Falling for the Marine (A McCade Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen)

by Samanthe Beck

  A highly detailed and extremely unhelpful image of her tattoo floated through his mind while she closed the door and then fiddled with the dimmer switch until only muted light lingered in the room. Once she was satisfied with the lighting level, she walked toward him, pausing at the foot of the table to lift the sheet an inch. The sight of his sock-covered feet coaxed a laugh out of her, and the husky sound did funny things to his gut. She tucked the sheet under his feet, still smiling.

  “You didn’t come across quite so shy last night.”

  He returned her smile, despite his cranky mood. “I was fully clothed last night. You were the next-to-naked one. If you’d like to rectify that right now, I think that would make me much more comfortable.”

  Her low, throaty laughter practically vibrated over his skin. She moved to the head of the table, switched out the pink bottle for one that looked reassuringly plain, and then sat down on the stool positioned there. Now their faces were almost level. “That’s an entirely different kind of massage, I’m afraid, and not one offered here at the clinic.”

  “Strictly a Casa Clemente special?”

  Her smile softened. “Maybe. But you seemed to have second thoughts last night, and I figured you weren’t into it. Tell me, did the back pain have anything to do with your sudden about-face?”

  Those eyes of hers were twin universes. He could float in them for days. But he owed her an apology for letting her think he’d bailed because of anything she’d done. “I’m sorry, Chloe. Last night was not my finest moment. I left for…various reasons…but not being ‘into it’ wasn’t one of them. The back pain factored.” He recalled the almost debilitating nerve spasms and winced. “Heavily.”

  She tipped her head to the side and her smile went crooked. “Well, I can’t help with your ‘various reasons,’ but I might be able to do something about your back.” With that, she stood and drew the sheet down…all the way down…like, down to the top of his ass crack.

  He propped himself up on his forearms, ignored the protest from his lower back, and looked around to see how much of him just went on display. Yep, pretty much as he thought.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “Don’t worry, Major. I’ll talk you through everything. Rest your head in the padded ring.” She gently pushed the top of his head down until she had him where she wanted him. Since his view now consisted of nothing but the floor, he closed his eyes. “Go ahead and put your arms down by your sides.”

  “Perfect,” she said when he did as she asked. “So, first I’m simply going to scan your back with my hands, to get the lay of the land, and see where you’re carrying tension…” Her words trailed off as she touched his neck, his shoulders, ran her hands along the sides of his spine. If his eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would be now. Her touch felt…amazing.

  “All right,” she went on, making long, sweeping strokes across his shoulders and down his back. “Like most people, you’ve got some tension in your neck, which transmits to your shoulders and leaves them tight. I’m going to start there, working the knots out, to get you used to my touch. From your neck, I’ll move down the erector spinea and on to the lumbosacral region to get those muscles and connections nice and loose. Nothing I do should ever hurt, so let me know immediately if you experience any discomfort, okay?”

  “’Kay,” he managed, surprised at how relaxed he already sounded.

  “I’m going to warm some oil in my hands.” Her stroking movements stopped for a moment and he heard the click of a bottle opening, followed by the slick sound of oil-lubricated palms rubbing together. For some reason his dick went rigid with anticipation. Lying still on the table became a form of torture that would never comport with the Geneva Convention.

  Then slim, surprisingly strong thumbs went to work on his neck, and it was all he could do not to groan out loud as every muscle she touched simply…dissolved. He might have made a noise when she leaned over him and moved on to his shoulders, because she stopped, and asked, “How’s the pressure?”

  The pressure on his back? Heaven. The pressure between his legs? Agony. He raised his chin and accidentally nestled the back of his head into her breasts. Her familiar, cinnamon-and-honey scent flooded his senses. With another small groan, he dropped his face into the ring. “Do you mind if I find a more…comfortable position?”

  “Of course not. I want you to be completely at ease.” She pulled the sheet up a few inches before taking a step back. “Go ahead and get situated. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  He somehow refrained from reaching down and adjusting himself manually. Instead, he made do shifting his hips, and, to distract from what was going on below deck, repositioned his forehead on the padded headrest.

  “All better?”

  The only way this will ever be better is if you get naked, get under me, and I bury myself in you so deep we both wonder how I’m going to find my way out. “Yep. Thanks.”

  “Great.” She lowered the sheet again and then rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m going to keep working on your trapezius, moving down to the middle fibers and then the lower fibers. Stop me if something doesn’t feel right.”

  Then those hands of hers started moving again, and he turned into a puddle of flesh. Even his dick relaxed. By the time she moved on to his lower back, he really didn’t care what the hell she was doing to him, as long as she kept doing it. Her hand settled on the lower curve of his spine, and her fingers probed between his vertebrae. When she found the spot she was looking for, she applied gentle traction. He didn’t succeed in holding back a groan. She made a sympathetic sound and used both palms to sooth the area before placing her fingers a little lower and applying the traction again. Heat and tension built under her hand. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but she was in the danger zone and anything to do with his lower back made him nervous.

  He thought about stopping her, and the tightening of his muscles must have telegraphed his intention, because she placed her other hand lightly at the base of his skull, applied pressure there in the opposite direction, and said, “Shhh. Don’t tense up. Give it one more second.”

  “Chloe, I’m not so sure…oh…fuuuck.”

  Something in his lower back released. Effortlessly, painlessly, the tight spot under her fingers softened and relaxed. Relief flooded him, so profound and amazing it almost made him whimper.

  “Good work,” she said and massaged the area with long, downward passes. He wanted to say thank you, but it came out in an inarticulate jumble—more of a grunt of gratitude than actual speech.

  “You’re welcome,” she said softly and he heard the smile in her voice. She just kept stroking, stroking, stroking…lower back, midback, shoulders, and then working her way down again. He felt himself sinking deeper into the table, surrendering to the magic of her touch, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

  Chapter Four

  Chloe walked her last patient of the day to the front desk. She scheduled the sweet, retired lieutenant colonel with a freshly unlocked scapula for a follow-up appointment next week and then waved good-bye as he made his way through the empty waiting room and out the door.

  A sticky note on the computer screen at the desk advised her Mr. Sempler had gone to get his car washed and would be back in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes? Chloe fumed for a second, then shrugged out of her white coat and laid it on the back of the desk chair. She took the note and stared a hole through it.

  Her shift ended in ten minutes. Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave until Sempler got back. He needed to sign off on her time card, and, even if she’d been inclined to let that wait until tomorrow, she didn’t have a key and refused to leave the clinic unlocked and unattended. Looked like she’d be sticking around, off the clock and unpaid, for an additional twenty minutes. She could try to add the involuntary overtime to her time card, but even after less than two weeks on the job, she knew Sempler well enough to know he’d nix it. He was a real stickler…with everyone but
himself.

  There’s no such thing as a perfect assignment. With that piece of Lynne wisdom floating in her mind, she trashed the note and headed down the hall. Might as well use the extra twenty minutes productively. First, she needed to wake sleeping beauty in treatment room three, if he hadn’t already woken up and left. Then she’d ready the rooms for tomorrow and complete her time card. A knock on the last door yielded no response. She peeked inside the room she’d darkened over an hour ago. From the light coming in around the edges of the blinds she saw Michael lying on the table. He’d flipped over onto his back sometime during his nap and flung his forearm over his forehead. The sheet dipped low across his chiseled hips. His deep, steady breathing told her he was still asleep. She stepped into the room, shut the door behind her as softly as possible, and tiptoed to the table.

  Tiptoeing was unnecessary, considering the flutey music still wafting from the speakers and the gurgling fountain dampened the other sounds in the room. Besides, she needed to wake him, but she wanted an extra moment or two to admire him, close-up. Shadows slanted across his neck, his abs, gathered in the folds where the sheet draped over him. God, he really was a work of art. Not that she hadn’t appreciated the carved-from-granite body while she’d had him on her table earlier, but, then, he’d been a client in need of help, and she, a trained professional on a mission to relieve his pain. Now her shift, like his appointment, had ended, and he was simply a hot guy wearing nothing but a thin sheet and a pair of socks, sleeping like a log. What red-blooded heterosexual woman wouldn’t stare?

  She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but her fingers somehow ended up buried in his thick, dark hair. Lifting it, sifting it, letting the short, silky strands caress her skin. His slow, steady breathing hitched. His eyelids fluttered, and suddenly, she found herself caught in the same impenetrable brown gaze that had hijacked her dreams last night—hot, restless dreams from which she’d woke with a groan of raw frustration.

  “Feeling better?” she murmured.

  He held her in the tractor beam of his stare and nodded. Then slowly, very slowly, he reached up, cupped the back of her head, and brought her mouth close to his…stopping when their lips almost touched.

  Hers parted, and blood flowed into her lips, plumping them up in an effort to bridge the infinitesimal gap.

  “You’ve healed me and tormented me at the same time, Chloe.”

  Sweet Jesus, the things this man did to her with nothing but words. Muscles contracted deep inside her and she shivered from the unbidden sensation, even as she had the comforting thought that at least she wasn’t the only one to experience the dubious honor of waking up edgy and needy.

  He nibbled her lower lip. She sighed and sank into him. He moved on to the upper lip, and she pressed closer, craving more. He sat up and gave her more, sliding his tongue into her mouth. The contact threatened to unleash all the longing she’d been struggling to hold in check since last night. Would it be so wrong to loosen the leash and satisfy the longings? So what if they didn’t belong together in the long run. There wasn’t any “long run” in a six-week assignment. She grabbed for his shoulders…his neck. She couldn’t get her tongue tangled around his fast enough.

  Apparently he picked up on her urgency, because he fused his lips to hers and proceeded to whip her into an absolute frenzy. She had a sudden, violently clear vision of him teasing another vulnerable part of her into the exact same state. Heat sizzled through her system, starting fires in all her erogenous zones. She rubbed her thighs together to ease the burn but quickly realized she’d only made matters worse.

  Maybe she moaned, because he slid to the edge of the table, wedged his thigh between hers, and hauled her up against him until she was on her tiptoes. Her knees went weak. She felt precarious in this position, like straddling a bicycle a little bit too big for her.

  Her panties were soaked. She knew it, and, when his groan rumbled in her ear, she figured he knew it too. Then, with a seemingly effortless flex of his arm, he rocked her against him. His muscle-corded, sheet-covered thigh provided plenty of rough, soul-fracturing friction, and all she could do was think, Again. Again. Can I ride this ride forever?

  She pressed her face into his neck and held on. The warmth of his skin intensified the smell of the massage oil and she wondered, belatedly, if sandalwood had previously unknown intoxicating properties. He was so big and warm and solid, she felt ridiculously delicate and…almost…protected, in his arms.

  “I want you, Chloe. It’s insane how much.” The words ground over his vocal chords, so low and raw and honest she felt tears burn her eyes. His need sank into every cell in her body. She absorbed it like a drug and immediately wanted more. Because it’s been so long, she told herself. Otherwise the depth of her response to this man would be frightening. She raised her head and dove into another hungry kiss.

  Strong fingers traced the scooped neckline of her top and then shoved it down beneath her breasts. He broke the kiss to look at what he’d uncovered. She stood there, panting, blind to everything except him. Instead of taking up where he’d left off, however, he tugged her cotton-candy pink bra down as well and lowered his mouth to her bared breasts.

  When he caught her sensitive nipple and drew it into his mouth, she cried out and speared her fingers into his hair. He sucked her in. Deep. Hard. Her toes curled in her pink ballet flats.

  One of his hands snuck under the back of her skirt and kneaded her ass, rubbing her against his hard-packed quad in time with every contraction of his mouth around her nipple. Perfect rhythm. Perfect position. Perfect everything. Pressure intensified, and centered until she could almost catch hold of the orgasm shimmering tantalizingly close…almost reach it, almost…scream with impatience when he stopped. The scream turned to a thin cry when he switched to the other breast and started the insanity again.

  Soon her thighs burned from repeatedly clenching around his. Her hips strove for their own rhythm—a little bit quicker. “Now,” she moaned, moving her hands all over his back, his shoulders, down his chest. “I need you. Now. Now. Now.” This could happen, if they hurried, and she focused, and didn’t blow it.

  An insidious tentacle of anxiety coiled in her gut. Stop overthinking things. Just feel.

  The sheet still rode low across his lap. She grabbed it and flung it to the floor.

  Her hand closed around him at the same time she looked down.

  Ohmigod. He was huge. Some very personal muscles tightened at the glorious sight. The thought of him thrusting into her oh-so-neglected body, filling her until she cried out from the sweet strain of having him inside her, sent shivers shimmying through her.

  He closed his hand around hers, and showed her how he liked to be handled. At the same time, he kissed his way from her breast to her ear. “How do you like it?”

  “It’s stunning. I haven’t seen one this impressive in a long time.” A looong time.

  His laugh tickled her ear and made her shiver all the more. “I meant, do you like it slow and steady, or hard and fast?” He let go of her hand and resumed rocking her against his thigh, and she worried she’d never get a chance to tell him how she liked it because she was going to come all over his leg like an animal in heat.

  “Fast,” she gasped. “It’s got to be fast.”

  He rocked her again. “Fast and rough?”

  “I promise not to rough you up.”

  “No deal. I want you to rough me up good, because I’m not stopping until you lose control—until you rake my ass with your fingernails, and sink your teeth into my shoulder to keep from screaming, ‘Faster, Michael, fuck me faster,’ at the top of your lungs. And when I finally let you come, it’s going to be brutal. You’ll take days to stop trembling. Are you ready for that?”

  Ready? She was beyond ready. He’d just laid out what sounded like the best plan she’d heard in over a year. She tunneled her fingers into his hair and rained kisses along his jaw, his chin, closing in on his mouth. “I’m ready. Should I apologize
ahead of time for all the scratching and biting?”

  “I don’t see why.” He kissed her quick and hard. “You’re not going to be sorry.”

  Before she could wrap her head around that, he slid off the table and prepared to switch their positions. The die-hard therapist inside her woke with a start and applied the brakes. “Your back—I don’t want to undo all the good work we accomplished this afternoon. We want flexion, not extension. Here.” She hiked her skirt up and then turned and draped herself over the massage table.

  And waited. The room went utterly silent, except for the flute music and the fountain. She craned her neck around and looked at him. He stared at her butt like a man in a trance. Shoot. Was this not a turn-on? Did she have a bunch of cellulite she didn’t know about? “Um…will this work for you?”

  Her question seemed to yank him back to the here and now. His eyes lifted to hers. Then he stepped up behind her until she could feel the long, hard ridge of his erection against her backside. His quick, sharp, “Oorah,” filled her ears.

  She bit her lip and pressed backward. “Really like my tattoo, huh?”

  “I like every gorgeous inch of you.” He dragged her thong down until it dangled somewhere around her knees.

  Those big, calloused hands grasped her hips and tugged her into position. She grabbed onto the massage table and scrambled for purchase on the slippery bamboo floor.

  “Don’t lift me. You’ll hurt yourself. I can…” She arched her back and widened her stance, and although she couldn’t see him every soft pink part of her tingled under the heat of his gaze. Maybe she had regained her virginity after a year without sex, because just the anticipation of him filling her made her insides contract and release in the first thrilling warning signs of a complete, full-body meltdown. Please, let it happen.

  He ran the head of his erection down her backside, and, oh God, that nudged her a little closer to heaven. She was there…right there…quivering on the brink—