Too bad, so sad, sucked to be him, Aiden mentally chanted his typical pithy reply.
Except that he never should have thought about the word suck in connection with his penis. Memories of Saturdays in Colorado Springs bombarded him, he and Erika free from the constraints of Academy life, spending precious hours alone together. His mind flooded with visions of Erika leaning over him, her luscious plump lips flush with color as they surrounded his hard cock, her hair spilling around her face and tickling his balls. He remembered the feel of her mouth as she took him down her throat and dragged his orgasm from deep in his balls until he shot his load. The woman used to suck him off like nobody's business.
Damn. Thank God she was paying attention to the road and not to him. The hard-on pressing against the ridge of his ragged pants was uncomfortable and visible. In the close confines of the car, he'd never manage a discreet rearranging to lessen some of the pressure. He forced his hands to remain on his thighs so as not to draw attention to his bulging zipper.
Desperate to focus his attention on something—anything—other than Erika, he stared out the side window at the passing scenery. He didn't have any luck ignoring her presence, not when he heard her breathing and smelled her flowery shampoo. The fact didn't come as a surprise. He hadn't had any luck purging her from his thoughts since the first time he saw her at Swearing In. The difficulty increased after he'd stolen a kiss in the library, not that he'd wanted to ignore her after that.
The quiet of the library surrounded them. He'd purposely steered them to a little used section, not wanting an audience for what he had planned for this evening. This was no ordinary study session, despite the fact Erika sat scratching down some notes from the textbook open in front of them.
Erika Dalton had captivated him from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She'd been in the row in front of him at Swearing In. From that point on, he'd all but stalked his fellow cadet, but to his chagrin, she seemed immune to his charm. Trying to be patient, attempting to forget about her hadn't worked. So tonight he'd planned to make a move she'd be unable to deny and hopefully, unable to resist.
"Erika?” Everyone else called her “Ed.” To him, “Ed” was a talking horse or that obnoxious guy from Married with Children, not the lush curves and athletic grace of the woman sitting at his side.
As she turned her face, he made his move. With lightening speed, he brushed his lips across hers, keeping the contact light, even though he wanted nothing more than to sink his tongue deep into her mouth and savor the kiss. Since public displays of affection were considered conduct unbecoming an officer, he refrained. With any luck, they'd have ample opportunity to indulge their passions soon enough.
Her hand came up, and he braced for a slap. Instead, it settled on his chest, her fingertips burning his skin through his thin shirt. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to pull back. A smile tipped up the corners of his mouth at the dazed expression on her face.
His skin chilled when she lifted her hand and brought her fingers to her lips. “What was that?"
"The guys in your hometown are lame if you don't know what a kiss is."
"I didn't date in high school. I think I intimidated most of the guys."
Aiden understood that. She was a strong, intelligent woman. But she didn't intimidate him. Not at all, if the size of the hard-on in his pants was any indication.
"Well, I'd like to take you out on a date, if you'll go to the Ring Dance with me?” His heart hammered in his throat, threatening to choke him. He'd never before been nervous when asking a girl out. Then again, the last time he asked a girl out was to his senior prom, a lifetime ago.
As he watched, her eyes widened, full of confusion and suspicion. “Very funny, Greene. Very funny.” Blotches of red broke out on her face. Not at all the reaction he'd expected. “Where are the guys hiding?” She raised her voice. “You can come out now.” She turned her attention back to him. “Is this your idea of a practical joke, or did the guys in the squadron put you up to this?"
His opinion of the assholes in her bumfuck Pennsylvania hometown lowered even further. They must have done a job on her if she couldn't tell the difference between a serious offer and a prank. Catching her chin in his fingers, he caught her gaze. “I want to escort you to the Ring Dance."
"You're serious.” She leveled her gaze at him, the confusion in her eyes sucker punching him.
"Yes, ma'am, I am."
She lowered her eyelids, her eyelashes fluttering, casting a shadow thanks to the fluorescent lighting. When she met his stare again, the emotion in her emerald green eyes gripped his heart. “I'd love to attend the Ring Dance with you."
He didn't realize how much he'd been dreading the answer he feared she'd give him until she gave him the one he wanted to hear. Tension whooshed out of him on an exhaled breath, his shoulders slumped. His heart rate kicked up a notch at the twinkle in her eyes. “I want to kiss you again, but I don't want to get either of us in trouble. Not that a kiss from you wouldn't be worth the demerits."
"No. No. That wouldn't be good. The demerits, I mean.” But the look on her face told him she wanted him to kiss her as much as he wanted to. He'd give anything for the opportunity to indulge in her.
Damn, they needed to get back to studying before the embarrassing bulge in his pants got him in trouble.
All these years later and his cock still threatened to get him in deep shit with Erika Dalton.
* * * *
Erika stretched, her muscles sore from a combination of too much time behind the wheel and the tension of sitting next to Aiden for so many hours. He'd offered to drive, but she'd needed the concentration driving required. Anything to keep her mind off of her traveling companion.
Even that hadn't worked. Now she turned her attention to finding the Tullahoma, Tennessee safe house that sat at the north end of the Air Force facility. She couldn't risk checking for directions on the computer back in Ohio, so she relied on memory. She exited the interstate at Hillsboro Highway and executed a series of turns, taking a short detour at a small market to pick up some groceries. The small single-story ranch house came into view on the left side of the street.
The dimmed front porch light confirmed her suspicions—and her fear—that she and Aiden would be the only occupants for the evening. Pulling into the short driveway, her mind raced, her body hyperaware of the man next to her and the beds inside the rancher. She slipped the car into park and punched a security code into the small box on the wall next to the garage door. With a groan, the automatic door chugged upward. Hopping back in the car, Erika guided the Chrysler inside and parked.
Aiden stayed at her heels, waiting patiently as she pushed the button to close them in the garage and punched the access numbers to the house into the panel. A series of beeps and flashing lights indicated she'd succeeded. Her hand searched for the light switch as she stepped through the door, Aiden's body so close to her back, she felt his breath fanning her hair.
As they entered the open kitchen, Aiden moved ahead of her, turning on lights in the living and dining rooms. Dammit all. What the hell is the fool man doing? She had the gun, she should be the one checking out the house, even if she did suspect it was empty. She drew a deep breath, waiting for him to return to the small eating area. They hadn't been followed; no one knew they were even in Tennessee. If he wanted to get all macho and search for hidden dangers, fine. She'd let him think he had some power.
Only problem was, he did have power. The ability to turn her insides to mush and make her want to abandon rational thought. His pants cupped his ass and thighs to the point where they were just this side of decent, sending her imagination into the land of indecent as she drooled over him retreating from the room.
One solution to her dilemma presented itself. Memories of how they'd broken up needed to be kept first and foremost in her mind. Memories of how he'd disappointed her all those years ago. With one month to graduation, they'd finally managed to get overlapping weekend passes
. All of the arrangements had been made. After months of waiting and frustration, they were going to make love. She was finally going to lose her virginity. At dinner, Aiden had proposed, brandishing a stunning one carat marquis-cut diamond ring. And then he'd gone on to talk about his vision of their marriage—one where she played the role of the “good little wife” while he gallivanted all over the globe. She'd hated him then, so much so that she'd taken off the ring and paused long enough for him to take it back before she'd stormed out of the hotel and returned to the dormitory.
Never again, she swore then and there. She'd never again allow herself to be anything but “one of the guys.” As much as she hated it, she wasn't meant to be anything else. A valuable lesson had been burned into her brain that day. Trying to be soft and feminine earned her nothing but heartache.
Avoiding him until graduation had been easy. They'd been in different squadrons and the activities leading up to the ceremony at Falcon Stadium had kept everyone busy. On that Wednesday following Memorial Day weekend in 1993, she'd tossed her hat in the air, accepted her assignment with the Air Force Security Agency, and never looked back.
Until the fickle hand of fate dropped Aiden Greene back in her lap. Or her in his lap, as the case may have been.
And if she were honest with herself, thoughts of what might have been swirled in her mind. At least thoughts of what it would have been like to sleep with him.
The wicked, wanton part of her—the part never indulged—wanted to grasp the opportunity at hand. Hell, it wanted to reach out and grasp him. That was the part of her that admired his fine form—the firm ass, the broad shoulders, the flat stomach. And the bulge in the front of his pants that told her he wasn't immune to her.
Go ahead, the wild woman on her shoulder whispered in her ear, why not take advantage of a primo opportunity? You always try to be “one of the guys,” so be one now. A man in your situation would sure as hell be climbing into bed with the hottie. Enjoy the time you have until you reach Bolling. And them dump him off and move on with your life. What could be more like a guy?
"Erika? Are you all right?"
The innocent touch of his hand on her shoulder caused her to jump. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just tired from all that driving.” He didn't look like he believed her.
"You need to let me do some of the driving tomorrow. Have you given any thought to where we're headed from here?"
"To the East Coast. But I'm not sure where yet. I want to find an atlas to check out some directions. There should be one in the office."
"Sounds like a plan. I suppose you'll let me know where we're going before we get there?"
The skin around his eyes crinkled when he laughed, causing her stomach to flip-flop. Go for it, the female devil urged. “I'll think about it. But right now, I need to think about a hot shower."
"I'll whip up the spaghetti. If you don't take too long, it'll be ready by the time you're done."
Good God, the man should smile more often. “Thanks."
No, no he shouldn't, the sensible part of her intoned.
His gaze burned her ass as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom, leaving her feeling naked and vulnerable and needy. The house was so small that one of the bedrooms doubled as the office. Rummaging through the suitcase she'd dragged in with her, she found a pair of jogging shorts and a t-shirt, along with a pair of practical white underwear. Not exactly seduction material. Then again, the man had gotten a hard-on seeing her in her BDUs.
She wasn't looking to seduce him, was she?
Yes, a voice goaded.
Clutching the clean clothes to her chest, she crossed to the bathroom and cranked up the shower. Maybe the steam would clear her mind as it relaxed her tense shoulders. She stepped into the scalding water, washing the stress from her body as she soaped up.
She'd always felt beautiful in his eyes, from the moment he'd first kissed her to their last date.
"You look beautiful, Erika."
The room spun around her as Aiden guided her on the dance floor. He moved with grace and ease, leading her in the steps of the dances. Beautiful women in stunning evening gowns surrounded them, escorted by men in Air Force mess dress, the uniform even more elegant than its civilian equivalent, a tuxedo. The Ring Dance was the social event of a cadet's Academy career. And she was in the arms of Aiden Greene, the man she'd dreamed about for two and a half years and easily the most handsome one in the room.
But obviously blind if he thought she looked beautiful. The women in the slinky gowns and cocktail dresses looked far better. Erika wore her mess dress with pride, the same with her class ring. That didn't mean she didn't know her own limitations, especially when compared to other women, the more flirty, feminine ones.
Aiden tipped her chin without releasing her fingers. “I mean it, Erika, you're the most beautiful woman here."
What the hell? Was he a mind reader?
"You don't need a clinging gown to draw my attention. Your beauty shines without any artificial enhancements."
She melted against him, the hand at the small of her back pressing her close. Resting her head on his shoulder, she allowed him to guide her. He made her feel soft and feminine.
For so long, she'd denied all aspects of her femininity. Her father wanted a boy, so she did her best to be a tomboy for him, to win his love. She'd continued to be a tomboy, until it was an integral part of her makeup, allowing her to keep up with the predominantly male corps of cadets.
Tonight, in Aiden's arms, she wanted to be a woman. To be appreciated for being a woman.
Her hands lingered on her breasts as she coated them with soapy lather. Her nipples pebbled at the touch. She cupped the generous C cups she'd been cursed with. Aiden had always expressed his delight with them, which hadn't changed—she'd caught him staring at them in the car. Caressing them, she imagined his hands on them, squeezing them, sucking her nipples.
An answering twitch in her clitoris drew her fingers between her legs. She stroked the needy nub, ratcheting her desire. She traced the line of her lower lips, the lather easing the path. Even though she ached to be filled, she brought her hands down her thighs and calves, cleaning the rest of her body instead of giving in to lust. A lust she wanted Aiden to assuage.
When had she begun to seriously think of Aiden in any terms other than just getting as far away from him as possible?
The more honest question—when had she ever stopped thinking about Aiden Greene?
They were both consenting, single adults. There was nothing wrong with indulging her senses, her fantasies. And when she'd safely delivered him to her CO in Washington, D.C., she could go on with her life with the added knowledge of what it was like to make love with the only man she'd ever wanted. Not a bad bonus tacked on to a job well done.
Resolve strengthened, she popped out of the shower in search of a razor and shaving cream. She located a man's razor and gel under the sink. It'd do in a pinch. The last thing she wanted to worry about in the heat of passion was stubble. She'd just have to remember to remind the idiots who stocked the safe houses that a woman or two used them.
Stepping from the shower, she patted dry and dressed, leaving off the underwear. Her inner devil cheered as she headed for the kitchen and an evening too many years in the making. Tonight, in Aiden's arms, she wanted to be a woman.
Chapter 5
Good God, what was wrong with him?
Two attempts had been made on his life. He was trying to stay two steps ahead of someone leaking information about him—which was probably why two attempts had been made on his life, and he owed Miguel Ramos for turning his life upside down a second time. Logic dictated he should have been gathering all available information and formulating a plan. He needed to talk with Erika's CO.
The problem was, he wasn't doing any of that. Instead, he was listening to the shower. He imagined the trails of water running over Erika's naked body. In his erotic fantasies, his hands and lips followed the path of the moisture, causing her
body to tremble, causing her to shout out his name.
Damn. A pop of boiling spaghetti sauce bubbled from the pot, scalding the top of his hand. He'd lost all control over his dick; it thought it was running the show. Well, the time had come—
Poor choice of words when dealing with an unruly cock that wanted nothing more than to come deep inside the woman who'd haunted his deepest unspoken dreams for too many years. It was time to show the damn thing who was boss. It didn't matter that he hadn't had sex since before the twins were born. He'd managed this long with only his right hand for companionship and he'd keep on surviving. In fact, right after dinner, when he took a shower, he'd relieve some of the pressure below the belt, get a good night's sleep, and start the new day fresh and in charge of his body parts.
He was not, repeat, was not, going to do anything to hurt Erika Dalton ever again.
Aiden concentrated on fixing dinner in order to avoid any more burn marks. He'd drained the noodles and pulled the saucepot from the burner when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Thank God his hands were empty or he'd have dropped something hot on his foot.
A half-dressed Erika came into view, a feast for his oversexed senses. Miniscule jogging shorts revealed the long length of her toned legs. A well-washed t-shirt with a university logo clung to the full curves of her braless breasts. Braless. All that time spent regaining some semblance of power over his cock went straight to hell faster than the blood rushing below the belt. Which was where he was going if he failed to get himself back on track.
"Something smells really good."
Huh, what? Oh. “Spaghetti sauce from a jar, plus a little salt and pepper to perk it up. Everything's ready, if you're hungry."
"Thank you for making dinner.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. She'd left it down instead of tucking it up in that blasted bun, her dark hair falling to her shoulders.
"You're welcome. It was no problem.” No problem whatsoever. It had kept him from joining her in the shower. Just barely. The burn on his hand throbbed, a reminder of where his attention had been during the preparations.
The Class of '93 Trilogy: Deadly Briefs Page 6
