by Carrie Lofty
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come in. Don’t imagine Lulu will still be awake, but that’s between you and her.”
Sliding off his garrison cap, Joe stepped into the building’s foyer. The air was nearly as cool inside as out. Coal was strictly conserved, which meant residences skirted by on the bare minimum of heating. Fading cigar smoke, last night’s supper, and sweet lemon furniture polish made the atmosphere much more welcoming than at his rough barracks. There, the air was sharp with boot polish and the fetor of male bodies, but Joe had become accustomed to it. That’s where he belonged. Anything closer to hearth and home would only soften his fellow soldiers.
Joe knew that anything was better than the pine-scented urine stench of prison.
The man introduced himself as Lee Cooper and led Joe upstairs. A row of matched oak doors stretched down a narrow corridor. “Sleeping quarters,” Cooper said. “Third one on the left is Lulu’s.”
“Thanks.”
“Where you from?”
“Indiana.”
“Queens.” He stretched and yawned.
“Sorry I woke you.”
Cooper turned to open a door catty-cornered from Lulu’s. “Wasn’t asleep,” he said with a wink.
“Wait, all of the pilots sleep here?”
“That’s right.” The man seemed to perpetually tamp down a grin. “I told you, I hadn’t been asleep.”
Men and women quartered within feet of each other. The indignity of it shivered down the backs of Joe’s legs. He could put up with all manner of sacrifices brought about by the war, but damn if the blurring lines of propriety didn’t skewer him every time.
Cooper added in a stage whisper, “We share a bathroom, too.”
“It isn’t right.”
“Sure it’s not. Then again, you’re about to tap on an unmarried dame’s bedroom door at five in the morning.” The man shrugged. “Pluses and minuses, my friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m returning to one of my pluses. Good night.”
Joe stood there for a long minute while he digested Cooper’s words. He tried to imagine a scenario during prewar years when a man would be allowed to court a girl, dance with her, walk her through dark streets and into shady clubs, kiss her, and yes, pay her a visit just before dawn.
Impossible.
He grinned despite himself, amused by his knee-jerk hypocrisy. Women were wearing slacks and flying planes, and he was reaping the benefits. What that meant for the future he couldn’t even imagine. But at that moment the only future that interested him was tapping on Lulu’s bedroom door.
Fueled by the sudden need to hold her body against his, he wondered what she wore to bed. He could almost picture her hair down, slightly tangled. Her curves would be hidden not by a uniform or a shapeless flight suit but by whisper-thin white linen.
He knocked softly. Again he waited. Again he repeated the quiet knock. Come on, Lulu. Wake up. Let me in.
They were so close. Close to something. Joe needed to know what that was.
She opened the door, only a crack. Lustrous, dark eyes widened, and her mouth formed a soft O. Then she was holding him. She pressed her cheek against his chest. Her arms circled the small of his back and held on tight.
Joe was just about bowled over by her silent attack. He wrapped her in his embrace, grounding himself in the freshly washed scent of her hair—hair that was not lush and unbound but rolled into countless pin curls.
“Glad I got clean,” he said.
“Wouldn’t have cared.”
She didn’t wear linen, either. A wash-worn nightgown of soft, warm flannel swathed her long body. He stroked up and down her spine. She made no move to return to her room, just held him. Inexplicable tears pricked the backs of his eyelids. He hadn’t been held with so little hesitation in longer than he could recall. Maybe this was completely new. The gift of her embrace threatened to unman him, just when he’d wanted most to appear strong and worthy.
“Lulu, I want to talk to you.”
She tipped her head back and met his gaze, her eyes doelike in the dim corridor. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re safe?”
“No.”
“I am. And have I mentioned how glad I am to have met you?”
Joe blinked. “No.”
“I am.” Her fingers interlaced at the back of his neck. Joe winced. “Oh, sorry!”
He retrieved her hands and kissed each palm. “Be careful with me,” he said with a tired smile.
“I will.” From beneath heavy eyelids, she regarded him with frank scrutiny. “And I believe you, Joe, about your sister and what you did to that man.”
“I wanted to explain it better for you. I was angry after Dixon—”
“But I don’t want to hear that right now.”
He went still, but his blood was sparking and racing. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in years—not to mention one wearing so little, so soft and ripe beneath his hands. Whoever that woman was, she hadn’t been Lulu.
Lulu was magnificent.
Her lips twitched. The teasing, suggestive look in her eyes intensified.
“I have the day off,” he said thickly. “In honor of my service to the people of Leicester.”
She snuggled close, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. “Is that what they said?”
“Just about.”
“They’re right, Joe. You did an amazing thing tonight.” She licked her lower lip. “I’m terribly proud of you.”
“As much as I enjoy hearing that, I didn’t do it for you or for a day off.”
“I know. But it’s a lucky thing, because I have the day off, too.” She tugged him into her room and shut the door.
chapter thirteen
Joe freed a grin as she unrolled curl after curl from her hair. He tried to relax by cataloging his surroundings as she worked. The small room smelled of Lulu’s lavender. Girlish lace curtains concealed the only window, and a dark blue chenille bedspread was a rumpled mess atop a single bed. That sight was nearly as intimate as Lulu releasing her hair. She’d been sleeping there. Soon he would lay her down there.
Each pin dropped to the floor with a tiny metallic clatter, until her dark hair was completely loose. He wanted to touch that mess of curls. His chest was too tight, too hot. But this was what he’d dreamed.
Lulu ruffled the curls until they draped in loose waves down past her shoulders. She smiled so broadly that her dimple teased him. “It’s going to be a horrid mess come morning.”
“I won’t care.”
“Then neither will I.” Her expression turned sultry, almost sleepy. The energy between them intensified.
God, it was good to be a man. He hadn’t felt quite this much like a man in months.
If ever.
She backed slowly away, toward the bed. “I’m done talking now, Joe. And I’m done denying you. Denying us both.”
With that promise, he groaned low in his throat. Joe bridged the scant distance. Chin dipped down, arms back, he stood over her like a fighter trying to intimidate his opponent. If Lulu wanted to refuse him, he’d rather she do it now.
The left corner of her lips tilted upward in a cocky smile. She undid the top button of her nightgown.
A strangled part of him flew open.
With curt movements he undid the remaining buttons, down to her navel. Unsteady fingers pushed underneath the flannel and found a treasure trove of soft feminine skin. He fought to keep his touch light—not the grasping massage his body demanded—but that noble goal meant nothing when she moaned.
Joe banded her back and drew her flush to his body. Their lips met in a hard crush. She opened to him without hesitation, her tongue pushing deep. The faint aftertaste of mint-flavored tooth powder lingered in her mouth. Joe wanted to gobble her up like a peppermint stick—to lick, suck, savor.
The dizzy pleasure of her aggression gave him permission to demand and take. He was bubbling inside, a volcano shaking the earth before the explo
sion of release. He’d kept so much under wraps since his incarceration. And since joining the army, his commitments had narrowed to so few: become a good soldier, protect his brothers-in-arms, save their lives. He’d squashed every desire and set aside every other obligation. But there in Lulu’s tiny bedroom, he could be selfish. The world narrowed to Lulu’s pleasure and his own.
Smoky, discordant memories of the night’s danger mixed together with sex. They were alive. They had survived. Now they could celebrate.
He inhaled through his nose, breathing fire, as she claimed him with another brutal kiss. Her tongue was sleek, tangling with his in an intimate dance and making hot, urgent promises. She rotated her hips against his erection. Joe hissed.
Sweet Jesus, she’d never been a shy girl.
But as a man he felt obliged to wrest back control. He took hold of her rounded backside, molding warm flannel over her flesh and kneading deeply. He was desperate for her; he wanted her to be as mindless for him.
With her backside imprisoned beneath the wide span of his palm, he thrust forward, grinding his erection against the tender heat between her legs. Lulu’s eyes rolled shut. He grinned against her mouth, wanting to tease her about that wanton reaction—but words had dissolved into nothing more than impulse. He thrust again and reveled in a primal sense of satisfaction when she shuddered. Her fingers clamped hard on his biceps, digging and twisting nearly to the point of pain.
Joe dipped his head and licked up the line of her throat. He stopped at the thin skin just below her jaw and kissed once, twice. Opening his mouth, he tasted the faintest hint of soap and pure, sweet Lulu. The strong punch of her pulse flicked against his cheek. Her moan reverberated against his teeth and tongue as he suckled. The restless flex of her fingers had moved to his shoulders, pressing deep into his muscles, tugging him nearer. Her appreciation of his body made him feel strong and vital. She arched closer, her bared breasts an offering.
Bending her more deeply, he claimed one taut nipple. She tossed her head back, gasping. Her submission, her trust—he surged to life knowing that here, at least, she was willing to let him take the lead.
Although he tried to keep his eyes open and admire the pale, exquisite view, Joe couldn’t do it. Sensation was enough—more than enough. He was drowning in the feel of her, all heat and edgy wiggles. Their rasping exhales filled the room, but he could barely hear it over the rush and swish of blood in his ears. His heart slammed in time with the impatient throb of his erection.
Lulu said his name on a ragged sigh, and the tenor of her movements changed. She tugged at his tunic. A whimper caught in her throat. “Joe, please.”
“Hmm?” He was enjoying her breasts too much to stop.
“I want to touch you.”
“So do it.”
“Naked, you fool.”
He grinned against her wet, swollen areola. “If you insist.”
He stood and released her, forcing taut arms to fall limp at his sides. Lulu wasted no time in attacking his new uniform. The tunic went first. Then she quickly dispatched the line of buttons down the front of his khaki shirt. She smiled as she yanked it out of his waistband, then sidled nearer. Full breasts molded against his T-shirt, gouging him with those two hardened peaks as she smoothed each sleeve down his arm. With her tongue against her lower lip, Lulu slipped her fingers beneath both suspenders.
He was on fire. Only a thin stretch of cotton separated their upper bodies as they clung together, joining for another melting kiss. He fought the demanding urge to toss her onto the bed. He needed to slow down, to savor. Memories of this moment would stay with him as long as he drew breath. He wanted to hoard them and delight in his woman for as long as she was his.
Edging back toward the bed, he tugged Lulu’s pliant body and delicious mouth with him. He trailed open kisses down her neck as she whispered his name and edged her fingers around his lower ribs.
“I was trying to help you out of this gown,” he said against the upper swell of her breast. He circled down and peppered tiny kisses along the curve underneath. “I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
“I’ve lodged no complaints.”
Feeling both weary and robust, he forced himself to stop kissing. He sat on the edge of the bed. She turned and stood with her back to him. Before removing her nightgown, he wondered what underwear she wore. Perhaps some frilly, cheap, lacey piece of froth. Or maybe something more demure, befitting the efficient way she wore her uniform.
Aroused to the point of mindlessness, he slowly lifted the hem. She wore perfectly ordinary white panties. The cotton was worn thin from repeated washings. The lace trim meant they were older than restrictions on nonessential clothing. How long had she gone without something new and pretty? The war intruded at impossibly intimate levels.
Joe swallowed his frustrations. He wasn’t able to lavish her with gifts, but he could make these next few moments, few hours, unforgettable.
That tempting line of lace marked where her perfect bottom met shapely thighs. He touched his lips to the lace, the most delicate of kisses. Her quiet inhale filled the room. Another kiss—this time just below the lace, lip against skin. Her heat seared him. Not even the salt of sweat marred the perfection of delicious woman.
He slid his tongue along the line of lace, just underneath, relishing the firm slope of her perfectly shaped rear. He gripped the fronts of her thighs with hands that were finally steady. He had something to hold onto now, something right and firm and feminine. She cried out softly as his kiss became more insistent.
“Joe?”
He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to test her flesh with his teeth and taste her center. Already he could smell her arousal, a primitive scent that conjured dark, possessive thoughts. But somehow he found the will to look up.
Half twisted at the waist, she gazed down at him with an expression as timeless as Eve. Her lips were parted. A heated blush inched from cheek to cheek, across the bridge of her thin, straight nose. The steady rise and fall of her bared breasts matched his own frantic breathing. Slowly she smiled. He caught fire every place she looked—over his face, down his chest, and settling where his rigid penis pushed against his trousers. As his exhausted body sat up and begged for more, Joe didn’t know how to defend against such effortless sensuality.
So he didn’t try.
He set about sliding her panties down—his own private peep show as that skin came into view. She shivered and made an impatient sound. Her knees jittered, which did lovely things to her backside, making it twitch and bob. He turned her around and pulled her down to straddle him. That squirming little dance now centered above his erection.
Finally he tugged the nightgown up and over her head, stripping her bare. With a wild sound and a wilder grin, she yanked off his T-shirt.
Joe groaned. Dizzy, he laughed softly against her cheek. “What would you do if you had to play coy?”
She pulled back and arched those lovely eyebrows. A real Rita Hayworth, all right, as she draped the back of her hand against her forehead in mock horror. “Perish the thought. I’d have to spend a great deal more time negotiating for what I want, and live with the possibility that I might not get it.”
“And you get what you want?”
“Once I determine what that is . . .” She curled her nails into the caps of his shoulders and gave a little shake. “I demand it.”
Working her mouth along his neck, down to his collarbone, she reached between their bodies and undid his trousers. Her impulsiveness fed his surprise and his grinding need. He clutched the nape of her neck and tugged her hair back, then nuzzled his face between her breasts. He inhaled sweet and spicy woman. Lavender went to his head like sloe gin.
“Lulu, you’re killing me.”
“Thought you were tougher than that.” Her refined English accent made the rough talk even sexier. She slipped her hands down into his briefs. Her fingers curled around his hot length. “Oh, my,” she breathed.
Joe grunted and thr
ust upward, sliding into her palm. He braced his arms back along the mattress to allow her better access and him a better view. Naked, smiling, she straddled his thighs and worked his cock with edgy, terse strokes. Unbound hair trailed over her shoulder, and one breast peeked out with each rhythmic movement. Joe scrunched his fists into the tangled bedspread and clenched his back teeth until they felt ready to shatter.
“Prophylactic?” she asked.
“Tunic.”
She laughed. “You came here with certain intentions, didn’t you?”
“Just hopes.”
“Does that make me your genie, granting wishes?” She licked two fingers and swirled them over the aching head of his penis.
“Ah,” he gasped. “Enough—please.”
Her smile had turned catlike. So much for making her need as badly as he did. If Joe wasn’t inside her within the minute, the result was going to be a horrible embarrassment.
Lulu eased off his lap and found his discarded tunic. Every movement was moonlit grace. She retrieved a single condom, swiftly ripping open the wax liner, then eyed it with a surprising look of girlish embarrassment.
During one particularly ribald training session, Joe had been instructed—as a U.S. Army medic, of course—in the proper usage of a prophylactic kit, but he’d never actually used one. Impatient now, losing his mind with every passing second, he snatched the rubber and rolled it down his stiff length.
He grabbed Lulu’s thighs and dragged her back into place. Half of him still believed this wasn’t really going to happen. Dark curls shaded the slick warmth of her center, teasing him with that secret promise. She touched his face and nodded.
Tight, wet, waiting, she took him with a single smooth plunge.
At last.
Their sounds of ecstasy intertwined. Lulu rocked forward, establishing a languorous rhythm that was steadily melting his mind. She raked her fingernails down his naked chest, then around to his lower back. Rolling her torso forward, folding into him, she latched her mouth to the place where his neck met his shoulder. Her building sounds of pleasure were muffled against his slicked skin.
