She’d daydreamed that her letters would cheer him up and provide him comfort. In her imaginings, Matt Talbot hunkered down in a fighting hole, weary from a day of heavy combat. He would sit with his back braced against his rucksack and pull her letters out to reread them, and they would bring a smile to his face. In that first letter, she had included a photo and had provided both her personal e-mail and mailing addresses, just in case he wanted to write back.
His first e-mail had arrived the day he received that care package. The message had been brief, but warm. He told her how much he’d enjoyed receiving her box of goodies, and that he hoped she would send more. They’d begun a correspondence that had lasted nearly six months, and Megan had sent him something—a postcard, a letter, a book, a DVD or a care package—every few days.
Before long, she’d begun to anticipate his letters and e-mails, and she replayed their infrequent phone conversations over and over again in her head, recalling the timbre of his voice and the way he laughed, low and warm. She’d found him incredibly easy to talk to and even easier to listen to. There was a connection between them that couldn’t be denied.
As the weeks passed, their letters had become increasingly personal, and although Megan had initially been afraid of revealing too much about herself, he hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d encouraged her. Megan knew she wasn’t imagining the bond she felt with this man. Maybe she shouldn’t have such strong emotions for a guy she’d never even met, but if the correspondence and phone calls they’d shared over the past several months had made her realize just one thing, it was that she wanted him. Badly.
She hadn’t been in a physical relationship with anyone for nearly two years—not since she’d moved to Massachusetts—and part of her acknowledged that her body craved sex. She rarely went out on the weekends, and the sole time she’d engaged in a one-night stand, she’d been left feeling so guilt-ridden that she’d promised herself never to repeat the experience. When she wasn’t at the elementary school, she spent most of her time driving to Maine to visit her family or just reading and watching movies.
But her desire for Matt went deeper than just a physical longing. At twenty-six, she was ready for a serious relationship, and it seemed that Matt wanted the same thing. They had a lot in common, from their schoolteacher mothers to their love of the ocean, to their dislike of the Yankees and any food containing the word sprouts. More than that, he made her laugh.
His last phone call had come just three weeks ago. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his voice, deep and sexy, laughing as the delay in the overseas connection caused them both to speak at the same time.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you—I mean really seeing you when I get home,” he’d said, his voice curling warmly through her. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re as gorgeous in person as you are in your photos.”
“What if you’re disappointed?” she’d asked, chewing her lip.
He’d laughed, low and husky. “Not a chance. Besides, my mom confirmed it.”
Eek! He’d talked to his mother—her boss—about her? How much had he shared? “Confirmed what?”
“What I already knew, that you’re smart and beautiful. And I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
His voice was sincere, lacking any trace of lewdness or sexual suggestion. That had been the clincher for Megan. For the past several months she’d fantasized about having sex with Matt Talbot. There was no doubt in her mind that when they did finally come together, the sex would be off-the-charts sensational, but it had been his quiet sincerity about getting to know her that had sealed the deal.
She hadn’t let herself think too much about what he did for a living; couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a sniper. She had to remind herself that the men he shot weren’t innocent villagers. They were terrorists, plain and simple. They were armed to the teeth and had only one intent: to kill Americans. If men like Matt weren’t there to eliminate them, God only knew how many soldiers would die as a result.
But she did worry that eventually the burden of his actions might be too much for him to bear. Although Matt brushed her concern for him away, she wasn’t naive enough to think the job didn’t take a huge toll on him, both mentally and physically. She’d told him countless times that he could talk to her about it; he could talk to her about anything. But he’d insisted he was fine and she’d had no choice but to accept that. She was just relieved that during the course of three tours he hadn’t been injured, or worse.
Now he was finally coming home, but with two weeks of active duty left, he would remain at Camp Pendleton in California until his release date. Megan had been frustrated and disappointed to learn he wouldn’t immediately return to the east coast. She didn’t want to wait a month to see him. She needed to know if he came even a tiny bit close to the image she’d woven of him in her mind.
When he’d asked her to spend a weekend with him in California, she hadn’t hesitated to agree. School would be out for the summer and although she’d hoped to do some traveling, she’d much rather be with Matt. He’d paid for her airfare and now here she was, standing on a private balcony at the lavishly expensive Serafino Hotel, in a palatial suite of rooms overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The sun was dropping on the horizon, turning the skies and the waters below to an iridescent wash of gold, pink and blue. The scene was breathtaking.
And Matt Talbot was late.
Turning away from the sunset, Megan stepped back into the room and glanced for the hundredth time at her watch. He should have been here over an hour ago. He’d said he’d be off duty at six o’clock, and here it was almost seven-thirty. Surely he would have called or left a message with the concierge if he was going to be late. Wouldn’t he?
Not for the first time, Megan wondered if perhaps he’d had a change of heart. Maybe now that he was back in the States, he’d realized he could have any woman he chose. Maybe he’d decided he had better things to do with his time than spend it with her. Or maybe he’d gotten cold feet about spending the weekend with a complete stranger. That she could understand, since her own stomach was a knot of anxiety about the prospect of finally meeting him.
Needing a distraction, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. The soft music piped in from the main living area soothed her frazzled nerves. She rebrushed her teeth, smoothed some lip balm over her mouth and then critically surveyed her appearance in the ornate mirror over the double vanity.
She’d opted for a sleeveless white baby-doll dress that hugged her breasts and floated around her thighs. She’d paired it with a simple necklace of strung shells and pearls, and a pair of strappy sandals. Despite the fact it was still early summer, she’d already acquired a light tan. She knew she looked good, so why did she feel so nervous and self-conscious?
Leaning over the marble vanity, she combed her fingers through her hair, letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders. Would Matt approve? In his letters, he’d said that he liked her hair when it was down, so that’s how she’d worn it. Blowing out a hard breath, she turned and opened the bathroom door, and stopped in her tracks.
A man stood with his back to her in the open doorway of the balcony, silhouetted against the brilliant backdrop of sunset and sea, and for a moment Megan found it hard to breathe.
He was tall and starkly male, with broad shoulders and lean hips. Beneath his T-shirt, the muscles in his arms were clearly evident as he braced his hands on the railing of the balcony. A glance took in his camo pants and boots and the military duffel bag on the floor just inside the door.
For a moment, Megan couldn’t move. She just stood there and drank in the sight of him. He was bigger than she had imagined.
More imposing and masculine.
Then he turned around, and Megan stopped breathing altogether. The photos she’d seen of Matt Talbot hadn’t done him justice.
Not even close.
They’d failed to capture the sheer energy that vibrated from him. Her first thought
was that the guy could have been cast from bronze, from his golden skin and sun-streaked hair to the powerfully muscled physique evident beneath the T-shirt. Only the stark white bandage over his left ear gave her pause, oddly out of place with the vitality that he radiated. A dark bruise marred his cheekbone, and she took a step closer, intending to ask how he’d been injured.
Then she looked into his eyes and was lost.
They were a shade of sea-green so light and pure that they seemed to glow in his tanned face. In the same instant, Megan realized he wasn’t quite the specimen of good health that he’d initially appeared. Up close, she could see faint shadows beneath his eyes, and lines of fatigue were etched on either side of his mouth. Clearly, he was exhausted.
He watched her now with an intensity that caused Megan’s stomach to do an odd flip-flop, and her heart exploded into a frenzied rhythm.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said inanely, feeling foolish. She’d rehearsed this moment in her head so many times, yet the best she could do was stand there and stare stupidly at him.
“Yeah,” he said, his gaze so unwavering that her knees began to tremble. “I knocked, but I guess you were in the bathroom. I used my room key to get in.”
His voice was deep and warm, sliding over her senses. Then he smiled and Megan’s stomach did a slow, inverted roll and her equilibrium shifted. She reached out a hand to steady herself. In an instant he was there beside her with a hand at her elbow.
“Hey, you okay?”
Megan refocused and found herself staring directly into his eyes and realized they really were a clear, unsullied green, the same shade as the pale beach glass she’d collected as a child. His pupils seemed suspended in the brilliance of his irises, and Megan shivered as he swept his gaze over her.
“You have beautiful eyes,” she blurted.
He laughed softly, a warm, husky sound that washed over her and seeped into her skin, making her long to hear more. Her own physical response to Matt alarmed her. She’d fallen for him based on his letters and their infrequent telephone conversations, and while she’d known he was good-looking, she hadn’t counted on the overwhelming attraction she now felt. Everything about the guy appealed to her, from the expression in his eyes to the warm timbre of his voice, to the raw masculinity that oozed from every pore of his body. She’d never had such an irresistible desire to touch anyone the way she wanted to touch him, and she fisted her hands at her sides to keep from acting on the impulse.
“What did you do to your head?” She spoke quickly to hide her nervousness, and her voice sounded high and breathless, even to her own ears. Could he tell she was a bundle of nerves? She cleared her throat and strove for a normal tone. “Are you okay?”
Reaching up, he briefly touched the bandage. “Yeah, I’m good. I got lucky.”
Megan didn’t miss how his eyes darkened in recollection. “What happened?”
“I took a hit to the back of my helmet.” As if unable to help himself, he reached out and stroked a finger along the skin of her arm, seemingly mesmerized by the texture. “But I’m okay now.”
Megan stared at him in horror. “What do you mean—you got hit in the back of the head?”
He looked at her, and a muscle worked in his cheek. “A bullet hit the back of my helmet, but was deflected by the armored shell. It penetrated just above my ear. Thankfully, it was mostly spent. It grazed the side of my head, but didn’t do any real damage.” He laughed softly. “Except for a bitch of a headache that lasted three days.”
Megan knew she was staring at him in horror, but she couldn’t help herself. “When did this happen?”
“Four days before we left Iraq.” He tipped his head down and searched her eyes, and Megan saw the amusement fade into concern. “Hey, I’m okay. It wasn’t my time.”
Still, Megan couldn’t dispel the image she had in her head of Matt, lying facedown on the ground with a hole in the back of his helmet and a growing pool of blood beneath his head. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Matt’s arms came around her, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful to Megan. He smelled good, like soap and something minty. She breathed in his scent, savoring the feel of him, still a little in awe that he was really there, with her. Her arms tightened around him and she buried her face against his neck.
They stood that way for several long moments, until Megan slowly became aware that they were pressed together from shoulders to knees. Her arms were wound around his neck and her fingers clung to the strong contours of his shoulders. Her breasts were crushed against him, and his hands were stroking along her spine. His breathing had changed and Megan felt the unmistakable thrust of his arousal against her abdomen. The awareness caused her nipples to contract and heat to build low in her womb.
She pulled away, unable to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled, smoothing her skirt.
“For what?” His voice sounded gravelly.
Megan swallowed hard and glanced at him. “For throwing myself at you like that.” She gestured helplessly, her stomach a mass of knotted anxiety. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay.”
He scrubbed a hand over his hair. “Oh, man,” he said on a half laugh, half groan. “You are making this very hard for me, Megan O’Connell.”
“Making what hard?” she asked innocently, but was helpless to prevent a downward glance at the front of his camo pants.
To her dismay, a flush of ruddy color turned his neck and ears red. He drew in a swift breath and caught her gaze with his own, his expression turned serious. “I’ve waited six months for this moment. Toward the end of my tour, all I could think about was that I’d finally get to meet you, and my plan was just to take it slow and get to know you better, see how things went. But now that I’m here, I can’t quite get my head around it, you know?” He seemed a little dazed. “You’re even more freaking gorgeous in person. So what I want to know is, what are you doing here with me?”
Megan stared at him, realizing that he was as uncertain and apprehensive as she was. He wanted to go slow! To get to know her better. Megan felt a rush of pleasure at his words, even as she acknowledged that going slow was suddenly the last thing she wanted. His obvious bemusement gave her added confidence.
Pushing down her own nervousness, she stepped closer. She knew he was attracted to her. Even if his lower body hadn’t betrayed him, his desire for her was evident in the way his breathing hitched when she touched him, and the way he stood rigidly still, as if he only barely held himself in check.
He watched her with an intensity that made her mouth go dry and her palms go damp. Her own breathing had quickened, and just the thought of touching Matt caused a whirlwind of heated sensation to swirl through her. The urge to feel his skin beneath her fingers was an overwhelming compulsion that she couldn’t resist. Reaching out, she tentatively stroked her hands over his arms, admiring the contrast of her slender fingers against the hard bulge of his biceps. His skin was incredibly warm and she could feel the hard play of his muscles beneath her palms.
“I’m here because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either,” she confessed. She swallowed hard and allowed her hands to travel upward, over his shoulders. She ran the back of her knuckles along the strong column of his throat before boldly cupping his jaw in the palms of her hands. “I’m here because you asked me to come.”
Matt closed his eyes briefly and turned his face into her hand. His lips brushed over the sensitive center of her palm, and Megan felt a tremble go through his body. “You barely know me,” he muttered against her skin.
“Not true,” she protested, smoothing her thumbs over the faint stubble on his jaw. “I got to know you through your letters and phone calls. And what I know, I happen to like. A lot.”
Matt’s eyes burned into hers as he cupped her elbows and drew her just a little bit closer, until her breasts brushed against
his chest. “I’m glad. But I still think we should take this slow—”
She laid her fingertips over his mouth. “Shh. Stop thinking. We only have this weekend, and there’s so much I want to do.”
His pupils dilated, swallowing up the surrounding green and darkening his eyes. “Like what?”
“Well, for starters, I’m dying to kiss you.”
3
HER LIPS were incredibly soft and moist, and there was nothing hesitant about the way she cupped his face and angled her mouth across his, sweeping her tongue along the seam of his lips until he groaned audibly and opened beneath her tender onslaught.
She tasted faintly of mint, and she smelled good, like summer flowers. The press of her lush body against his was almost more than he could bear. It took every ounce of his restraint not to grab her sweet bottom and grind himself against her, letting her know just how completely turned on he was.
He’d known he was in trouble—big trouble—the instant he saw her standing in the bathroom door, looking as though she’d just stepped off the page of a Victoria’s Secret catalog.
Megan O’Connell embodied every fantasy he’d ever had, and the little white dress she wore only emphasized her feminine assets and made him ache to explore all the smooth, tanned skin beneath. At first he’d thought she was wearing some kind of negligee, but then he’d noticed the sandals and necklace and realized his mistake.
The plunging neckline and miniscule bodice barely contained her full breasts, and he could actually see the faint shadow of her areolas beneath the fabric. And her legs… Oh, man, her legs went on forever, long and slender and golden, and he could almost feel them locked around his hips. He found himself wondering if she wore any panties beneath the swirling skirt of her dress, and his dick hardened even more at the thought of her bare, slick flesh.
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