SmokingHot

by Anne Marsh

  “Tell me something,” she started, but he cut her off gently.

  “I like your dresses,” he said. “That’s one thing.”

  He placed his strong hands on her thighs and pushed slowly. His fingers were nowhere close enough to her naughty zone, but a warm, solid presence. Tempting. She might have wriggled a little. Not that she was admitting to anything.

  “You’ve got paint in your hair,” he said. “That’s two.”

  Well. Merde. She twisted, trying to find the offending spot.

  “That’s not a bad thing,” he said roughly. “Paint’s a good look for you and this is supposed to be my art therapy, yeah?”

  It was broad daylight, she was on the table at the veteran’s center, and she was loving it. Loving him. Tye Callahan was a lethal weapon.

  “Just kisses.” His mouth moved over her temple, deliciously rough. “And maybe some touching. That’s all we’re going to do for right now.”

  “Are you promising me a later?” she challenged. Knowing where she stood was good.

  “Absolutely.” He removed one hand from her body—she fought back a whimper of protest—and reached for something beside her. And that something stroked over her collarbone, a soft, erotic tickle that had her coming up off the table.

  “Tye—” He had one of the paintbrushes fisted in his hand, was wielding it with wicked concentration. A clean one, the last rational part of her brain recognized, before she gave up thinking and jumped feet-first into the pleasure.

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “We’re painting, right?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. Painting had never been so decadent. Or sexy.

  He drew the brush down her arm, swirling a small circle on her palm. Oh, yeah. His other hand slid beneath her, cupping her ass and anchoring her. He teased her, drawing naughty patterns that made her groan and shiver. Her lashes drifted shut and the pleasure was even more intense. Her and Tye. The brush and the sweet, erotic dark.

  “I’m going to do the other one,” he whispered roughly, switching his attentions to her other arm. So good. She wiggled and arched into his touch, the brush teasing new nerve endings to life.

  This was Tye. He tugged, pulling her bodice down to her waist. He cursed and she bit back a small smile. Because, yeah, she’d worn her very best underwear today. Thank God. The little half-corset that just fit beneath the top of the dress was a lacy pink and white, the soft cups pushing her breasts up into two perfect mounds that even she liked looking at, feeling all kinds of sexy even if the corset had been her secret. Tye obviously liked the corset too.

  “Damn, angel,” he said roughly.

  “Uh-huh,” she agreed happily, opening her eyes. His eyes were hard and hot, focused entirely on her. Four slow flicks of her fingers later, the corset parted and Tye’s breathing got a whole lot rougher. He traced her breasts with the brush, smoothing the bristles over the curves with an erotic tickle and then circling her nipples. Little whimpers escaped her because, damn, he was good.

  He slipped his hand out from beneath her ass and slowly pushed her skirts up. That was promising, but she had no idea what to do with her hands. Or maybe that was the haze of pleasure, because she wasn’t thinking clearly. But the feelings were all there, sweet and hot and building.

  “Hang on to me,” he suggested and her hands shot right to his shoulders. Perfect.

  “Tye—”

  “This art therapy is working for me,” he said roughly.

  The brush moved over her thighs. Oh... yeah.

  “And I really, really like your panties.”

  The brush stroked her center. Up. Then down.

  Oh.

  Again. Please.

  And he did. Soft strokes followed by a deeper touch. Harder. His fingers teased the edge of her panties before slipping beneath to find her. He touched her and the pleasure shimmered through her, followed by the inescapable blush painting her cheeks because this was one of those all or nothing moments and she was all out there. Exposed. What if he didn’t like what he saw? Or she didn’t do this right? And yet it felt so good. He felt so good.

  “Beautiful,” he muttered roughly. “You’re so goddamned beautiful, Katie.”

  And, strangely enough, those blunt words relaxed her, had her closing her eyes and losing herself in Tye. His knuckles nudged aside her panties and his warm breath teased her there, where he’d touched. Looking, but okay. He liked what he saw. His breath caught, followed by more kisses. Life might not have a happily-ever-after in store for them, but plenty of happy-for-right-now.

  And much, much later as she sighed and tightened, he lifted his head for just one moment and asked, “You absolutely sure this is what you want, angel?”

  “Yes,” she said, more moan than word. “Yes, please.”

  And please he did, pushing her gently over the edge, holding her tight to him as she came.

  Chapter Nine

  Katie had paint up and down her back. She knew that because she’d discovered Tye’s grey-and-black canvas jabbing her in the back when she’d come back down to earth. Merde, but her SEAL could kiss.

  Everywhere.

  She blinked up at the ceiling and tried to catch her breath. Okay, she definitely didn’t need to pursue the ménage option, because one guy was more than enough for her. Tye was more than enough. She summoned enough energy in her post-orgasmic bliss to lift her head and look at him.

  Head pressed against her belly—his lashes tickling the soft curve she still wished would miraculously disappear, he cradled her hips with his hands. She couldn’t tell if he was meditating, drinking her in, or catching a nap, but he seemed content, like a large cat, even though she was almost certain she was the only one who’d finished. Charcoal streaked his T-shirt where she’d clutched him and the paint in his hair said she must have landed an elbow in his canvas when he’d got really, really wicked with his brush.

  The table top, however, was no Sealy Posturepedic. She shifted, but the new spot was just as hard as the first. Tye lifted his head and looked at her. Well, he’d looked at her before. At other parts of her. Parts that definitely hadn’t seen the light of day in more months than she cared to remember. Parts that weren’t for public consumption, except—she fought back the urge to giggle—when apparently they were.

  “Hey,” he said. “You still with me?”

  Lying sprawled out on the table should have been awkward. It was definitely messy. But it felt right.

  Wicked, too.

  That was a new feeling for her and she liked it. Liked it—liked him— a lot.

  “The table’s hard,” she offered, when she really wanted to say Holy moly, you’re amazing and Can we do that again? But on a mattress this time?

  Wordlessly, he scooped her up in his arms and settled back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him as he cradled her close.

  “Better?”

  She was voting yes. She looked around the room, but it was still the same place it had always been. She, however, definitely looked worse for wear. He’d started out painting the canvas, but then he’d painted her. She had hand-shaped marks on her breasts and, she twisted—yep—on her ass.

  She pointed to a particularly egregious smear of paint. “Was that necessary?”

  “I owed you. The day we met?” His arms tightened. “That pink paint didn’t come out of my BDUs.”

  “Consider us even.”

  There was a moment of silence, then he said, “I’m pretty sure I feel better. You could make a fortune with this art therapy stuff.”

  She snorted. “I’m pretty sure you did all the heavy lifting. Plus, they can arrest you in California for charging money for that.”

  “For that?” He laughed. “That has a name, Katie.”

  ***

  He loved the way she blushed. Not five minutes ago, she’d been whimpering and hollering his name, but now she was embarrassed. He probably shouldn’t tease her. Hell, he knew he shouldn
’t.

  He grinned. But that wasn’t going to stop him.

  “Next time,” he said, “I’m going to make you say it.”

  She squirmed, trying to work her way to the edge of his lap, but he held on. He wasn’t done with this holding business.

  “Fantastic.” She slapped a hand on his chest and pushed. “That’s what I’m calling it. Okay?”

  “Works for me. I can also do stupendous, fabulous, and mind-blowing.”

  She shook her head. “I’m a lucky woman.”

  “You bet.” He set her on her feet and stood up. “We’ve probably pushed our luck just about as far as we can here.”

  She didn’t say anything, just buttoned and tugged and then started shoveling her things back into her bag. He thought about pointing out that dumping a wet paint canvas into her bag was going to make one hell of a mess, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. So he helped her where he could, held the door, and trailed behind her out to the sidewalk. Yeah. He didn’t do follow well.

  There was a moment of awkward silence on the sidewalk. He didn’t know what she wanted or expected. She didn’t look at him as she fished in her bag for her keys—and came up with red fingers. Yeah. A mess all around.

  He knew what he wanted though.

  More kissing. More Katie.

  So... into the breach he went. “Ride with me? Back to my place?”

  He told himself he wasn’t holding his breath. They’d had a thing back there in the V.A. center and just because he’d thought it was hotter than hell didn’t mean she wasn’t entertaining a regret or two. Or two thousand. Damned if he knew what she was thinking. But his heart kicked into overdrive when she opened her mouth.

  She smiled. Thank God. She smiled. He’d done something right. “I can take my car.”

  “But I’d like to drive you.”

  “But—” She hesitated.

  He wanted to drive. Because, yeah, then she couldn’t slip out on him. Couldn’t leave him without at least a little please and thank you, but that wasn’t the biggest reason. He liked the idea of her trusting him, both to make the sex good and to make her feel safe. She hesitated and he thought say yes.

  “I’m driving my car. I’ll be right behind you,” she said and he took what he could.

  He dropped a kiss on her mouth, right there on the sidewalk where everyone could see. She stiffened briefly before melting into him. She tasted sweet. Sweet and hot, a taste he wouldn’t be forgetting. Ever. Just kissing could be enough, but she’d promised him more.

  “Drive safely,” he said, pulling back.

  “I’ll see you in ten,” she agreed.

  He put her into her car, then swung up into his truck, put it in gear, and pulled out. If he drove fast, he could be home in ten.

  ***

  “It’s not much,” he warned, hand on the camper’s door. In fact, his temporary-for-the-summer digs were about as standard as they came. She nodded and he pushed the door open—no one bothered with keys out here—and stood back so she could go in.

  “No kidding.” She widened her eyes comically as she slid past him. The camper was standard hitch-up-and-go fare. He had a double bed, a built-in table, and two chairs. The place also offered a tiny, can’t-swing-a-cat-in-it bathroom but that wasn’t the kind of floor space he did his entertaining in. Still, he wished he could offer her more. Something his, not borrowed. But he couldn’t. Not today. He shoved the regrets into the do-not-open box, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. The snick as he flipped the latch announced his intentions loud and clear.

  She stood by the table, fiddling with the straps of her purse and, yeah, the moment ranked way up there on the awkward scale. This was just sex, he reminded himself. Sex with Katie Lawson, true, but he’d done this before. Man up. He never hung back. He engaged.

  Her bag thumped onto his table and she eyed the door.

  New strategy.

  “We should get the paint off you.”

  The jump team had a set of solar-heated showers, but that was too public and the camper’s built-in shower was about ten square feet of white plastic that combined the toilet with the shower plumbing. There was nothing romantic about showering with your ass planted on the toilet and there was no room for two, either.

  Snagging a washcloth from the cupboard by the shower, he ran warm water over the cotton.

  “Come here, angel.”

  “Tye—” She fidgeted and he could practically read the thoughts crossing her pretty face. Doubts. Unease. And something else he couldn’t identify, but he’d bet had everything to do with the fact that he wasn’t Kade and she wasn’t the kind of woman who had casual hook-ups.

  He turned off the tap. “You having second thoughts?”

  “And third and fourth,” she admitted.

  “Come here,” he repeated. “Let me see what I can do about that. The door’s still going to be right there, no matter what you decide.”

  She bit her lip. “You wouldn’t mind if I decided not to stay?”

  “Angel, I’d mind a whole damned lot, but that’s not my call. If you don’t want to stay, you go. This is about what you want.”

  “And you.” She took a step toward him. The RV was so damned small that the move put her with touching distance. He stretched out a hand, tugging gently on her wrist gently. She let him pull her close.

  “The two of us,” he agreed.

  He ran the warm cloth up her arm and followed with his mouth. Her pulse pounded against her skin, like a scared thing wanting to come out. “Good?”

  “Mmm-hmmmm. Do the other,” she demanded.

  He laughed, warmed up the cloth, and repeated the long, slow glide up her skin. Turning her in his arms, he found the zipper running down the back of her dress. One long, slow pull and the dress fell away, caught on her arms by the straps. She looked over her shoulder at him and, thank God, that was hunger on her face as he undid her corset.

  “You’ve definitely got paint here,” he said roughly, running his hands over her back, pressing his thumbs into the sensitive muscles by her spine.

  She arched into his touch, her pony tail spilling down her back. “You mind?”

  “Not a bit.” He kissed her some more, trailing his mouth up the straight arrow of her spine, licking and tasting.

  “Better be sure,” she moaned. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve got paint in all sorts of places.”

  “Lift,” he ordered gently. He braceleted her left wrist with his fingers, pulling her back so he could ease the strap down her arm. Then repeated the process with the right until her dress slipped down to her hips. One hard tug and the fabric pooled around her ankles and her fuck-me shoes.

  “Have I told you how much I love your shoes?” His voice came out as a hoarse growl, but she just laughed, wriggling back towards him as she stepped out of her dress. That left her in just her panties and that corset bra thingy she’d tormented him with at the V.A. center. He let his fingers do the walking, undoing the little hooks that marched between her breasts and down. Yeah. Right where he wanted to go.

  Her hands closed over his when he reached for the lacy ribbons holding her panties closed over her hips. Their fingers tangled and together they slid the scrap down. Naked. He had Katie Lawson completely, gloriously naked.

  “You have too many clothes on.” Her protest was half-sigh, half-pout.

  “I can fix that.” He hesitated. “You can say no, Katie. Any time.”

  He didn’t want her pressured into anything. He wasn’t quite sure where her head was at with Kade, but even if their engagement had been a game and the game was over, she’d still loved his friend. In all sorts of different ways. He hadn’t asked because it really wasn’t any of his business, but he’d have bet the camper that Kade and Katie were friends with benefits. So maybe she wasn’t quite ready to hop into bed with him.

  Or maybe she was. A guy could hope.

  She grinned at him and his heart turned
over. “What I want,” she said, “is to say yes. Over and over. Think you can handle that?”

  Thank you, Jesus.

  He could feel the answering grin tugging at his own mouth. “Hooyah. I’m your man.”

  “Glad we got that settled.”

  She hopped onto his bed and that got his blood pressure rising, along with other parts of him.

  “My turn to watch,” she announced, parking her ass on his pillows and drawing her knees up to her chest.

  “Always,” he said. Bending over, he unlaced his steel-toes and set them to one side. Then he pulled the T-shirt over his head and popped the button on his jeans. His fingers stilled. Jesus. She was watching him alright. When she looked at him... Slowly, he shucked the jeans down his thighs and stepped out, reaching down to swipe his clothes from the ground and lay them over the chair. Then he headed straight for her.

  ***

  First impressions counted and, wow, Tye made a hell of a strong impression. If the man packed a punch without his shirt—and their run the other day was definitely one of her new favorite memories—he was even more spectacular. All he wore were the dog tags around his neck and his chest was smooth, sun-tanned skin everywhere she looked. He’d also clearly put in the work it took to get six-pack abs and arms of steel. He was roped and muscled, pure power in a sensual Tye-sized package.

  She dropped her gaze because she wanted to see everything. His erection was as impressive as the rest of him. Tye prowled towards her—there was no other word for it. He moved smoothly, fluidly, with a predatory look in his eyes like he just couldn’t wait to eat her up.

  Which was fine by her.

  More than fine really, because her girly bits were still doing the happy, happy dance from his attentions at the V.A. center. Suddenly in a hurry, she scooted beneath the blanket and sheet. Late afternoon sun filtered into the RV, turning the place all shades of cozy, the built-in furniture painted golden-yellow in the light. The sheets smelled like Tide and the outdoors, plus something both indescribably masculine and Tye.