by Zoe Blake
“Get your hands off her, asshole!” screamed Sage.
No time for doors thought Conner as he turned and headed straight for the balcony door. Bracing his hands, he vaulted over the railing, thankful it was a first floor apartment with only a short ten-foot drop. Landing in the soft, slightly wet grass with his bare feet, he ran the quick distance to the parking lot.
There he found a stocky, Hispanic male wrestling with his Spitfire and her friend. The guy had her friend by the upper arm, trying to force her to drop that ludicrous, pink suitcase.
“Let go, bitch!” he growled. “It’s mine!”
“You owe me, bastard!” yelled Melissa. “I’m taking the Hello Kitty suitcase!”
“Seriously, people?” blurted out Sage. “You are both adults! Are you seriously arguing over a little girl’s suitcase in the middle of the fucking parking lot right now?”
Melissa was so ashamed at her friend’s chastisement, she suddenly let go of the handle. Unfortunately, the Lying Latin Lover Ricardo did not expect it. The suitcase swung in a wide arch, hitting Sage squarely in the chest, knocking her onto the asphalt.
Sage launched to her feet, spitting mad. Just as she sprung at Ricardo, claws bared, there was a crushing weight against her stomach, and a powerful force hauling her backwards. From the top of her head to the curve of her bottom, all she felt was solid muscled heat.
“Easy, Spitfire. I got this,” whispered an amused voice warmly against her ear.
Shocked, Sage looked down to see a large toned arm wrapped securely around her waist. Tilting her head back—way back since the top of her head barely reached his shoulder—she stared into the presumptuous blue eyes of the stranger from across the hall.
“You again,” she sputtered.
Conner’s lips quirked up in the right corner in a half smile. Thoroughly enjoying how his arm had pushed the top of her full breasts up above the neckline of her tiny tee, he chuckled, “Me again.”
Shifting her slight weight to his right side, Conner once again leaned down to whisper suggestively in her left ear, “You can think of way to thank me properly later.”
Ignoring Sage’s indignant retort, Conner turned his attention back to the unknown male and her friend, Melissa, who had resumed their struggle over the suitcase. He assessed the male. Taking in the scuffed combat boots, the hint of a beaded chain around his neck and the faded regiment tattoo on his forearm, he would say Army. The guy was also out of shape, needed a haircut and obviously lacked discipline. Ex-Army. Definitely not a former officer; more than likely a grunt.
“Heel, little Doggie,” Conner barked out, knowing the derogatory term the Marines used for Army soldiers would get his attention. He wasn’t wrong. Ricardo immediately swung his attention to him.
“What the fuck did you just say?” His eyes glowing with anger.
Sage, who had been heretofore struggling to no avail to get out of Conner’s grasp, stilled. Sensing how the tension ratcheted up to a scary degree, she shot glances between the two men.
“It figures an Army grunt would need a command repeated,” said Conner with a smirk. The animosity between the Marines and the Army was well known. Even if this guy hadn’t been Army, Conner would have had an issue with him. The hit to Sage was enough, but he also now noticed the faint bruise under her friend’s eye that makeup failed to cover in the bright daylight.
“Get the fuck out of here, Jarhead,” Ricardo sneered. “This is none of your business.”
“I’m afraid that’s where you and I disagree. Now, you are either going to clear out and give these ladies a chance to load up, or I’m going to beat you to a pulp with my bare hands… and then you’re going to still clear out and give these ladies a chance to load up. This should be a decision so easy even an ex-grunt can make it,” snarled Conner, his warning and stance radiating danger.
Conner would like nothing better than to just skip the options and beat the man bloody for hitting a woman alone, but it was strictly against military code to engage in a fight with someone who was now a civilian. Unless, of course, the piece of shit was dumb enough to throw the first punch, thought Conner with a derisive smile.
Sage was not fooled. Plastered against his side, she could feel the coiled tension radiating from his body. He was poised for a fight. It was almost as if he were eager for one!
Slinking away from the threat of a fight with the large Marine, Ricardo turned to the easier target of Melissa, pointing in her direction he warned, “This isn’t over, bitch.”
“Oh, it better be, dude. I literally know where you live,” threatened Conner.
Ricardo turned on his heel and ran to his car with Melissa shouting curses in his wake.
The threat of a fight gone, Conner turned his attention back to the squirming little package in his arms, settling her more firmly against his chest.
“You can release me now,” she stated through clenched teeth. Sage was alarmed at her body’s reaction to him. He was too… too male. It was almost primal. She was a modern woman for Christ’s sakes! Not some cave woman swooning at the thought of her man swinging his big club around. Speaking of big clubs, she could feel his pressing against her stomach, it both frightened and aroused her.
“What if I don’t want to?” he teased.
Sage refused to take the bait. She tried shifting her hips and shoulders to dislodge Conner’s grip, the move only seemed to arouse him more. She raised shocked eyes to his amused ones.
“Don’t look at me,” he laughed. “You’re the one rubbing up against me.”
“I… I…” Sage was at a complete loss for words for the first time in her life. Her cheeks flamed a bright pink as she became even more aware of their situation. The heat from his naked chest caused her nipples to become erect through her simple silk bra. Judging by his knowing smirk, he could feel their hard outline pushing across his skin.
Conner rubbed her bottom lip with the tip of his finger. “Any thoughts on how you want to thank me for saving you?”
All his earlier good intentions fled the moment he felt the warmth of her body against his own. The moment he smelled the sugared orange scent of her skin as he whispered into her ear. When he felt her pulse race, heard her breath catch and watched her pupils dilate at his closeness. She could protest all she wanted. Her body told him all he needed to know.
“Saving me?” she asked, incredulously. “I had the situation perfectly in hand before you barged in. Thank you very much, Mr… Mr…”
“It’s Conner,” he offered.
“Mr. Conner,” she stated primly, despite her lascivious pose draped across his front.
“Just Conner. Sage.”
She didn’t like how her name sounded more like a promise than a name coming from his lips.
“Please release me, Just Conner.” She smirked knowingly.
“No,” he stated bluntly.
“No?” she sputtered. “You can’t say no!”
Conner shrugged his shoulders. The movement caressing her already aroused nipples, sending a frisson of awareness crashing up her spine.
“I just did,” he challenged.
Sage pushed against his chest, trying to create a space between her skin and his own as she desperately looked around for assistance. Spying Melissa across the parking lot deliberately trying to look busy packing the car. She knew she would get no help from that quarter.
“See here. You can’t just keep me trapped here,” she reasoned.
“What are you offering?”
“Offering?”
“For your freedom”
“This really is too much!”
“I have all day.”
“What do you want?” Sage asked, exasperated. Conner raised his eyebrow suggestively as he swiveled his hips forward, brushing her stomach with his painfully aroused shaft. “Not that!” She blushed.
“How about a kiss?”
“A kiss?”
“I believe that is the customary tribute for a knight in shining arm
or when they rescue a damsel in distress.”
“I was not in distress, you…” Her argument was cut off by his finger across her lips.
“Do you want me to release you or not?”
Sage sighed. “Fine.” She tilted her head back and screwed her lips tight in a rather uninviting purse.
Conner laughed. She really was an adorably, feisty little thing.
Without warning, he reached into the low neckline of the t-shirt that had been teasing him all afternoon. Grasping a warm handful of soft breast, feeling the graze of her nipple along the center of his roughened palm, he squeezed… hard.
Shocked, Sage opened her mouth in a gasp.
Conner attacked.
His other hand, which had been securing her waist, swept up Sage’s back to cradle her head, gripping her hair. Pulling down, her head fell back, giving him access to her vulnerable mouth. His full lips descended on her small pink ones, overwhelming her. His tongue swept in, taking possession of her mouth. Playfully swirling his tongue around her own. Taking her lower lip between his teeth, he gently bit before moving to lick down her neck, wanting to see if she tasted like sweet oranges. Pressing his lips to her skin, he murmured, “Kiss me back, Spitfire.”
“I…I can’t,” she whimpered. Christ! It was too much. Digging her nails into his strong chest muscles, Sage barely clung to her sanity. His hand guiding her head. His mouth on hers. His other hand gripping her breast. It was all too much. He didn’t just take control of her. He took complete possession of her every sense. Suddenly frightened of her response, Sage tried to push away; he only tightened his grip.
Conner could feel her body quake and stiffen. She was fighting him. Fighting her response to him. He wouldn’t let her. Releasing his hold on her breast and head, he moved both hands to her ass. Gripping her by the underside curve, he lifted her feet off the ground, crushing her hips to his own. Pushing his tongue into her mouth in a punishing rhythm, he made sure she felt every inch of the rigid length of his cock as it pressed between them. After several minutes that felt like an eternity, he set her back on her feet, but kept her plastered to his front.
Forcing the fingers of his right hand between her clenched thighs from behind while his left hand still squeezed her bottom cheek, he whispered harshly against her cheek, slightly out of breath, “Just because I can’t feel your wetness through these jeans doesn’t mean I don’t know it’s there, Spitfire.”
Sage felt her knees buckle as his fingers pressed up against her swollen clit, using the harsh fabric of the denim to his advantage. She closed her eyes, trying to get her equilibrium back. When she came back to her senses, she was standing in the middle of the parking lot with Conner lightly stroking her upper arms. She took a step back, relieved when he let her go.
Conner watched her intently as if he expected her to flee at any moment. Smart man.
He took a step forward. Sage took another step back. He took another step, but this time with a warning look. Sage hated herself for heeding it. When he was once again directly in front of her, he took her by the chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
“Give me your number,” he demanded.
“Why?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she stalled. The truth was he scared her. Sage had never responded to a man like that before… had never relinquished control. Taking this further would be a bad idea.
“Conner, I…”
“Sage,” sighed Conner, impatiently. “I didn’t ask. Give me your number.” He knew why she was hesitating and it was bullshit. Attraction like this didn’t happen between people often. She was running from it because it scared her. Marines didn’t run away and they didn’t get fucking scared.
Keeping her gaze lowered, she muttered, “202-639-8700.”
“Good girl,” he said with a quick kiss on her lips. “Go see to your friend.”
Sage practically ran to Melissa who was already waiting in the car.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” yelled Melissa as she laughed and beat on the steering wheel.
“Will you please stop?” groaned Sage.
“Do you have any idea what you two looked like? Oh my god! I came just looking at you! Girl, I am so jealous!”
“Well, don’t be,” said Sage. “I have no intention of ever seeing him again.”
“Are you crazy? Don’t be a stupid bitch. You have to see that hotty again.”
“Nope,” Sage said with more determination than she felt. “It would never work. He’s too controlling. Too arrogant.” Too primal. Too sexy. Too dominant. Too scary, she thought.
“But you gave him your phone number,” argued Melissa. “What are you going to do when he calls?”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Sage.
“Don’t act like you weren’t all into him, ‘Miss your underwear matches your eyes,’” laughed Melissa.
“Oh god,” moaned Sage. “That’s just another reason why I will never set eyes on him again! Besides, can we please talk about you?”
“Do we have too?” pouted Melissa.
“Look, sweetie, I don’t know what kind of Freudian, daddy-issue crap you’ve got going on that makes you choose winners like the Lying Latin Lover back there, but you are going to get yourself in real trouble one day… or me!” lectured Sage.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” sulked Melissa.
Sage reached over and stroked her friend’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t last two minutes in prison without me.”
“Not true! I watch Orange is the New Black!” laughed Melissa.
Sage laughed with her, then quickly sobered. “You know you’re going to have to tell your father about this.”
“No! Why?”
“Melly! It might not have been by the police, but we still got caught. What if that guy reports us? What if Ricardo does?”
“Ricardo isn’t going anywhere near a police station, and that big, hunky Marine could care less about reporting you to the cops. He would much rather get in your pants,” said Melissa with a suggestive wink.
“Nice. Real nice,” smirked Sage. “I still think you should tell your father.”
“Trust me. The last thing Senator Taylor cares about is his disappointing daughter’s latest boyfriend troubles,” responded Melissa with a self-deprecating smile.
Sage gave her close friend a sympathetic look. Melissa’s story was so stereotypical it was practically a Lifetime movie. Rich senator’s daughter acts out because she never gets enough love or attention from her powerful daddy. It had all the required elements. A deceased mother. A beautiful daughter whose poor taste in boyfriends exacerbates her father and causes no end of trouble. A cold, unfeeling father.
Usually this is the part in the movie where you see what a spoiled brat the daughter is and how she deliberately sets out to make her father miserable. Nothing could be further from the truth. Melissa was sweet and kind. She worked hard and didn’t take a penny of her father’s money. She also went out of her way to make sure that none of her scrapes or poor choices wound up in the press so as to avoid embarrassing her politician father.
Melissa was a great girl… if only Sage could fix her taste in men!
Not that Sage was an expert… far from it. At twenty-five, her longest relationship had been with her high school boyfriend, Timmy. Did it even count as a relationship if you both had your braces on and never got past “second base” Sage wondered.
If not, well then, she was really pathetic. She couldn’t even use work as an excuse. She loved her job, loved knowing she made a difference in the world. Helping schools retain their art and music programs with grant money might not rate as high as curing cancer or fixing world hunger, but she knew it made a difference in the quality of the education those children received, and she knew that made a difference in the long run. But even so, one would hardly call her a workaholic.
Although far from vain, Sage knew she was pretty enou
gh to get a date if she wanted. She just wasn’t interested. It wasn’t worth the free meal to put up with some random guy talking only about himself or his current ranking in Call of Duty. Or worse, showing only just enough interest in her to get her into bed. All the men she met were just so tiresome and boring.
Well not all the men she met.
Somehow Sage knew the very last thing Conner would be was boring. Hell, he didn’t have to play Call of Duty, he lived it! He also didn’t strike her as the useless small talk type. No, a man like Conner was a man of action. The type who took what he wanted. Sage felt a small thrilling flip deep in her stomach at the thought. That was so bad! She should be ashamed of herself. Getting excited at the thought of a man like Conner grabbing her by the shoulders… pushing her against a wall… forcing his tongue into her mouth… thrusting his… NO! Bad modern female! Bad! Actions like that went out with the fifties. Next thing you knew, she would be daydreaming of meeting the arrogant man at the door in an apron with a martini!
Besides, the whole thing was pointless. She was never going to lay eyes on him again.
Ricardo stormed into his apartment. Ignoring the chaotic mess, he marched straight to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Popping the tab, he slugged half the contents back.
“Fucking bitch,” he muttered as he scanned the living room, taking in the scattered cushions and overturned storage bins.
At least the crazy bitch didn’t smash his PlayStation he thought with a wry smile as he saw the console tossed aside on the dining room table. None of this mattered anyway. The bitch would get hers in the end. He had all the dirt on her he needed anyway.
Strolling down the narrow hallway to his bedroom, Ricardo smirked at the thought of how Melissa was going to react when he showed up on her doorstep with his demands. Oh the bitch was going to pay all right. More to the point, her precious daddy was going to pay… and pay big.
Avoiding the over-turned drawer near the doorway, Ricardo crossed to the bureau.
It was gone.
“Fuck!” he yelled as he fell to his knees not caring about the beer spilling onto the carpet.
