Heart of a Marine

by Patricia (Patty) Campbell

  He snapped to attention. “Say again?”

  “Miss Emmaline. I promised her.”

  “You promised her what?”

  Eyebrows up, she said, “That she’d never have to move.”

  Dwayne raised his hands in front of her like a crossing guard. “Hold it. Stop. Wait. What in hell are we talking about here?”

  Her beautiful brown eyes widened, her luscious lips formed a heart-stopping O, and a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “What did you think we were talking about?”

  “Getting it on?”

  “Getting it…” Her hands flew to her face and she screeched, “Aaargh! I could die. I want to die.” Her head tilted up, elbows bobbing, she fell back against the cushions. Bug-eyed, Skipper yipped and bounced. He clawed frantically at her hands. “You must think I’m…oh, I could just die.”

  A chuckle took shape deep in his chest, and he swallowed it back. “Marla, sweetheart, it’s cool.” He drew her into his arms. “Honey, I’m sorry.” God help him, he couldn’t hold the laugh back any longer. His chest bounced with an explosive guffaw.

  Skip yipped as he got mashed between them, and he finally scrambled away onto the floor. A tiny growl curled his lip.

  He stood his ground until convinced Dwayne wasn’t harming her. Marla shoved against his chest. “Let me go. Stop laughing.” But, with a fistful of his shirt, she hung on.

  He held her tighter. “No, Red. Take a breath. I’ll let you go when you calm down.” He stroked her back. “That’s better.” He sighed deeply then took a breath for himself. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at me.”

  Her hand relaxed the grip on his T-shirt, and she buried her face in his chest. “You?”

  “Hope to die.” He rocked her from side to side and ran his hand over her back and neck.

  “It’s not funny, I just want…I want…” She massaged the spot where she’d gripped his shirt, as if to iron out the wrinkles.

  “Shhh.” Tilting her chin with his finger, he brushed his thumb across her mouth. “Don’t talk. Look at me, sweetheart.” Her eyes met his and he nearly choked. “I want to kiss you.” He dipped his head, hesitated a split second, and then kissed her for all he was worth.

  Marla’s world tilted on its axis. When he’d kissed her this morning, she’d been sure it was the best kiss of her life. Now that wasn’t true. This was no mere kiss. The heat of their two bodies formed and melted, churned and flamed. She gripped his broad shoulders and gave herself up to him. He had a fistful of her hair in one hand, gripped her bottom with the other, then slid down, down, onto his back.

  Gasping for air, she drew away, then hated herself for the instant of lost contact. Her mouth found his again. She never wanted to stop, never—she wanted to drown in him. The kiss went on, went deeper.

  He stilled. She held her breath. “What?”

  “I need to see you, Danaher. All of you.” His fingers stroked her cheeks, curled behind her ears, and he sucked her bottom lip. “I want to look at you. Please. Let me see you. Don’t torture me.”

  White-hot heat filled her, molten metal flowed into every tiny, empty crevice. Without analyzing, she pushed away from him and pulled off her sweater, then her tank top.

  Dwayne tucked his fingers under the top edge of her plain white bra and tugged it free when her hands flew behind and unhooked it. “Sweet, Jesus.”

  Marla knew as sure as the earth was round that Dwayne found her beautiful and desirable. His groan, the grateful watery shimmer in his blue eyes a clear declaration. He couldn’t be faking it. She leaned in to give him access to her breasts when he reached for her, arched her back with ecstasy at his touch. “Oh, I want…”

  His smile had the power to melt granite. “What do you want, beautiful. Tell me.”

  Never having been so sure of anything else in her life, she spoke the words freely and honestly. “You, Dempsey, I want you.” The depth of her passion overwhelmed her. More alive than she’d ever been, she said, “Do what you said this morning, say you want to make love to me.”

  He crushed her against his chest with a satisfied chuckle. “What do you think, Danaher?”

  She melted against him. “I think…I can’t think. I’ve forgotten how to think. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.” She slid her hand under the hem of his shirt. “Why did you put this on?”

  “Your orders.”

  “Since when do you do what I tell you?”

  He shifted her away. Got to his feet, pulled the shirt over his head, and threw it on the floor. His arms went around her back and under her knees when he lifted her. “I’m going to do exactly what you tell me to do for the rest of the night.”

  Her heart bounced into her throat at the feel of his hard, bare chest pressing against her breast. She gasped, “Oh, be careful, your…” She bit her tongue.

  “My…?”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  And without being cognizant of exactly how it happened, they were in his bedroom, on his bed, and he lay on top of her devouring her lips, her throat, her shoulders, while he held her hands captive, fingers laced together above her head.

  She squeezed his hands and said, “Undress me. Touch me everywhere. Be slow.” Tremors slithered upward from her thighs.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll take as long as you want. I’ll do whatever you want.” On his knees, eyes burning into hers, his hands whisked ever so lightly across her breasts and abdomen. The intensity of his gaze stole her breath away when he tugged her stretchy yoga pants below her hips and smiled.

  A warm, delicious fog descended on her brain. Desire and deep need burned in every cell of her body. His lips and hands were everywhere. His warm breath brushed across her skin from her neck to her knees and had her writhing, begging for more. His name: Dempsey, Dempsey, Dempsey rolled off her lips time and again.

  Dismantling her piece by piece, he smoothed every sharp edge, sealed every cold hollow place, then put her back together again, whole, complete, better, safe.

  Stroking a rough hand down the side of her face, he rasped, “Do you want me, Danaher? Do you want me now?”

  She smiled with her lips and her eyes. “Yes, please.”

  Nestled together with her like two spoons in the silver drawer brought home to Dwayne the emptiness of the past six years of aloneness. He ran his fingers down her side, then snaked his arm between her breasts and kissed her ear. He could stay like this forever with her against him, warm, soft, yielding.

  “Are you asleep?” He nipped her neck and buried his nose in her hair.

  “No. I may never sleep again.”

  She shifted, but he dragged her back tighter against his belly. “Don’t move. This is where you belong, here next to me. The only thing wrong with this picture is the varmint snoring with his nose in my neck.” If he moved a fraction he’d squash the miniscule creature.

  “Skip’s not a varmint. He’s a critter.”

  At the sound of his name, Skipper scrambled to his feet and whined. Dwayne rolled his shoulders with relief.

  Marla patted his arm. “I have to take him out.”

  “Let him pee on the floor.”

  “He won’t. He’ll just keep nagging until I get up.” She lifted his arm and pulled away from his warmth. “Do you have a bathrobe or something I can put on?”

  Dwayne rolled to his edge of the bed, switched on the light, and sat up. There she stood in all her glory, naked as the day she was born. “I like seeing you this way, Danaher. Don’t cover up for my sake.”

  Her hands flew to cover her breasts then shifted to cover the curls between her legs. “Where is it?”

  He sighed with defeat. “Back of the bathroom door.”

  While she ran across the room to grab his robe, he put his manmade foot on and stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Like that?”

  “Like what?” He knew what she meant but enjoyed her moment of discomfort. Naked wasn’t a problem for him. He’d w
elcome the chance to parade naked around her forever and enjoy every moment of it.

  She pointed at him. “Like…that. You can’t go outside like that.”

  “Look, Red, you’re wearing my robe, and it’s the middle of the night. Who’s going to see me?”

  Marla sniffed, pressed her lips together, and flounced out of the room. “Come on, Skip. Let’s go pee-pee.”

  Dwayne sauntered behind her to the door off the kitchen. When she stopped, he switched on the light over the small porch and stepped aside so she could follow the mutt outside without taking a header down the steps. “Hurry it up you mongrel. This woman belongs in my bed.”

  “Shush. Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear you?”

  “Yes.” He followed her out the door, threw his arms wide, and shouted, “This woman belongs in my bed!”

  She whirled on him and slapped her hand over his mouth, but not before she spotted his erection standing at stiff attention like a full-dress Marine, waiting to be awarded a medal by his commanding officer. Her neck and cheeks went red, and her hands flew to her face. “Dwayne. Stop that.”

  He smirked and touched himself. “Stop this? Only you can stop this, you bad girl.” He pulled her into his arms and tugged open the robe, giving him access to her soft, silky thighs. Pushing between her legs seemed the most natural thing to do because she was the perfect height. Made for him.

  Instead of resisting as he’d expected, she yielded. He slid the robe off her shoulders and let it drop on the grass as the mutt trotted back inside. He snapped off the porch light. “My god, woman, where have you been all my life?”

  “Don’t you dare use that creaky old line on me, Dempsey.” Her hips pressed closer. “Now are we going to do something about your…problem, or stand here the rest of the night exchanging barbs?” She pressed her lips against his throat and nearly brought him to his knees.

  “Either one works for me.” He gripped her bottom and walked her backward to the kitchen counter where he lifted her to a sitting position, pushed her legs apart, and ran his hands between her thighs, around her hips, up her ribs then across her stomach and breasts. “You feel as beautiful as you look. I knew you would. I never doubted it for a minute.” Finding her lips with his, he gripped her head in his hands and gave her a bruising kiss.

  Her lips parted when he forced his tongue in her mouth, and her nails dug into his bare back as she groaned with pleasure.

  What little piece of his brain survived intact warned him he might not survive the best night of his life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He cooked breakfast for Marla while she showered in his bathroom. The bathroom where he wanted her to shower from here on out. But enough of schoolboy dreams, he told himself. Slow down and do a thorough recon of the battlefield before you go charging into the unknown.

  “Hey, Dempsey.” She’d drifted into the kitchen without him realizing it.

  “Hey, Danaher. I hope you like spicy sausage links because that’s what you’re getting with your eggs this morning.”

  “Sounds great, but don’t give them to Skip. Pork gives him gas.” She grinned and sat in the same chair where everything had started last night.

  “Too late. The little fart already talked me out of a couple.”

  She scratched the mouse’s chin. “You know what? I really did come here last night to talk to you about something important.” She fussed with her damp curls. “Do you have a rubber band? My hair is going all over the place.”

  “I do, but you can’t have one. I like it that way.”

  “I’m on my way to the jobsite. I can’t show up there looking like a floozy.”

  “As long as you look like you’re my floozy it’s cool.” He sat. “Eat, we’re late as it is.”

  “No, it’s not cool, Dempsey. What happened last night is between us. I’m not Charlene, flaunting it to the whole world.” The twist of her lips and blush on her cheeks belied her harsh words.

  “Don’t be so hard on your sister. She’s a good lady with a healthy appetite for what comes natural, that’s all.” He opened his mouth and shoved in a forkful of eggs, chewed, and then winked when she stuck her tongue out at him. “Is that an invitation?”

  “No. Clear your mind. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  He shrugged and forked up a hunk of sausage. “Shoot.”

  “I’ve been invited to join a private consortium to purchase a prime piece of real estate. In order to do that I’d have to put the condo project up for sale.”

  This had come out of nowhere. He put down his fork and stared. “Sell it?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t made up my mind, but I do have to let them know by tonight. I wanted to ask what you thought of the idea, if it would be a problem for you.”

  “It’s no problem for me. What about the renters who moved out and are waiting for me to finish so they can get back home?” He took a swallow of coffee. “What of Miss Emmaline? Are you planning on selling her unit right out from under her?”

  “No!” She crumpled her napkin. “I’m trying to find a way to make good on what I promised and still get in on the real estate deal.”

  Eyes boring into hers, he asked, “What do you want me to say, Marla? My interest in your building is to finish it, collect my money, then move on to my next contract.”

  “You can say that to me after last night?”

  He warned himself to consider his words with caution. Last night was important to him. She was important to him, but he couldn’t make, wouldn’t make, decisions for her, especially where a great deal of money was concerned. He reached for her hand. “Let’s not mix business with pleasure, honey. Last night was great, you’re more than great, but right now I’m not sure what you want from me.”

  “I should have known.” Marla snatched her hand away, grabbed her dog, and stalked from the room. Two seconds later his front door slammed, then her car door slammed, followed by the sound of her engine firing up.

  Nice going, Dempsey, you did it again.

  “Dammit.” He carried the dishes to the sink, then found his jacket and car keys.

  Instead of heading for the condos, Marla drove through a maddening mist of tears to her house. Skip sat in the passenger seat, still as a lawn ornament, and stared at her with his oversized black eyes when she pulled into her driveway and stopped. She sat in the car and stared, unseeing, at her house. He watched her and his ears twitched as if to ask, what now?

  “Skippy, you’re looking at the sorriest doggy mama in the world.” She choked on a sob and lifted him to her chest. “What am I going to do?”

  Skipper whined and licked at her chin. His warm little tongue had the power to turn on the tear faucet. She hadn’t known she could feel so low, so broken-hearted, so confused. The one time in memory she’d willingly handed over control to somebody else—and look what happened. What a moron. She hated herself. She hated Dwayne Dempsey.

  Who was she kidding? If she hated him, she wouldn’t feel so rotten. Maybe she’d call Char? No. Dadley?

  She pressed a thumb to her father’s picture on her phone. He was probably still at home. He didn’t usually go to his office until after nine. “Come on, Dad, be home, please. I need you.”

  He picked up on the first ring. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Dad?” she replied in a tear-clogged voice. “I…uh…”

  Dadley’s voice boomed an octave higher than usual. “What’s the matter?”

  Of course he’d be alarmed to hear her crying. She never cried. It was out of character for her. “I’m okay, Dad, but I need your advice. Can I talk to you before you go to your office?”

  “No, honey, I’m on my way to an early meeting. If it’s an emergency I’ll cancel, but if it can wait until ten-thirty, I’ll be free for the rest of the morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Um…” She cleared her throat and sucked in a shaky breath. “No emergency, it can wait. Shall I come to your office at ten
-thirty then?” That would be better anyway, a couple of hours and she’d have time to get her head together and do some quick number crunching for the consortium deal.

  “Yes. Nobody else is in the office today. We’ll have privacy. Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, thanks, Dad. I’ll be there. You’re a life saver.” She sighed. “Don’t worry, I’m fixable.”

  In a black temper, Dwayne stormed through the building looking for the smallest flaw to criticize. “Get that shit out of here. I don’t want to see it lying around tomorrow.” His crew gave him wide berth once they recognized the Gunnery Sergeant glare on his face. Good, he wasn’t in a mood for excuses or backtalk.

  He pushed through the door of the trailer and sat at his desk to tally the final material costs and early finish bonuses. The sooner he cleared out of here the better. It would be worth paying out extra money. He got on the phone and set up a meeting with the owner of the property where Big D had been hired to build a large storage facility.

  “That’s great news, Mr. Dempsey. I’m glad you’ll be available a couple of weeks earlier than I expected.”

  “I’ll drop in on you Monday afternoon.”

  Cluny entered the trailer and went straight to the coffee pot. Dwayne concluded the phone call and ignored him, but the way he flexed his hands and shifted his feet, he knew his old buddy had something on his mind. After a minute he said, “Spit it out, McPherson!”

  Arms straight at his sides, Cluny stood at stiff attention. “Yes, sir, Sergeant, sir.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  Cluny saluted. “Yes, sir, Sergeant, sir. Drop your pants and bend over. Way over, and I’ll tickle your balls while I’m at it.”

  Teeth clenched, lips pressed together, Dwayne fought to hang on to his mad, but lost the battle when they burst into laughter.

  “Jeez, I’m such an asshole today.”

  “No argument from me there, Gunny.” He sat in the chair across the desk and stretched his long legs. “For a man who just got laid, you look like shit.”