by Anne Marsh
“You’re the dirty one,” she pointed out.
His husky laugh made her want to smile. Do a happy dance. Turn around and wrap her legs around his waist and ride him like a cowgirl. Any or all of the above, because she was suddenly starving for him, and she wasn’t going to be picky about how she had him. “I’m starting to have my doubts.”
Soap and his hands stroked down her back, curved around her waist and over her stomach. She’d never liked her stomach. If he had an eight-pack, she had the empty can rings hiding under ten extra pounds. He didn’t seem to mind, making a rough sound of enjoyment as he touched. Oh. She made a sound that was half gasp, half laugh.
“Ticklish?” His rough growl in her ear had her squirming more. “Do that again and this is going to be a mighty quick shower.”
When his hands skimmed over her stomach and up her ribs to cup her breasts, she moaned. He felt so good. The scent of animal cookies filled the shower as he popped the top on a new bottle. He’d found her personal Philosophy stash.
“You have body wash that smells like cookies?” He sounded amused, while she felt... hungry. And he was the perfect snack.
“Less talking. More washing.” Or whatever it was they were doing. She pressed her butt back against him, cradling his erection the best she could, slid down, then pushed back up on her toes. His penis moved between the cheeks of her butt. Hot and slick and fast. He dug his fingers into her hips, holding onto her, and she pressed her palms harder against the tile. So good.
She dropped down. He moaned.
Soap, she felt sure, was places she’d never imagined soap going. But he moved with her, their bodies slamming into each other with a sweet, hot friction that drove her mad. His hand moved south again, over her stomach. Brushed the top of her mound.
Her hot water tank picked that moment to fire a warning shot of cold water. “Jesus,” he cursed, taking the brunt of the icy blast.
Thank God for SEAL reflexes. He had her out of the shower and wrapped in a towel in seconds. Another thirty seconds for him to scoop her up and carry her down the hall to her bed and then he was bouncing her gently onto the mattress. Water droplets flew everywhere. Her hair was wet and soaking into the pillows, and she’d have bed head extraordinaire if she didn’t brush it out. Not hot or sexy, but it was... fun? Yeah. Definitely that.
She grinned at him. “I told you to hurry.”
He sighed dramatically. “I didn’t know you meant we were limited to a quickie.”
She shrugged. “If you’re not up for it...”
He came down on top of her, six-plus feet of hot SEAL squishing her into the mattress. Oh. Yeah. Her arms were pinned between them in the towels, so the only thing she had to work with was her mouth. Game, she leaned up and bit his shoulder. Not too hard, but just in case, she licked it better.
“You’re going to find out just what I’m up for,” he warned with another groan. She loved the sounds he made.
He pressed her back further, kissing her with everything he had. She rose to meet him, struggling free of the towels. Too bad, so sad if water got on her coverlet. He lifted her up briefly, sweeping the bedspread down with one arm and then planting her butt back on the sheets. He hooked the blankets and tugged them up over them.
“My ass is in serious danger of freezing. Where were we?” He tried to kiss her again, but she was laughing too hard.
“Seriously. You’ve fought all around the world, and a little shower water does you in?”
“I like your laugh. I could be convinced to do it again.” He had a smile on his face, and shoot, she wished she’d turned a light on because she couldn’t see that well now in the near dark and he was so worth looking at. Downright gorgeous, in fact.
“Laughter burns fifty calories in ten minutes.”
“Uh-huh. And how many calories does an orgasm burn?”
He didn’t wait for her answer because he was kissing her again, and that was fine with her. More than fine, really. She wanted to touch him everywhere, run her hands down his back and grab his mighty-fine butt and pull him closer and closer. But he was a man with a mission of his own. His hands touched and teased, building the heat between them until she wasn’t cold at all. Instead, she was impatient, so she wriggled a hand between them, tickling the sensitive spot just below his hipbone to get him to move back and make room for her.
She wrapped her hand around his penis. Bliss in the palm of her hand. That part of him was every bit as big as the rest of him. Slick and hard and yet soft at the same time. Not that she’d make the mistake of telling him that. Touching him was like touching all her favorite things. Laughter and lust at the same time were becoming her favorite things too.
Joey was her favorite.
He moved down her body, taking away her new favorite toy. “I wasn’t done with that.”
“Too bad, because I need a taste of you.”
Need more than want. He felt so good, better than any other man she’d invited into her bed. She understood the need thing all too well. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine not being here with him, even if it meant breaking the rules and taking chances with her job. Which, she knew, would seem stupid after she’d come and it was daylight again. She shoved the regrets away. Right now, she’d live for this moment with this man.
He parted her legs and her hands shot to his shoulders. “Joey—”
“Hold on, sweetheart.” He licked up and down her folds, circling her clit with his tongue, making her feel so good it should have been illegal. She held on, digging her nails into his shoulders, not thinking. Not planning or worrying, simply letting the orgasm come closer and closer until it was there and she was falling over the edge.
***
When Mercy came, she came quietly. She was so fucking beautiful, from the taste of her to her sweet curves. And that wasn’t the best part. The best part was what she was on the inside, the Mercy she didn’t show many people. Her trust was addictive, the way she opened up, and let him in. Let him see her. He rolled on the condom she handed him. Thank God one of them was a planner.
He rocked against her, and she cracked an eye and looked at him. Christ, he loved her smile.
“Your turn,” she said happily, smoothing her fingertips over his shoulders, easing the small sting. If luck was on his side, she’d mark him all over. He wanted the whole fucking world to know she’d had him, and he was hers.
He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck and eased inside her an inch. “Nuh-uh. Both of us.”
“I already had my turn,” she pointed out, logical as always.
“It’s ladies’ night. You get the special treatment.”
She blinked up at him, processing that, and he went for the diversionary tactics. He captured her mouth, kissing her with everything he had as he slid his hands down her body to where she was wet and slick.
She muttered something against his mouth as his fingers explored her, and he had no idea what she’d said. He grinned against her mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she ordered, her hips arching up to meet him. So he gave her what they both wanted and pushed in deep. Withdrew. Her nails dug into his shoulders, which he took as a good sign. Permission to continue and all that. She was perfect, and right now, in this bed and for this night only, she was all his. He wasn’t going to waste a moment of the time she’d given him.
He took her slow and sweet, and then when she got to him and he couldn’t wait any longer, harder and faster because there was nothing slow about how she made him feel. He drove into her, and she took him, all of him, and it was so goddamned perfect he didn’t know how he was ever going to let go of her. He stared down at her face, watching her as she came, and gave her everything he had as she she held him tight.
***
He’d killed her. In the best possible way. There was no way she moved for at least an hour, and maybe not for the rest of the night. Unless he motivated her. She felt herself grinning. She was a lucky, lucky woman.
“Can I stay the night?�
��
Was leaving even an option? She had the man pinned to the bed, her head on his chest, her leg over his. He didn’t seem to mind. He threaded his hand through her hair, rubbing the back of her head. If he got tired of fighting fire, he could launch a third career as a masseuse.
Or a gardener.
“Try getting up and see what happens,” she mumbled. He might have said something, but she was already drifting off to sleep.
10
Joey woke up not certain where he was. He was not in his own bed. He knew that much. He was also—thank God—not in his tent in the Iraqi desert. So wherever he was had to be heaven in comparison. He concentrated on breathing in and then out, the world coming slowly into focus around him. He was in Mercy’s bedroom, her soft breathing filling up the silence around him. At some point during the night, she’d squeezed up against him like his loaner cat liked to do. She’d also pulled on her flannel shirt and buttoned it up because, she’d told him, she got cold easily. He’d convinced her to go without panties however, so he counted that as a win. Her cat was curled up on the pillows behind their heads.
Memories pushed at his head, demanding in. He ran a hand down Mercy’s arm, but she didn’t stir. She slept like the dead, a quality he definitely envied. What if the convoy had left later or earlier? Could five minutes have changed everything? What if he’d said fuck it and do the right thing and had made the driver stop? That was the problem with waking up in the middle of the night. Not only were there no answers, but there was nowhere to go. He stared at Mercy, but she didn’t twitch. He’d worn her out and then some, which pleased him on a whole other level. And made him smile like crazy, but she was asleep and couldn’t see him, so he could smile away.
Eventually, he got out of bed, because otherwise he was going to haul Mercy into his arms and wake her up. She had work tomorrow, and she needed her sleep, even if the dumbass she’d had sex with was an insomniac. He went outside, but getting in his truck and driving like hell no longer appealed. Maybe because Mercy’s face popped into his head, all sweet disapproval. Following the rules mattered to her, but keeping him safe mattered most. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared about him like that. His sister worried, but it was different, plus now that she had her husband back, she wasn’t entirely Joey’s anymore.
Instead of getting into the truck, he checked on the rose bushes and finished tidying up. The stars did their own thing overhead, bright and remote in the dark sky. The desert had been like that too, although he’d had a different view of the solar system from Iraq.
When he eventually slipped back inside the house and toed off his boots just inside the door, the sight of his boots next to her shoes made him smile. His steel toes were big and banged-up plenty. They didn’t look out-of-place next to the pair of police-issue boots, but the pair of pink Crocs and the running shoes with the pink laces were terra incognita. The shoe mountain also included two pairs of rhinestoned flip-flops and a pair of wedge heels that had definite possibilities. Damn. The woman had a hidden side and a lot of girly shoes.
He inhaled, breathing in the scents of home. His woman. Somehow he’d figure out how to make this crazy relationship work, and he’d convince her to stay with him. Tucking his morning-chilled hands beneath his arms, he headed for the bedroom. He had fifteen steps to warm his fingers up some before he hoped to be touching her. Freezing her awake wouldn’t be romantic.
She was in bed, warm and sleeping. She’d yanked the covers over her head, just the tip of her neat braid poking out from all the white and down. He wanted to mess her up and make her come apart. Give her sweet and kinky. He took off his clothes, folded them up, and set them on the dresser. Then slipped into bed and pulled her sleep-warmed body against his. Yeah. This was home all right.
“Joey?” The blankets muffled her sleepy voice. She sounded pretty certain though, and that had to count for something. He’d be happy for her to greet him like that for the next thirty, forty years.
“That’s me,” he said gruffly.
Yours.
“Can’t you sleep?”
“No.” Something tugged at him deep inside. Why not tell her the truth? Or part of the truth? “The memories like to come knocking at night.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a moment, and he wondered if she’d fallen back asleep. “Those don’t sound like good memories.”
“I’ve been places, done things.”
“Bad memories,” she said on a sigh. Or a yawn. He shouldn’t have woken her up. “Do you want to talk about them?”
“Hell, no.” He’d rather have open-heart surgery without the drugs, and never mind that he’d brought it up. He’d recant, thank you very much.
“Did you go for a ride?”
Riding hadn’t helped any other night. He couldn’t go fast enough to outrun the demons. The only thing that seemed to help was... Mercy. Hell if that didn’t make him hold her tighter and bury his face in her hair like the worst kind of pansy. He doubted she wanted to hear that she was his new solution to the midnight demons, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself.
***
“No riding. I came back here,” he said, and her heart kicked up a notch. Joey’s arms tightened around her waist, rucking up her shirt and reminding her that she hadn’t worn any panties to bed. He was naked. She was... accessible.
He smelled like fresh air and Joey, two of her favorite scents. The dreams drifted away. She wriggled against him and—hello—he also sported a mighty-fine erection with the eau de outside. Maybe there was something for being woken up in the middle of the night.
Like he’d read her mind, he bent his head and pressed his face her neck. His dark-o’clock stubble rasped her skin, and she sucked in a breath.
“You’ve been outside. Your face is cold.”
“Think of all the places I could put my face.” He rubbed his face against her throat suggestively. She laughed, but amusement wasn’t the only thing she was feeling. Far from it. He was sweet and silly... and hot. There was no overlooking Joey’s hotness when he was pressed up against her in bed.
“For example...,” he said and slid his hand south. She squealed at the icy sensation of his fingers petting through her warm folds.
“Oh, my God.”
He stroked a little deeper. “Better?”
How did he manage to freeze her and make her burn at the same time? It had to be a gift. “You want to have sex now?”
Because the idea was sounding better and better to her.
“Please.” His rough groan made her feel sexy, loved. Then he hesitated. “Shit. Condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “I trust you.”
Three little words that rocked her world, but she meant them. This thing that was happening between them wasn’t just sex, not for her. She hugged the thought to herself because now was not the time to spring emotions on him. Plus she didn’t know what she meant. His thumb found her swollen clit and traced a naughty circle and there went rational thought anyhow.
***
“Me too.” He trailed his hands down her back, over her butt. Funny how her trust worked in him like some kind of powerful aphrodisiac. She was usually ten kinds of careful, and she always, always followed the rules. Except, for him, she was apparently willing to bend them some. He wondered what else she’d let him do, what she might suggest.
She inhaled, a rough sough of sound, because she was as excited as he was. That was a good thing too. She was beautiful, all feminine curves. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, run his hands over her and lick her, but he also needed to be inside her desperately. Like yesterday.
“Hurry up.” She shifted her legs apart for him, and that finished him. This wasn’t going to be fancy, creative sex, but it felt right. Familiar. This was where he needed to be. Not out on the road alone with his demons but right here with Mercy.
“I’m right here, honey.” He pressed into her slowly. Jesus. She was hot and slick, squeezing him tight. “I need y
ou.”
Not this. He needed her.
She gave a loud moan of satisfaction, and he loved how she didn’t hold back. She pressed her butt into his front as she took him deep. He buried his face in the side of her neck, breathing her in.
She giggled. “Oh, God. Your nose is still cold.”
The rest of him wasn’t. He took her slow and deep and the best part was the laughter as he rubbed his icy nose over her heated skin. It was okay to laugh together, for the moment to be funny and unchoreographed, just the two of them rushing toward orgasm together. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she’d turned him into a fucking poet or maybe it was all those Cosmos she left lying around the bathroom and the bedroom so that the pages practically begged to be read. He pushed slowly in until his balls hit her ass, and she wiggled.
“Move,” she whispered. “Or I’m going to come without you.”
“We can’t have that.”
Not that he would mind. Mercy coming was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. She was disciplined and organized and really, really good at making sure people toed the line and played by the rules. But she also let go and had fun in bed with him, making herself vulnerable in way no one else got to see. She made him feel special.
He pulled back, pushed forward.
“Mmmm,” she groaned. “That works for me.”
He ran a hand down her spine, gripping her hips lightly. He was crushing her into the sheets, but she didn’t seem to mind. Their hands tangled together, her butt rising up to meet his hips as he stroked into her. This was perfect. Better, more exhilarating than any headlong rush down the highway. It was a different way of losing himself and better, because with each stroke he was more and more sure he knew exactly where he was. In Mercy. With Mercy. Fuck him, but he was in love with her too.
***
Mercy had no idea what time it was when her pager went off. Five minutes, five hours, but she had no clue. He’d reduced her to boneless happiness.
