[When SEALs Come Home 04] - Heated

by Anne Marsh

  “Riding two bikes was a mistake,” she said out loud.

  He tugged her closer although, since she was already sprawled on top of him, there wasn’t too much closer she could get. At least she wasn’t the person with sticks and rocks and God knows what else poking him in the butt.

  He smiled at her, and more melting ensued. Somehow, she had to grow a spine and figure out how to keep moving forward.

  “As long as that’s the only regret you have, I’m good,” he said. Then he got up, carefully depositing her on her feet so she could put herself back together. That was the good thing about wearing a dress, she supposed. She had far fewer buttons and zippers than he did.

  God. She retrieved her panties and considered her options. She was going to have to get on the bike and ride it back to the garage when all she really wanted to do was curl up and take a nap. Preferably on top of Joey’s naked chest. She looked over at him hopefully, but nope. The scenic lookout still offered a battered picnic table, a trashcan, and a spectacular view of the stars—and no bed. Sex on a blanket had been fun (along with completely life-altering and set-the-bar-impossibly-high-in-the-orgasm-count department), but she wasn’t a hardcore outside gal, and she wasn’t deluding herself into thinking she could really sleep on the ground.

  He swung a leg over his bike, looked over at her, and sighed. “Come on.”

  She stared at his outstretched hand. It was a very nice hand that could do all sorts of fabulous things to her body, but for once she didn’t think that Joey was making a bad pun.

  “You can ride with me,” he said. “I’ll come back for the bike in the morning with my truck.”

  He patted the seat in front of him and waited.

  Somehow, riding her own bike seemed less important. As did her rules about personal involvement.

  She grabbed her helmet and trudged over to his bike. “You’re not worried about the bike?”

  Because, personally, she’d feel terrible if something happened to it. The crime rate in Strong was so low as to be practically nonexistent, but leaving an expensive bike by the side of the road was also asking for trouble.

  “You’re asleep on your feet,” he said. “And if someone steals it, you can hunt him down for me.”

  He had a point. Except he got off the bike when she got on and rolled the Kawasaki out of sight and into the trees. When he came back, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.

  “Look at the stars,” she said quietly. “Canis Major, Canis Minor, Orion.” Constellations she couldn’t see back in Los Angeles thanks to the light pollution and the smog but that felt so close here on the mountain. Like she could reach up and touch them.

  “Yeah,” he agreed gruffly, except he wasn’t looking up. He was looking down, at her. He gently tugged her helmet into place and started the bike. She relaxed into him, enjoying the way his large body shifted as he guided them through the curves. Not too fast, not too slow, although she suspected he was still at least ten miles over the speed limit.

  “Where are we going?” She’d worked out some of her adventurous side back there by the side of the road, but there were other things she wanted to try. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting, but she wasn’t ready for this night to be done. So much for breaking things off—she was in deeper than ever and her entire save-her-job had melted away just like her resistance to Joey’s charms. Maybe they could keep this on the down low. Maybe it was possible. Or a miracle would happen.

  “Home,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear, breaking up the chain of worries in her head, and the word sounded impossibly nice.

  ***

  He was fairly certain he’d convinced Mercy to give him—no, to give them—another chance. She’d come busting into his garage, primed for a breakup speech, and he’d taken immediate evasive action. It looked like it had worked too. He grinned into her hair. Because, damn, they’d had the best sex of his life, and now he was holding her in his arms while they drove down the highway.

  She nodded like she was finishing up a conversation with herself.

  “My place,” she said.

  Since he didn’t care where he went as long as it was with her—pathetic—he settled for nodding and pointing the bike back toward Strong. He knew where she lived, having driven by it once. Possibly a hundred times. Fuck. He was pathetic. It didn’t take too long to reach the bungalow she rented on the edge of town. He wondered if she’d mind the neighbors seeing his bike parked in her driveway and then realized that he could pull around the back of the house and out of sight. At some point, he’d like not to be her dirty little secret, but baby steps.

  “Come on,” she said, sliding off the bike. She didn’t comment on his choice of parking spots, but she did thread her fingers through his and tug him along with her. That was something.

  They went in the backdoor, and unless someone had been looking out the window when they zipped down her street, no one would know he was here. Secret mission accomplished. Her place was neat. That was the first thing that struck him. And, unlike his, everything matched.

  She went quiet for a moment, like she was thinking hard.

  “Second thoughts?” It killed him to ask, but he didn’t want her doing anything that made her uncomfortable.

  She shook her head. “Can we try something though?”

  “Hit me,” he said.

  She fished a magazine out from the basket beside her couch and handed it to him. A bright pink Post-it note flagged an article entitled “24 Hot Sex Tips.”

  “I thought it would be fun to try some of these.”

  Please don’t laugh, her face said, and he wanted to reassure her. He was definitely a man who understood a bucket list. He flipped to the article and scanned. Oh, yeah. He could definitely get on board with this plan. Plus Mercy was cute when she was blushing—and she’d be blushing harder by the time they worked their way to the bottom of her bucket list.

  “You want to do them in numerical order? Yeah. You definitely do.”

  He prowled toward her, ready to get started, but she slapped a hand on his chest. “Stay here. I’ll get ready.”

  Then she disappeared down the hallway at a dead run. He scanned the article again, but none of the sex acts described in the article—which was really lamentably short—seemed like they required extensive preparation. Whatever. He followed her and discovered she’d gone into the bathroom attached to what was obviously her bedroom. Okay. He’d make himself comfortable on the bed while she did...whatever it was she was doing in the bathroom.

  “I want to get this exactly right,” she yelled at him through the closed door.

  He didn’t see how she could get it wrong, but if she wanted to dress up or do her makeup or whatever it was she was doing in there, he didn’t mind waiting for her. He had a feeling that he’d wait for Mercy for however long it took—minutes, hours, months. Hell, he hoped it wasn’t months, although she’d definitely be worth the wait.

  After ten minutes that seemed like eternity, she stuck her head out the bathroom door. “Close your eyes.”

  Obediently, he closed his eyes. Not that he had any idea why, but he was happy to play by her rules.

  “Can I look now?”

  “Okay.” She stepped out, and the first thing he saw was her nervous smile, and the next... yeah. That was his head short-circuiting. Or maybe that was his heart he heard going. Mercy was wearing a fluffy bathrobe. Pink with black leopard spots, the thing was beautifully, wonderfully, fantastically short. It stopped well above her knees, leaving parts of her bare and parts of her wrapped up like the best of presents.

  ***

  “I like your robe.” His eyes darkened. He was bootless and had made himself free with her bed, but he wasn’t naked. She should have instructed him to get naked. It would have made her current outfit feel less awkward.

  “It was a free gift with purchase.” God. She was babbling. His grin got wider.

  “Come over here.” He patted the
bed beside him.

  He was still dressed. And she was still nearly naked. Had she jumped the gun? She smoothed her hands down the fluffy pink. She should consider options for retreat, but the problem was that she wanted to run toward Joey and not away.

  “I read the list.”

  Oh, God. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? She shouldn’t have mentioned it, except... she would have been tempted to peek at it. Just once or twice. Just to make sure she had it right.

  “I think we should start with number one and then work our way through it in order. Unless you want to start at the bottom and work our way up?”

  “That’s a long list.” And picking a top ten would be difficult.

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes crinkled up when he smiled. When he was eighty, he’d have gorgeous laugh lines. “But I’ve got all night.”

  And then he got right on it. God, she loved that about him.

  ***

  The dream started off so good. Wrapped up in the blankets she’d finally managed to wrestle away from Joey—the man was a bed hog—Mercy snuggled deep into the bed, listening as rain hit the roof in a brief, early-morning shower and sang the kind of song that made her want to smile and belt out country tunes. A hawk shrieked, hunting its breakfast. In the dream, she wasn’t alone, and like dreams so often went, things were absolutely fucking perfect. Awake Mercy would have assumed that meant bad things were lurking right around the corner, but dream Mercy simply dug her butt deeper into the mattress and enjoyed the moment.

  The two of them were tangled up in the sheets together. Her head rested on Joey’s chest, and his leg pinned hers to the mattress. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and she had no idea where she started and he ended. That was part of the perfect thing. The musky scent of sex hung in the air. She was boneless and the best kind of sore because her SEAL had ridden her hard and loved her well.

  It was the kind of dream where she knew she was dreaming. That was okay. She didn’t particularly want to wake up, so dream Mercy started running her fingers over the male chest so conveniently at hand and...

  She woke up, and she was alone in bed. When she patted his side of the bed, the sheets were still warm, so she rolled over and stole his spot. She’d like it if he came back and they picked up where they’d left off last night when she’d finally fallen asleep because they’d worn each other out and she couldn’t keep her eyes open another moment. There hadn’t been enough hours left in the night either, because right now even patting around on the bedside table for her phone to check the time seemed like too much effort. It was what it was.

  Her vagina was deliciously sore, and her butt muscles ached from all the pre-orgasmic clenching. Lifting the sheet, she took inventory. Running her hands down over her breasts and her stomach, she traced the faint red marks from his five o’clock scruff. He’d left marks on her thighs too, like he’d tattooed himself on her body, inside and out, and when she sifted a finger through the hair on her pussy and into her folds, she was still wet and slick.

  Bringing her fingers to her nose, she inhaled. She could smell him on her fingers.

  “You’re not waiting for me,” Joey drawled from the door.

  Oh. God. Busted. She shot upright in the bed, the sheet falling to her waist. Her naked waist.

  He padded across the room and crouched down beside the bed so his face was level with hers. Dropping a kiss on her nose, he grinned at her. “Good morning. Someone’s feeling naughty.”

  Deflect. “Is that for me?” She pointed toward the mug in his hand. “Gimme. I could kiss you.”

  He grinned at her and handed over the mug. “I can work with that.”

  She’d bet he could. Joey was insatiable once he got started. She took the first sip, closing her eyes as the rich coffee hit her tongue. He’d fixed it just right, with enough sugar and cream for a small army.

  “Addict.” He rubbed the back of her neck briefly, his fingers still warm from the coffee mug. “But I guess that excuses me for taking liberties with your kitchen.”

  “Do you have plans for today?” Feeling shy was silly. He’d turned her inside out last night, and she’d loved every minute of it. Plus if she didn’t meet him head-on, he’d decide he was the boss of her. That might be fun in bed, but out of bed... not so much.

  “I can think of a few things.”

  She’d bet he could.

  “I thought we could go back to Abbie’s,” he said. “There’s more work to be done on the house.”

  “Together?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I can’t. There’s been too much talk about us as it is.” She wished things could be different. She really did. “I can’t go with you.”

  ***

  Joey drove his truck back to the scenic lookout. He took a trailer with him because hefting the bike into the truck bed by himself wouldn’t be easy. Funny how the place managed to look both the same but different in the daylight. Even from the road, he had an awesome view of the mountains that only got better when he parked and got out. The bike was right where he’d left it, which wasn’t surprising. He probably was Strong’s criminal element, and of course, that was the real problem. He didn’t think he was all that bad. He’d done things overseas that he wasn’t proud of—and some that he was—but here in Strong the only thing he was really guilty of was going too fast and burning up the roads. He wasn’t robbing banks or running a pot grow in a national park or even setting things on fire.

  So why was Mercy so adamant that they not be seen together in public as anything but casual acquaintances?

  He thought about that while he loaded the bike into the back of the truck. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any epiphanies, although the patch of grass where Mercy had had her way with him had him smiling.

  A big, shit-eating, man-am-I-happy grin with more wattage than the Vegas strip. Fuck.

  She’d all but kicked him out of her house this morning. They’d had a deal. Casual sex. No strings, no regrets—and no publicity. His head had gotten the memo, but now he wasn’t so sure about his heart. And how screwed up was that?

  He pushed the motorcycle up the trailer’s ramp and locked the front wheel into the wheel chock. Then for good measure, he tied the bike down and tested the straps. Nope. Her bike wouldn’t shift or fishtail around a bend. It was all good. Safe, just the way Mercy liked things. Funny how Fate worked these things out.

  Thanks to the detour, he was one of the last to reach the building site. It also meant he took plenty of teasing from the guys about being a slugabed and needing his beauty sleep. He wasn’t in the mood and waved them off to get down to work. By the end of the week, unless there was an unexpected fire call, Abbie could start working on the inside.

  And speak of the devil, when he dragged his feeling-sorry-for-himself ass around the new porch, he all but stood on the woman herself. Smooth. She sat cross-legged on the ground fisting a handful of paint cards. Bathroom colors, nursery colors—he didn’t know, but he didn’t think she was really looking at the chips anyhow. They were just an excuse to stay put and zone out.

  She looked up at him. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” He crouched down beside her because walking past seemed cowardly. Will would have stopped if this had been Mercy perched on the ground like a fragile flower. He had no idea where that thought had come from. Was he really putting Mercy in the wife bucket? He was pretty sure that, even if he produced a ring and spouted poetry, Mercy wouldn’t have him. Which stung, if he was honest with himself. Just because he hadn’t ever thought in terms of marriage and happily ever after didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the value of what Will and Abbie had had.

  Or that he could miss the big potential downside. Abbie was miserable.

  Say something. “How are you?”

  She patted her stomach or an area approximately in the region of her stomach because her oversized fire department T-shirt had enough fabric for two people. Which, now that he thought about it, was exactly what he was looking at. Abbi
e was a plus-one, even if the baby was bean-sized rather than man-sized.

  “I’m doing okay,” she said.

  “Liar.”

  “You bet.” She was silent for a moment.

  Fuck. This was an awkward conversation he didn’t want to have.

  “Will loved this place,” he said gruffly. He didn’t have a clue if those were the right words or not, but she nodded.

  “He did.”

  He bobble-headed, and more silence followed while he tried to figure out how to stand up and go back to building her a house she didn’t fucking want and would have traded in a heartbeat for the dead man. He could fix a roof or a wall, but Abbie’s feelings were in a whole different league.

  Crouching down next to Abbie wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world to have a heart-to-heart. He rocked back on his heels, digging his steel toes into the muddy ground for more purchase. One wrong move and he’d end up on his ass. Plus he felt like he was on display. In addition to the half-built house, there were five smoke jumpers and a handful of hotshots. Abbie looked at him like he was crazy for staying put and should just move along now. He’d bet that look usually got her the solitude she craved.

  It had been a long, satisfying, exhausting night. He had no desire at this point for anything other than a shower and a twelve-hour date with his pillow.

  Okay. So now he was lying to himself. The pillow date was at the top of his list, as long as it came with Mercy. And maybe he could have her too. That was what made him antsy and nervous as hell. If he got back in his truck and headed for her place, she might let him inside. He could climb in the shower with her and then take her to bed. That would make three times, and he got the feeling that upped the stakes to relationship territory. Mercy wasn’t a one-night stand, and he didn’t want her to be. That scared the hell out of him, if he was being honest.

  “You’re friends with Mercy Hernandez, right?”

  Abbie gave him a look. “I’ve been getting to know her. She hasn’t lived in Strong all that long, and she’s a private person.”