by Marie Harte
They reached the table just in time to catch the tail end of Max’s remark. “Burning house, definitely,” the blond man was saying. “I’d rather go up in flames while I’m coming. In the shark scenario, there’s a chance one of those fuckers might jump on the boat and bite my dingdong off.”
The other men dissolved in laughter, while the blonde next to Max nodded in approval. “Good choice,” she told him, snuggling closer. “I’m a big fan of your dingdong. Wouldn’t want to see it get mangled.”
To Shane’s dismay, Jill flopped down next to Duke and raised a curious eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what you guys are talking about?”
“It’s just this game we play,” Hunter explained. “Sort of like Would You Rather.”
“What’s it called?” she asked.
Duke spoke up helpfully. “Would You Rather Fuck.”
She released a melodic laugh that made Shane’s entire body ache. Christ, he loved her laugh. But hearing it directed at Duke triggered a rush of resentment. Was she really considering hooking up with the guy?
From the looks of it, yes. She was sitting so close to Duke that their thighs were touching. And then she leaned even closer, her lips curved in a sexy smile as she said, “Okay, play another round. I want to see how it’s done.”
Shane sank into the empty chair on the other side of the table, next to Max and right across from Jill.
“It’s Lancelot’s turn,” Duke told her. “And LT answered last, so he gets to be the scenario person. Yo, dude, head in the game.”
Lancelot, who’d been locking lips with the girl in his lap, lifted his head with a wink. “Hit me,” he said.
Max mulled it over for a moment. “Okay…would you rather fuck…in the middle of a prison yard—you’d be doing a hot female guard, but expect to be anally invaded by at least one of the inmates after you’re done. Maybe two.”
Lancelot’s date gasped. The others at the table just snickered.
“Or…on the dining room table during Thanksgiving dinner—in front of your whole family. That includes your parents and sweet old Nana Wright.”
“Shit,” Hunter blurted out. “That’s a tough one.”
“Are you serious? Easy peasy,” Lancelot drawled. “Thanksgiving dinner, no question.”
Jill laughed again, and the sound went straight to Shane’s cock. He’d successfully avoided temptation in San Diego, and now it was back and stronger than ever. Lord, he could even smell her from across the table, that amazing orange-blossom scent that had suffused his bloodstream two weeks ago.
“Really?” Duke demanded. “You’d traumatize your family like that? Harsh, brother.”
“Yeah, justify that one,” Max ordered.
“My family would be traumatized, but they’d get over it eventually. My butt, on the other hand? It’d never recover.” Lancelot’s expression filled with horror. “Have you seen some of those dudes in prison? They’re huge mofos! They’d tear me apart.”
Duke turned to Jill and said, “That’s how it’s played.”
“Oh, and if someone comes up with a scenario that you’ve actually done?” Hunter chimed in. “Means you pay for everyone’s drinks.”
Jill looked fascinated. “You’re telling me you guys have actually done some of those crazy scenarios?”
“You’d be surprised.” Hunter let out a glum breath. “Someone threw an elevator curveball at me last year and I was out four hundred bucks.”
“Elevator sex isn’t that crazy,” Jill pointed out, and damned if that didn’t get Shane hard all over again.
Max chortled. “It is when there’s someone else in the elevator with you.”
Her jaw fell open as she turned to Hunter. “Really?”
“The guy was plastered,” Hunter protested. “He had no idea what was happening behind him.”
The sound of microphone feedback screeched in the air, and everyone glanced to the stage, where the band was ready to start the second half of their set. They’d been playing fast-paced songs all night, tunes the boys could chant and stomp their feet to, but to Shane’s chagrin, the band kicked off the new set with a rock ballad. Guns N’ Roses.
Shane’s shoulders went rigid as he saw Duke whisper something to Jill. He couldn’t hear them over the music, but Jill nodded in reply, and then she and Duke rose from their seats.
Son of a bitch.
She was going to dance with the guy?
Shane’s jaw tensed as the two of them headed for the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage. When he turned back, he noticed Hunter watching him with a knowing smile.
“He’s doing it to fuck with you, Senior. You know that, right?”
Shane scowled at the younger man. “Donovan’s not that calculated. He thinks with his dick, always has.”
“Yeah, but he lives by a code. Duke would never go after a teammate’s girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“But you want her to be.” Hunter smirked. “And she wants it, too.”
Max tossed in his unwanted two cents. “Oh yeah, she definitely wants it, Senior. You should’ve seen the disappointment on her face when she showed up and thought you weren’t here.”
Hearing that induced a rush of guilt. Fuck. He knew damn well that Jill had come here for him, and instead of welcoming her tonight, he’d announced to everyone that she wasn’t his girlfriend, and then reiterated just how not interested he was.
His gaze strayed to the dance floor again, where Duke had wasted no time pulling Jill into his arms. The younger man’s hands rested on her lower back in a possessive grip, and when Jill wrapped her arms around Duke’s neck, Shane’s chest went taut with displeasure. Donovan was a good-looking guy, no denying that. Shane had seen countless women throw themselves at the soldier.
Clearly Jill was no exception.
“He wouldn’t shut up about it after she called,” Hunter added meaningfully. “He was thrilled when he thought you were back in the game.”
Tension continued to wreak havoc on Shane’s body. “My love life is not a game,” he said curtly.
“No, but…” Max spoke in a careful tone. “We know how hard it’s been for you since, um, Alana died.”
His heart clenched as if an electric current had run through it. All of his teammates had met his wife at one time or another, but he and Alana hadn’t spent much time with the team, and the men rarely brought up her name these days. He’d thought he’d done a decent job hiding the soul-crushing anguish he’d been plagued with since her death, but evidently the boys were more intuitive than he gave them credit for.
“Look, we know you’ve been with other chicks,” Hunter said. “I mean, we’ve seen you leave this bar with a bunch of them. But this one is different.” He glanced at the dancing couple. “She doesn’t seem like the usual navy groupie.”
Shane nodded. “She’s not.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Hunter shrugged. “But don’t get pissed at Duke. He’s worried about you. We all are.”
Yeah? Because Donovan didn’t look the slightest bit worried at the moment. He was too busy grinding up against Jill’s delectable body, and his hands were taking too many liberties for Shane’s liking. When they drifted lower, right over the sexy curve of her ass, Shane’s shoulders went full-blown Robocop on him and his own hands curled into tight fists.
Next to him, Max chuckled. “If you keep looking at them like that, the cops might show up and arrest you for eye-murder.”
Shane relaxed his fists and reached for his beer. He took a quick sip, but the alcohol did nothing to relieve the tension.
“It’s obvious you like her, Senior,” Hunter said with a grin. “You should go and cut in.”
And what, press up against Jill’s curves? Feel the warmth of her body searing through his clothes? Christ. He wouldn’t last a second. He’d throw her over his shoulder and take her straight to bed.
“Come on, Senior,” Max cajoled. “You know you want to
.”
Fucking hell. He knew the boys cared about him, but the last thing he needed was them poking their noses into his sex life. He was happy with the rules he’d set for himself. No strings, no attachments, no broken hearts.
But…goddamn it, how was the song still going on? Fucking G N’ R and their ten-minute-long tracks. And Jill and Duke were laughing now, their faces close together, lips nearly touching.
The sight unleashed a possessive urge that had him shooting to his feet.
Max and Hunter chuckled.
He ignored them. His surroundings had dissolved. His entire universe had been reduced to one thing. Jill. And Duke. And Duke’s motherfucking hands stroking the top of Jill’s ass.
Shane reached the couple’s side before he knew it. “I’m cutting in,” he snapped. “Beat it, Donovan.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other man darted off like his ass was on fire, but not before Shane glimpsed the victorious gleam in his eyes. Son of a bitch. Hunter had been right. Duke had done this for the sole purpose of spurring Shane to action he’d desperately wanted to avoid.
“What are you doing?” Jill wrinkled her forehead at his sudden appearance.
“Dancing with you.” He swiftly stepped in and took Duke’s place, roughly planting his hands on her hips.
She froze for a moment, then relaxed and placed her hands on his shoulders, but wariness continued to flit through her expression. The song changed abruptly, the singer now belting out a rock anthem that had the whole bar singing along, but Shane didn’t alter the pace. He kept it slow, his lower body brushing Jill’s as they moved together.
“I don’t understand you at all,” she murmured. “What, you got jealous and suddenly you want me again?”
“I never stopped wanting you, sweetheart.”
She studied his face. “No?”
“God, no.” He brought his head close to her ear, cursing himself for what he was about to say, yet unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “One night.”
She peered up at him, the crease in her forehead deepening. “What?”
He exhaled slowly. “If you still want me, and if you’re willing to forgive me for being such an ass, then come home with me tonight. But it’ll only be one night, Jill. I can’t offer you anything more than that.”
Indignation pinched her lips. “Gee, I’m so honored that you’d even consider bestowing such a magical gift on me. One night with Shane Heron.” Sarcasm oozed from her tone. “Oh my gosh. I feel like I’ve just been handed the Holy Grail.”
Her hands dropped from his shoulders, but he tightened his grip on her waist, refusing to let her storm off. “It’s all I’m capable of giving, okay? I want you so fucking bad I can’t think straight, but I know myself. I know what I want, what I’m cut out for, and it’s not a relationship. Not a serious one or a casual one or anything that lasts more than a night.” He shook his head in frustration. “If you can live with that, then let’s get out of here right now. We’ll go back to my place, rip each other’s clothes off, and rock each other’s worlds all night long.”
The anger she’d displayed a moment ago vanished as she went silent. He could see her brain working to absorb what he’d said. He could see her vacillating as she chewed on her bottom lip.
Shane waited. He didn’t want to push her, but he couldn’t stop himself from grazing a light caress over her tailbone. Fuck, he wanted to touch more than her back. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him. Wanted to run his hands over every inch of her soft, curvy body.
Her eyes widened slightly, and he knew she could see the raw, uncurbed desire etched into his face.
“Okay.” She took a breath, then spoke again, her voice low and throaty. “I think I can live with that.”
Chapter Five
‡
JUST LIKE THE last time she’d been in a car with Shane, the ever-present discomfort Jill usually felt in a vehicle was muffled by the sexual excitement pulsing in her veins. They’d left the bar immediately after the dance, but neither of them said much during the drive. She was too turned on to talk, and too busy second-guessing her easy acceptance of Shane’s ground rules.
One night. He’d been so damn adamant about it, and a part of her was insulted that he was so certain he’d never want to see her again after tonight. But she’d agreed because…well, because she wanted him, damn it. She’d wanted him from the moment they’d met, and if she only got to have him for one night, then fine, she supposed she could live with that.
It was a five-minute drive from the bar to Shane’s house, a modest detached home in the military housing area near the naval base. Jill stared at the house’s neat front lawn and pale blue shutters, surprised by how homey it looked.
Shane killed the engine and slipped out of the car without a word, rounding the SUV to open her door for her. Which was ridiculously sweet of him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the company of a man who knew the meaning of chivalry.
However, when they walked into his living room a minute later, her chivalrous door-opening knight transformed into someone entirely different.
“Take off your clothes before I rip them off you.” His voice was deep and growly.
“What, you’re not going to offer me a drink first?”
“Sure, I’ll offer you a drink—after you take your clothes off.”
He flashed a cocky, filthy grin, and Jill’s body promptly broke out in shivers. God, he had the sexiest smile on the planet. And his camo pants and tight green T-shirt gave him a badass military vibe that made her heart pound. All that was missing was the dog tags. And oh boy, what an image that made. Shane Heron, wearing nothing but dog tags.
“How about this?” she countered. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
She wiggled her eyebrows, which earned her a chuckle, low and raspy and sexy as fuck.
“Deal,” he agreed.
“Good. You fir—”
His hands tugged on the collar of his shirt before she’d even finished talking.
When his chest was revealed, it was like someone had shoved a wad of cotton balls into Jill’s mouth. She couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. Sheer masculine perfection assaulted her vision. Defined pecs, tight abs, muscles honed not in a gym, but from pure, grade-A ass-kicking. His chest had a dusting of dark hair that narrowed into a treasure trail, and now her mouth filled with saliva, her tongue itching to lick that line of hair all the way down to where it disappeared into his waistband.
“Your turn,” Shane said mockingly.
She snapped out of her ogle fest, her fingers trembling with impatience as she peeled her sweater over her head. That left her in a nude-colored bra, the material so thin that her puckered nipples were practically poking through.
Shane’s blue eyes smoldered as he admired her cleavage. She knew she was kind of chesty for her slender frame, and since she’d had too many lovers question her proportions, she offered a preemptive wink and said, “They’re real.”
“Hmmm. Yeah?” He slanted his head. “I think I’ll have to judge for myself. Can’t take anyone’s word these days, you know.”
He followed through with the wicked threat, approaching her with predatory strides. Her breath got stuck in her throat when he cupped her over her bra. His hands were big, warm, completely in control as they squeezed her aching breasts.
“Definitely real.” He nodded in approval, the corners of his mouth curving.
Another gentle squeeze, and a bolt of pleasure zipped right to her core, followed by a flurry of shivers that broke out on her skin when he teased her nipples through her bra.
“This is getting in my way,” he grumbled, then deftly unsnapped the bra’s front clasp. His expression damn near incinerated the room when her breasts were exposed. “Jesus. You’re fucking incredible.”
His thumbs swept over the swells of her breasts, stroking, teasing. His mouth didn’t join in, and his fingers didn’t touch her nipples again, and Jill mo
aned in frustration as those callused fingertips caressed her feverish flesh, avoiding all the areas that were aching for his touch. Her nipples were hard as icicles and tingling as wildly as her clit, but the infuriating man continued to avoid them, now exploring the undersides of her breasts.
“More,” she blurted out.
“Aww, you want me to suck on these pretty tits, sweetheart?”
The graphic words made her shudder. “Yes.”
“How bad do you want it?”
Oh, sweet mother of God. She hadn’t known what to expect from this man. He was so serious most of the time that she’d assumed he’d clam up in the bedroom, too. Maybe grunt a lot. But no, he was a talker. He was a wonderful, filthy talker. And she fucking loved it.
His fingertips tickled the sides of her breasts, and she fought another moan. “Bad enough that if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll kick you in the balls.”
“Hey, hey,” he chided. “Don’t go bringing my balls into this. Now ask me nicely.”
When he dragged a finger down the valley between her breasts, she lost the ability to think. “Ask you what?”
“To put my mouth on your breasts.”
Rough fingertips traced her areola, inducing another brain failure. “Ah…um…” She struggled to formulate words. “Shane…please…” She squeaked when he suddenly pinched both nipples. “Oh God, please. Put your mouth on my breasts.”
“Okay.” The acquiescence was swift, unexpected, and then he dipped his head and captured one nipple between his lips.
Jill’s knees buckled, and she grabbed the back of his head to steady herself, a motion that also achieved bringing his mouth closer. He sucked hard on the distended bud, and stars filled her field of vision. The moan she’d been holding slipped out, echoed by a husky one from Shane that vibrated in her breast and spiraled to her core.
With his hot mouth still latched on her nipple, he slid a hand down her belly to undo her jeans. A wave of urgency swelled inside her, and she hurriedly helped him, kicking her legs out of her jeans, shimmying out of her panties as he continued to tongue her nipple like he had all the time in the world. She, on the other hand, had turned into a ball of impatience. He still had his pants on, damn it. Why wasn’t he naked?