"It's been a while." He took off his own helmet and hooked it over the end of the handle bar, then pulled off his gloves. "And just so you know, I've never brought anyone here to make out."
"Maybe we'll have to do something to change that," she said, her low, husky voice wrapping around him like a sensual promise she intended to keep.
Or maybe not, he thought to himself as he got off the bike, then unzipped his leather jacket, welcoming the rush of cool night air against his T-shirt and the heated skin beneath.
She walked to the edge of the trail, which overlooked Lake Michigan and the sandy beach stretching out below them. He came up beside her, and a few quiet moments passed as they admired the gorgeous evening view of the harbor lights off to the right.
"You know," Lora said, finally breaking the companionable silence between them, "I have to say, between you and your guys, that was quite an impressive front back at the bar."
Grateful for a conversation that wasn't laced with sexual undertones, he chuckled as he recalled how fierce and formidable Jon, Ben, and Kevin had looked as they backed him up. From the moment they'd been assigned to the same unit, it had always been that way with them, a strong, united front all the way. In good times and in bad.
A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he stared at her lovely face. "What can I say? Old habits die hard. For all of us."
She tipped her head to the side. "Once a marine, always a marine?" she guessed.
He nodded. "In a lot of ways, yes."
She was standing so close, the urge to reach out and caress his fingers along her soft cheek, down the side of her neck, and across the full swells of her breasts pushing against her top nearly overwhelmed him. Instead, he slid the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, which forced him to keep his hands to himself.
"Well, all that fuss over me at Nick's wasn't necessary," she told him, her voice vibrating with feminine confidence. "I could have handled that guy on my own."
He raised a brow at her claim, though he couldn't help but approve of, and be attracted to, that fiery independence of hers. Couldn't help but imagine how all that bold self-assurance would be a huge turn-on in the bedroom. "You think so?"
"I know so. I deal with jerks like that all the time at The Electric Blue." The impudent smile on her lips made Joel grin, too. Then her lashes fell to half-mast as she stepped toward him, placed a hand on his chest, and slowly, brazenly stroked her palm down to his abdomen, leaving a trail of burning desire in its wake. "On the other hand, it was kind of nice having a big, strong man like you staking his claim."
He curled his hands into tight fists, even as his dick throbbed to life when he considered just how close her fingers were to his fly. "Is that what I did?" he asked, his voice rough with arousal. "Stake a claim?"
"Yeah." Her sweet, tempting mouth held a delectable curve of humor and sensuality. "And just for the record, it was a tad barbarianlike."
"Can't say I'm sorry."
"Me, either," she admitted, and shifted closer so that her mouth was only inches away from his and invited his kiss. Her hand, still splayed low on his belly, seared his skin through his T-shirt. "I've never had any guy come to my defense the way you did," she said softly.
"Not even your ex-fiancé?"
Her eyes widened in startled surprise at his abrupt comment. She dropped her hand and took a step back, giving him breathing room that no longer contained her warm, enticing female scent, which was wreaking havoc with certain parts of his anatomy.
Her brows creased in confusion and curiosity as she stared at him. "How do you even know I had a fiancé?"
It was an easy enough question for him to answer. "You wrote to Zach while he was in the service, and we talked about our siblings and what was going on back home. He happened to mention your engagement, though I don't know the specifics of your breakup." And right now seemed like a great time to discuss something that would cool his ardor. "What happened?"
She shrugged, as if her broken engagement no longer mattered to her heart or her emotions, and Joel hoped that was true. "Soon after I accepted Brent's proposal, I moved into his place with him. I figured since we were getting married anyway it made sense that we cut costs and live together, instead of paying for two apartments."
She looked away, providing Joel with a silhouette of her profile and the way she absently stroked her tongue across her soft bottom lip before speaking again. "A few months after that, Brent starting acting strange. He'd pick fights with me over ridiculous things, like me taking up too much room in his closet, or if I cooked something he didn't like, and even the way I folded his clothes. I honestly thought it was because he was having a hard time adjusting to living with someone when he'd always lived on his own and that we'd eventually find some kind of balance."
"Except you obviously didn't," Joel said.
"No, we didn't." She glanced back at him. A faint smile touched her lips and her hands tugged on the ends of the scarf wrapped around her neck. "Things just got worse. Brent grew distant and started spending more time at work, and he'd even take off for a weekend, claiming it was for the ad agency he worked for."
Joel knew exactly where all those classic signs were heading, but he didn't say anything, just listened to her tell the story her own way.
"The stupid arguments we had, and Brent's behavior, reminded me exactly of the way my own parents' marriage started disintegrating, then eventually fell apart. I was only twelve at the time, but I remember it all so vividly. Having lived through my father's infidelity and what it did to my mother, I emotionally prepared myself for what I knew was coming. And it did."
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and exhaled a deep breath. "Six months after I agreed to marry Brent, he finally broke down and admitted that he'd been seeing someone else on the side for the past three months. And if that wasn't enough of a blow, he also told me that she was pregnant and he planned to marry her."
"Jesus, Lora." He scrubbed a hand along the late-evening stubble on his jaw, hating that some prick had treated her so badly. "I'm so sorry."
Her chin lifted, showing him that gutsy, defiant spirit that never failed to impress him. "You know what? I'm okay now. Better than okay," she added as a light breeze ruffled through her silky, unbound hair. "At the time I was devastated, but I wasn't about to be defeated. And I wasn't about to repeat my mother's mistakes by wallowing in regrets and wishing for something that wasn't meant to be."
He didn't know many women, if any, that could survive such a painful breakup and be stronger for the experience, instead of angry and bitter. Only someone as stubborn and determined as Lora could push forward with such a positive outlook and attitude, he thought with an internal smile.
"What about you, Joel?" she asked, turning the tables on him with a not-so-coy grin. "How many hearts have you broken over the years?"
"None," he replied easily, and honestly.
She gave him a dubious look that was tempered by the playful gleam in her eyes. "Oh, come on, Romeo. I find that hard to believe."
Now that she was standing far enough away, he pulled his hands from his pockets and folded his arms over his chest. "Let me rephrase that. I've never intentionally broken anyone's heart," he said, not wanting her to think that he was the type of guy to string a woman along with false expectations. "The women I've dated know right up front what I'm willing to give to a relationship."
Tipping her head to the side, she eyed him curiously. "And what's that?"
He shrugged and gave her the truth. "A good time, in and out of the sack."
"But no emotional ties," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "You like to play it safe."
It both amazed and annoyed him how effortlessly she'd nailed his MO, when he was normally very guarded when it came to the opposite sex. It was an unsettling feeling knowing that Lora could get into his psyche so easily, and it made him realize how important it was that she understood his own personal rules when it came to women
and relationships.
"I'm straight up with women about what to expect because I don't want anyone to get hurt when I'm ready to walk away." And he always did. Either he grew restless and bored with the affair, stifled by constraints, or some woman would get it into her head that she was the one who could domesticate him. All three situations were clear signs that it was time for him to move on.
"What made you so jaded?" she asked, her gentle, caring voice reaching out to him like a physical caress.
He ignored the sensation, as well as the all-too-knowing tenderness that softened her features and seemed to see past all those internal barriers he'd erected long ago. "I'm not jaded," he said, but knew that denial was a lie. He'd learned at a very young age that it was so much simpler, and less painful, not to open himself up to any kind of emotional involvement, and it was a lesson that had served him well ever since.
"There isn't any room in my life for commitments and promises," he went on, before she could dig any deeper into the depths of his subconscious. "And it has more to do with my lifestyle and my job than anything else."
In the starlit shadows, he watched as a slow, sultry smile claimed her lips, and his gut clenched with heat and desire, mingling with the frustration twisting through him.
"I know this sounds clichéd, but maybe you just haven't met the right woman yet," she said.
He laughed, but the sound held no humor. In fact, considering the topic of conversation, and his own uncontrollable lust for this woman, he was beginning to feel downright cantankerous. "And you think you're her?"
His dark, argumentative tone didn't seem to faze her. "Who knows? Only time will tell." She followed up that flirtatious reply with a seductive wink.
"Don't set yourself up for heartache, sweetheart," he warned, narrowing his gaze at her. "I can't give you what you need."
She raised a dark brown brow, highlighting the amusement in her gaze that seemed to taunt him. "How do you know what I need?"
His jaw tightened in growing aggravation, and he jammed his hands onto his hips, wondering how in the hell this one woman could push all his hot buttons. She had him tied up in knots on so many levels. Emotionally. Physically. Sexually. All because he wanted her soft and naked beneath him, in a variety of ways. God, why couldn't she be the kind of woman he could just fuck, get out of his system, and forget?
But he instinctively knew there would be no forgetting Lora Marshall, and not just because she was Zach's sister.
He answered her question, using the direct, no-nonsense, male approach so there'd be no misunderstanding what he meant. "You want and need all that emotional hearts-and-flowers kind of crap that all women eventually want. I'm not that kind of guy, Lora. I never have been and I never will be."
She stepped toward him and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she could say a word. Or touch him again. If she did either, she'd send him right over the edge with no hope of turning back.
"I like living alone," he went on, impatience roughening his voice. "I like my life uncomplicated, and I like being able to come and go as I please. I don't do love, Lora, and don't think that you'll be the one to change me. Many have tried, and all have failed."
Her mouth curved ever so slightly, as if she wasn't thoroughly convinced. "Wow, that's quite a speech."
"It's the truth."
"Okay. Your position has been duly noted." She held up both of her hands, clearly backing off, just as he wanted. Unfortunately, the movement caused her full breasts to lift and bounce, drawing his attention to the front of her snug top and the clear outline of her chilled nipples straining against the fabric.
Heat shot straight to his groin, thick with the aching, pulsing need that constantly smoldered just below the surface when it came to her. Inhaling a steadying breath, he raised his gaze back to her face, ignoring the fact that she'd noticed him staring at her breasts-and didn't seem to mind at all.
Shit. "I think it's time I took you back home," he said gruffly.
Before he said to hell with the moral quandaries surrounding their relationship and succumbed to the awareness enticing him to do all the things he fantasized about doing to her in the dark of the night, he forced himself to turn around and head back to his motorcycle.
But despite his admirable discipline at the moment, Joel feared it was just a matter of time before this particular woman shattered his quickly dwindling willpower.
At least he'd adverted giving in to any temptation for tonight.
THE man was a bundle of contradictions, Lora thought as she watched Joel stalk toward his bike. Pure walking sex with a body made for sin, yet so unconscious of his masculine appeal. Fiercely protective of her, as he'd been earlier in the bar, yet dangerously possessive in a way she found shamelessly exciting.
Then there was the dark hunger in his eyes that clearly stated he wanted her-yet every time she tried to get close enough to indulge in her own desires, he immediately put physical distance between them to keep things platonic. And now, with his lecture about women and relationships, he'd just erected all sorts of emotional walls, too.
What the heck had that been all about, she wondered, feeling confused and baffled by his odd behavior. She didn't understand his resistance when there was so much sexual tension between them just waiting to be explored and exploited to its fullest potential of pleasure. Especially when he'd asked her out on a date-yet had spent most of the evening avoiding any one-one-one contact with her.
It was as though he was fighting himself and what he truly wanted. She didn't know why, but considering he'd made it clear during their discussion that he only wanted one thing from a woman, she figured they were pretty much on the same page. She had her own reasons for not getting tangled up in a committed relationship right now, but what was wrong with the two of them enjoying a bit of sexy fun?
As he slid onto his bike and reached for his gloves, Lora decided it was time to go after what she wanted. Time to really shake Joel up and let him know she'd more than welcome some one-on-one attention. Obviously, the seductive, flirtatious cues she'd been tossing his way all night long hadn't done the trick, so she needed to ratchet up her efforts.
He glanced her way, frowning when he found her still standing where he'd left her. "Let's go."
It was a brusque order, tinged with impatience to match his restless need to get out of this secluded area with her. She started toward him, adding a slow, purposeful sway to her hips as she walked-like a woman on a sensual mission who wouldn't be dissuaded. Not this time, at least.
"I'm not ready to go back home." The anticipation of executing her plan infused her voice with a low, husky quality.
His gaze, so dark and intense, narrowed at her, as if he was trying to figure out exactly what she was up to. "It's late."
"It's Saturday, and the night is still young." Before he realized her intent, she slid her hip onto the leather seat in front of him, between his spread thighs. Then she plucked the gloves from his grasp before he could put them on, and tossed them aside.
Lifting her hand, she caressed her palm along the taut line of his strong, firm jaw, trying to ease the tension vibrating off his entire body. "Besides, I don't have a curfew. Do you?"
He didn't touch her as Lora ached for him to. In fact, he went to great pains to make certain he kept his hands to himself, even though she was practically draped across his lap, his for the taking.
"Lora-"
She silenced his oncoming protest with her fingers against his mouth. His lips were so warm and pliant and tempting, and all she could think about was tasting him and making that precious control of his shatter. Feeling the barely leashed aggression beneath his reserve, along with the solid length of his shaft pressing against her hip, she knew she was close to doing just that.
Lora's greatest wish was to be ravished by this man, except he didn't seem willing to oblige, and that meant she'd have to do the persuading, and the seducing. "I've been dying to kiss you," she whispered as she eased her
right leg over the bike so that she was facing Joel, her legs draped atop his muscled thighs in a position that was oh-so-intimate. "Really kiss you. Slow, and long, and deep."
Sinking her fingers into the soft, richly textured hair at the nape of his neck, she lowered her mouth to steal one of those kisses, but right before her lips made contact with his, he jerked his head back.
She sighed. His reaction was disappointing, of course, but Lora wasn't completely surprised, considering he'd been thwarting her attempts to get close to him all night long. But she wasn't discouraged, and she didn't take his rejection personally, not when he was staring at her with eyes that were dark and tormented with wanting, and the struggle within him was nearly palpable. The big question was, why was he still denying her, and himself?
Since her bold and assertive advance hadn't worked, she opted to handle the situation by taking a more humorous approach that would undoubtedly get some kind of reaction out of him.
She tipped her head to the side and schooled her features into a mask of seriousness. "Are you gay?" she asked, even though the fierce erection straining against the fly of his jeans made his sexual orientation a non-issue. Still, the transformation in Joel-from controlled and collected to severe shock-was too comical, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
"Jesus! Of course I'm not gay!" Joel stared at her in horror, his expression appalled. "What in the hell would make you ask that?" he demanded.
Clearly, he wasn't amused by her question, but she was enjoying herself, and his response, immensely. Enough so that she decided to keep up the pretense a bit longer. "Well, you've been avoiding any kind of physical contact between the two of us, and you don't seem very interested in kissing me." She sighed, trying to sound and look dejected. "Do I just not do it for you?"
He exhaled a long, harsh breath and curled his hands into tight fists at his sides, still not allowing himself to touch her. "I've got a goddamn raging hard-on that states otherwise."
"Yeah, you do," she agreed as she stroked her palms up his jean-clad thighs until her fingers grazed that very impressive bulge. "So, since we've established that I do turn you on, what's the problem?"
Born to Be Wilde Page 10
