by Anthology
He accepted the bottle with trembling fingers. Here stood a woman who didn’t treat him like he was useless. She asked him for help. He had to clear his throat before he spoke. “Um, yes.”
She grabbed the glasses, sinking down onto a chair beside his. Continuing as if she hadn’t lifted him to the sky, she said, “I did this whole thing because I’m just coming out of a horrible relationship. The whole affair kind of messed my head up. I wanted to, well, climb back in the saddle, so to speak.” She stared off into the distance, her profile revealing a slight bump in the ridge of her nose.
“You broke your nose?”
She jumped and touched her face. Their gazes clashed, hers wide while his narrowed in concentration. She appeared far too delicate to get in a brawl, leaving one despicable option. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“Had mine broken twice.” He turned sideways, displaying his less than perfect profile, and left the champagne perched on his lap. “Mine resulted from a fistfight—both times. Yours?”
She hesitated, opening her mouth to speak, and then closing it. “Remember the bad relationship I mentioned? Well, proof positive.”
He tightened his fists, picturing some unknown bastard holding down the small woman in front of him, beating her. “Where is he? I’ll teach him to try it on someone his own size. Asshole.”
She laughed, her eyes shining, and reached forward to pat his knee. Her touch made him yearn for more. He wanted her fingers all over him. Everywhere.
“He’s in jail. But thanks for offering.”
He gritted his teeth, not satisfied at her answer, and focused on opening the champagne. He’d need it to get through the night with any sense of control.
Tiffany admired the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing while he removed the cork. Damn, but he had the best guns she’d ever seen. When they closed over her, engulfing her in his embrace, she might have to shout from pure joy. Her body thrummed in anticipation of the pleasure he’d give her. She adjusted in her seat, sending a throb of desire through her at the gentle pressure.
God, she ached.
She needed to get him into bed before she burst into flames. Maybe if she gave him a glimpse of her cleavage, it would speed up the process. Leaning toward him, she held the glasses out. Her effort didn’t go unnoticed. When his hot stare brushed over her display, her nipples tightened. Nibbling on her lower lip, she watched his biceps tighten, as he filled the flutes.
She gave him his drink, quaking when his fingers brushed across hers. As he sat back in his chair, he blew out a deep breath. She grinned. Good, this might be easier than she’d thought.
“This is a nice hotel, huh? Castillo Resorts knows how to make an inviting room.”
He took a sip. “Yeah, very pleasant.”
“Must be nicer than the barracks. Or the desert sand.” He tensed at her words, and she bit her lip in indecision. Should she continue talking about the war, or avoid the topic? She’d start small, ask him what his job was. “What is your MOS? My brother’s a mortar man.”
He grimaced, gulping the contents of his flute in one swallow.
Sensitive subject? Yes.
“I’m nothing anymore. I was a sniper.”
“Are you out now, because of your injury?” When he refilled his glass, she held her own out and watched him from under her eyelashes. She’d barely consumed enough to warrant the gesture, but why the heck not?
Anything to make the wait pass faster.
“I’m not out yet. There’s a chance in hell I might be able to walk again. A grenade went off, shattering the femur in one leg and the kneecap in the other.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” She leaned forward, her heart wrenching at the shadows creeping over his expression. If only she could chase them all away.
“Yeah, thanks. I guess.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. He wouldn’t want her condolences. Or pity. Then again, men rarely did. “If I can somehow heal, I may be good enough to sit behind a desk. I’m sure I won’t return to my former duties.”
“I wish you luck. Thank God you survived,” she breathed. “You must be grateful to have made it through. Not many men survive such a blast.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Grateful to lose my career? About the possibility that I might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life? Or that I lost my fiancée and will die alone, a miserable old man?” He scrunched his nose, starring at the bubbles in the champagne. He lifted his head, surprise flitting over his face. “Yeah, not sure grateful is the word I’d use. Sometimes, I even wish it had hit a bit higher. Why the hell am I telling you this? I’ve never told anyone any of this before, but it’s fucking true.”
“Don’t say that!” She placed her flute on the table before kneeling at his feet. Resting both palms on his thighs, she clasped them. “If your fiancée left you, she’s a fool. I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but even I can see that you’re a good man. If she’s so shallow she can’t handle a few scars, she needs to go to hell and burn over a roasting fire.”
“I agree.” His lips quirked.
The thought of some unfeeling bitch leaving him alone made anger rush through her, heating her blood. She craved to punch her in the nose. “Nope, that’s not good enough. Where is she? I’ll kick her ass.”
He snorted at the same time as he took a sip of champagne. It spewed out, spraying all over her chest. His hand covered his mouth, but he ruined the effect by bursting into laughter.
“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry. But if you could have seen the way you looked at me,” he managed through his laughter. He lost it again, doubling over in renewed merriment. Seeing him so happy, so carefree, made her lips twitch into a smile as well. “You’re so small, and dainty, but you looked ready to track her down and beat her to death. Maybe you should enlist in the Marines.”
“Hell no. Army brat all the way.”
“Blasphemy,” he said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “God, Tiffany, I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. Or at all.”
Their gazes collided and they both froze. An invisible pull, some indescribable magnet, pulled them closer, even as it built up tension. Her stomach clenched, and her body tingled from head to toe. The man’s ability to weaken her with desire was laughable. If he made her this hot before trying, imagine what he’d be like in the bed. Or on the floor.
“Then it’s been too long.” She rose to her feet, ready to get things moving. She had the perfect excuse. Knees wobbling, she turned her back to him, slanting a coy look over her shoulder. “Can you unbutton me? I want to get out of this wet dress.”
He swallowed hard, set his champagne down next to hers, and wiped his palm on his jeans. Reaching out, he parted her dress one button at a time. His fingers brushed against her skin with each movement, making her bite back a moan. Her legs grew even weaker, her knees shaking. How much longer would she be able to remain standing?
When he reached the last button, right above her butt, she took a steadying breath, shrugged her shoulders free, and allowed the dress to float to her feet. He drew in a harsh breath behind her. She turned to him, her red lace panties and matching bra her only clothing. She kicked her sandals off, paused—dare she be so brave?—and slid onto his lap.
She didn’t tend to act so boldly, but damn, she needed him now. Not because it had been six months since she’d been laid. Not because she’d had a few glasses of champagne. No, she needed him now because of…well…him. From the moment she’d seen him, she’d craved him.
She met his eyes, running her fingers down the arms she’d been admiring from afar all night long. “Excuse my forwardness, but I can’t wait any longer to have you.” His erection probed her inner thighs. She pressed down and rotated her hips. “I don’t think you disagree.”
“Hell, no,” he whispered. He buried his fingers in her hair, guiding her lips to his. When his mouth touched hers, all fire and hell broke loose. She moaned, her stomac
h lurching at the simple contact. He pulled away, looking at her in amazement. “Holy shit, I think you might kill me tonight. Who would have thought a kiss could feel so good?”
“Not a chance in hell I’m letting you away from me so easy.” Grasping his shoulders, she crushed his lips beneath hers. He groaned, pulling her closer until her breasts brushed against his hard chest. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she met it readily while pressing her throbbing nipples against him. She shook at the force of her desire, at the need consuming her with each stroke of his skilled tongue.
His fingers moved down from her nape, and she wriggled in anticipation. When his palms cupped her breasts, she whimpered and pressed closer. Her taut peaks begged to be stroked, demanded attention. She pulled away from his intoxicating kiss, reached down to the hem of his shirt, and ripped it over his head. She gasped at the sight of his flawlessness. The chiseled chest. And defined abdomen.
Holy Crap. So this is what a six-pack looks like.
She’d have to remember to thank God later for creating a man like him.
“You’re perfect,” she managed through the lust engulfing her senses. His eyes darkened and he positioned her so she straddled him. As he rolled them into the bedroom, she leaned closer and nibbled on his earlobe. His throaty moan only made her want him even more, and she bit down before licking the sting away.
She touched him everywhere she could manage. His torso, his shoulders. She stroked the strong curve of his arm before trailing down his chest to toy with his nipples. He groaned and arched his back, allowing her better access to all the things she yearned to reach. She squeezed his biceps, enjoying their flexing as he maneuvered them about the room. When he reached the side of the bed, he growled and dug his fingers into her hair, plundering her mouth.
Clinging to his arms, she writhed, eager to experience more of him. Everywhere. His hands inched from her hair, down her shoulders, and over the top of her breasts, she thought she could explode from his touch. But, nothing prepared her for the assault of emotions that encompassed her when he tore his mouth from hers and kissed the swell of her bosom.
A peck, nothing that should have heated her blood and set her pulse racing. Even knowing this, she clung to him while he kissed his way over her left breast, into her cleavage, before focusing on the right breast. Eager to remove the obstacle, she reached behind her, but he halted her, capturing her palm in his.
“No, I’ll do it.” He flipped her onto her belly, leaving her face pressed onto the mattress. He massaged her lower back, creeping upward at a snail’s pace that both delighted and pissed her off. Every nerve in her body screamed for completion. Demanded it now.
He reached and unclasped her bra, and pulled her up by her arms. He dragged her until her bare back met his chest. His erection jutted against her butt, and she pressed against it as he cupped her breasts. This time, no annoying fabric barred his way. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and bit down on her neck from behind.
Crying out, she arched her back, reaching behind to clasp his head while he tortured her. His palms moved from the peaks of her breasts, trailed down her stomach, leaving her hollow and empty, before he caressed the line of her panties. From there, he spun her around in his chair, so his erection rested against her moist heat. His lips captured hers once more and she wished their clothes were no longer in the way.
Breaking free of his intoxicating kiss, she panted and groaned, “I need you, now.”
He laughed, and nibbled on her shoulder. He pressed onward, licking her skin until he reached her ear. “Are you ready for me?”
“Oh, God, yes.” He released his hold on her hair and melded his mouth to hers.
He nibbled on the base of her throat. “Hmm. You might be ready. There’s one way to know for sure, though.” His lips closed around her left nipple as he slipped his finger inside her panties. She dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering with need as he lavished attention upon her without mercy. He moved on to her other nipple while her hips undulated. His breathing came denser, matching hers, until he laid her back on the bed.
Her hips rested on the edge, and he tore her panties off in his haste to bare her. The look on his face as his gaze crept over her naked body made her blush. She felt vulnerable. Shy, even.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His fingers caressing her inner thighs, he moved his palms under her buttocks to raise her to his lips. The backs of her knees rested on his shoulders, and she hooked her ankles behind his head. “I have to taste you.”
All bashfulness fled, leaving her quivering when his hot breath heated her aching flesh. It served to arouse her more. When his tongue touched her, she bucked against his hold. He held her still, using his upper body strength to keep her where he wanted her. Her nails scraped his forearms, seeking something solid to hold onto. The blood rushed out of her head at her awkward position, but somehow pooled at the center of her thighs.
Her entire body tensed, pulling tight, and her legs turned to jelly as she burst into pieces.
He cursed as he fumbled for his zipper. Ripping open a condom wrapper, he rolled it on, picked her up, and impaled her in one stroke by lowering her upon his lap. When he filled her, her body tightened around his, on the brink of another orgasm. He gripped her hips as he raised her up, almost withdrawing, before crashing her back down until he’d buried himself inside of her.
She melded her mouth to his, tasting the essence of her arousal on his tongue. They strained against each other, up, down, in, out, until, with a shout, he plunged into her for one final thrust. She cried out, tensed, and climaxed a second time before collapsing against his chest. His hands rose from her back. He hesitated and then crushed her to his chest.
So, he managed to give her the best climax of her life, and made her feel special afterward?
She wished she could keep him.
Forever.
Chapter Three
Holy fucking hell.
Who’d have guessed he’d still have those moves in him. He’d been a bit frightened of how well he’d perform, being stuck in a chair, yet he’d done just fine. More than satisfactory, if the trembling woman resting on his chest gave any indication.
Smirking, his arms tightened around her. Every breathy moan, every whimper, and every writhing movement she’d made played across his closed lids. His heart quickened as he pictured all the ways he could satisfy her, enthusiastic to try a few more out. Though his heart had been flying moments before, it slammed to the ground as he remembered he might not get the chance. He had tonight, and only tonight, to pleasure her. Afterwards, she’d strut out of his life, never to be seen or heard from again.
After an explosive session of sex like they’d just shared? No, it didn’t sit right. He needed to know more about her. Had to find out every little detail he could manage before the sun rose.
“What do you do?”
She leaned back, frowning. “What do you mean, what do I do?”
“For a living,” he explained. “What’s your occupation?”
“Oh.” She frowned even more, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Nothing too exciting. I’m a therapist.”
His heart skittered to a stop. He cringed as he pictured the ugly woman who asked him endless questions about his feelings every week. She was one of those people? No way. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Why would I be joking?” She cocked her head to the side. “Do I not look the part?”
“It’s not that.” His mouth dried out. He felt as if his tongue were a big cotton ball—trying to choke him. “Please tell me you don’t work with…people like me.”
“People like you? You mean PTSD? Or crippled people?” She asked. “And why would it matter if I did?”
“Because if you did, I’m nothing more than a pity fuck to you. And if you work with people like me, you’re analyzing every move I make.”
“Paranoid, much?” she scoffed. She crossed her arms across her chest, br
ows raised. “I think I made it clear there’s no sympathy at play here.”
“That’s what you said, yes.”
“Are you insinuating I’m a liar?”
When her body tensed in his arms, he cursed his harsh temper. “Hell. No, no. I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be…a…therapist.” The last word, seeming to have a mind of its own, came out sounding more like an insult than an occupation.
His tone did nothing to improve her sullen expression. “What did you think I would be?”
Shrugging, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. A kindergarten teacher?”
“Pfft. No way.”
Ready to move on from his momentary blunder, he continued, “Where do you work?”
She hesitated, scrunching her nose. “I don’t think you want to know, judging from your reaction.”
“Fuck, it’s on base or something, isn’t it?” An image of him wheeling into the office, surrounded by men who were ten times more virile than he—with working legs—flashed before him, making him feel small and insignificant. Like a fly on her desk.
“Camp Pendleton.” He had to strain to hear her. But he couldn’t mistake her words. His worst nightmare had come true.
“Shit!”
“Okay, I think you’ve covered all of the common curses in the space of one minute. I promise, if I see you there, I’ll pretend not to know you. No one will ever find out you slummed so low as to bang a therapist. Or, worse, a messed up one who doesn’t know how to handle her life.” She hopped off his lap, bending down to retrieve her panties. Holding them up to the light, she grimaced and tossed them to the side. “But you owe me a pair of panties. I just bought those for tonight.”
Pride filled him at her words, making his chest swell. How many had she packed? Would he be treated to another mouth-watering ensemble? He pushed the images aside, following her as she stalked, bare-naked, out of the room. Her curves taunted him, making his fingers twitch from the need to stroke her again. His footrest hit the wall he hadn’t even noticed because he’d been so distracted by the sight of her delicious bottom swaying with each graceful step she took.