21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (127 page)

Her tongue swiped over her lips, and the motion fascinated him. He dipped his head and stopped when she pressed an index finger against his mouth. More humor filled her expression. “Bad man.”

“It’s so good.” He grinned and bit her fingertip with a light possessive scrape of teeth.

Shaking her head, she pulled away farther, then caught his hand and tugged. He followed willingly, the jaunty sway of her hips an invitation and torment.

“Now who’s being bad?” He groaned, but not in complaint.

“Only if I’m teasing.” Zehava tossed a look over her shoulder at him as they paused in the front room and began blowing out the candles. He didn’t want to spend the time on it, but the fire burning him inside didn’t need to spread to the rest of the building. Refusing to let go of her hand, he followed her around the table. She found her purse, and he braced it with his free hand while she fished out her keys. Outside, he locked the door.

First time he regretted not having driven to the center, and apparently neither had she. Eyeing her flats, he grinned. “Want to run?”

Another laugh bubbled up. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I don’t want a leisurely stroll.” He turned his back to her. “Hop on.”

“Isaac!”

Bumping into her, he bent enough to help catch her thighs as she climbed onto his back. Despite her luscious curves and heavenly body, she’d never weighed much. He teased her with an oomph sound anyway and got a smack for his troubles. She tickled his ear with her lips and a breathy whisper. “You realize people will see us.”

That gave him pause. “Do you care?”

Her arms tightened around his shoulders and she kissed him behind his ear. “No.”

Pure masculine delight unfolded within him. If being seen bothered her, he’d put her down, but he liked it better that she didn’t care. He wanted their neighbors and friends to see them striding down the darkened sidewalk. He wanted everyone to know. The night carried a biting chill after the relatively mild days the city experienced since he’d come home. He barely felt any of it; her warmth blanketing him kept the fires stoked.

“I’m not too heavy?” Self-conscious worry layered the question and the little catch of self-doubt teased him.

“Hardly.” He wasn’t about to compare to her an eighty-pound rucksack, but if he could handle that in searing temperatures and no sleep, without any promise of warm, pliable Zehava at the end—yeah, comparatively, clearing two blocks carrying her was a cakewalk.

His ground-eating pace brought them within sight of her house in no time and fortunately— despite the celebration of the evening—no one was out to slow them down. Up the walk to her porch, he had to swallow a groan when she slid down, her hands lingering on his shoulders.

Turning, he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragged her up against his chest, and indulged in another long, soul-searing kiss. When he came up for air, they both breathed raggedly.

Uncertainty slid across her features. “Are we making a mistake?”

Pushing past the painful shiv poking into him, he traced her cheek with a finger. “We’ve made a lot of mistakes, both of us. I think the bigger mistake would be ignoring what we feel. I don’t want to do that again.”

She dragged her teeth over her lower lip, and he braced for the rejection. They were going fast by most expectations, and too damn slow by his. He’d had eight years to get over her, eight years marked by a deep longing, and he refused to waste any more time.

“Isaac?”

Here it comes
. Swallowing once, he made a firm promise to respect her decision, no matter how much fire burned in his blood. He would take the time to prove to her she could trust him again. Saying no tonight didn’t mean no forever. “Z?” It came out huskier than he intended, and every muscle in him coiled tight.

“I love you.” The unexpected, sweet declaration relaxed him in a way nothing else could have. She was still his.

The admission startled her both in its intensity and content, although once the words slipped past her lips she didn’t regret them. Didn’t want to, either. Isaac closed the space between them and branded her with another kiss, as gentle as it was demanding. He coaxed her mouth open and delved his tongue in with a sensual invasion. Clinging to him was the most natural thing in the world and, when he showed no sign of releasing her, she nipped his lip. They had all night and she’d rather play in bed than neck on the porch.

A deep, masculine chuckle vibrated her chest. “I’ve missed you, Z.”

Slowly backing away, she fumbled with the lock. It proved hard to get the key in the door when she didn’t want to look away from him. Isaac covered her hand with his and they opened it together then, once inside, he twisted the lock behind them. She dropped her purse and the keys on a nearby table and continued the slow retreat through the house, with him shadowing every step.

He paused in the doorway to her room, sweeping it with a glance. “It’s almost exactly the same.”

Zehava spun in a slow circle, trying to see what he saw. For her, it was the space she’d grown up in, changing with her interests and her age. Sometime in high school, she’d convinced her parents to let her paint it, and a deep red wall offset the pure white of the others. She’d sewn matching curtains for the windows in a home economics class, and the quilt during a project she’d done with her mother and grandmother.

But Isaac’s attention fixed on the hanging artwork, and with shyness bubbling through her, she studied his reaction. The paintings were her personal works, and she shared them with no one. Her mother had seen them, though she kept her comments to herself.

All three were of Isaac, painted from memory.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured when he’d gone silent far too long for her comfort.

He dragged a hand across the top of his head. The military cut had taken away the dark length that used to curl into his eyes, but it better suited the hard man he’d become. While traces of the boy she’d loved so utterly remained in the man before her, he had indisputably matured into much more. “You take my breath away.”

Heat scalded her cheeks until even the roots of her hair had to be blushing. A smile curved her lips and she crooked a finger at him. “Then why are you all the way over there when clearly you need mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughed, caught her to him, and they collided in another dance of liquid heat. Between one heartbeat and the next, a snap gave behind her and she laughed, the feeling of joyous abandon intoxicating. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret.” He retreated only long enough to flick open the buttons on her shirt. It hit the floor, followed by her bra. Palming one breast, he claimed her mouth again, and she wrapped around him. Some part of her expected to be shy or embarrassed, particularly when her pants loosened and he broke away to sweep them down her legs.

She sat abruptly, the quilt cool on her hot flesh, and he tugged off her shoes, socks, and pants until she’d been left absolutely naked. Isaac, on the other hand, remained fully clothed, and she scowled.

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to see.”

He reached past her to flick on a second, brighter lamp next to the bed. Butterflies ricocheted in her stomach at the force of his gaze. She’d put on some pounds, her hips were fuller, and there were stretch marks on her tummy. As if following her train of thought, he flattened his hand on her abdomen and traced each scar.

Embarrassed, she wanted to shut the light off again. “I know, I….”

“Shhh,” he whispered again. “You’re beautiful. Even more than I remembered.” The reverence in his tone shredded her. He went to his knees, his weight between her thighs, and pressed his lips to her belly with such utter tenderness that tears sparked in her eyes.

“I gained some weight.” She babbled, hyperaware of his touch gliding over her thighs. “And I can’t really wear a bikini anymore.”

He paused and gave her a long, hard stare. “I didn’t like you wearing a bikini anyway.”

The summer between her junior and senior years flashed through her mind. He’d graduated, and she’d had a year to go, and somehow they’d convinced their parents that a trip to South Padre Island was called for. She’d worn a bikini on that trip. Lips twitching, she traced a finger along his cheek. The faint prickle of his stubble rasped her skin. “You didn’t complain in Padre.”

“Nope.” He caught her hand and laid a gentle caress to her palm. “And after seeing it on you once, I didn’t want anyone else to.” And he’d shredded it right off her. They’d never made it out of the hotel room.

She grinned. “You said it was an accident.”

“A very fortunate one.” He stretched up, sliding his hand behind her neck, and kissed her until she forgot why the bikini had ever been important. Exploring her mouth in a long, soul-deep brand, he pressed up against her. His fully dressed body rubbing her exposed skin was deeply erotic, but she tugged at his shirt impatiently.

“Off,” she ordered.

He groaned, withdrawing long enough to rip the shirt over his head and throw it away. Seconds later, she was back in his arms. Trailing a damp path from the corner of her mouth to her chest, he drowned her in sensation. He caught one stiff nipple between his lips and drew on it. Pleasure spiked through her, but he didn’t let up the pressure. He lavished the nipple, alternating between long, drawing sucks and gentle, biting scrapes with his teeth. Transferring his attention to the other, he adored it with the same attention.

And that was exactly what it felt like—him adoring her. His touch was everywhere; he stroked her sides, teased her breasts, and cupped her sex. The tension wound through her until every contact of his skin on hers sizzled and she couldn’t get enough of the long, hot, wet kisses, dueling with his tongue or running her hands up and down his spine. He was all dense, hard, and masculine, and when pleasure no longer exploded rational thought, she promised herself she’d explore every inch of him and see what other changes time had wrought.

Writhing under his relentless assault on her senses, she wasn’t ready for his thumb to skate over her clit. Electricity sizzled up her spine and turned her insides molten, a second caress tumbled her into an orgasm, and he swallowed her cries as she rocked against his hand. She floated for a long moment, cresting on the tide of pleasure. When he abandoned her, she opened her eyes, ready to complain, only to see him stripping away the last of his clothes.

The changes she’d imagined didn’t do him justice. Every part of his body was ripped, from his chest to his abdominals to his thighs. Everywhere—hard, packed muscle.
Wow
.

A slow grin curved Isaac’s mouth, and the sound of foil tearing pulled her gaze down to the length of his jutting erection. Something distinctly feminine coiled beneath the lazy desire shivering under her skin. He settled onto the bed and she rose to meet him, eager to explore, but he teased her thighs wider apart and lined his cock up with her core. Staring into her eyes, he eased inside with one, long, slow, insistent thrust.

Isaac’s groan nearly drowned out her own throaty cry. “You’re so tight.”

He stretched her until she might burst from the fullness of it all, but she wanted all of it. She circled his hips with her legs, trying to give him better access. He retreated, sliding out only to thrust again, and they found a familiar rhythm. Clutching a hand on the back of his head, she pulled him to her for another kiss, riding another pleasurable wave as every stroke of his body brought her to the precipice. The delicious friction tumbled her over again and her inner muscles clamped down on him. Isaac’s body went rigid and he shouted his release. Then she cradled him to her until he collapsed.

Hanukkah passed too swiftly. After their reunion, Isaac spent every available moment coaxing Zehava back into bed. They had so much time to make up for, and so many pleasures to explore. But an impatient clock ticked away…his leave ended in three days, and he’d have to report in. For the first time in years, he had absolutely no desire to do that, and ignoring the deadline would court AWOL charges. Regardless, he wouldn’t ignore it—he had guys depending on him.

On the very last day of Hanukkah, he’d bribed family members into taking care of the community center while he and Zehava escaped back at her house for some alone time that involved getting naked and lounging in bed all afternoon. His mouth twitched when he thought of her initial objections. She clung to him like a vine, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Ever.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” she murmured, her breath warming his skin.

He rubbed slow circles on her arm. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Hmm, sleep is for the weak. I’m dozing like a contented cat. I don’t want to miss a moment.” She didn’t have to say why with the end of his leave hanging over them.

They’d talked about a lot over the last two days—his time in the Marines, where he served, and some of his experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan. She told him about her plans for the center and her desire to finish a master’s in social work.

Plans.
She has plans
….

“Isaac.” She shifted and rose upright. He loved the wild tumble of her hair falling around her face and the sight of her lips swollen from his kisses—so unabashedly beautiful. “Where are you?”

He didn’t want to leave the stone unturned, not again. “Thinking about what we do next. I’m in the middle of a four-year contract.”

She licked her lips and he followed the path of her tongue with his eyes. “Okay, what does that mean?”

“It means I’m on leave and I have to go back. I’ll probably get deployed again, if not overseas then somewhere else here in the States.” He tightened his arm around her. Need and duty clawed at him. He’d left her once, full of faith and devotion to the goal of becoming a Marine. It had been the right path for him, but beneath that belief was the bitter taint of regret that he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him most. How the hell could he justify leaving her again?