Men In Uniform Anthology

by Delilah Devlin

  He gave her a lingering glance, sizing her up, then flashed her a small smile and nodded. “Good for you,” he said before he resumed his walk.

  She fastened her pace to catch up to him and study his profile. “You really mean that? Most people think I’m crazy for dropping a medical career to be a film critic.”

  “You always loved movies.”

  From an early age, she always went to the movies for comfort. Whenever she wanted to escape her parents’ discussions over frivolous things or the privileged world around her, she popped a DVD in, and her world was okay. “I still do. I work for the Dallas Morning News,” she said, mentioning the state’s most successful newspaper.

  “I read the reviews sometimes but haven’t seen your name. Usually, I see some by Ava something.”

  A delightful rush of blood zapped through her veins. “Ava Harris?”

  “Yeah. She’s good.”

  “I’m Ava Harris.” She giggled. “I started a blog and website for fun before I completely left medical school and used that pseudonym to keep anonymity.” The newspaper didn’t show her headshot, so he couldn’t have connected the dots.

  Mack gave her a slow nod, with a smile that sizzled her insides. She swallowed, a knot of anticipation throbbing in her throat. What did she anticipate? “I’m proud of you,” he said in a low, intimate voice. “You paved your own way.”

  Her heart flipped in her chest. “Thanks.”

  For the next several minutes, they hiked side by side in blissful silence. You paved your own way. His voice, rich like aged scotch, echoed in her ears, each time deeper. A current of pride coursed through her, because he didn’t just say these things for no good reason. Everything he had, he’d worked for—which made his compliment more meaningful.

  “Jenny,” he called her, yanking her from her reverie. “Look.” He pointed to a wooden sign that read O’CALLAHAN’S BED & BREAKFAST in red. Finally. She’d regroup, get in touch with her sister and Lewis, and find a way back to her original plan.

  They shortened the gap to the bed-and-breakfast. The one-story building had a wraparound porch, with purple and blue flowers lined up on the wooden floor. A few other smaller cottages surrounded the main property, each one a good distance from the other. The place reminded her of a honeymoon destination and certainly not a place where random hikers spent the night.

  “Check your cell coverage,” he told her, retrieving his own from his pocket.

  She grabbed her phone, and when she saw the two little bars on the top left of her screen, she said, “Yes.”

  “I’m calling my crew back in Dallas. Hold on,” he said, moving a few feet away from her.

  She nodded, contemplating the way his ass filled his pants. A part of her shrank with disappointment, and she loosened her hold on the phone. Yes, she’d go back to her old plan and life. She bit her lip, unsure. Why did the idea lose some of its appeal?

  He spoke into the phone, and she wished she could tear her gaze from him. God, Mack Hunter was the carnival ride she’d never been tall enough to ride. But he’d sported a healthy erection earlier—had she caused it? The question burned at the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t dare ask. Why not?

  I’m not married yet. Hell, my relationship with Lewis has always been platonic, and it’s not like we decided on getting engaged yet. He agreed to talk about it.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she brought it to her ear, on autopilot. “Hello?”

  “Jenny! Are you in Houston? I called you and got no answer. I checked on the flight tracker app and couldn’t find any information. Then I called the helicopter company and they didn’t know what happened.” Miranda groaned at the other end of the line.

  Jenny took a deep breath, adamant on calming down her sister. Miranda had more of a maternal instinct than their mother. Belle Sadler had always been nice, present, but not super warm. “I’m fine. There was a bird strike, but Mack managed to land. We hiked until we found some reception.”

  “We?”

  She cleared her throat. “Me and the pilot. Um, Mack Hunter, remember? He worked for Dad.”

  “Interesting,” Miranda said, her voice softening. “You and Mack.”

  Jenny flushed but decided to ignore the teasing. “He’s being very professional. A gentleman.”

  “Too bad.” Miranda chuckled. “I always thought he liked you.”

  “What, me? You must be delusional.”

  “Hey, I’m the older sister,” Miranda said. “I know better. Besides, I saw the way he looked at you. Probably didn’t act on it because, well, Dad would have killed him back then.”

  Jenny swallowed. Mack had always been proper and distant while he worked for her father, and she imagined that being a tad older and way hotter than her, he didn’t find her interesting. “Dad’s always been an ass about hierarchy,” she said. Fortunately, her father had become a bit more open during the passing years, but his privilege still showed.

  “Yes. But now you make your own decisions.”

  Thank God. When she saw Mack walking her way, she clutched the phone. “Can you please tell Mom and Dad I’m safe and sound? I’ll check on the plan and text you updates.”

  “No rush. I know you’re in good hands.” Miranda chuckled.

  She hung up the phone.

  “I talked to my employees. The only available bird to pick us up is in Galveston. There’s some bad weather there, so they can’t get us until the storm clears out. Probably not until tomorrow morning. I don’t want to make it unsafe for anyone,” said Mack.

  “Sure, I understand. Trust me,” she said. After all, hadn’t she been involved in that awful ski accident because she ignored her skill level and tried to follow Colt? They’d gone out skiing, and her bad decision bit her in the butt—or rather, in the leg.

  “I could call a rental car company and see if I can get something to get a ride to the nearest airport if you really need to get out of town tonight.”

  “Nah. It’s okay.” At this point, Lewis’s party would have started, and after all the walking, she didn’t feel like starting a Planes, Trains and Automobiles–type adventure. “Why don’t we spend the night here if they have room and we’ll leave tomorrow?”

  “I’ll go ask if they’ve got anything available for one night.”

  “Thanks.” She shifted from foot to foot, the weariness weakening her limbs. She took advantage of the alone time and texted Lewis, explaining how a helicopter snafu meant she’d have to spend the night and wouldn’t be in Houston to celebrate his birthday.

  Totally understand. Be safe and get here as soon as you can. We can celebrate again.

  She read his answer, doubts clouding her mind. The image of her arriving at a party in full swing, pulling her friend to the side to talk about their pact, and maybe even announce it to their friends later deflated like a week-old helium balloon. Why? Was her attraction to Mack a self-sabotage device? Or was it an eye-opener to the life she’d leave behind if she started to ignore her gut?

  She headed to the lobby and was about to open the carved wood door when Mack came out, nearly colliding with her. “I got the last cottage available. We can get some rest, and in the morning my team will send another helicopter and take you away while maintenance takes care of the other bird.”

  “Good. A cottage, you said?”

  He pointed to the left. “Yeah. Don’t worry. They have a pullout sofa.”

  “Of course,” she said softly.

  One cottage. A pullout sofa. An irresistible attraction.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  …

  Mack opened the door, gesturing for her to enter.

  He followed her, making an effort to pay no attention to her ass or any body part that could embarrass him again. She strolled into the cozy space, filled with frilly things like ruffled pink drapes and an endless number of little pillows on the sofa and the big bed.

  Heart-shaped wooden nightstands stood on either side of the bed. Even the lamps had l
ittle ruffles matching the ones on the curtains. Mack shut the door and tossed the backpack on the floor. In different circumstances, he would have laughed at the tackiness of the place. Now, apprehension moved into his heart, quickly filling his chest. Making sure her needs were met, as a client, should be his priority. After all, he’d started his company himself and would hate for her to say anything negative that could cost him thousands of dollars.

  What am I thinking? Sure, she had access to the media and turned out to be an influencer, but Jenny wouldn’t betray him. He cleared his throat. One night—he’d just have to survive one night with her, and they’d go their separate ways.

  “I’m dying for a bath. Do you mind?” she asked.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  He’d expected her to take her time, but within twenty minutes she emerged from the bathroom wearing one of the complimentary fluffy white robes. Before she pointed out it was his turn, he kept his head down and rushed into bathroom. Her scent still swirled around the air, and he made the water as cold as he could to dampen the hot emotions within him.

  Ten minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. After a quick dry, he searched for the clothes he’d left on the counter, with no luck. What the hell? He knotted the towel at his waist and exited the bathroom. A few droplets still streamed from his hair down his shoulders and chest.

  “Have you seen my clothes?”

  Still wrapped in the robe, she sat on the purple chaise longue. “Yes, sorry. I took our clothes to the laundry room.”

  “You walked up there in your robe?”

  “No one was around.”

  He snorted. The idea of any man seeing her so lovely made his blood pump. “I’ll pick them up when they’re ready,” he said in a voice leaving no room for discussion.

  “Sure.” She picked a magazine from the rack and flipped the pages without much interest. “There’s no TV here, did you notice? No wifi, either.”

  He sucked in a breath. Of course, these distractions kept people from focusing on each other. Shit. What were they going to do until they fell asleep? Or until their clothes dried? One hour at a time.

  “Do you have ibuprofen?” she asked, tossing the magazine to the side. “The shower should have relaxed me, but now everything hurts.”

  “Want a massage?” he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he thought them through. What the hell?

  She shifted in the chaise, her throat visibly working. “Guess it can’t hurt.”

  “I can do a neck and back rub,” he said, more to himself than to her. A shiver zipped down his spine as he bent to touch her shoulders. A rush of excitement stirred inside his cock, hardening the bastard. Well, at least now she wouldn’t see it or feel it. He wouldn’t have her naked on the bed; this was a clean rub while she sat. Yep. No funny business with Jenny Sadler.

  “Thanks. It was probably all the walking. I just need to relax.”

  You’re telling me? He snorted.

  She loosened the knot of the robe, enough so he could slip his hands along the collar and touch her shoulders. The moment he palmed her warm flesh, a bolt of arousal drilled through him. Shit. He should just do the freaking thing and get it over with. If he stopped, their dynamic would only get more awkward.

  He glanced at the back of her graceful neck, his gaze sliding to the soft fabric bunching on her chest. She clutched both sides of the robe, and he should be thankful and relieved.

  When he kneaded her shoulder blades, she moaned. The low, erotic sound ignited a sizzling response from him, his insides burning for her.

  The tips of his fingers throbbed, the need to glide his hand down and cup her tits inundating his mind. He closed his eyes, hoping to get rid of the erection as well as the dirty images playing in his head. Focusing on alleviating her kinks, he added pressure, working the tight knots of her shoulders and neck. The darkness, if anything, worsened his conundrum, enhancing his senses.

  He caught a whiff of her feminine, vanilla-scented perfume. Another aroma made its way into his nostrils—female arousal? His balls tightened, heavy and tingling. Every part of him roared for Jenny.

  Her sweet moan filled the air. She loosened under his caress, but at the same time, he felt the heat of her skin, the tremble of her body. He opened his eyes to find her throwing back her head to watch him.

  He licked his lips, words failing him. He patted her back, then disengaged from her. “Done. Did it help?”

  She stood, inches from him, her beautiful brown eyes on his. His gut clenched, temptation a very palpable demon. A demon called Jenny Sadler.

  “In a way,” she said. “But it probably did more harm than good.”

  He stiffened, wishing he had on regular clothes and not just a towel that got tighter by the minute. “Jenny…”

  “Back in the woods, did I turn you on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I was trying to do the right thing.”

  “What’s the right thing?”

  “The opposite of what I’m about to do.” He pulled her to him, and she gasped, but she didn’t jerk away. She placed her hands on his chest, her fingers making invisible patterns on his nipples. He lowered his head and slammed his lips on hers, ignoring the alert signals his mind darted at him. Another day he’d think about them and chastise himself for his poor choices. Tonight, he’d realize a fantasy he’d had for too long—tonight, he was fucking Jenny. To hell with the consequences.

  Chapter Four

  Jenny pulled Mack into her arms, afraid he’d change his mind otherwise.

  She threaded her arms around his neck and parted her lips to give him complete access. The instant his tongue touched hers, a huge wave of heat washed through her, searing her flesh. He coaxed her to open her mouth more, intensifying the kiss, his tongue stroking hers with urgency.

  God. Every part of her body vibrated for Mack. She plastered herself to him, his phenomenal hard-on pressing into her belly, teasing her about what could happen if they let it. Would they? Would she?

  He lowered his hand to her ass, bringing them to a sinful mold. Hell yeah. She wanted him, more than she had ever wanted any other man. Need rumbled through her, and she squirmed against him, hungry for him. Her clit throbbed, and she felt her cream coating her folds.

  A sense of female empowerment traveled though her. He groaned, a sexy and manly sound, then planted kisses near her mouth, each time coming close to the corner but without fully plunging. She breathed out in small gasps and, encouraged, dropped her hands to his waist and pulled his towel off. “You won’t be needing this.”

  “Jenny…” he said in a gravelly voice.

  In sweet retaliation, he lowered his hand to her knot and pulled at it, clumsily undoing it. She stared at him, saw his eyes gleaming with desire. A crooked smile played on his lips, and he’d never looked more delicious.

  What about her? She hadn’t had sex since her accident. Colt didn’t touch her even after the doctors cleared her, but of course, he’d bolted. Maybe some guys didn’t like having sex with a woman who limped when she walked.

  The insecurity fastened her heartbeat. “Do I look goofy?”

  He gave her a beam of approval, his eyes darkening to a matte gray. “If by goofy you mean the sexiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen, then yes, you look goofy as hell.”

  Girl. The word carried a light tone she appreciated. Would he have said those bold words over a decade ago, if she’d declared herself to him?

  He snatched her into his arms and kissed her so hard, it was almost violent. Her nipples puckered, a hot tingle filling her breasts. Without the barrier of clothes, she rubbed on him, reveling the skin-on-skin contact. He picked her up in his arms, not letting go of her lips for longer than it took them to catch their breath.

  She scratched his shoulder blades, loving his hardness. His strength.

  He must have forgotten the small step leading to the bed, for he stumbled and they fell on the mat
tress clumsily. She’d have laughed if his cock had not strategically pressed so near her entrance.

  She sucked in a breath, clenching her thighs together to welcome the fat tip of his dick inside her. Moaning, she bit his lower lip, eager to send him a message of urgency. “Mack, please…”

  He disengaged from her lips, lowering himself on her body, taking his cock away from her. So close, yet so far. She sighed.

  Growling, he closed his mouth around her breast. She bucked into him, a shock wave of pleasure making her quiver. He teased her nipple, swirling his tongue around it, grazing his teeth on the sensitive flesh. She moved her head from side to side, unable to stay still. He cupped her other breast and, after a few minutes, heated up the other one with his tongue and teeth.

  He kissed her belly, worked his way south, and disappeared between her legs. She expected him to kiss her pussy, but he licked her thigh until it quivered in anticipation. Then he slipped his hand under her ass, lifting her like she was a delectable buffet and he was ready for the feast.

  The instant the tip of his tongue stroked her achy, swollen clit, she gasped. God, but the man was a master at the art of tongue-fucking. He explored her folds, stroking them, French kissing her most intimate spot. When she was ready to explode, he flicked her clit, working it until it became the center of a million of sizzling nerves, desperate for release. He thrust three fingers inside her, and the extra stimulation made her contract with unbearable tension, only to release a second later, and when she came, her body unraveled, quivering from top to bottom, glistening, pleasure claiming her in a powerful way she had never experienced.

  Slowly, as if he was generously allowing her to recover from the mind-blowing orgasm, he worked his way up, planting gentle kisses on her and blowing on her skin—which brought temporary relief, the breeze offering a nice change from the heat she experienced. It also made her so very aware of him, the nearness of his mouth. He teased her sensitive flesh, causing goose bumps to scatter across her skin. Quickly, he ignited the need she’d thought he extinguished.