Marine Under the Mistletoe (Always a Marine)

by Long, Heather

  “That I’m the guy for you.” He said it with such conviction, she half-believed him.

  “In three days?”

  “My dad knew in twenty-four minutes. I’m behind the curve.”

  She struggled to keep it casual. “We barely know each other.”

  “So? I told you—I have a way of knowing things. The first moment I saw you, I wanted you—physically, emotionally, mentally. I want to shake up your safe little world so I can be a part of it. Think you can make room for me?”

  Oh, she wanted to buy into the fairytale more than he knew. “That’s how you feel right now—it’s because I listened. You’re…you—” She stopped at his raised eyebrows. “What about tomorrow?”

  “What about it?” He didn’t shy away from her fear. “You’re fearless. You walked right up to me and kissed me. You didn’t back down when I lost my temper and you called me…?”

  “Sergeant Grumpy?” A fresh wave of heat flushed through her from head to toe. The unhidden desire in his eyes sparked a longing in her she struggled to contain.

  “Hmm-hmm. I like it. Going to have it put on a T-shirt.” He caught her lower lip in a gentle nip, and her indecision began to burn away. “You believe in magic and you’re one of the reasons why the world can be a better place.”

  How the hell did one reply to that? She opened her mouth and closed it again.

  “Have I rendered you speechless?” Wonder and delight twisted together in his tone. “Let’s see if I can do it again….” He brought her right up to the side of the house, pressing her to the wood and crowding her until the only thing she could see was him.

  “Um…okay.” It had been easy to forget the determined male beneath the hurt she’d glimpsed when they were introduced. But he’d been unfailingly sweet to her—even when he’d been grumpy.

  “I adore your strength, your kindness—and even your chocolate.” He rested his forehead against hers. His deep, dark eyes filled her vision. “I love your kisses and your spirit. I guess what I’m trying to tell you ma’am, is that I love you and it’s okay if you don’t love me back right away. I’m a patient guy.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, kissing her thoroughly in a way that claimed her body and her soul. Cupping her bottom, he lifted her until her head was even with his. Hitching her thighs around his hips, she fisted her hands in his jacket and surrendered to him. Her thoughts scattered under the joy filling her heart.

  “Kaiden,” she managed when he finally let her up for air. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep—please?”

  “I’m not.” He flicked his gaze up and she followed to see the mistletoe hanging overhead. “You know what that means?”

  “That I’m a pretty girl?” She gripped his jacket tighter, drinking up the heat of his closeness. “Or that we’re safe from evil and harm?” Many legends surrounded the mistletoe.

  “Hmm…I sense you want to wake up Sergeant Grumpy.” Mischief transformed him and her breath caught in her throat. “But since I’m in a mood to play, you can keep teasing me.”

  Rowan giggled. “I adore you.” And once the words were out, she couldn’t take them back. He went completely still against her, and she couldn’t even hear his breathing. Licking her lips, she jumped off the safe ledge she’d been living her life on. “I do adore you and I felt the same way when I first saw you. But I promised you no expectations or demands.”

  When he would have said something, she pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. He nipped at her then drew her index finger and sucked on it. Everything in her lower body went hotter and tighter. Her thoughts unraveled and she exhaled a shuddering breath. “What I’m trying to say—is yes.”

  At his urging, she closed the distance and traced the line of his mouth with tiny kisses.

  “Yes.” He repeated as though for confirmation. “You did say yes, right?”

  “Uh huh.” Maybe she’d regret the impulsive choice some day, but if she hadn’t made it, she’d regret the lack forever.

  “You realize I didn’t ask a question?” Supreme satisfaction stretched his grin wider.

  “What?”

  “I hadn’t asked you yet, but since you said yes, I’m happy.” Smug. Charming. Rogue. All the descriptions fit. “Think we can sneak upstairs?”

  “What about your cracker crack?” Her heart raced. “You know it won’t survive the feasting.”

  “Hmm…I don’t need chocolate.” The low, husky words turned her inside out. “I have you. You’re much sweeter than chocolate.” Several soul-searing kisses later, he eased her back to her feet and led her toward the door. Her mind and heart raced, disbelief and delight warring for dominance.

  The noise of so many others laughing, talking, eating, and playing rushed out to meet them as they entered. Disappointment curled through her belly since there would be no way to avoid the welcoming hugs, the inclusive laughter, or the plates of food. But Kaiden stayed a firm fixture at her side, not allowing anyone to draw her off into a conversation for too long. When Lorraine cornered them, her happiness practically radiating off her in shimmering waves, Kaiden ducked his head down to murmur in her ear.

  “Of course!” She beamed and kissed his cheek, then turned to kiss Rowan’s. “Go on, both of you, shoo. I’ll take care of everything.”

  He hooked an arm around Rowan’s waist and steered her out of the kitchen toward the stairs. No one followed, though the bursts of laughter and chatter continued to rise and fall. They reached the top of the stairs, and her heart hammered because he continued to guide her down the hall toward his room.

  She snuck another peek up at him. “What did you ask her?”

  “I asked her if she really was on board with us as a couple, would she run interference so I could steal you away and seduce you.”

  Her face had to be going up in flames, and her heart hitched a stuttering beat. “She’s going to think we’re going upstairs for sex. How do you ask your mother that?”

  Kaiden pushed open the door to his room and tugged her inside. “You’ve met my mother, right?” Only one lamp had been turned on in his room, a low wattage one next to the bed that left the rest cloaked in shadows. The door closed and shut out the last bit of sound and they were alone.

  “Kaiden.” Rowan’s eyes rounded. How would she ever look his mother in the eye in the morning?

  “Rowan,” he said with a hint of wryness. “My mother has sex. God knows she’s told me before that sex is natural, blah,” he kissed her, “blah,” another kiss, “blah.”

  Every touch melted her. “But you still told her.”

  “Hmm-hmm. It was that or toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of there. Especially when Aaron brought up the karaoke machine.” As if to punctuate the sentiment, the floor below their feet vibrated with a deep bass beat. He began to unbutton her shirt, all the while tracing a path of kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

  “Over your shoulder?” Her whole world seemed off balance and she held onto him.

  “Hmm-hmm. Not sure how you feel about Neanderthals, but we’re going to have to find out.” He cupped her breast and she forgot to breathe.

  Blinking rapidly, she tried to string together a coherent response, but he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her nipple and it went taut, beading and straining under the thin lace of her bra. “Neanderthals?”

  When the hell had her voice gotten so husky?

  “Hmm.” He spread her shirt wider, his attention wholly fixed on her breasts. “My woman.”

  The heat in her face seemed to spread out everywhere, a volcanic eruption of raw flame setting fire to her blood.

  “And you blush beautifully.” It really was the last thing she heard as he covered both of her breasts and kissed her again.

  Her sudden, wide-eyed shyness had caught him off-guard, but he reveled in peeling back another delightful layer to the complicated woman in his arms. Rowan—even her name provoked an almost irrational surge of need and protectiveness in him. Her sce
nt filled his every breath, and he wanted to roll around in the pure warmth radiating from her.

  Torn between continuing to play with her breasts and wanting her naked, he made sure to turn the lock on the door before scooping her up in his arms. Something inside his chest had hurt for weeks, but Rowan eased that pain—or maybe it was simply being with her that gave him time to heal whatever he’d broken.

  Frankly, Kaiden didn’t give a damn. She said yes, and while she might not know what it meant—he did. The inch she’d given him, he would turn into a lifetime. Setting her down on the bed, he marveled at the image she made—her clothes disheveled, her breasts straining against the lacy cups, and her skin suffused in delicate pink from her cheeks to the swell of her belly button.

  He could stare at her for hours, but his cock ached. The strain had been on him all day, and he wanted both of them naked so he could leisurely explore every sweet curve she possessed. It took him no time to shed his clothes.

  Rowan rose, her gaze fixed on him and her pupils dilated. The fact that he affected her as much as she did him thrilled him. When she started shedding her clothes, dropping shirt, pants—after a delightful feminine shimmy to get them off—then her bra and panties off the side of the bed, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  “You okay?” Her earlier shyness seemed to have retreated, but the husky note in her voice stroked him like a caress.

  “You’re really fucking beautiful.” She was more than beautiful. Full breasts, lush hips, and long, firm legs—her clothes did not do her justice. In nearly every way, she reminded him…. “You look like one of those pin-up girls.”

  Her eyebrows inched upwards. “Excuse me?”

  “You know,” he said, easing onto the bed and pressing a kiss to her ankle. “Those sexy women they used to paint onto planes—Bettie Page, Rita Hayworth—” He stroked her soft skin, and kissed the inside of one knee and then the other. He met her eyes. “Lush, beautiful women, and they don’t have half your appeal.”

  To his delight, her face pinked again.

  “And have I mentioned.” He continued on his upward trajectory to rub the heel of his palm against the red curls nesting at the juncture of her thighs. “I have a real thing for—” And then his gaze snagged on the tattoo above the line created by her hip, placed on the delicate skin curving along her abdomen. “Is that…?”

  The rosy bloom of her skin turned deep red, and he laughed.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She laughed around her hand. “It was an impulse.”

  “Well, you do know the rules, don’t you?”

  “It’s a tradition,” she chided him, but interest lit her expression.

  “Tradition. Ritual. Rules—does it matter as long as I get to kiss you right under the mistletoe?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Nudging her thighs farther apart, he pressed a kiss to her folds and blew a soft breath. The muscles in her legs clenched. Sliding a finger along the slickness, he grinned. “Someone’s very wet.”

  Her bottom clenched and her thighs tensed. “If you’re trying to torture me—”

  He kissed her, long, slow, and deep. She moaned, and it spiked the need racing through him. Circling her clit with his tongue, he laughed at the incoherent sound of protest. When her hips arched and she planted a foot on his back, he whispered. “Patience. I want to make sure you’re thoroughly kissed.”

  Having her in his bed gave him a patience he hadn’t thought he possessed. Easing a finger into her, he glanced up to see her head thrown back, her breasts pushed up, and her hands digging into the bed covers. Total abandon, and it made her that much more fucking gorgeous to him. Adding a second finger to the first, he curved them to stroke her beneath her clit, and when she gasped, he locked his mouth around the hard bud and sucked.

  Only the hand he had on the inside of her thigh kept her from clamping her legs around his head. Her foot dug into his back and she pushed up, her unabashed shout music to his ears. Teasing her along, he pushed her toward another orgasm. He’d never wanted to spend so much time worshiping a woman before, but he loved the way her body responded. As the quakes of her second orgasm slowed, he gentled his touch. Every brush of his lips elicited another little gasp or soft moan.

  Not wanting to lose contact with her, he followed the curves of her body to kiss a path along her abdomen, pausing at her mistletoe tattoo to lovingly trace the art with his tongue.

  “An impulse,” she whispered, her voice filled with pleasure and need.

  “Hmm?” The sweet, tangy flavor of her lingered on his tongue and, if not for the brutal steel stiffening his cock, he’d go back for another helping.

  “My tattoo.” She wrapped her arms around him as he glided up the length of her body, dragging her nails lightly across his skin, exploring him as he longed to do to her. “I got it eight weeks ago.”

  Kaiden froze and their gazes locked. The air between them thickened, growing heavier with expectation—and on his part, wonder. “Eight weeks ago,” he whispered, “I was still on the fence about coming home.”

  She darted her pink tongue to slide along her lower lip, dragging his attention to the lusciousness of her lips. “And then you knew?”

  He nodded once, cupping her cheek before kissing her. His tongue slid in and stroked hers in an invitation. He’d known he had to go, no matter how many times he reconsidered it—his gut said go and he’d come home. The muscles in his body turned to rock.

  She smelled divine, felt better. He kept her captive, delighting in the way she sucked his tongue and dug her nails into his back. Reaching down, he lifted her thigh up to his hip and circled her clit with his thumb. Continuing to torment her—or maybe it was him—or both. He pushed two fingers into her again, and her breathing grew erratic, her touch more frantic.

  “Please,” she pleaded softly and he dragged himself up, reached over to the nightstand, and found the condoms he kept with his wallet. He’d picked up the damn things at the airport and he’d had no idea why. His instincts, however, remained golden.

  Never losing eye contact with the beautiful woman on his bed, he sheathed his cock and settled back between her thighs. “Rowan.” He fisted his cock and rubbed the head between her damp folds. Squeezing once, he bit off a curse—he needed a hell of a lot more control before he slammed into her.

  “What?”

  “One question?” And he had to ask—her confession earlier at the lake jiggling loose in the back of his mind.

  “What?” It came out as a growl, and she gazed up at him, her eyes glazed with passion.

  “Are you a virgin?” She was in her mid-twenties so he doubted it, but still….

  “No.” She shook her head. “But it’s been a long time….”

  Damn him, he wanted to know. No, I need to know…I need this to be good for her. He’d hurt enough people in his life. Rowan was special. She deserved special.

  Her expression faltered, and the open vulnerability wrenched at his heart. “Um…college.”

  A long time then. He gave himself another hard squeeze and controlled the wince of pain that lanced through his desire. Slow. She needed slow, gentle, and patient. “Okay.” He softened his voice. “Slow then….”

  And putting word to action, he eased into her, sinking against the hard clamp of tight muscles. Her respiration increased, coming out in rapid little gasps. Sweat beaded along his back, and his spine burned with the control it took, wanting to drive into her, but he couldn’t. No way in hell would he risk hurting her.

  It took an agonizingly long time and then he sank all the way, balls deep, and he sucked in a harsh breath, fisting the covers on either side of her head. “You okay?”

  “Oh…yes….” The hitching pauses between the words stroked him and her sex clenched hard until he thought he’d come right on the spot. But he wasn’t some dumbass teenager. He could do this. Checking her expression for confirmation of her words, he began to slide back out and then in again. The pace would kill him, a lon
g slow drive into madness, but damn if it didn’t feel good too.

  Rocking gently, he deepened his strokes with each glide until she began to writhe and lifted her hips in welcome. When she clasped his ass and dug her nails in, he gave her a hard kiss and continued his ruthless pace, driving her toward the peak and himself to insanity.

  She cried out, meeting him thrust for thrust until his body went liquid, the rhythm frantic and, fighting for one last gift, he braced his arm and slid his hand down to tease her clit. That was all it took to send her head back and tear a scream of pleasure from her throat. She bucked and he slammed into her once, twice, and then the fire raced out of him, his body melting into hers as he came in a mind-blowing torrent.

  With a groan, he buried his face against her neck, their ragged breathing the only sounds punching the air around them. It was so much better than he’d imagined. The numbness—the ice chipping away at his soul—all dissolved under the radiant warmth of her kindness and passion.

  It took walking through hell to truly understand heaven—but he got it. Opening his eyes, he lifted his head to study her. If possible, she’d grown even lovelier.

  He really had come home.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Hey.”

  “So...I have a confession.” She licked her lips, the shyness a hint in her gleaming, passion-drenched glaze. He’d put that look there.

  His heart thudded with pride. “What do you want to confess?”

  “I found something I like better than chocolate.”

  Laughter rumbled out of him and he buried his face to her neck again, nuzzling her soft skin. “Give me a little while and I’ll get you seconds so you can be sure.”

  Her answering groan sent a shiver up his spine, even as her softening muscles tightened around his cock. “Can you die from good sex?”

  “I don’t know. But I aim to find out.”