Protect and Serve. She lifted her gaze and met his. “Bionic prosthesis. I didn’t think that technology was real.” It all sounded like science fiction, something out of a movie.
“It’s very real. Think about Phantom Limb Syndrome, where people who’ve lost a limb can still feel the missing appendage. Well, those phantom limbs are actually nerves that are disconnected from the missing limb. They’re still sending and receiving messages from the brain. Someone figured out that those nerve endings can be reconnected to artificial limbs by sensors that read the electrical impulses that move through muscle. So, when your brain tells your hand to open and close, the sensors read the impulses and translate the action to the prosthesis.”
“Sounds complicated,” she said.
“Not really. The technology just expands the job nature already does. It’s changing so many lives. Blind people can see again, the deaf can hear, and those who’ve lost arms and legs now have working limbs that respond with thought like their original arms and legs had. My company continues to study spinal cord injuries and we have high hopes this technology can be used to help the paralyzed someday.”
“Wow.” He was even more amazing than she’d originally thought. “You must get a lot of satisfaction from your work.”
“More than you could possibly know.” He let go of her hand and leaned back. “What are you planning to do when you’re a free woman? Have you given it any thought?”
She gave him a weak smile. “I haven’t. To be truthful, I’m just trying to get through now. I don’t know anything else. The Marines have been my life. I’ve been an MP for twenty-two years and don’t know anything else. My injury prevents me from getting a job in law enforcement or security, and I’m not a desk girl. I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to do.”
“You could come to work for me—in New Orleans. I need someone familiar with military equipment to head up my Protective Equipment Division. You don’t have to be active duty to be a hero. I just need someone who thinks that way. You can continue to be a part of something big. Save lives and give independence back to wounded vets.”
She opened her mouth.
Pop!
Cori dove under the table, her heart pounding, her hand reaching for her missing sidearm. Her breath caught when she noticed she wasn’t the only one taking cover under the table. Sol stared into her eyes, a look of amusement on his face.
He shook his head and chuckled. “You know, we’re a seriously screwed up pair.” He nodded toward a pair of shoes attached to a waiter’s legs beside them. “I believe our champagne has arrived.”
She stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to muffle the urge to giggle. Years had passed since she’d laughed and found humor in life. With Sol, it seemed natural to be at ease and laugh. It felt good.
A throat cleared. “Cristal, sir—madam?” the waiter asked, patiently waiting as though it were a normal, everyday occurrence for patrons to dive under the table.
“I don’t think I can get up—and still maintain my dignity,” she whispered.
Sol raised a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He flipped the table cloth up and ducked from under the table, returning with two flutes and a bottle wrapped in white linen. “Then we’ll eat our meal here.” He pulled a hundred from his pocket and handed it to the waiter.
“Very good, sir.” The waiter turned and walked away.
Cori sat up and pulled her legs to the side. She took an empty flute and let Sol fill it, but when she went to take a sip, he stopped her.
“One second.” He reached out and patted the table’s surface above their heads, returning with a crystal compote filled with fresh strawberries. “It’s what the rich and important do when they drink champagne. Supposed to make that stuff taste better. To be honest, I’d rather have a cold beer with a little lime, a sunset, and a beach. Wanna give it a try?”
“You know a lot for a SEAL,” she said and gave him a smile, reaching for a strawberry. He wasn’t the only one who’d prefer a beer, but he’d gone to the expense and effort to impress, so she might as well drink up, and if the strawberries helped her to choke it down, so be it. “When in Rome….”
He snagged her hand and extracted the strawberry from her fingers. His eyes sparkled with wicked light which sent her stomach tumbling.
“I had to learn to schmooze and rub elbows with the rich and powerful to launch my business. Even a SEAL can become cultured. Adapt,” he whispered and lifted a strawberry to her lips and leaned in. She took a bite. “Improvise.” He took a swig from the bottle and captured her mouth. The taste of champagne lingered on his lips and mingled with the strawberry she’d nibbled. He pulled back and stared in her eyes. “Overcome. Anything is possible if you want it bad enough, and I want you.” He dropped the strawberry into the compote and cupped her head, pulling her deep into a kiss and across his lap. Heat exploded through her, setting her body on fire and her mind awhirl.
Forget the strawberries. Forget the champagne, dinner, or dancing. The only kind of tango she wanted to do was under the table with him. His kiss could induce a woman to sin on so many levels, and God, she wanted to sin. His hand slid up the outside of her leg and under her gown, stroking the naked flesh of her thigh. Cori groaned and weaved her hands into his hair, opening her mouth to him and letting him take whatever he wanted. His tongue dipped inside her mouth and danced with the tip of hers. Heady, sexy—a wicked taste of unrestrained lust.
A throat cleared again. “Dinner is served.”
Cori’s eyes snapped open, and Sol tightened his grip on her, refusing to let her retreat. He reached into his pocket again and grabbed a wad of bills. Not even looking at them, he stuffed them at the waiter and continued to kiss her as though the man wasn’t there.
“I’ll leave you to your meal, then.” The man walked away.
“My meal is right here. I could devour you.” He nipped her bottom lip. “But we have a ball to attend and a lot of people who’d be pissed if we don’t show. So, let’s put this on hold and revisit it later.” He set her to the side and pressed both his palms to the table top, lifting and shifting it off of them. He rose to his feet and reached down for her hand.
“I thought we were going to eat under the table.” She smiled and slid her fingers into his. He gripped them and pulled her to her feet and against his body.
“Not a good idea to stay down there. I can’t keep my hands off you.” As if to demonstrate, his arms slid around her and he kissed along the curve to her throat and slid one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder. His mouth traveled along the swell of her breast, dangerously close to forbidden territory. Well, forbidden in public. She’d already decided tonight, nothing was off limits. But even in the private room, the waiter could come back at any time.
As if reading her mind, he lifted his head and grinned. “I don’t think the waiter will disturb us again. There was a thousand bucks in that roll,” he laughed, “and it was worth every blessed second it bought me. But if I don’t control myself, we won’t make it to your party.”
He stepped back and helped her to take a seat. He pulled the table back and took his place across from her. Reaching down, he down grabbed the strawberries and bottle and set them on the surface between them. His gaze landed on the plates. Sol tapped a fork against her dish. “Time to eat, Cinderella. You’re going to need your strength for later.”
She raised a brow. If ever there was a bold statement—that was it. He didn’t ask, but stated that there would be a later. And he was right, she didn’t intend to stop at the kiss any more than he did. So why pretend? She grabbed a strawberry and sucked it between her lips, taking a bite and groaning. “I’m so hungry.” She licked her lips and slid the tip of her tongue across the strawberry, as though she stroked a lover.
His hands clamped onto the table, his eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared. He seemed to inhale her with that look, drinking her in, saturating himself with her being. That look held both a warning and a promise. Anything further a
nd she’d be on her back on the table, dinner be damned. “You keep doing that, and a lot of people are going to be disappointed in your absence.”
Cori dropped the half-eaten strawberry, dinner forgotten. She had a whole different appetite that needed to be sated, and sitting here wasn’t getting her any closer to her goal. “Let’s go—get the ball over with.” She pushed her plate to the side. “Now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “By all means, First Sergeant.”
***
“Congratulations on your blah, blah, blah.” If she had to hear it one more time, she’d scream. They talked like it was a good thing. Sol squeezed her hand and Cori snapped out of her trance. He hadn’t left her side for a moment.
He nodded to the officer who stood before her. “Excuse us,” he held his arm out for her to take, “my date has been dying to waltz.”
Cori shot him a look of horror. He smiled, kissed the back of her hand before he laid it on his arm, and then led her away from the crowd that had formed around them. He spun her, wrapped his arm around her lower back, and pulled her in tight.
“Isn’t the waltz supposed to have space between partners?” she asked.
“Not the way I waltz.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear. “Lets me cop a feel legally.”
Cori gasped. “Dog.”
“You have no idea.”
He glided them around, her body locked tight to his while he swept her across the floor like he was born to do it. The bonus of dancing so close didn’t sink in for several minutes, until Cori realized she hadn’t stumbled once. “You lied.”
“Hmm,” he grinned.
“You said you liked to dance close so you could grope your date. We’re dancing like this so I don’t trip, aren’t we?”
“If I say yes, will it earn me a bonus?”
“Oh, you are a dog. But yes, I think a bonus is in order.”
They came to a complete stop in the middle of the dance floor. He looked into her eyes, melting her into a puddle in her combat boots. “You’re serious?”
“How fast can you get us out of here?”
“Is that a challenge?” he asked as he escorted her toward a pair of French doors off the ballroom.”
“What do you think?”
He pulled her through the open doors, grabbed her, and tossed her over his shoulder, Neanderthal style, in a fireman’s carry. His arm clamped across the back of her thighs, holding down her dress to keep anyone who might be outside from seeing her bottom, and she was thankful for that. They passed Lissa and Gunny, who held hands in the moonlight covered garden. Gunny’s eyes swept over them as they passed.
“You okay, First Sergeant?”
“My hip,” Cori lied. She should be embarrassed, ashamed, but it was hard to feel that way. Tonight she just needed, and humility be damned. She wanted the comfort of a man’s arms wrapped around her, and for once she desired to be more than just a Marine—more than First Sergeant Valentine.
Gunny smiled, but didn’t say anything further, and from the look on his face, he was aware Sol carried her for a whole different reason. That look also said he wouldn’t say a thing. He turned back to his wife and took her in his arms, kissing her, obviously outside for the same reason.
Sol had given her more than a wonderful night. She’d discovered there was a spark still inside her, a woman capable of being someone other than a Marine, and as he carried her through the garden, she lost a piece of the heart she didn’t know she had left.
Chapter Five
He stopped at a courtyard entrance to the fancy hotel they’d reserved for the function. He swiped a card and the door popped open. Sol started up the stairs, still holding her over his shoulder as though she weighed little more than an empty rucksack.
“Where are we going?”
“My room.”
“You can put me down.” Her head whirled as they climbed. Not that she thought he’d drop her, but watching the bottom floor recede as they went higher and higher was a little disconcerting.
“This is faster, and I don’t intend to wait another second.” Moments later, he shoved the third floor fire escape door open and started down an empty hall. He stopped in front of a door, swiped the card again, and stepped through.
No sooner than the door clicked shut, he eased his hold to allow her to slide down until they were hip to hip and her legs straddled him. He backed her against the door and pressed her ass against it. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, holding her tight to him and his mouth captured hers. She locked her ankles together and wove her fingers into his hair, kissing him with a fierceness she didn’t know she possessed. God he smelled good. The clean scent of sandalwood lingered on his skin and the taste of his mouth—heady—heated.
The man had an uncanny way of making her feel delicate and desirable. It sent her heart racing. His mouth traveled down her neck to her shoulder and continued south, exploring every inch of exposed skin, not sparing a fraction of flesh from his searing treatment. He kissed the scar and nipped the area next to it. “This is sexy.”
“You mean ugly,” she gasped. Heat flooded between her thighs at the feel of his teeth on her skin. Jolts of energy shot from the tips of her toes to her core, igniting a storm in her belly.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Everything about you makes me hard. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. But before we take this any further, I want to tell you something.”
Cori looked up and raised a brow. “You’re not a woman. I think I know the real thing when I feel it.” She rocked against his erection, but his expression remained serious. Her eyes widened. “Shit. You’re married.”
“No and no, I’m all man. What there is of me, and I got divorced ten years ago—no wife—or kids. I do have a niece I look after, but she’s in college.” He lifted his head and held her gaze. “I have an artificial leg. I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to get to know the true me.”
Now, that was not what she’d expected. Cori blinked. She’d never have known the way he’d danced—carried her up the stairs. Her heartbeat picked up. He truly was a god. How much sexier could he get? “And you think this will bother me?”
“It has most women. They tend to bolt when they find out.”
“I’m not most women. I understand battle scars, more than I care to admit.” She ran her fingertips along his jaw. “You’re amazing and I don’t care that you have one leg. You are the sexiest man I’ve ever been around,” she said and smiled. “But I am wondering one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When are you going to cut the small talk and finish what you started? I can’t very well give you your bonus if you aren’t naked.” She leaned in. “Get this dress off me,” she whispered.
Every muscle in his body tensed and Cori felt like doing a victory dance. She’d found the one man who could understand her scars, the ugly dip in her hip and thigh where skin had been grafted over a bone that had been pulverized and screwed back together like an Erector Set. But even her scars no longer seemed to matter. Never had she needed, wanted, the way she did now.
Since her legs were locked around his waist and freed his arms, he grabbed the hem of her dress and tugged it up her body and over her head, dropping it to the floor. She’d purchased a red lace bra and thong, knowing her normal skivvies wouldn’t do the dress justice, but she’d never anticipated her date might actually see them.
His gaze landed on her lace clad breasts and he growled low in this throat. Primal—predatory. “God, you’re beautiful.”
His words came out so soft they sent shivers across her skin. And she felt beautiful, like she was the only woman he wanted—craved.
He snagged her wrists and yanked her hands over her head, pinning them to the wall. His teeth went to her bra strap this time, tugging it down. He nipped and kissed across the top of her breast and found her lace-covered nipple. Sol sucked it between his lips and ran his tongue over the sheer fabric. Her nipple pebbled u
nder his touch, becoming as hard as a stone. Cori hissed, barely able to breathe.
He released her wrists and reached under her bottom, yanking his belt off and tearing his fly open. He didn’t bother to drop his pants or let her down to remove her underwear. His fingers pushed the crotch of her panties to the side and glided into her slick folds. Stroking her inside. Her pussy clamped around him as orgasm threatened.
“So hot. So wet. You have no idea how hard it’s been to behave myself since you opened your front door.”
“Oh.” She threw her head back and knocked it against the door. “Please. Don’t behave.”
“Easy, baby. We can play rough later if you want. Right now, I need to be inside you. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and tore it with his teeth. “A bit challenging while you’re wrapped around me, but….” He rolled it on and pressed the head of his hard cock against her. “Anything’s possible if you want it bad enough.”
“Like doing the waltz with a bad leg.”
“Or without one. Let’s dance.” He thrust inside her, pushing her up the wall. Gravity brought her down onto him, but nothing could ground her soaring fever. He drew back and thrust again. Her thighs clenched and a cry tore from her throat. So deep, so hard. He filled her completely, riding every nerve and pushing her toward oblivion. Again and again, in and out, slow and lethal.
The orgasm roared through her, uncontrollable, so fast the room spun. Her thighs clenched in response. Her mind buzzed, her body hummed. She wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh. No guilt. No regrets. Freedom. Laughter bubbled up from her throat at the pure joy that rolled through her.
This wasn’t sex—this was something so much more—an event, and he’d made her the main attraction, giving her more than she could have imagined in one night. He’d given her hope.
And a damn good memory to take with her.
Sol continued to ride her through the climax, drawing her from one explosion to the next. Just as she thought her orgasm would end, she came again, harder, more violently, squeezing and pulsing around him in a delirious heat. Time stopped and for a moment, nothing around them existed. No one had loved her the way he did, or had taken her to the edge of oblivion and catapulted her over. Heat. The smell of sex. The way his muscles moved against her as he drove in and out, blended into one moment.
Cinderella Wore Combat Boots Page 3
