21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (108 page)

“So not fair.” But she took a bite of her burger before she ended up walking over and crawling into his lap.

He focused on her. “Very fair. You’ve made me wild since the first time I laid eyes on you. Now, tell me the story before we’re naked and I don’t care about it anymore.”

“Have I really driven you wild since the day we met?”

“Yes.” Greg placed his burger on the table and clasped his hands together. “You wrote a short story in college…?”

Licking her lips, Georgia shook her head. “You really care about this story?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I wrote a short story and it was published in the college literary magazine. And I loved it. I loved writing something that other people read. My mom wanted to see it and she loved it, too. I was supposed to go visit them on a dig that summer, but she told me to take the three months and write. So I came here—and I wrote my first book.”

“And you sold it?”

Bursting out laughing, she shook her head. “It was awful. I submitted it to, like, five places and all but one sent me ‘thanks, but no thanks’ letters. The fifth place, though—the editor said she liked my voice, but that my technique needed a lot of work. She also sent me some suggestions. So I went back to school and I found some writing groups and I wrote some more and I sent all of it to my mom, but you know it’s funny, she always loved my stuff. She never gave me a hard critique. And I kept submitting and submitting. I think I must have turned in—a hundred different ideas or drafts or stories, and none went anywhere.”

She took a bite of her burger and washed it down with a swallow of warm beer. It was so weird to tell him this, but he looked at her so seriously like he really wanted to know.

“So, I got a critique partner my senior year, and she told me my stories just weren’t sexy enough. And I thought about my roommate, Meghan. And I wrote a book about her.”

Greg paused, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “The one with all the crazy sex life?”

“Uh huh.” Her face warmed.

“Did you tell her?”

“Yeah—no. I changed a lot of the details and the names and even that the character was in college. I made the roommates twenty.” Her hands shook. This story happened to her almost seven years before, she shouldn’t be so nervous.

“And?”

“And I submitted it to a few places, and you remember the first editor that I sent my very first book too, the one who liked my voice…?”

He nodded.

“She sent me a really great letter with some suggestions and advice, and asked me to make a few changes and if I did it, then she wanted to see it again.”

The letter changed her life. She spent the next week barely sleeping or eating as she massaged all the recommended changes into her manuscript. She still remembered how hard her heart beat when she attached the story to an email and sent the revision to the editor.

Greg gestured with his half-eaten burger for her to continue.

“And Aella Desire was born.” At his blank look she laughed. “That’s my pseudonym. Aella for whirlwind and Desire is kind of obvious. The editor loved my changes. She contracted the book and asked me to write more in that same series. I’ve been writing them ever since.”

“Your name means wind?”

“Well, yeah, the pen name does, but then so does Avasa…my middle name. My mother named us all after states, and my father insisted that our middle names all have to do with an element. Apparently, I’m long-winded.”

“Listen to the wind,” Greg murmured softly. “Are you done with that burger?”

She looked down at the burger she’d taken all of two bites out of. She wasn’t hungry—at least not for food. “Apparently.”

“You said earlier you were my date—you came here to have sex.”

Oh, yes please
. “It’s okay if you changed your mind.”
No, it’s not. Please say you haven’t
.

He rose, gathered up the plates, and slid the remains of their burgers together. Catching her hand, he tugged her out of the chair and wrapped an arm around her again. She was chest to breast with him. And it was even better than when he held her from behind.

“I like you, Georgia Crane. A hell of a lot.”

Shivering at his dark tone, she gave in to the desire to fist his shirt in her hands, and tugged. The buttons popped beautifully and it was so much better than in the books. Hard muscle and hot skin warmed her palms as she explored his chest, never looking away from his eyes. “I like you, Greg Rainwater. A whole hell of a lot.”

“So we’re on the same fade-to-black page?” He grinned and even with the heat spinning around inside of her like a pinwheel on the Fourth of July, she laughed.

“In my books? We don’t fade to black.”

Aware the woods had its share of scavengers, Greg carried their plates and food inside and left them on the counter in the kitchen. The cabin’s rustic interior included a little sitting room and a very large bed. Georgia watched him from the doorway, backlit by the light from outside. The summer days meant later sunsets and he, for one, was glad for the extra light.

The wind. Her name meant wind—both her real name and her pseudonym.
Is that what Crane’s been telling me for weeks?
Was the old man acting as a matchmaker? A breeze stirred her hair, and Greg drank in the sight of her. Arousal glimmered in her eyes, and his cock ached when her tongue slipped over her plump lower lip.

“Are you hot?” Georgia murmured.

He crossed the room on slow steps. “A little.”

“Does our ‘do over’ rule still apply?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’d developed a swift fondness for that rule. It was a good rule. But she surprised him by heading out of the door. Curious, he followed. She toed off her boots and stripped off her jeans. He nearly swallowed his tongue when her golden legs came into view. Where his skin burnished a deeper red under the brown tan, hers was all soft gold and amber light. She wore a pair of pale white lace panties that shaped her sweet ass. She undid her bra and slid the straps off, wiggling it out from under her shirt and the scrap of white lace joined her jeans and boots—leaving her nearly naked in the see-through white tank and sweet lace panties.

It had to be the most erotic sight he’d ever seen. She trotted down the steps to the grass utterly unabashed with her state of undress.

“Where are you going?”

“Come on and find out.” She tossed the challenge over her shoulder and jogged to the lake. Easing out of his own boots and stripping off his shirt, he followed willingly. She didn’t slow at the water’s edge, racing into the cool, nearly crystal water and plunging in. His legs ached with the thought of the temperature drop, but maybe dampening the passion licking up his insides wasn’t a bad idea.

He strode into the water with purpose. Its clarity let him see all the way to the soft bottom with a trace of grass and almost no fish. Oddest pond he’d ever seen.

“It’s a snow melt pond,” Georgia called, swimming toward him with lazy strokes. He stopped with the water waist-high and enjoyed watching her. The cooler water did next to nothing to his ardor—not when in direct competition with the soaking wet tank top clinging to her skin. As soon as she was in reach, he scooped her up and pulled her to him.

Looping her arms around his neck, she swallowed. He could see the trace of embarrassment in her face as she dropped her gaze almost demurely.

“Have you ever done this before?” Sure, they’d both booked a one-night stand, and he fully intended to have sex with the woman he’d been partnered with—before he realized that woman would be Georgia. It didn’t take him long to realize a single night would never satisfy him.

He wanted more.

“‘This’ is a little vague.” She slid her hands into his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. The lack of tide didn’t keep her from rubbing her sex along the bulge pressing forward on his jeans.

The blood drained from his head, and it took a moment to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He leaned down for a taste of her plump, sweet lips. The simple kiss burned away his other thoughts and turned carnal. Her tongue swept across his lips, seeking and gaining permission to enter. The kiss satisfied the urge for closeness and awakened fresh hunger.

Her breasts pressed against his chest, the two hard points of her nipples stretching the fabric of her top. Sliding his hands down to cup her ass, he added to his torment, and by the time he drew back, they were both breathing heavily.

Resting his forehead to hers, he traced the edge of her panties with his thumbs. It would be so easy to slip beneath the fabric. “This being sex…?”

“Yes.” She nipped his lower lip and sucked it teasingly. One kiss wasn’t enough, three hadn’t been. He slid his tongue out and stole inside her mouth again and she moaned, the vibrations filtering through him. Uninterested in playing in the water anymore, he turned and carried her toward the shore.

Her legs tightened on his hips, and he growled at the pleasurable torture. If not for his soaking wet jeans and her panties, he could be inside of her. Unwilling to slow, he strode across the yard to the cabin and set her down long enough to navigate the stairs. His legs protested the additional strain when he swept her back into his arms, but he ignored them.

Inside, he set her on the bed, stripped her out of her wet clothing, and got out of his. Face to face, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He plunged his tongue into her mouth over and over. He would never get enough of the flavor of her. She responded with the same passion he’d seen snapping beneath her anger, fisting her hands in his hair. They fell together onto the sheets.

“I want to go slow,” he murmured. “But I don’t think it’s possible.” The need to have her was a perpetual ache burning him alive. Curling his fingers between her thighs, he sought her sex and groaned when he found her damp and slick with arousal.

“I don’t want slow,” she encouraged him. “We can call do over later, you know.”

Laughter crested his rising passion, and he grinned against her mouth, kissing her again as he eased a finger inside of her and teased her clit with his thumb. Her inner muscles grasped him greedily, and he fought to remember he needed a condom.

Growling, he pulled away and scanned the room. He’d bought a box when he planned the night, and it took him a moment to locate them. Retrieving a foil package, he returned to the bed and stared at her as he ripped it open and rolled it into place.

In his admiration of her curvy hips and full breasts, he'd failed to notice the clean lines of her muscles. With supple legs and toned arms, she was a woman used to being outdoors. “God, you’re beautiful.”

He knew the moment she saw his damaged legs and he’d prepared for it. The scars weren’t pretty. Slowing his breathing, he forced patience. She didn’t turn away, nor did she wince. He waited for the pity to seep into her eyes, to erase the desire in them. Easing forward, she traced her fingers over his left thigh and then his right, following the line of scarring down to his knees. His cock jerked at the featherlight brush of her fingertips.

“Will you tell me what happened?” She lifted her chin. “When you’re ready.”

Something inside him eased, a knotting tension he’d barely been aware of. “Later,” he promised. It wasn’t a sexy story or a particularly pleasant one. “Right now I just want to touch you.”

“I’d like that.” She caught his hand and pulled him to her, and he sank onto the bed with her willingly. Their mouths collided, the spiraling lust in his blood exploded. He poured his want for her into the kiss, skimming caresses down her side and nudging her thighs apart.

He wanted to spend time on her breasts, he wanted to hear her scream his name as he made her come over and over again, but the mad craving to be with her overwhelmed everything else. Greg needed this, needed her, now.

Hard and swift he entered her, and she gasped, digging her nails into his back. Lifting his head, he stared down at her, making sure she was okay. She caught his face in her hands, pulled him down for another kiss.

“I want you.” Her throaty declaration ripped away any doubts.

The last thread of hesitation in him snapped and he moved. She was hot, and tight, and sweet. A low, keening moan vibrated in her throat, and he groaned into her mouth. He felt wanted, felt the wave of her orgasm approaching as she writhed, her legs hooked around his hips increasing the angle of his thrusts.

The wild heat of her sex clamped down on him and she cried out. He couldn’t hold back his own explosion as an orgasm wracked him. They collapsed together, their harsh breathing the only sound in the room.

For the first time since returning to the states following his accident, he felt like he’d come home. He felt whole. The last shattered piece of him healed into place. He didn’t want to crush her and rolled onto his back, dragging her over so she sprawled atop him.

The long tangle of her dark hair clung to his skin and curtained his face when she lifted her head to gaze down at him. She grinned. “So…do over?”

Laughter pinged through his soul and his body stirred. He might even have the patience this time to play with her breasts. Cupping one, he teased the nipple with gentle strokes of his thumb. “Definitely do over.”

***

She sprawled on the bed, boneless and utterly wrung out. The man was insatiable.
Or maybe that’s me
. They hadn’t slept. Sometime in the middle of the night, they ate the leftover burgers and devoured the baked potatoes he’d forgotten all about. The outsides were crunchy, but the interiors were soft and perfect with butter.

And then he’d kissed her, and she forgot about time. He spent an hour playing with her breasts. Teasing the nipples, blowing on them and she damn near orgasmed from the attention. Of course, one flick of his thumb against her clit and she had come. He seemed to have made it his mission to wring every type of climax from her he could.

He also told her the story of his legs—and the accident that shattered them. So many surgeries to rebuild his legs. So much time to recover and learn to walk again. She couldn’t imagine going through it all alone, but he promised her that his brothers never left him alone.