His cock was hard. He needed to get up to piss. Only that wasn’t the cause of his hard-on. He’d fallen asleep remembering another time he’d held Melanie Schaeffer close to his body. The only time he’d had the privilege of being inside her. Here in this room. This bed. The last time he’d slept on this mattress.
He wrapped his fingers around his erection and gave himself a slow stroke.
Hard to forget something like that. Taking a woman’s virginity. Not that he’d done it deliberately. She’d waited until it was too late to push at his chest and ask him to go slow.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, but she bit her lower lip, and her eyebrows drew together in a fierce wince.
Stunned, he held himself above her, his arms trembling, not from exertion, but from fighting his own instincts to claim her, to stroke deep inside, because she was hot and slick and so tight he felt every ripple and quiver of her channel as she squeezed around him.
“Sure about that?” he rasped, half angry with her, full-on disgusted with himself. He’d had too much to drink, and she’d been partnered with him for the entire week. How was he supposed to resist? Her body was nicely curved, supple. Her scent, a mix of flowers and her own musk—a subtle, heady aroma—alerted him every time she drew near. Even the tentative way she touched him, laying her hand on his shoulder when they danced, or slipping it into the corner of his elbow when they moved around the ballroom and backyard barbeques, had been a long, drawn-out tease to his senses. This night, his control had snapped. When they’d met each other in the hallway, long after Cassie and Daniel had left for the airport to start their honeymoon, he’d felt like a rangy animal, too hungry to heed the niggling warning in the back of his mind that said she was kin now and off limits. Daniel’s sister-in-law. A guest in his father’s house who deserved protection from the likes of him.
But when they’d met outside his bedroom door, she’d smiled and fingered a lock of her long red-gold hair, and he’d imagined pulling on those curls as he took her from behind. The look in her eye, curiosity blended with equal parts lust as her gaze had trailed down his nude chest, had sealed her fate. And his.
He’d just finished showering. And he hadn’t “handled” his problem. And there she was. Looking interested. With the house quiet after the chaos of the day, he had her all to himself. He’d stepped closer.
Her breath had hitched, but she hadn’t backed away. Instead, her eyes widened, and her chest lifted against the thin blue robe she’d wrapped around herself.
Carter stroked himself faster, remembering how she’d come to be in his bed. Remembering every moment, picturing it like a movie reel playing in his head. Lord, she’d been so beautiful, so sweet—all innocence and seduction, wrapped in a tantalizingly curvy package. There at his doorway, nearly blocking it because she’d wanted his attention. Oh, she’d had it—all his interested inches had pressed uncomfortably against his jeans zipper.
“You should get back in your room,” he growled, determined to give her one last chance to do the right thing.
But she held still, waiting him out.
He huffed a breath. “I’m leaving tomorrow. This won’t lead to anything.”
She lifted her chin. “I know you’re going,” she whispered. “I don’t expect it to lead to a damn thing, but you’ve been…” She bit one side of her lower lip.
“I’ve been what?” he said, bending toward her—just to make sure he heard her answer. Not because, this close, he could smell flowers—and her.
She reached out a finger and ran the tip from the center of his chest almost to his belly button. His muscles tensed, causing them to ripple. Her palm cupped one well-defined abdominal muscle. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” she said, then darted an upward glance that slammed into his.
Electricity crackled in the air between them. His cock stirred and continued to fill. He was too aroused to fight his attraction a second longer. He reached out and gripped both of her wrists then walked backward through his bedroom door. He gave it a nudge with his hip, and didn’t care when it bounced against the wall behind him. He drew her inside and didn’t stop until he reached the edge of his mattress. There, he sat then released her hands and quickly untied her robe.
She gasped, but didn’t move as he parted both sides. She was nude beneath. Shaved below. She’d prepared for him. Planned on seducing him.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered.
“Is something wrong?”
He knew his face was hardening, that his expression was tight, fierce. If she were smart, she’d be moving away, because his fingers tingled, and he had to touch everything he’d bared—the milk white skin of her breasts and the pale, thin stripe around her hips; lovely golden tan across the inches touched by the sun; small light brown freckles on her chest…
Pale areolas surrounding reddening, spiking tips…
Unable to resist, he’d reached out and cupped one soft mound, rasping his thumb across the bead.
Her belly quivered with her next breath.
And he was lost. He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth, latching around the areola with his lips, stroking the bead with his tongue, then drawing hard before moving back to see her body’s reaction.
Her breast glistened. The tip lengthened. She cupped the other breast, inviting him to give it the same treatment.
Instead, he’d unsnapped his jeans and lifted his ass just enough to shove the rough garment down his legs. His cock sprang free, and as he kicked away his pants, he moved backward on the mattress, bracing himself on his hands as her gaze ate him up.
Her eyes widened; her expression tightening with excitement, Melanie shrugged off her robe and climbed over him.
Carter stroked faster as memories he’d kept alive over the years became more disjointed. He’d rolled, taking her beneath him, then kissed and nibbled at every part of her body before donning a condom and entering her. She’d been drenched with excitement, shown not a second’s hesitation—until she’d braced that hand against his chest.
Only then had he noted how narrow she was inside. How she clamped around him, her body trying to eject him. Inside, he’d frozen for just a second as realization hit him. She was nineteen. In college. What the hell?
His breaths deepened, and he firmed his grip, stroking himself faster and faster.
Moisture had filled her eyes as she’d stared back, likely noting his fierce frown of consternation.
“It’s okay. I want this. Just give me a second.” She’d drawn a deep breath, and then raised her legs to encircle his hips.
If he’d been a better man, stronger, he’d have pulled free. But he’d already been so aroused he was near to exploding, and she hadn’t been ready. She was too tense, her breaths too fractured. She was scared and excited, but didn’t have a clue how to make it happen.
But he had known. Lord, he had known exactly how to bring her pleasure. Not that he hadn’t silently cursed at the necessity.
He remembered pleasuring her with his mouth, his fingers. Remembered how she’d cursed him, her fingers digging into his scalp to pull him up her body. He’d entered her again. This time, the glint in her eyes challenged, dared him to pause again, but he was too far gone. After learning every lush, hot secret her body held, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d stroked them both to completion then held her until they’d recovered their breath.
Eventually, they’d slept. In the morning, he’d gathered his things without waking her and dressed in an empty guest room before departing. He hadn’t spoken to her again until yesterday. The fact she could look at him with anything but disgust for the way he’d left, slipping silently out of the house without so much as a farewell kiss…well, she was the bigger person.
But seeing her had reawakened his attraction for her. Even now, he imagined her body gloving his cock, her tight channel clenching around him as he tugged and stroked his dick. Only when his balls tightened and come burbled over his hand did he wonder whether she still thought ab
out the time they’d spent together in this bed.
Carter gave himself one last pull and drew a deep breath.
The door burst open, and he quickly flipped the sheet over his hips.
“Tildy says you won’t get breakfast ’less you come now! Says I can have your bacon.”
Alarm shot through him, and he hoped like hell he’d been quick enough, or that Emmy was short enough she hadn’t seen anything she shouldn’t. Footsteps hurried toward his doorway, and he groaned a second before Melanie appeared in the opening. Her gaze went to the sheet covering his hips and the overlarge bulge where his hand still gripped his cock.
Her lips twitched, but then she formed them into a straight line before gripping Emmy’s shoulders and turning her toward the hallway. “Go tell Tilda Carter’s up,” she said, sounding as though she was choking. “I’ll check on Grandpa before I come down.”
As the little girl clomped away, Carter slowly eased his hand from around his cock, knowing Melanie knew exactly what he’d been doing before he’d been interrupted.
“Um, you might want to lock your door when you…sleep,” she mumbled, then closed the door as she left.
His cheeks hot, Carter let loose a bark of laughter and rubbed a hand over his face—the unsticky one. She hadn’t curled her lips in disgust. In fact, there’d been a glint of interest before she’d briskly turned away.
Not that he had any intention of going there again. Melanie Schaeffer deserved better than a broken-down Navy SEAL who didn’t know what his future held. And as pretty as she was, she likely already had a boyfriend. That she was still unmarried was surprising. Were the men around here blind?
Carter’s gaze went to the door, and he quickly sat up and flipped back the sheet. He strode to the door and turned the lock. Hunger growled in his belly.
He’d better hurry. Emmy would eat his bacon.
*
Having Carter seated at the table for breakfast was both awkward and exhilarating. Even more so than dinner had been the night before, especially after what she’d just witnessed. The awkward, she could live with. Thank goodness Emmy hadn’t noted anything amiss after she’d burst into Carter’s room. That he’d been masturbating was apparent by his tense features and the mounded sheet.
Melanie hadn’t been shocked. She’d learned long ago to lock her door if she needed a little one-handed play to release tension. But she did wish she could have curbed her amusement. The arch of his eyebrow when she’d told Emmy to tell Tilda that Carter was “up” said he’d enjoyed her quip. But she wasn’t there to entertain the man. She wanted him gone. For her peace of mind—and before Emmy became attached to her “Unca” Carter. Yesterday, she’d cursed her momentary weakness, leaning into his body when he’d given her a hug. Last night, that hug had haunted her dreams.
Still, she hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. Electricity crackled in the air. Her senses were more alert. She smelled him even before he entered her sight to slide into a seat opposite her at the table. Sage and his own masculine aroma. A lovely scent she hadn’t found matched by any man who’d ever tried to chat her up during her infrequent visits to town. And she knew how he smelled during sex. That scent had permeated the air of his bedroom just a few minutes ago, reminding her of the one night they’d spent together.
The moment she’d stepped into the doorway and spied him, hastily drawn-up sheets covering his hips, her eyes had sharpened, taking in every detail of his appearance—the disheveled, shaggy dark hair, the stubble of his beard, the broad muscled chest cloaked in lovely dark, curling hair between two small flat nipples…
And good Lord, she was thinking about it again. The memories that spilled through her mind when she was alone in the dark—his kisses, the scrape of his callused fingertips, the strength of his hands as he moved her hips to meet his with each hard, straight stroke…
“Mama! You not liss-nin’.”
Melanie pulled in a deep breath between pursed lips and dragged her gaze from Carter’s hands to glance down at Emmy beside her.
The little girl’s green eyes were darkening with annoyance.
“Sorry, sweetie. What were you saying?”
“I said, Unca Carter missed my birthday party.”
Emmy’s eyes were wide. The little brat was faking innocence. Melanie glanced across at Carter to see whether he had caught Emmy’s broad hint.
Carter’s expression was bemused as he stared at his niece. When he caught her look, he shrugged, as if to say, What am I missing?
Her glance went to Lee, whose lips were firmed into a straight line as he tried not to laugh.
Again, she glanced down at Emmy. “I suppose we could ask Tilda to make another cake, just so your uncle can see you blow out the candles…”
Emmy crossed her arms, and huffed, done with being subtle.
Carter cleared his throat, drawing all their gazes. “If you had a gift to open after you blow out the candles, would that be more fun?”
Emmy’s expression cleared. “My Barbie needs a horse. Mama forgot to get her one.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “I bought the Dream House. That was what you said Barbie needed.”
“Well, now she needs a horse. Jus’ like Punkin.”
“Punkin?” Carter repeated.
She almost felt sorry for him because he couldn’t follow Emmy’s conversation. Almost. If he’d been here these past couple of years, he’d have no trouble. Melanie nodded and leaned over the table. “That’s Emmy’s pony.”
“Ah.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Maybe your Aunt Melanie can help me find one.”
“She’s Mama.”
He arched an eyebrow at Melanie, but nodded to Emmy. “Maybe your mama can help me find one.”
Melanie winced. “I’ll have to check Amazon again. Darn things were sold out the last time I looked.”
Carter grunted and returned his gaze to his plate.
Melanie resumed playing with her eggs. Although fluffy and spiced with onions and tiny slivers of jalapenos the way she liked them, her appetite was gone. She was too distracted by the man sitting across from her. His gaze rarely left her, which made her wonder whether he was noting the changes to her appearance or simply trying to avoid locking gazes with Lee who glowered from the end of the table.
Boot heels clapped on the wood floor, and she glanced at the entrance to the dining room. Her smile froze on her face. “Wayne, you’re just in time to join us.” She waved at the empty seat beside Carter, but Wayne slid into Carter, Sr.’s empty seat.
The kitchen door opened. Tilda poked her head inside. “Coffee’s hot,” she said, with a smile directed at Wayne. Her first of the day, Melanie was sure. She’d caught the woman grumbling about Carter as she’d set his plate on the table before his arrival, her dark eyes flashing beneath her heavy brows. Tilda Gomez was no fan of Carter’s.
“I won’t be staying that long, Tilda, but thanks,” Wayne said smoothly.
Tilda clucked her disapproval but retreated to the kitchen.
Emmy lifted a fork of plain scrambled eggs and flipped it at Lee’s son. The eggs landed on the tabletop, thank goodness.
Wayne glanced at the mess then gave Emmy a flat stare.
Emmy returned it with a wicked gleam in her eye. She’d never taken to the man, although he was a frequent visitor and often brought her gifts, trying to woo her friendship. But Emmy wasn’t having any of it. Maybe she sensed his interest in Melanie and was jealous.
“What brings you out this early in the morning?” Melanie asked.
Wayne’s smile seemed strained as he looked at Carter. “Heard you were back. Thought I’d come say hello.”
Carter’s gaze narrowed, but he gave the other man a nod. “You’re looking well.”
Wayne did. He was dressed in dark gray slacks, his silver and maroon tie loosened at the neck of his button-up white shirt. He shared the Vance men’s dark good looks.
“I have to be at the office at ten.” His gaze went to Melanie. “W
ondered if I could have a minute of your time, Mel.”
Heat began to spill across her cheeks as both Wayne and Carter stared. “Sure. If you’re not going to eat, we could talk now.”
Wayne pushed up from his seat and quickly walked to hers, pulling back her chair as she stood. A gesture she didn’t expect, and which made her uncomfortable because he seemed to be making some point to the man watching quietly from across the table.
Melanie bent toward Emmy. “Finish your eggs. And no more flicking them with your fork. Tilda won’t be happy if you make a bigger mess.”
Emmy sat sullenly but gave a nod.
Chapter Five
‡
Without a glance toward Carter, because she knew she’d find only a narrow glare, Melanie walked through the living room to the front porch. There, she took a seat in the middle of the porch swing to prevent Wayne from trying to sit next to her. Of late, he’d made his interest in her more obvious, and she wanted to keep things copasetic. He was Lee’s son. With more right to be here than she, but still…something about him made her feel…crowded.
“You said you wanted to talk,” she reminded him, getting straight to the point.
Wayne’s gaze went back to the door. “He mention how long he’s staying?”
She raised both brows. “You could have asked him that.”
He shrugged and sat in a glider—after examining it to make sure there wasn’t any dirt on it to transfer to his trousers, she was sure. Something else she didn’t like about him. Too fussy.
“Didn’t want to ask how his knee was doing, or whether he would be booted from the Navy. Thought maybe he’d be sensitive about the subject.”
She doubted seriously that he was overly concerned about offending Carter. “Why are you worried about his knee?”
“I’m not worried. Just wondering.”
“About how long he’s going to be here?” She drew a deep breath. “Are you worried he plans to stay?”
Baby, It's You (Uncharted SEALs Book 5) Page 3
