Damn it.
Within seconds, they’d reached his tent. He unzipped the flap as they rolled inside, gripping each other. He tore her bikini top off, and his mouth clamped down on her breast. Flicking his tongue, he sucked till her back arched in the air. Pulling away, he drew his Tee over his head.
Dazed, she didn’t argue when he slid his arms under her and lay her on the sleeping bag. His finger rounded her nipple and trailed down her stomach to the button on her shorts.
With a snap of his fingers, it was undone and he slid the shorts down her thighs, kissing bare skin as he went. The tiny thong didn’t hide much. He hooked a finger on either side and edged the strings down to reveal her waxed clit.
Patrick didn’t have to touch her, his gaze was enough to light her on fire. When he leaned closer he brought one leg, and then the other, over his broad shoulders.
“We’re going to explore, Marg.” His gaze rested on her sex, open and wet. Her need for him obvious.
She loved the hunger in his silver eyes that never left hers as he planted small kisses where her thigh met her ass, and across her stomach. Each caress of his lips lit her fuse over and over again. He purposely avoided what she wanted him to taste most, and a low chuckle erupted when her hips rose trying to relieve the torment.
Marg wanted to slap him when he backed away and lowered her legs without giving her what she needed.
Rising to his knees, he popped the button on his jeans. Thumbs hooked in his waistband, he lowered his pants to reveal roped muscle leading to an erection that made carnal thoughts of going crazy all over this man even more wet.
Curling onto her knees, she crawled toward him. “You said we could explore.”
A fire licked to life in his gaze.
Her hands roamed across rolls of muscle on his chest. She gripped his erection and lowered her head to taste him, covering his head, sucking hard.
Pat groaned with pleasure, his hands tunneled into her hair. “Goddammit,” he hissed. “Marg, shit, that feels good.”
Marg toyed with him, bringing this harsh, rugged man to a trembling mess, his hips rose and fell with her wet, sensual strokes.
Patrick rolled her onto her back. His strength hovered above her, his hardness brushing against her slit. His sharp eyes watched her as the pad of his thumb circled her needy nerves.
The ministrations stopped, but he demanded her attention with his silence, as always. “Some guys wait a lifetime for a girl who makes them a better man. Are you mine?”
“Hey, guys, you in there?” Thane called from outside the tent.
Marg opened her mouth, but Patrick hushed her with a kiss. “Open that zipper and I will drown you the first chance I get,” he growled over his shoulder.
“Oh, sorry, bro. Talk to ya later.”
Marg broke into a giggle. “Did he do that on purpose?”
Slipping down her body, poised between her legs, he grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
September 7th, 1993
The limousine rolled along the I-5 southbound on Sunday morning. Marg lowered the window and then glanced to Patrick, sitting comfortably across from her.
She turned her head and said, “Grams, where’re we going?”
Grams patted her leg and lowered the window on her side of the car. “Be patient, Marg. You’ll see soon enough.”
Marg grinned and shrugged at Patrick, who leaned over and she met him half way for a kiss. They settled back in their seats and she watched the scenery roll by, her thoughts on yesterday.
The church had been filled to overflowing. One side with guests sporting short haircuts and couldn’t be mistaken as anyone other than Navy personnel and their spouses. On the other side of the beautiful Catholic church, pews were populated with family and friends, Hollywood executives and their partners. For three months, her father grumbled and her mother fretted that she didn’t have enough time to give Marg the grandest wedding Hollywood had ever seen. Her eyes were sore from rolling them so often.
But she’d learned a thing or two from her husband.
Mostly patience.
On September 6th, her father walked her down the aisle of the Church of the Good Shepherd in Beverly Hills. She didn’t see any of the guests, her eyes only had one focus and he stood in a suit Marg’s mother demanded he wear. Another eye rolling moment, but Patrick didn’t get agitated over the little things. Noble. Handsome. His broad shoulders and athletic physique filled the black suit like a supermodel, his confidence overwhelmed her.
Beside him, Thane waited and winked when she got closer, causing a smile to split her lips. Patrick’s head turned and he lifted one brow at his best friend, who simply shrugged and chuckled.
Lydia, Carlie, Karen, and Marg’s sisters, stood as her respective Maid of Honor and bridesmaids, while Patrick’s groomsmen were all SEALs from Alpha Squad. Marg had to admit that her mother graciously, and most importantly, accepted Karen and Patrick’s father, who still remained sober, as honored guests and part of the family.
The wedding reception proved to Marg’s family there wasn’t much difference between SEALs and movie people when they all wore beautiful dresses or suits. They certainly tried to outdrink each other.
Some weddings could be downright boring, but the SEALs didn’t let that happen. The guys snagged the Hollywood wives and kept them busy on the dance floor. Every once in a while a “hooyah” would be shouted from a team guy, and before long, the entire place hollered periodically. Marg laughed, because the folks of Glittertown had no idea what or why they were using a Navy call, but everyone had fun.
Last night, before she and Patrick retired to the Penthouse Suite at the Beverly Wilshire Four Seasons Hotel, Grams pulled them aside and told her and Patrick to be ready to leave by oh nine hundred hours. Patrick chuckled at her choice of words, and they promised to be ready.
In their robes, standing on the balcony of the Penthouse looking out over the City of Angels, Patrick stood behind Marg with his thick arms coiled around her body. “This suite is amazing, but I could be in a grass shack on a deserted beach and it would be just as good, as long as you’re with me.”
She leaned her head against his chest and tilted her chin upwards. He’d kissed her, making her toes tingle.
“I agree,” she’d said, after turning her attention to the twinkling lights below.
“Think our guests had fun, but they’re gonna be sorry sons of bitches tomorrow.”
“I think my parents were very well behaved today. I’m proud of them.”
He chuckled and the deep rumble in his chest made her smile.
“Armistice.” Patrick murmured, grazing his cheek against hers.
She laughed, and turned in his arms. “The siege is over and they’re waving the white flag.”
As always, his silver gaze took her breath away when he simply stared at her. His hands slid to the collar of her robe, parting the plush material to reveal her nakedness.
“It’s bed time, Mrs. Cobbs.” He peeled the robe from her shoulders and let it pool on the ground at her feet. His gaze lit her skin on fire, and he took her hand and led her toward the bedroom. Expecting his warm hands to lay her down, he paused. “Wait here a second. Don’t turn around.”
She did as he asked and waited while he dug for something in his suitcase.
“Close your eyes,” he said, as he approached.
He stood behind her, but she never expected to feel the coolness of a necklace clasped around her neck. Her skin shivered when his lips kissed a trail along her right shoulder. She reached up to feel the pendant that lay against her skin and then looked down. “Patrick!”
Unfortunately, they got very little sleep last night. Her fingers toyed with the Trident, Patrick’s Trident, laying on her chest. For as long as she lived, she would wear what he had worked so hard to achieve next to her heart. She covered the yawn threatening to part her lips.
Patrick chuckled looking out the side window, and she kicked him with her toe.
<
br /> The limousine broke off from the I-5 before reaching San Diego and climbed into the mountains. Marg loved the country up here, but it had been a long time since she’d seen it. She shot a look toward Grams, whose brows rose.
“Almost there, darlings.”
An hour later, the limo slowed and turned off the country road onto a gravel drive. Marg wasn’t certain, but she thought she knew where they were.
“Is this the ranch house, Grams?” Trees lined the drive and within a minute, the limo came to a stop.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” Pat said, getting out and offering her a hand while Grams’ driver helped her.
The majestic ranch house had been cared for. It sat empty for most of the year except when her grandmother let close friends stay for a weekend.
Grams held Patrick’s hand as they climbed the few steps to the wrap-around porch. She dug in her purse and pulled out a key, inserted it and opened the door.
“After you,” Grams said.
It was just as Marg remembered. Vaulted ceilings. An enormous kitchen with high cabinets and stainless steel appliances. A fireplace big enough to barbeque a cow and huge comfortable couches lined the great room. The grand house had all the conveniences of home, including several bedrooms on the second story.
Patrick unlocked the backdoor and strolled out onto the back patio. The trees and gardens had been maintained instead of allowing them to grow wild.
She and Grams joined Patrick on the deck. “I remember this place, but why are we here?”
Grams stared out toward the backyard, a bittersweet smile spreading across her expression. She turned and placed Marg’s hand in Patrick’s, then turned them palms up. With a look at each of them, she pressed the key into Marg’s hand. “Because this place is now yours.”
Marg gasped. “Grams!”
Patrick’s eyes rounded. “Sally—what?”
“Braden and I always had a dream when we were young. We talked about having a place up here one day. We hoped that we would fill it with children and grandchildren. Weekends spent with those we loved the most. After Braden died, I held onto that dream. And when I saw this place for sale, I bought it thinking it would somehow bring me closer to the man I loved, but lost.”
Tears welled in Marg’s eyes. Patrick swept his arm around her shoulder and drew her to his side.
“It didn’t work out that way. This place wasn’t for me after all. It’s for the next generation, for my grandchildren and great grandchildren to love.” Grams’ gaze scanned the home. “I have a feeling this house will know great joy and be a part of many memories.”
“Oh, Grams!” Marg flew into her grandmother’s arms and hugged her tight. “You have to promise me, you’ll be here to see your great-grandchildren.”
“Well,” she said, and offered Patrick a coy look. “Since another car should be arriving soon— Oh!” She cupped a hand to her ear. “Follow me.”
Marg gripped Patrick’s hand and they followed her grandmother through the Great Room toward the front of the house.
“What’s she up to now?” Patrick asked under his breath.
Grams spread her arms after she walked out the front door. “Right, then! My ride is ready to take me home, and that”—she pointed to a new BMW sports car coming to a stop in front of the house—“is your ride.”
Marg laughed. “My ride? I have a car, Grams.”
Grams flicked her shoulder and cocked her head. “Patrick’s car, darling. Patrick’s car.”
“What?” Pat stepped back in shock.
“My grandson can’t be driving my granddaughter around on the back of a motorcycle for the rest of his days, especially when she’s pregnant.”
“Umm—” Patrick blinked, still in shock. “She’s not pregnant yet.”
Marg elbowed him.
His mouth flapped open. “Are you saying…”
Marg laughed at her husband. He’d finally met a woman who actually could make him speechless.
“My wedding present to you, Patrick. And close your mouth, darling, it doesn’t become a SEAL. I’d know,” she said spritely. “I was married to one.” Grams took the steps to the ground, more like a forty-year-old than a sixty-year-old. “Have a wonderful honeymoon, my darlings. Don’t forget to visit your old Grams every once in a while. Love you both.”
She blew them a kiss and slid into the black stretch limousine. The driver closed the door and then tipped his hat at them while the driver of the BMW got into the passenger side of the limo.
Patrick waved goodbye, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the car.
“You okay?” she asked.
The unflappable Patrick Cobbs pointed. “That’s a sports car. A really fucking expensive sports car. Ya think the keys are in the ignition?”
Marg propped a hand on her hip. “No, honey. I think Grams wanted you to push it everywhere you go.”
“Holy, shit. It’s a sports car.” He leaped to the ground and ogled the car’s sleek lines.
Marg shook her head and released a long sigh.
Rocks under his heel crunched as he swiveled. “Wanna go for a drive?”
“Do I have choice?”
He cleared his throat. “Not really.”
She fell into peals of laughter. “Maybe you should give me the keys. You’re only used to driving a bike and a Humvee.”
“Get in the car, Mrs. Cobbs.”
He opened the car door and she took her sweet time sauntering down the stairs to join him.
Before closing the passenger door, he said, “Thane is going to be so fucking jealous.”
She rolled her eyes and buckled up. “Come on, honey, let’s rip up the highway.”
Patrick jumped in beside her and gawked at the interior. His hand caressed every damn thing while she waited patiently for the shock to wear off.
“You’ve never owned a new car before, have you?”
His gaze slipped to hers. “Never been married or owned a house either. And it all happened in practically one day.” He shook his head. “I don’t know whether to be thankful or scared shitless.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Drive, honey. Just drive.”
* * * *
Marg napped upstairs. After returning from their drive, they’d found the fridge stocked, as well as the liquor cabinet, but he wasn’t hungry for anything except his wife. They’d had one helluva afternoon in bed.
Patrick wandered onto the front porch as the sun set behind the tall pines surrounding the ranch house. His wife. He couldn’t quite believe that the beautiful Margaret Celeste Stines was now Margaret Cobbs. She didn’t even want to hyphenate her name. When he’d asked, she’d looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and her choice made him feel proud of who he was. Who they would become, together.
Within hours, he’d pretty much fallen in love with the house. Sally was right. They would make amazing memories in this place. They’d share with the teams. With their friends. It would be the place people could come and relax or hideaway.
They’d make memories all right, and although he and Marg were young in everybody’s eyes, he didn’t feel young. For the first time in his life, he felt he had control and knew exactly where he belonged.
Doubts scratched at him every once in a while, but all men had them. The sky darkened to a deep, perfect blue, and he watched the transition. Dawn and dusk reminded him that each day brought a purpose and new beginning. His life had a new beginning, because Marg loved him. She accepted that their lives may not be easy, but they would be full of love. The vows he’d shared with her yesterday in the church, in front of his family and before God, he would take to the grave.
For better or for worse, it would always be Marg, and only Marg.
Wearing his jeans and nothing else, he sat on the top step. The wood warm, infused by the summer sun, seeped into his bare feet. He remembered Thane once said, “Being an asshole doesn’t live in your DNA. You won’t be like your father.” No, he sure as hell wouldn’t.
He clutched his hands together and closed his eyes. “Dear God, For all You have given. For all You have withheld. For all You have withdrawn. For all You have permitted. For all You have prevented. For all You have forgiven me. For all You have prepared for me. For the death You have chosen for me. For the place you are keeping for me in heaven. For having created me to love You for eternity. Thank you, God. Amen.”
When Patrick slowly opened his eyes, his breath stalled in his throat. Standing at the foot of the stairs as if he were alive and whole, Braden Stines stared up at him. Dressed in fatigues worn by the SEALs during Vietnam as if he’d just walked out of the jungle.
A slow smile crossed his expression. “I wasn’t raised a Catholic, but that sounded pretty good to me.”
Patrick swallowed heavily, but remained silent.
“Make every day count. You won’t always be able to be there for her, but as long as she knows she’s loved, she’ll make it through the hard times. She’s a Stines.” He paused and peered at him from beneath a brow. “And now a Cobbs.”
Patrick blinked, but Marg’s grandfather didn’t disappear.
“I will,” he answered. Had he lost his mind? Was he actually seeing a ghost? He remembered Marg saying her grandfather mentioned they were the same when she’d seen the psychic. “Why are we the same?” he asked. “Will I—am I going to die?”
“We all die, Patrick, but you have many years to prove to my granddaughter that she married a brave young man. I’m proud of you, son.”
“Honey!” Marg called from inside the house.
Pat turned on his hip. “Out here.” When he looked back, Braden was gone.
Marg stepped onto the porch and joined him on the step. “I thought I heard you talking out here. Were you on the cell?”
Patrick bowed his head, and his shoulders thrust upwards in a laugh. “Nah.” He wrapped an arm around his wife. “No cell service up here.”
“Then who were you talking to?”
“No one. Just offered a prayer of thanks.”
“For the sports car?” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.
He broke into a laugh. “No, not the sports car. For you.” He gently cupped her jaw and kissed her already swollen lips. “I thanked God for the life I’ll share with you.”
Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5) Page 38
