Men In Uniform Anthology

by Delilah Devlin

  “I’m fine. I had a glass of water between each drink, and Riordan doesn’t make them all that strong when he knows I’m driving.”

  Riordan. The guy who looked like a fucking god compared to him. Steve fought down the urge to sniff. “He looks like the type to try to get girls drunk.”

  “Not as much as you’d think. Host liability and all.”

  He glanced down at her. “I think he probably makes exceptions from time to time.”

  “Well, not with me, he doesn’t.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  She stopped in the halo of a streetlight. “No, don’t tell me nothing. What do you mean?”

  He also stopped and faced her. “Nothing. It means nothing. He just looks like the type of guy who likes to make his move as easy as possible and wherever he can.”

  “He’s a friend, Steve. And a client. I train him. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  That came as a relief, but he sure as shit couldn’t admit it. Probably it was best to change the subject before she grew even more annoyed at him and it blew up into a fight. “It meant a lot that Hal didn’t throw me out.”

  “Why would he?”

  He stared down at her. “You know.”

  “You are not going to stand there and tell me again you think he blames you, are you? Because you’ve seen for yourself he doesn’t.”

  “Which I don’t get, to be honest. Why wouldn’t he?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes, and she resumed her stride, making her way toward the Wrangler. “I don’t know,” she called over one shoulder. “Maybe because you aren’t to blame?”

  He caught up with her. “Ren, wait—”

  “Wait for what?” She spun around to face him. “Wait to have this same tired discussion yet again? Jesus, Steve, neither one of us blames you. It happened. You have a job that has that risk, and it comes with the territory. Mark knew that.”

  The wind picked up, blew her hair across her face. She dragged her fingers through it, pulled it away, as she added, “We all knew it. You have to go out—”

  “But you don’t have to come back,” he finished for her.

  “Mark wouldn’t blame you, Steve. Pop doesn’t blame you.” She looked up at him, her eyes glittering black in the faint light from the streetlamp at the corner. “I don’t blame you.”

  “I blame me,” he told her quietly. “And that’s enough.” His heart hammered against his ribs as he shook his head. “And I should’ve kept my ass on Cape Cod.”

  “Steve, wait—”

  The wind whipped through again, blowing Lauren’s hair across her face once more. Damn, she was so beautiful. And she was right there in front of him. All he had to do was reach for her.

  Last summer, when he’d leaned in and kissed her, it was like being introduced to air for the first time. She made him aware of every little tingle along his skin, of every strong thud of his heart, of just how much he could want one woman and never want a different one again.

  Why this woman didn’t hate him was a mystery. She should. She should want to punch him, make him pay for her brother’s death. Mark told him how close they were and why. Told him about their upbringing, what happened to their family. Yet all Steve could think about was how she would feel wrapped all around him.

  “Wait?” He shook his head. “Wait for what? Why the fuck did you even want me here?”

  “I—I…” She stared up at him with wide unblinking eyes he knew were cat’s eye green. “I’m sorry… I thought you would want to be here. To see what kind of an impact you had on Mark. He loved you like a brother, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. And I let him down. I let him fucking die, Lauren. Don’t you get that? I,” he pressed a hand flat against his chest as she shook his head, “let him die. I didn’t go back for him.”

  “You couldn’t!” Her voice rose to a shout that was even louder than his, loud enough that people across the street stopped to stare at them. “Steve, I know what happened. Commander Shaw explained it when he told us about Mark. You were already hurt, the storm was getting worse, and if you hadn’t come in, they’d have lost you as well.”

  He spun away from her with a muttered, “Bullshit,” and turned to make his way to the Accord.

  But Lauren was as tenacious as her brother had been and followed him, saying, “It’s not bullshit, Steve, and you know it. You know it, and I know it, and everyone else does as well. The only one who blames you for Mark dying is you.”

  “Which is a hell of a thing to live with.” He was at the Honda now and pushed the button to deactivate the security system. The locks popped. The headlights and interior light came on. But he didn’t open the door. He turned back to see Lauren not three feet from him. She had to be freezing, as she had no coat but just wore that damn black dress made of some sort of body hugging fabric designed to make men walk into things when they caught sight of her.

  He shrugged out of his jacket once more and draped it around her, and this time, she let him. “Ren, you have no idea what happened that night.”

  “I do.” The shout was gone from her voice. Exhaustion crept into its place. She stepped closer, a hand coming to rest on his chest. She held his gaze, her eyes wide and glittering in the halo of the streetlights. Damn, her eyes were beautiful. She was beautiful. “I do, Steve. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.”

  Without thinking, he leaned into her. Her lips were warm and soft, parting as they met his, and her tongue darted out to caress his. He groaned. He couldn’t help it.

  She slid her arms about his waist, her hands pressed flat into his back to pull him into her.

  Chapter Two

  It was, without a doubt, the best kiss she’d ever had.

  Steve’s arms tightened about her, the muscles roping them as solid as granite as he held her against him. His entire body felt that way—hard and sculpted. Rescue swimmers were some of the most physically fit men and women in the Coast Guard, and Steve probably put them all to shame.

  Last summer, she’d been lucky enough to see him shirtless at a family barbecue on Memorial Day. She could still see it—the sunlight glinting off hair so dark, it looked almost black as he took the setup to spike the volleyball. He was in amazing shape. His muscles had muscles. He was absolutely perfect.

  Her eyes closed as he pulled back to sweep a kiss along her jaw, down her neck. His breath came hot on her skin, ragged about the edges as he whispered, “Ren…”

  “Mmmm…?”

  He pulled her closer still, and when his lips found hers again, she arched against him. He kissed her even more deeply than he had that night in this same parking lot last summer. No man ever kissed her with this much passion, this much fire, as Steve did right then and there, and as his tongue plunged between her lips, she felt the zing straight through to her core.

  Her nipples tightened. The tingle twisted through her, settling between her thighs, where she was already growing damp. With his body so tight against hers, she felt him grow hard against her and without thinking reached down to curve her hand against the solid ridge of his erection. Jesus, he felt huge, and that did some wicked things to her.

  She gave a gentle squeeze, smiling as his breath hitched and his hips arched toward her. Good God, she wanted to fuck him. Wanted to see if his cock was every bit as thick as it felt. If it was warmer out, she just might take the chance of sinking to her knees, tugging him free, and treating him to a little preview. But since the cold would not be kind to him, she instead just fondled him a bit more.

  “Wait, Ren. Wait a minute.” He growled low in his throat, his fingers closing about her wrist to draw her away. He pulled away, his breath ragged around the edges. His eyes looked almost black in the halo of the streetlight. Black and heavy-lidded as he growled, “Let’s get out of here and see what kind of trouble we can find.”

  “Where do you want to find this trouble?” She shoved
her hair out of her face. “I still live with Pop.”

  His eyes softened as he also swept some of her hair away from her face. “My motel’s only down the road. Just outside of town on Route Seven.” He leaned in to brush her lips once more.

  “What about my car?”

  He nuzzled her, one hand coming up to cup her left breast, the pad of his thumb slowly skimming over her nipple. The tip of his tongue brushed a sensitive spot just below her right

  earlobe to send a shiver along her spine. “We’ll come back for it.”

  Her head spun as his thumb slid about her nipple once more. Could he feel it bead beneath her dress, beneath her bra? He swept over it, pressing harder this time, and fire shot through her. That dampness between her legs grew damper still, the dull ache enough to drive her crazy. Forget making love. She wanted to fuck him. Even if for only one night. That was all she’d allow herself.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He smiled, moving around to pull open her door. “Your chariot awaits.”

  It was so corny, but she couldn’t help but laugh. The morning and all the problems that would come with spending a night with him would wait. Right now, she wanted only to live in the moment, to do the one thing she regretted not doing last summer.

  She took a deep breath. Live in the moment, Ren. It will never happen again.

  “Thank you,” she said, skirting him to sink into the black cloth seat. The warmth of the car’s interior wrapped around her, but that was nothing compared to the heat that sank into her when Steve’s hand came to rest on her knee. She snuggled deeper into his jacket. “Are we crazy?”

  “It’s entirely possible.” He squeezed her knee, then lifted his hand to shift the transmission into reverse. Once the car was in drive, his hand came back to rest on her knee, his fingers relaxed over it. His hands were huge, a little battered from years in the Guard, but still beautifully masculine. His thumb grazed the outside of her knee to send a shiver along her spine. The radio played softly on the Octane station, which surprised her. She wouldn’t have taken him as a man who listened to metal music, but more like Mark, one who appreciated classic rock over everything else.

  A comfortable silence settled over them as they moved along Main Street, broken only when he said, “This looks like a nice place to live. I can see why Mark came back every chance he had. I always liked coming here with him.”

  “It’s funny he did, because he always said he couldn’t wait to leave.” She glanced over at him. “I think it was mostly because girls like Izz went ape over him in uniform.”

  He grinned. “I can see that.”

  “They eyed you up, too, didn’t they?”

  “A little. No more than anyone else ever does, though.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?” She shifted to face him. It was hard to believe any woman didn’t look at him the way a starving man would look at a steak. He was absolutely gorgeous, no matter what taste you had in men.

  He was broad across the chest and shoulders—Mark once told her Steve could bench press almost 300 pounds—and his Italian heritage showed in his thick, almost black hair, his dark Mediterranean eyes, his olive skin, and what had to be the most perfect face ever bestowed upon a man. He was funny and kind, and he could brood more than Marlon Brando ever did.

  Somehow, she didn’t think too many women ever turned down the opportunity to jump into bed with him.

  But she played with fire now.

  Or did she?

  She didn’t care. Not tonight. She needed this. He needed this. They needed each other.

  He eased the car off the road and into the parking lot of the Pine Lodge Motor Inn.

  Sidleburg didn’t have any Hiltons or Marriots, but the Pine Lodge wasn’t quite the Bates Motel, either.

  The engine idled softly as he turned toward her. “I wanted to punch Mark for interrupting us last summer.”

  “Me, too,” she said, her heart picking up its pace to hammer against her ribs. “He heard about it the next morning.”

  “Really?” The skin at the outer corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What did you tell him?”

  “That the next time he did something like that, I’d junk punch him.”

  Steve’s chuckle rolled low and sensual toward her. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” She sighed softly. “He was very apologetic.”

  “He told me to marry you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her mouth went dry. “What?”

  “He said if I was planning on making a move on you, I’d damn well better marry you. Or else.”

  “He was such a jerk.”

  “Yeah.” Steve nodded, then to her surprise met her gaze once more. “But he’s not wrong, either.”

  Her heart stopped. Just like that. And all of the air had to be sucked out of the car. That’s why she couldn’t breathe. “What?”

  “He didn’t think I should just go to bed with you if I didn’t see a future with you.” He reached across to curve a hand along her cheek. “I told him I had to see if you were marriageable to begin with.”

  “Steve!”

  His fingers grazed along her cheek. “What? I don’t know, what if you didn’t know what you were doing? I’d be stuck with you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.” He leaned over and kissed her. Slowly. Deeply. His tongue teased hers. His fingers caressed her cheek. His hand slid around to the back of her head. Along her neck.

  She pulled away to smile up at him. “Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  With that, she let held his gaze easily as her fingers trailed down his chest, over his belly, to his belt. The leather was stiff but yielded as she carefully tugged on it. The button on his

  trousers gave her no problem.

  He watched her the entire time, eyes almost black in the darkness, a smile playing at his lips as she unzipped his trousers. Nothing could have prepared her for this. It was dark, and his briefs were also dark, but there was no mistaking the size of that bulge. She swallowed hard, then eased her hand beneath what looked like black cotton.

  “Holy…Jesus…” He inhaled sharply as her fingers wrapped about his cock, and she gave a gentle tug to free him. She bent over and with just the tip of her tongue teased along the length of his shaft from root to head.

  He tensed beneath her, the hand on the back of her neck now twisting in her hair. His fingers tightened as she slowly took him in her mouth and swirled her tongue along the underside of his cock. Back and forth, she flicked, she licked, she teased and tasted him until he arched hard against her but then pulled free.

  “Wait…oh, holy fuck…Lauren…”

  “What?”

  “Come here.” He gave a gentle tug, pulled her toward him. She shifted, carefully climbing over the console to straddle him, her knees on either sides of his thighs, but before she could settle against him, he slid a hand between them, nudged her thong aside, and slid a finger inside her. “Holy shit, Lauren…you’re so wet already. What’ve you been thinking about?”

  “You. This.” The words came slowly as he stroked so very sweetly. Pleasure swirled through her, lazy and slow, as he slid that finger deeper still, then eased it back. Then thrust again. Each stroke sent fire through her entire body, made her quiver against him. Dear God, this felt so very good…and all she wanted to do was wrap her hand about his cock again and guide him into her and ride him until they both fought to breathe.

  “Me?” he whispered, his voice ragged about the edges.

  His thumb pressed against her clit, and the slow swirl about it had her biting down on her bottom lip as fire shot through her. Hot, tingling fire, better than any she ever felt or could ever start on her own, no matter how hot her fantasy. She nodded, her head spinning so hard, she could barely speak. “You, Steve…since last summer…”

  She reached for him again, stroked him as slowly as she knew how, smiling as a muscle bulged along his jaw. Good. She wanted him to s
uffer from the same sweet torture he inflicted, and judging by how rough his breath came and the low growl in his throat, she succeeded.

  “Oh, baby…” he whispered, tugging her down to meet his kiss, which was slow and deep, his tongue slick as it caressed hers. His thumb moved again, even more slowly, and every fiber in her body tensed as the need to come took hold. She rocked against him, met each pass, her entire body tight, ready to explode at any moment.

  Her purse lay on the passenger seat, just within reach. She snagged it, popped open the front compartment, and with the tips of her fingers plucked one of the condoms she’d tucked in there before leaving her house.

  She looked down at his cock, thick and hard and proud, and for a moment had the insane notion that the condom wouldn’t fit. But then, she unrolled it over him and shifted back over him to come down onto him as slowly as she could.

  “Ooooohhhh…” His low moan filled the car as she sheathed him and rocked against him. He arched to meet her, going deep, finding his rhythm. His hands clamped down on her thighs as he took over, each thrust hard and deep and utterly delightful.

  The windows fogged over completely. The Honda might have even actually rocked. She didn’t care. She broke free of his grasp to meet him, to fuck him hard and fast as he ground up into her. God in Heaven, he felt amazing, her pussy tightening about him to coax his release to mingle with hers. She rode him harder, gripping the seat for leverage as she moved faster and faster.

  Then it happened. The dam burst and white-hot, tingling pleasure burned through her. He thrust, shuddered, came, his eyes closing, his hands going slack on her thighs. She sank against him, her head coming to rest on his chest, the cotton of his shirt smooth and cool beneath her overheated skin.

  “Oh, honey…” His voice was more ragged than ever, his fingertips light as they swept along her arms, across her back. He tightened his arms about her. “You okay?”

  “I think so…” Her head spun so wildly, she had to close her eyes, and as she did so, a delicious sort of drowsiness washed over her. She couldn’t move. Didn’t care if she could ever move again. There were worse places to be than in his arms. He smelled amazing—like the air after a spring shower—fresh and clean.