Each time he’d brushed against her, electricity shot through him.
Each time she’d smiled or laughed, he felt alive and rewarded.
He rubbed her breasts, his palms brushing over her nipples. They hardened and he couldn’t wait to taste them. Then he did, taking one nipple into the heat of his mouth and sucking deeply.
Her leg lifted, her foot sliding up his calf.
Melanie felt her world tilt and shift. Pleasure radiated outward from her breasts, singing through her like music, making her blood run fast and hot and to the rhythm of Jack’s touch. He nibbled and licked and her nerve endings grew taut. His teeth scored, his tongue soothed, over her breasts, her ribs and lower.
Deliciously lower.
He caught his thumbs in the sides of her panties and drew them down as he sank to his knees. He touched and kissed her legs, hands smoothing down to her toes, then back up. Then he hooked her knee and drew it over his shoulder.
He met her gaze. She smiled, running her finger over his lips.
Then he tasted her. And everything she knew shattered.
“Jack,” she groaned softly.
His tongue plunged and laved and flicked, and she cried out, wanting more. She was greedy for this man. Greedy for everything she could get because she more than liked him, much more, and she knew he would leave, knew he’d disappear into the mist. A quiet warrior. It was his job, his life. There was only right now. And she wanted all he had.
And he gave it, finding and teasing every sensitive pulse point, every bit of flesh that was charged and waiting for ignition. He lit the fuse and she burned. Oh, how she burned!
Jack felt it, the spiral of heat racing through her, the tightening of her muscles, the liquid softness of her desire. He spread her wider and thrust two fingers inside her.
Desire exploded, shuddering through her, clutching at him.
“Jack!” she moaned. And he wanted to hear more, wanted to be the only man she did this with, wanted to be the one she shared herself with. A possessiveness he’d never known rose in him.
He didn’t ignore it. But he didn’t need it. Couldn’t encourage it. Not when he might be a thousand miles away from her in a few hours. So he savored the moments, the small and big ones, as he had for years, as he would for the next decade.
He took her past her climax, beyond madness and satisfaction, and back into his world, his arms.
He stood and she fell against him, limp for a moment, only a moment. Then she kissed him and fire kindled as she reached between them to unfasten his belt. She shaped him, the bulge in his trousers, then pulled the zipper down. His hands braced on the door beside her head, he smothered a groan as her fingers dipped inside his trousers and freed him.
“My turn.”
“Nah-ah.”
“What’s the matter, Lieutenant—running out of steam?”
“No, afraid of launching without a target.”
She laughed and increased pressure, stroking him wildly and pushing his trousers down. He kicked them aside, pulling her flush against him. The impact of flesh to flesh left them shuddering, weak.
His hands mapped her body, stroked and dipped, and he wasn’t the only player. Her touch taunted him, made him grow harder, and he scooped her into his arms, then strode to the bed. He set her in the center and she pulled him down, opening for him, eager for him to be inside her.
Skin met skin and he held her, wrapping her in muscle and man, and Melanie thought, Never in my life has it been this perfect. When he reached for the end table, she took the condom from him.
He arched a brow.
She grinned and pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. Jack sat up. She pushed him down, then opened the packet and drove him wild as she rolled it down.
“Melanie! Sweet mercy!”
“I don’t think so,” she said, and shifted to straddle his hips.
He grinned, loving her openness, and cupped her breasts, leaning up to take her nipple into his mouth.
Melanie forgot almost everything when he did that. “Oh, Jack, you do that so well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled, kissing his face, then rose. “My hero.”
He guided himself into her, and she held on to his shoulders, meeting his gaze as she sank down. He filled her, thick and throbbing. Jack experienced more than the feel of this woman around him, of being so deep inside her. But he didn’t understand it. He tipped his head back and she smoothed hair from his brow, let her fingertips stroke his face.
“Melanie—”
“Shh,” she said. “Not now.” She saw it, the connection that went deeper than sex. All wild and hurried eagerness was gone. The rush had died to a sweet poignancy. They had to have each other. It was as if pieces were missing and here they came together. Joined. One.
She moved, releasing him and taking him back, claiming a man she could never have. He was a mustang. Free. Noble.
And she wouldn’t dare try to tie him down. Or ask him to stay. Though she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him when she’d only just found him.
Two weeks was not enough. Yet in his eyes, in the eyes that could be cold as ice and tender as a lamb, she saw more. More than he could give. More than sex.
Jack grasped her hips, his gaze never leaving hers as he gave her motion, never leaving hers as he pulled her down onto the bed beneath him and pushed deeply into her.
Her legs trapped him and he went willingly into the snare.
Her heart beat against his and he danced to the tune. Sinking. He withdrew and plunged, and she rose to greet him, to take him into her and into her soul. And when feminine flesh gripped him in a slick glove, pulsing as he pulsed inside her, Jack knew he’d relive this night a thousand times in the future. And want it never to end.
He pushed, long deep strokes that brought cries from her, brought pleasure in mounting waves. Their tempo increased, bodies moving in a damp and primal rhythm, his gaze locked on hers and refusing to let go. Flesh throbbed and squeezed; he drove deeper.
Then it came, the hot prickling rush that fought the surface of skin and bone and erupted. Sensations folded in on each other, breaking apart and coming together in a blinding moment that hung for seconds, then minutes before releasing them.
He thrust hard once and final. A claim. He watched her green eyes darken, watched her smile bloom and felt warmth spread through him. She pulled him down onto her, holding him as the rapture faded.
She whispered his name in a throaty purr, then kissed him with a power he’d never felt before.
He knew then and there he’d never stop wanting her. And that the night wasn’t over yet….
The phone rang at 0600 hours and Jack groped for it, knocking it off the cradle and then dragging it to his ear.
“This better be good, Reese.” Otherwise, his good buddy was going to earn himself a black eye.
“Lieutenant Singer? This is Colonel Walsh.”
Jack was instantly awake and sitting up. “Yes, sir.”
“Plans have changed. Report ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How was the wedding, son?”
Jack’s gaze moved to the slender bare back tucked against his thigh. “Memorable, sir. Perfect.”
“Outstanding. See you in a few hours.” The colonel hung up.
Hours. Damn.
Melanie turned her head and met Jack’s gaze. “You have to go, huh?”
He nodded, sliding down into the bed and pulling her into his arms. She scooted on top of him, resting her folded arms on his chest.
“I knew this would come,” she said, and her eyes teared. She was going to miss him. “I was just hoping for a few days with you.”
He ran his hands over her naked spine. “Me, too.”
She inched up to kiss him. “Don’t ask me to wait for you, Jack. I don’t know if I could stand not knowing when or if you’ll ever come back.”
“I’ll come back and when I do, I want to—”
; She shook her head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because I more than like you.” Oh, she was falling for him too fast, she thought. “And I can’t put my hopes on a man.”
Jack frowned softly, and realized he knew very little about this woman’s past. But he could tell she’d been hurt. Badly.
Melanie wasn’t going to cling to Jack, nor to any man. She’d been left alone with only her broken heart to hold more times than a woman should have to suffer. She had to go on with her life as if he’d never touched her heart so deeply, as if they’d never joined so intimately.
It was almost good that he was leaving so soon. Two more weeks of Lt. Jack Singer and she’d find herself hip-deep in love with him. And that was dangerous. And pointless.
He rolled her onto her back. “I’m not one of those guys—”
“Shh,” she said, and spread her thighs, urging him between. “Come to me, Jack,” she whispered, and tried to keep her voice even. “Before you head to parts unknown for who knows how long. Give me all you hide from the world.”
He searched her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’ll keep it safe.” It was all she could offer.
He pushed inside her, losing himself in her, giving her what she wanted. All that he had.
And little did they both know, leaving a bit of himself behind.
Two
The front door swung open and Jack’s sister glared at him. “Well, that’s not the fine welcome I expected from my only sibling,” he said.
“I’m wondering if I should claim you as my brother.” Lisa made a sour face and spun about, striding into the living room. Jack stepped inside and reached for her.
“Hey, what’s up? Bad day with the baby? Who I’m dying to meet.”
“Really?”
“Hell, yes. Uncle Jack wants to pamper the little lady. My right, you know.” He produced a stuffed koala bear.
Lisa softened a little, but not for long. She gestured to her house. “See any baby things around here?”
He looked. The little house she and her husband, Brian, owned was immaculate, homey and adult. He frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t have a baby, Jack.”
He stepped back, scowling. “Then why did you send me that card?”
Lisa glanced to the side, avoiding his gaze, something she never did.
“Hey, darlin’, what’s going on here?” he said in the voice that always got her to share with him.
She looked at him. “I sent the card to get you to come home and face your responsibilities.”
His brows shot up. “What responsibility?”
“The one to your daughter, Jack.”
He paled. “I don’t have a child. I’m not a father.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, she’s six months old and her name is Juliana. She has your hair and your eyes.”
Jack choked on his own breath. A baby? There was a baby in this world that was his? His gaze snapped to his sister’s. Reality slammed into his gut.
“Melanie. Where is she? I tried to call her.”
“You called?”
He gave her a look that said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” and he wasn’t pleased about it. “Yes, I did—when I got to a ship-to-shore phone. I sent her a few notes while I was out at sea, but she couldn’t write to me.” His look said what he was doing with the SEALs wasn’t up for discussion. “Still, when I got stateside, there was nothing, no phone listing, no address.”
Lisa met his gaze. “You really called her, huh? When she said she didn’t want you to know, I thought it was just a…well, that she was hiding her feelings.”
“Don’t you think I had the right to know?”
“Of course! That’s why I sent the card. Good grief, Jack, I thought you hadn’t contacted her. That’s the impression she gave me.”
“How did you find out?”
“Brian and I were in Charleston on a little vacation and I went into the bank to cash a check. Melanie was the bank manager. She’s moved back here now, but she really doesn’t want you in her life.”
“Well, she’s getting me, dammit,” he muttered, heading to the door.
“Jack, wait! She’s not going to like this.” Lisa moaned and folded her arms over her middle. “What are you going to do?”
“Talk to her, marry her, give my daughter my name. My child isn’t going to grow up like I did, Lisa. I won’t allow that.” He let out a breath. “Tell me where she lives.”
Jack marched up the neat path to the little house. It was a perfect cottage in the woods, far back enough from the street to be private and surrounded by a small picket fence to protect a child from the traffic.
He stopped short. A child. His child. Good God. Melanie had given birth to his baby. Alone, without him. Without him ever knowing he’d become a father. And his daughter was already six months old! He’d missed everything. Missed seeing Melanie round with his baby, missed the baby’s birth, those moments when dads go into complete panic with the coming of labor pains. He’d missed his baby’s first smile, her mother’s first look of pride… Damn. Inside, anger as wide as the Chechessie River warred with a strange feeling of absolute joy.
He was a father. There was a baby in that house that was half his. A life he and Melanie had created that night. And she’d tried to take that from him, take away his chance for something more than what he was.
Anger boiled and he continued to the door, knocking hard.
It flung open an instant later.
And his breath punched out of his lungs.
She looked incredible. More incredible than she had during those two weeks. His heart pounded like a hammer in his chest. His gaze ripped and dipped over her body. Jeans never looked so good on a woman. A T-shirt never looked so sexy. Red hair spilled over her shoulders, and if he hadn’t been staring at her body he would have noticed the look of surprise and anger on her face.
Then he did. Well, so what, he thought. She was the liar. She was the one who’d denied him his rights to his own child. “I hear you have something to show me.”
Her features yanked taut. “I’m gonna beat your sister up, just so you know.” The day in Charleston when his sister had walked into her bank, her whole world had crashed. Melanie had been feeling so alone then, and seeing her best pal had opened a floodgate of anguish she hadn’t known she’d held back. She’d missed Jack so much. Really missed him.
“Yeah, well. That won’t compare to what I’m ready to do to you.”
Her look was leery. “Perhaps you should come back when you’ve calmed down a bit.”
“I am calm.”
She arched a brow, trying not to let her heartbeat shoot through her throat at just the sight of him. “Try again, Jack. You look ready for battle.”
He stepped closer and enjoyed her indrawn breath. “I’m always ready—it’s my job. Or did you forget that about me, too?”
Melanie didn’t forget a thing. Not the look in his eyes when he wanted her, not the one he got when he was mad. And he was furious. But then, she knew he would be.
“So are you going to invite me in or do I have to push my way inside?”
She didn’t say anything, the inevitable too clear to argue. She stepped back, waved him inside and closed the door.
He stood close, looming over her, and Melanie wanted nothing more at that moment than the feel of his kiss. His arms around her. Seeing as that was dangerous, she went for reason. “I didn’t try to keep this from you, Jack.”
Her soft tone and liquid eyes caught him in the gut. “Then how come I’m the last to know?”
“I couldn’t reach you. You’re a SEAL.” She moved into the living room. “Everything you do is top secret and cloak-and-dagger. I called your unit and spoke to an Ensign Frostbite—”
“Frostbite?” he interrupted.
“As in, his attitude was chilling enough to give me some.”
Jack tried not to smile
. She’d called, he thought, removing his cover and tucking it in his belt. She’d tried to contact him. Some of the fire went out of him.
“He said that since I wasn’t your wife or next of kin, I couldn’t speak with you. Even Lisa tried to contact you for me once, but no one was dying or anything, so they wouldn’t oblige.” She shrugged, understanding in the movement. “And well, tell him he’s the father of a girl, eight pounds seven ounces, is not something you want to leave in a message.”
She moved behind the sofa, dragged her fingers over the edge, tweaked a pillow, and for a split second he saw her as she was then, pregnant, hanging on to a phone and talking with a by-the-book ensign, wanting to tell Jack, but unable to reach him. “Yes, I guess not.”
“I decided I had to wait.”
“I called you a couple times and wrote. My letters came back unopened, undeliverable as addressed.”
Something old and smothered in Melanie tried working itself out just then. “I’d moved home to be near my parents. But I’d always liked it here, so we came back.” She wasn’t going to admit to a soul that it was because of Jack. She’d survived fine without him. She’d had a baby alone, hadn’t she? But then she’d moved back to this place, where she knew he’d be able to find her if he wanted. Real brave, she thought.
Jack glanced around at his surroundings. The interior had a sudden calming effect on him. While the furnishings were elegant—cherry tables, wing backed chairs—the fabrics were casual. Tiny checks and crumpled velvets in sage-green, cream and little splashes of maroon and emerald. Fat pillows with tasseled corners were strewn on the sofa and floor. Elegantly rumpled, he thought and realized he liked it.
Then he noticed the toys. His heart slammed into his chest as he bent to pick up a doll. He rubbed his thumb over the belly, the little gingham dress, and tried to imagine his child playing with it.
“Where is she?”
“She’s sleeping.”
He met her gaze. “I want to see her.”
“I’m not waking her to see a stranger, Jack.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“But to her you are.”
“I won’t wake her up. I just want to look at her.”
The SEAL’s Surprise Baby Page 2
