Mary Had a Little Problem

by Blaine, Destiny

  “Don’t even think about it. You and I would kill each other, Brock,” Anna said, stuffing a handful of peanuts between her lips while swinging one of those short limbs in his direction.

  “You got that right. Since the day I first met you, you’ve irritated the hell out of me,” he told her, twitching his nose with the memory of Anna trying to change a tire on the side of the road. She was a cute little thing, but she had a foul mouth. He’d never heard a woman say the F-word so many times in his life. Add in a few other choice words, too, and well, Brock wasn’t sure what to make of Anna.

  He was still glad he’d stopped to assist her that day. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had an easy time finding Mary on his own. And he’d wanted to locate her. Anna just helped speed up the process.

  He’d instantly liked Anna, but thank God, there hadn’t been any real chemistry between them. One of them would’ve certainly strangled the other. They were too much alike, and because of the similarities, and the fact she made him laugh outright, they’d become fast friends. Mary, on the other hand, made his dick hard, and that had been the case since the first day he laid eyes on her.

  Sometimes, Brock tried to forget that day. Even though he was fully aware of the fact that Mary was another soldier’s wife—and not just any soldier’s spouse, but the man whom he’d fought beside, a guy who quickly became his best friend—he hadn’t been able to get Mary out of his mind. He’d fantasized about her.

  He’d wondered then like he questioned himself now. Could he reach out to Mary, and if he did, how far was he willing to go to get what he wanted?

  He knew the answer to that, and he should’ve been ashamed of himself.

  “Leave Mary to me,” Brock grumbled, dipping his fingers into another endless bucket of peanuts Frank pushed in front of them.

  “If I left her in your hands, Lord only knows what would happen.”

  Brock faced her. “Listen, Anna. You like to think you’ve orchestrated this whole thing with me and your little sister. Maybe you gave me a nudge in the right direction, but don’t be so sure I wasn’t already headed that way anyhow.”

  Anna rolled her eyes and laughed. She studied him for a good bit before she said, “You think I make your hair stand up, wait until Mary finds out you were with Luke before he died. That’ll go over well.”

  “You should’ve told her when you introduced me.”

  “I didn’t see you opening your big mouth.”

  “I was too busy staring at an angel.”

  “Gawking is more like it, and the only thing you were staring at were her boobs.”

  “She’s got a nice rack. What can I say?”

  “Anything but that,” Anna bit out. “She’s my sister, for heaven sakes.”

  “Yeah and who knows, one day soon, I may be your brother-in-law,” Brock teased, realizing Anna would love that one.

  “Damn boy. You’ve got it bad.”

  “Not yet, but I have a feeling where Mary’s concerned, I’m headed for a rocky road straight uphill.”

  Frank set two shots in front of them. “Lady at the end of the bar is buying you both a drink.”

  Brock glanced down the long stretch of shiny wood. He immediately bowed his head as if he were attempting to duck out of sight. “Shit!”

  “Someone you know?” Anna asked, swinging her leg. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. She looks like a Brock-groupie, so yep, I’m pretty sure you know her.”

  “Used to—past tense and all that.”

  Anna sighed dramatically. “She’s pretty, and she’s got big boobs, so she’s definitely your type. You banged her.”

  Yep and Brock hadn’t been able to shake her since he took her to bed a few months ago. “She’s insane. Gal has attachment issues.”

  “With you?”

  “From what I hear, it’s me and every other guy in Beaufort. I guess she figures if she latches on tight to several of us all at once, she’ll eventually land that military pension she seems hell-bent on securing.”

  “Well by the looks of her, I’d say her odds increase whenever she shows up here,” Anna remarked, sliding away from her chair. “You need to be careful, Brock. You know, it’s not an absolute necessity to take home an easy mark at closing time.”

  “You don’t say,” he said, tilting the shot glass to the woman dressed in jeans and a low-cut top. “Where are you off to?”

  “I need to check on Mary. Seeing Tom was more than she could handle.”

  “Why don’t you let me go?”

  “Brock, you can’t rush her.”

  “Who knows,” he said, grabbing his jacket as he stood. “Maybe she’s in a bigger hurry than either of us realize. Maybe she wants to get on with her life, and she just doesn’t know how or where to begin.”

  “You think you’re what she needs?”

  “There’s not a doubt in my mind. Luke has been dead for over six months, but he’s been away from here for well over a year. What do you think your sister needs most?”

  Anna frowned. “If I were in her shoes, I’d take one look at you and run like hell.”

  “She can run all she wants. I’m ready for the chase and up for the challenge.” A beat later, he added, “And by the way, if you went without sex for that long, you’d sue the government for loss of consortium.”

  “You’re probably right,” she retorted thoughtfully before adding, “Brock, be careful. Please. If you aren’t, I’m afraid you’ll scare her.”

  “No, I won’t. She’ll never know what hit her until it’s too late.”

  * * * *

  Mary was sick of this. She paced the floor of her townhome as she glared out the window every few seconds. When Anna arrived, and she would eventually come, Mary planned to give her a piece of her mind.

  On the way home, Mary decided if Anna hadn’t followed her to the sidewalk, Tom might have supplied more information. Instead, Anna bounced outside with a big flirty grin just for Tom. He’d become rigid and distant, refusing to look Mary in the eye.

  Well, when Miss Anna arrived, she was in for a real ass chewing. Afterward, Mary would sit down with Anna and ask her for help. After all, she owed her that much. Tom liked Anna. He might confide in her.

  If Anna wanted to make eyes at Tom, then she could be used for a greater purpose and find out what Tom knew. He was obviously interested, and if Anna wanted to find out something, hell’s fires couldn’t keep her from achieving her goals. She was quite persuasive when she wanted to be, and Mary would convince her why she needed to do this.

  Her happiness depended upon Anna’s compliance.

  About the time Mary started another stroll across the burgundy Oriental runner, her doorbell rang. Right on time. Anna was predictable, if nothing else. Her sister most likely felt some remorse for dragging her out in the first place. She might as well play on that guilt. After she gave her what she really deserved.

  Mary greeted opportunity without a second, or a word, to spare.

  Chapter Three

  “The next time you try and set me up with some hardcore, sexy-as-all-fucking-hell military prick, I swear to God, I’m gonna—”

  “Anna told me how to get here,” Brock interrupted as soon as the door was pushed all the way back.

  “Fuck my life,” Mary muttered, thinking she’d never seen a hotter man than the one in front of her. Even Luke would have a difficult time measuring up to Brock, and that was saying a lot.

  Stop it right now, she thought. She didn’t have the right to gawk at this stranger as if he were a packaged adult delivery for an overnight stay. “This is not happening to me.”

  Brock winked, a devilish grin marking a permanent place on his face. “Prick? Really? Is that the best you can do?”

  She released a troubled sigh. Apparently, he missed the compliment laced through that warm greeting.

  “Why are you here?”

  She saw the attitude coming from a mile away. “I was afraid someone might try to set you up with some hardcore, sexy-as
-all-fucking-hell military prick. I’m here to save you.”

  “From myself?” she asked, meaning she needed all the help she could get since she had the open-mouth-insert-foot concept down to a perfected science.

  “Should I take that to mean you’re interested?”

  “What do you want?” she asked, ignoring his underlying insinuations.

  “An invitation inside would be a nice start.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe because it’s the polite thing to do, especially after you spoke so passionately about me.”

  “The last time a soldier stood in my doorway, he brought bad news with him. Would you invite that into your home, Mr. Taylor?”

  “Depends on what you consider bad news, Mary. And please, call me Brock. We’ll do better in the end if we start out with first names.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You think you could stand my answer?”

  Mary propped her hands on her hips. “Depends. Think you can handle rejection?”

  An impish grin claimed his full mouth. “I’m rarely told no. Now, may I come in or not?”

  She took a deep breath and thought about giving him the two-letter word, something to tarnish that silver ego of his. Instead, she went against her better judgment. “Sure.”

  “Thank you,” he said, stepping right inside the door.

  She narrowed her gaze on Brock’s large frame. A cool gust of air whipped around her and practically knocked the breath out of her. There was something about a sudden wind, the way the air shifted directions without an announcement, without any warning whatsoever, and that made Mary very nervous.

  For the first time in a long time, Mary didn’t trust herself as a woman. She certainly didn’t trust herself with this man.

  Brooding knowledge filled Brock’s eyes. A flash of lust, of pure male heat, washed across his face.

  Mary knew better than to tempt a creature of this magnitude. But for some reason, after the icebreaker, or where she more or less acknowledged she was attracted to this man, Mary couldn’t help herself. Brock Taylor appealed to her, and she was tempted to use him.

  Brock looked like he could handle whatever she had in mind.

  Innocent play never hurt anyone. Besides, when it came right down to it, Mary was only a woman. She had needs, desires she’d recognized but somehow convinced herself she was better off ignoring.

  His gaze rushed over her like a spring rain, fast and quick, a storm that could be missed in a blink, but the repercussions would remain for days thereafter. Her nerve endings were on fire, and she wasn’t sure she could take the scrutiny when he paused at her thighs, swiped his tongue across those thick lips, and waited, something she imagined he could do all night.

  Military men were patient guys. They could stand and watch and bide their time.

  Mary wished for willpower, the strength to tell him to get the hell out, but instead, she stood there. She stared. Mary gaped at a person who had the power to heal or possibly destroy her. Yes, she saw all of that in a fellow she’d only just met.

  Brock reminded her of Luke then. She and Luke shared a reckless love in the early days, and it was undoubtedly love at first sight between them. There had been this chemistry, this undeniable need to get to know one another, as if they’d been in a hurry. And oh goodness, how they’d loved, almost since the first day, the first hour.

  Now, she was thankful for that time she’d spent with Luke. What if she’d resisted him initially? What if she’d defied that natural urgency? How many days, weeks, or even months would they have lost if she’d dismissed their early attraction?

  Mary shivered as she recalled the past. Then, she jerked when Brock’s hand brushed against hers. Was this a second chance? If so, was history repeating itself? And how could she let another man into her life after one soldier already left her in ruins?

  “Are we gonna stand here all night and look at one another?”

  “Are you complaining?” she teased, thinking she’d been dead wrong about him. She first thought she might contain Brock if she didn’t taunt him. Fact was, Brock didn’t need much persuasion, and she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to get to know him.

  “Are you scared?”

  “Me? No,” she replied, aware of how his question caught her off guard.

  “You sure about that, Mary?” he asked, tipping his head to the side, as if he tried to look under the fallen bangs that prevented her eyes from meeting his.

  The smooth way he said her name was like a long-awaited first stroke in the middle of a midnight fuck. She nearly gasped when he pulled her to him and his lips whispered over hers. Right when she started to get lost in the kiss, he backed away.

  Brock was toying with her. She knew he was and quickly questioned his motives. Why would he take such a big risk after what he’d watched on the sidewalks of Beaufort? How could she appeal to him on any level?

  He took a short stroll around the foyer, studying the pictures hanging from the walls, and there were many. Several wedding photos showcased the start of a beautiful marriage, a relationship that was destined to last, but maybe that was fate’s cruelest joke. They were only permitted to live as man and wife for the duration of Luke’s short life, and it wasn’t fair.

  Brock carefully studied each framed image, and in spite of wanting him to go, Mary was curious enough to let him stay. She still couldn’t help but question why he would even want to be there.

  What kind of man marched into her home, the home she’d shared with her dead husband, and seduced someone he barely knew? Why had he casually made contact, and even though it was limited, why had she responded? Why were her knees shaking, her body trembling, and her pussy clenching with immeasurable desire? Who did that to a woman, a soldier’s wife, a widow?

  “I’ve already set my sights on you. Don’t question that. Don’t doubt it. I’m here to follow through, and no one—not even you, Mary—will stand in my way. So if you’re not interested in seeing where this can go tonight, you can stop me right now. But even if you do, I’ll keep coming back. So we can stand around and pretend there’s nothing happening here, or we can get the sex out of the way and go from there.”

  Mary gulped. The way he spoke to her was too familiar and far too sensual for a man who knew nothing of her past and held nothing for her future.

  Then again, she couldn’t help but notice the way she immediately found herself drawn to him. Her nipples were tender and hard. Worse, she wore a thin shirt and lace bra. Her garments did little to conceal her lust. And to make matters worse? He wanted to fuck, get the sex out of the way, as he so eloquently put things.

  What kind of man said such a thing? Definitely one with attitude and confidence, not to mention little regard for the emotions such an act often stirred in women like herself, women who typically didn’t sleep around.

  Copping a smile, he tilted his head toward her chest. “Wanna deny you’re turned on?”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, exasperation thick in her tone.

  Brock inched closer. “Because you’re not stopping me.” Another step. “You don’t want me to stop.” And one more. “I’m doing precisely what you need me to do.”

  Bracketing his arms around her waist, Brock pulled her against him, and their bodies melded together as steadfast as steel. Her breasts mashed against his chest, and he ground against her, wedging the weight of his cock between the juncture in her upper thighs.

  Mary closed her eyes and held onto him, forcing Luke out of her mind, away from this moment. Even then, she felt like an adulteress, a married woman who fell into the wrong man’s arms.

  “Let yourself go, Mary,” Brock whispered, sipping at her earlobe. “Let yourself feel.”

  “I can’t,” she choked out, a cry for more rather than less, a practical fact she couldn’t deny. Her body longed for this, perhaps even a deeper connection, a more satisfying moment. And while she said she couldn’t, denied that she might, her lower half
bumped against him.

  “Shh…” he crooned, working her body from side to side, his hands caressing her back.

  Brock most definitely planned to take what he wanted. He was that kind of man. He had nerves of iron, each of them strewn tightly together with intense arrogance, compliments of the military and the men who proudly represented the red, white, and blue. Special ops were a different breed indeed. Women who loved them often considered them men with special needs. They were often gone for months at a time, and when they came home, they tried to make up for lost time.

  These men probably never processed a potential “no” because they never faced an opposition too great to overcome. Fellows like Brock saw rejection as an invitation to pursue, so they planned their attacks prior to an approach, certain they’d never be turned away.

  A low moan slipped from his lips. “You like being close to me, don’t you, Mary?” Again, he moved with her, dragging her body as he swayed, letting her feel his strength, the rigid length pulsing against her.

  Her sex was hot, pure fire. Her clit was swollen, throbbing.

  “Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, daring her.

  Mary’s heartbeat quickened. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t necessarily want to take the next step, but she damn sure didn’t want this to end yet. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t because you don’t want me to,” he said, nipping at her bottom lip.

  “No, I mean I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can. You are doing this,” he reminded her, running his fingers over an extended nipple protruding through the thin clothing.

  She gasped as the sensations he stirred made her aware of her sex, of the desires she’d pushed aside for far too long.

  “You could come,” he promised, whispering across her lips. “Just like this, Mary. Ride me, sugar.” And with that, he grabbed her hips, hoisted her into his arms and secured her legs around his waist, pressing her back to the wall at the same time. Then, he bumped against her, ground his lower half against her mound, and worked for the release he assured her she could take.