgers one by one. “Anyway, about two years ago, I was in an accident. Got injured, sent home to recover, and received a medical discharge. A.J. offered me a job up here and a place to get on my feet, so I came. I like it here. It’s good for the soul.”

  “Now you sound like Grandpa.” Affection thickened the words.

  “I like Crane. He’s good for my soul, too.”

  “So that’s why you signed up for a one-night stand? Because it’s good for your soul?”

  He met her curious gaze. “A lot of guys in my unit recommended it. They made a pact, signed up—to help get back on their feet, be a part of the world again.” He wondered if she knew A.J. and Sheri met that way, but it wasn’t his story to tell. “I thought it would help. It was time for me to start living again. No strings attached to the pleasure and a way to test out what I want.”

  “That’s really honest. I’m sorry I spoiled it.”

  Frowning, Greg finished flipping the burgers again and stared at her. “You haven’t spoiled anything.”

  “Yeah, but you already know me. So it’s a little harder to be all one-night stand with no strings when it’s me.”

  Not discounting the possibility, he shook his head. “You remember when I came by that night to watch the game with Crane?”

  “Ugh.” She rubbed a hand over face. “Yes. He didn’t tell me you were coming and I was really rude—and messy.”

  “You were beautiful. You looked great, right down to the torn socks. Comfortable, and utterly gorgeous. I hated that you went out all dressed up and some other guys were going to be looking at you. I wanted you to stay and watch the game, or better, take me with you.”

  “Oh.”

  “That surprises you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “A little. I mean, you’re Grandpa’s friend and….”

  “So I can’t be yours?” He raised his eyebrows, leaning into her until they were nose-to-nose. “We can’t be friends?”

  She exhaled a slow, shaky breath. “I…I think I’d like that.”

  “So tell me….” He teased the tip of her nose with his, just the lightest of touches. Her eyes widened and her breath grew shallow. “…what do you do?”

  “I write erotic romance.”

  He didn’t laugh.

  But holy hell did that turn him on.

  Georgia couldn’t believe it. She’d said it out loud. It made it real. She said it and he didn’t laugh. If anything, he stared at her intently. “So you write sex books?”

  “Erotic romance,” she replied primly then burst out laughing. “Yeah, I write sex books.”

  He flipped the burgers again and stirred the veggies on the tin foil. “So are you published?”

  Face heating, she sucked her upper lip between her teeth and nodded slowly.

  “Seriously?” The grin on his face sent her pulse skyrocketing.

  “Yes.” Is my face as red as the coals under the sizzling burgers?

  He rapid-fired more questions. “Okay, I need more information. When did you start writing? Is there a chance I’ve read any? If not, where can I buy one? Why erotic romance?”

  “I’ve been writing since I was a kid. Started with picture books.” She’d never shared that with anyone except her mother, who actually encouraged her every step of the way. “Um, you know I said my parents are archeologists?”

  “Yeah. Grab those plates will you?” He motioned to the disposable plates on the side table.

  “So, they’re archaeologists and we traveled with them everywhere. When I was really little, my mom would make up these stories—okay, they probably weren’t made up because she included real history in them. Anyway, she would tell me stories from wherever we were, and she brought every location to life with the details of the people who lived and loved there, and their kids, and the gods they worshipped, etcetera. I loved her stories and, one day, I started telling one to her. I was all of five or six, I think. We sta
rted swapping who told the stories and one day I wrote one down.” She balanced the plates as Greg added the burgers.

  “Okay, buns and condiments are inside. Do you want to eat in there or out here?”

  “Make the burgers up and come back out?” It was a beautiful day and they were having fun.

  “Sounds good.” He dialed down the grill and slid the foil-wrapped veggies onto another plate. “Okay, so you and your mom made up stories to tell each other and then you wrote them down. I’m thinking your mother didn’t add erotic scenes to your storytelling hour.”

  The very idea sent a ripple of laughter through her and she giggled. “Not hardly.”

  In the cabin’s little kitchen, she went to work building her burger. Greg reached around her for the ketchup, and she had to stretch across him to grab the mayonnaise and mustard. He teased the curve of her ear with a kiss and she shuddered.

  “And that’s cheating if you want to hear the rest of the story.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured and nibbled her earlobe again. Heat curled through her and she forgot how to think. “Maybe I can wait for the story.”

  Are we really going to do this? Stringing one thought to the next was the most difficult thing with him touching her. He wrapped his arm around her and flattened a hand on her abdomen. Burger half-forgotten, she leaned back against his chest. The tickle stroke of his tongue and breath on her ear sent a flurry of desire racing through her.

  She’d written enough sex scenes to know where this would go and could hardly wait for it to happen. He continued kissing a path down her ear, grazing the lobe with his teeth until his mouth closed over a pulse point in her throat and her thighs went liquid. Her nipples were so stiff they actually ached, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “But maybe you should finish your story, especially if this is research,” he whispered, his voice dark and tantalizing.

  “You are evil.”

  He tugged her shirt up and traced a pattern around her belly button. “Am I?”

  “Yes,” she nodded slowly. Apparently putting more syllables together was beyond her.

  “I like you, Georgia.” He sucked her earlobe between his teeth and her eyes crossed from wanting him.

  “I…um…ooooh…I like you, too.”

  “Really?” He teased along the top of her jeans with his thumb. “I thought you didn’t like me. You’re always so mad at me.”

  “I’m mad at everyone.” Not at the moment, though. At the moment, she could care less about the rest of the world. His chest was a hard wall. “You have a magic mouth.”

  “Do I?” He pressed another kiss to the side of her neck, and she felt his lips stretch into a smile.

  “Oh.” She breathed out each word. “How…am…I…s’posed…crap…answer…when you’re doing that?”

  Letting her go, he stepped around her to lean against the counter. She grabbed hold of the edge to steady herself and bring her rampaging hormones under control. The weight of his stare rubbed her like a physical caress, and she fumbled while stacking her burger.

  “I’m waiting,” he teased.

  Staring at him dazedly, she tried to remember what they were talking about. “What?”

  “You were telling me about writing erotic romance.”

  Did he have to say erotic like that? It turned her inside out and left her panties wet. God, I write about this stuff, why is it so hard to think when it’s actually happening? My characters tease each other and have these great sexy conversations while they are stripping each other naked. The man touches my ear and I melt.

  “It started in college,” she murmured. “I wrote a short story, and it got published in the college magazine, and I guess I wanted to write more. And my roommate had the craziest sex life.”

  “Your roommate?” He fixed her toppled burger and picked up their plates. “Porch?”

  “Sure.” She trailed after him and her gaze drifted over his ass. She’d admired his chest, his face, and his smile, but the man had an ass that didn’t quit. His jeans stretched beautifully with every step he took.

  So busy staring at his ass, she barely realized he’d stopped and watched her over his shoulder. “Are you checking me out?”

  “Uh huh.”

  His slow grin sent her heart flip-flopping. “Okay. Do you mind if I sit down so we can eat? We’re going to need the calories.”

  She closed her eyes and groaned. “You are the devil.”

  Chuckling, he nudged her over to a chair, where she sat and accepted her burger, setting the plate in her lap. He caught her mouth in another hard kiss. When his tongue sought entry, she forgot about the burger and sank her fingers into his rich mane. The kiss went on and on, but he didn’t touch her anywhere, one hand braced on the chair, the other gripping his plate. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers.

  “Eat. Talk.”

  “Hard.” She snickered.

  “Yes, I am.” He brushed his mouth to hers again then retreated to the other chair, sitting slowly.

  “So not fair.” But she took a bite of her burger before she ended up walking over and crawling into his lap.

  He focused on her. “Very fair. You’ve made me wild since the first time I laid eyes on you. Now, tell me the story before we’re naked and I don’t care about it anymore.”

  “Have I really driven you wild since the day we met?”

  “Yes.” Greg placed his burger on the table and clasped his hands together. “You wrote a short story in college…?”

  Licking her lips, Georgia shook her head. “You really care about this story?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “I wrote a short story and it was published in the college literary magazine. And I loved it. I loved writing something that other people read. My mom wanted to see it and she loved it, too. I was supposed to go visit them on a dig that summer, but she told me to take the three months and write. So I came here—and I wrote my first book.”

  “And you sold it?”

  Bursting out laughing, she shook her head. “It was awful. I submitted it to, like, five places and all but one sent me ‘thanks, but no thanks’ letters. The fifth place, though—the editor said she liked my voice, but that my technique needed a lot of work. She also sent me some suggestions. So I went back to school and I found some writing groups and I wrote some more and I sent all of it to my mom, but you know it’s funny, she always loved my stuff. She never gave me a hard critique. And I kept submitting and submitting. I think I must have turned in—a hundred different ideas or drafts or stories, and none went anywhere.”

  She took a bite of her burger and washed it down with a swallow of warm beer. It was so weird to tell him this, but he looked at her so seriously like he really wanted to know.

  “So, I got a critique partner my senior year, and she told me my stories just weren’t sexy enough. And I thought about my roommate, Meghan. And I wrote a book about her.”

  Greg paused, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “The one with all the crazy sex life?”

  “Uh huh.” Her face warmed.

  “Did you tell her?”

  “Yeah—no. I changed a lot of the details and the names and even that the character was in college. I made the roommates twenty.” Her hands shook. This story happened to her almost seven years before, she shouldn’t be so nervous.

  “And?”

  “And I submitted it to a few places, and you remember the first editor that I sent my very first book too, the one who liked my voice…?”

  He nodded.

  “She sent me a really great letter with some suggestions and advice, and asked me to make a few changes and if I did it, then she wanted to see it again.”

  The letter changed her life. She spent the next week barely sleeping or eating as she massaged all the recommended changes into her manuscript. She still remembered how hard her heart beat when she attached the story to an email and sent the revision to the editor.

  Greg gestured with his half-eaten burger for
her to continue.

  “And Aella Desire was born.” At his blank look she laughed. “That’s my pseudonym. Aella for whirlwind and Desire is kind of obvious. The editor loved my changes. She contracted the book and asked me to write more in that same series. I’ve been writing them ever since.”

  “Your name means wind?”

  “Well, yeah, the pen name does, but then so does Avasa…my middle name. My mother named us all after states, and my father insisted that our middle names all have to do with an element. Apparently, I’m long-winded.”

  “Listen to the wind,” Greg murmured softly. “Are you done with that burger?”

  She looked down at the burger she’d taken all of two bites out of. She wasn’t hungry—at least not for food. “Apparently.”

  “You said earlier you were my date—you came here to have sex.”

  Oh, yes please. “It’s okay if you changed your mind.” No, it’s not. Please say you haven’t.

  He rose, gathered up the plates, and slid the remains of their burgers together. Catching her hand, he tugged her out of the chair and wrapped an arm around her again. She was chest to breast with him. And it was even better than when he held her from behind.

  “I like you, Georgia Crane. A hell of a lot.”

  Shivering at his dark tone, she gave in to the desire to fist his shirt in her hands, and tugged. The buttons popped beautifully and it was so much better than in the books. Hard muscle and hot skin warmed her palms as she explored his chest, never looking away from his eyes. “I like you, Greg Rainwater. A whole hell of a lot.”

  “So we’re on the same fade-to-black page?” He grinned and even with the heat spinning around inside of her like a pinwheel on the Fourth of July, she laughed.