21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (52 page)

And really freaking attractive
.

He nuzzled another kiss along her jaw, melting the stubborn tension and anxiety. “So what are you unhappy about now?”

“I’m not unhappy.” But she couldn’t stop the half grin from taking up residence on her lips.

“Okay, pensive, then.” He let her go, but not far, propping himself up on one elbow. He used his free hand to trace light patterns against her skin—the action relaxing and intoxicating at the same time. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

“Do you?” She retorted, grinning wider now. He hadn’t gone for officer and it surprised her. The man kept chipping away at her resistance.

“Yes.” He slid his hand down to her hip and tapped it lightly. “I’d love to stop thinking anytime you’re ready.”

Snorting, she rolled onto her side, and faced him. “Why did you sign up for a one-night stand?”

“I was lonely.” The frank answer startled and pleased her. “You?”

“Yeah…I get tunnel vision sometimes. I like to do a good job, and I forget that it’s okay to feel things even when they suck.” No shame or embarrassment accompanied the admission. Her pride didn’t twinge either. “I wanted to feel something good for a change.”

“And do you feel good now?” Despite his playful leer, an undercurrent of seriousness flowed along the words.

“Hmm. Not bad.” She cut her gaze down, studying the length of him.

“Not bad,” he repeated. “Not sure whether to be offended or challenged.”

“Would you like a hint?”

“No.” He nudged her onto her back and slid down to kiss her belly button. Her body tightened in anticipation. “I’m going to go with challenged.”

Her retort strangled on pleasure when he locked his mouth on her clit and sucked. It wasn’t long before she forgot to think, too.

***

It was after midnight. They’d eaten their food cold and laughed all the way through it. The storm continued to pound against the windows. Kim curled against him, her red hair spilling over his chest, her gentlest of snores telling him she slept deeply. All the lines of worry erased from her face. Comfortable and replete, he watched the flashes of lightning. Sleep, however, remained elusive.

“You’re doing it again,” her drowsy voice purred against him.

“I blame the high-minded company I keep.” He could almost feel her smile. Running his fingers through the silken length of her hair, he combed it away from her face. “Go back to sleep.”

She sighed and her breath tickled his chest. “Sleeping makes the night go by too fast.”

He didn’t disagree with the sentiment. “But you’re tired.”

“So are you.” Lifting her head, she looked toward the window. “It’s still raining.”

“Yeah.” What a gorgeous sound it created. Rain spattering the glass, the steady drum of it—he could almost imagine the smell and hear the wind.

“How long were you in the desert?” Of course, she’d clued right in.

“On and off—three deployments.” He liked the desert with its dry heat, golden sand, and merciless sun. But he missed the rain, the sound and the smell of it. “You?”

“No, I was afloat for most of my time in—we were on standby, but….” She shrugged.

“Good.” He liked the thought of her anywhere but the sandbox—the brutal, unforgiving, and, often as not, deadly-on-a-daily-basis sandbox.

“You’re perilously close to patronizing.” The lightness in her tone softened the edge on the word.

“No, it’s spot-on pleasure and protective instincts. Me, man. You, woman.” He mimicked a Tarzan tone.

Her snort amused him even more. “Okay he-man, she-hulk is glad she not have to smash, too.”

Humor chased away the melancholy, and he threw his head back and laughed. They shook together, giggling like a pair of adolescents on a naughty sleepover. The laughter was a cool autumn breeze, chasing away the sticky heat of summer. She shifted next to him. Her teeth grazed his nipple and his mind locked up.

Roaming a hand over his chest, she elicited tingling sensations with every teasing caress of her nails. She rolled over him, her damp kisses teasing across to the other pectoral while her hair slid across him like a sensuous blanket. Cupping a hand around his cock, she stroked a finger to the tip and slid down to sit against his thighs.

“Since we’re awake….”

The darkness in the room hid her smile, but he heard it. The flashes of lightning backlit her, a storm goddess come out to play.

“If you insist.” He grinned.

“Oh, I absolutely do.” She stroked him again, tracing her thumb over the head. No other part of her moved. Her head tilted, as though she watched him. Her hair glided over her shoulders, the length of it reached her breasts. He envied her hair—he wanted to play with her nipples, too.

She gripped the base of his cock and pumped a few times. He coiled, tension gathering at the edge of his nerve endings. His balls tightened and his humor evaporated. Like oil crackling on a super-heated pan, he was hungry for her again.

She released him and he bit back an oath. Instead of taking him in her hand again, she slid off his legs and balanced with a palm against each thigh. Without a word, she touched her tongue to the base of his cock and licked up one side to the crown, swirled her tongue around the slit and down the other side.

His body clamored, all the blood rushing to his groin, and his eyes crossed.
Holy shit
…. She repeated the lazy exploration with her tongue and pulled him into her mouth. His thoughts scrambled. She set to work, kissing, licking, sucking and driving him crazy. The tension in his tight balls surged, and he dug his fingers into the sheets, fighting the urge to roll her over and pound into her. She tried to take all of him, her hand increasing the pressure at the base.

Clenching his buttocks, he refused to buck, letting her drive the rhythm. His cock bumped the back of her throat. Her nails caressed his balls—a feather light touch—but he exploded, release swamping over him like a wild tempest sweeping away his control. She didn’t pull away, caressing him through the orgasm. Long minutes passed before coherent thought began to surface from the waves. She slipped away and came back with another water bottle and snuggled right to his side.

And the damn thing was he could sleep now, doused in the warmth of her embrace. He fought the closing of his eyelids, wrapping an arm around her to hold her closer.

What a perfect fit
….

***

Dawn came too soon. She stood in front of the windows and stared out over the city. The storm had blown itself out sometime in the early hours of the morning. The sun turned the eastern sky a rich azure with streaks of pink and hints of orange. Rowdy’s warm, masculine arms slid around her, and she leaned back against his chest. He enveloped her in his clean, shower-fresh scent and she sighed.

“Real world time.” She fought to keep her tone light. The last thing she’d expected was reluctance to leave.

“Five more minutes.” His arms tightened and she closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

They stood until her phone buzzed, reminding her about a meeting. He let her go and she pulled it out, thumbing off the alarm. Steeling her courage, she turned to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He smiled and her lips curved in response. “If you ever need to talk….” The invitation trailed off.

“You, too.” She forced herself to walk over to the safe. Unlocking her gun and strapping on her holster made it official. She tugged on her jacket then reached into her wallet and extracted a business card. She held it out between two fingers. “Seriously—you know, if you need anything—call.”

He accepted the card and slid an arm around her waist before she could slip back, tugging her close. He leaned down and pressed the sweetest kiss to her lips—no demand, no hard need—a tender gift. Forehead to forehead, his gaze locked with hers. “Cut yourself some slack, Special Agent Wakefield, and let your men watch your back.”

“I’ll do my best.”

And she was off, wrapping her soul in the body armor it would need to push on through the investigation. The loneliness dogging her steps for the last few months was gone—erased in one night. She left Rowdy in the room, but when she walked off the elevator and into the lobby—she whistled.

Oorah, Sergeant. Oorah
.

Three Months Later
…

Kim checked her watch on the way in the door for the briefing. She had two interrogations to complete and a stack of reports on her desk to file. Hopefully the meeting wouldn’t take longer than the allotted thirty minutes. Several agents crowded into the room, and as one of the last to arrive, she took a spot against the back wall and used her phone to review her email.

Giles Mann, the section chief, strode in to take position at the podium. He didn’t even have to clear his throat to silence the chatter. “Good morning, I know we’re all busy, so I’ll keep this brief. We have five new probies starting with us this week.”

New probies—probationary agents in need of on the job training—reassignments and an updated case load. Standard meeting material. Tuning out the conversation, she finished responding to the email from an agent afloat about a shared investigation and missed the names on the roster as well as the parsing of assignments since her name wasn’t called. The meeting ended as swiftly as it began. Escaping the room, she strode to her desk to gather her case files.

“Wakefield.”

The section chief stood a few steps away, but he wasn’t the person Kim focused on. Right behind the chief stood Rowdy. Her stomach plummeted, and her breath clogged in her throat, but she swallowed the reaction.

“Sir?” Flicking her gaze from one man to the other, she gave Mann her full attention.

“Special Agent Wakefield, this is Agent Easton. He’ll be doing rotations through the different sections for training. Your first probie, as it were.” Mann gave her a quick grin.

Rowdy stepped forward and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” His eyes twinkled with suppressed humor, and she smothered an answering smile. Electricity zinged through her with one quick handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you, too—Agent Easton.” She played along.

“I have a meeting with the director. Easton, you’re in good hands. Wakefield, make sure I have a copy of your interrogation notes this afternoon, I’d like to wrap up the Jensen case.” Mann left glancing at his watch, leaving her with Rowdy—alone save for the half-dozen other agents working at their desks in the bullpen.

“So, Probie…why don’t you get to work triaging these files.” She patted the fifteen new additions to the stack of thirty already fighting for space on her desk. Maybe by the time she was done with the suspect interview, she could figure out how to deal with having Rowdy there.

In her office.

The prospect thrilled and worried her.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth curving. “Agent Wakefield?”

She paused. “Yes?”

“I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

Awareness pulsed through her blood. But this wasn’t the time…or the place.

“I hope you still feel that way when you’re done sorting those files. I have two interviews planned today. Get that done before I finish the first one and you can observe the second.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, fighting a smile. “And if you’re really efficient, I’ll let you spring for coffee later.”

“Done and done.” He grinned.

She walked away, letting her smile out of captivity.
I have a feeling life is about to get very interesting
…. At the corner, she glanced back. Rowdy stood at her desk, files in hand, and he winked.

Yep. Really interesting
. She blew out a breath.
Oorah
.

A 1Night Stand Story

Always a Marine - Book 9

By

Heather Long

Second Lieutenant Brenden Fitzpatrick didn’t pace. He didn’t fidget. He demonstrated none of the physical tics of discomfort—but he was uncomfortable. Three deployments to the Middle East—and an upcoming assignment to the Consulate in Yemen—gave him plenty of time to consider his options while standing in the psychologist’s office.

“You can sit down, you know.” James Westwood leaned back in a chair, a notepad resting untouched on one knee and a pen in his hand.

Of all the people he’d expected to run into during his interview with Captain Dexter, the doc hadn’t been on the list. Hell, he only accepted the captain’s invitation because they were old friends. Seeing what Luke built in Mike’s Place and visiting with retired members of his unit were more than worth the trip.

“I know. I prefer standing. I’ve been on planes for two days.” Not a lot to do on a plane but clench his ass and hope the flyboys kept the damn thing in the air. He preferred boats for travel, not that anyone asked. He could swim ten miles if the occasion called for it.