A Marine of Plenty (6 page)

The last thing he needed, or wanted, was an interruption. Turning back, he found her staring at him, her green eyes gleaming and alive. A smile warmed her swollen lips—swollen from his kiss—and pride thumped through him.

Was there anything more exquisite than a beautiful woman who made him ache simply by sharing the same oxygen?

Need speared through him. He wanted to explore her every curve and sample her skin. Stripping off his pants, he dropped them on the back of a chair. Her gaze widened when it reached his waist and lower.

His cock stiffened painfully, as though she stroked him with her hand, and he wanted to come right then imagining her caress—then she took a step forward and his mind turned off. He pulled her into his arms. Their mouths collided again and her nails dug into the back of his neck. Breaking away long enough to sweep her T-shirt up and over her head, he tossed the scrap of fabric with abandon.

Her panties went next. He lifted her until her thighs locked on his hips, and they tumbled onto the bed. The cot didn’t fit both of them, and he braced above her on one arm, delving into her mouth and lapping up her sweetness like a cat with cream.

His cock bumped against her sex, and he shuddered with the need to push inside of her. It had been a long time for him. He broke the kiss and worked his way down her body, pausing to tease each hard nipple. Her soft, low gasps were music to his ears. Brushing his lips lightly to her belly, her swift, indrawn breath encouraged him as he dipped lower. Exploring the softness of her thighs—first the right then the left—he couldn’t be sure who he tortured more.

The moment he inched inside her, he’d be over and he wanted this to be good for her—needed it to be. Tiny nibbling kisses and licks brought him closer until, finally, he placed his mouth at her sex and drew on her clit. The rich scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, and his eyes crossed at the first taste of heaven. Shudders wracked her and she tightened her thighs on his shoulders.

She was close…her demands nearly as sharp and piquant as his own. He didn’t spare her, teasing her by alternating between hard strokes of his tongue and sucking. Jana thrashed, and he glanced up. She’d buried her face in the pillow to muffle her scream. Fascinated, he pressed two fingers inside of her. Holy hell, she was wet, and when he ran his thumb around her swollen clit, she convulsed.

Delighted at her responsiveness, he drove her toward a second orgasm, working in and out of her with two fingers, wringing another low cry from her. Stroking her through the orgasm, he kissed her breasts and abandoned her long enough to retrieve a condom from his pants. He’d stuffed one in there when he dropped his gear next door—wishful thinking or calculated hope?

He didn’t want to worry about it.

Hands shaking, he ripped open the foil and took the two steps back to the cot. Jana stared up at him with glazed eyes and trailed her hand up his thigh. He bucked his hips and needed a hell of a lot better control than he showed.

But the gorgeous vixen on the bed rose up and smiled, killing his good intentions. “My turn.”

When she kissed the tip of his cock, it took everything not to thrust into her mouth. He caught a handful of hair, carefully urging her head away. “Darling, I’ll come.”

“I want you to,” she murmured, a Siren summoning him to the rocks.

“Me, too.” He bent down to kiss her again and whispered, “But I want to be inside you, here.” He found her sex and teased the swollen, damp lips again. Circling her clit, he swallowed her soft cry with a hard kiss.

Goal firm in his mind, he slid the condom on and pressed her back. “I don’t know if I can be gentle, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be.” She raked her nails down his back and wrapped her legs around him, giving him all the access he needed to enter in one long, hard thrust. It didn’t matter how wet or ready she’d been; she cried out and bit down on his shoulder. He blessed her for the desire to stay quiet, but the clamp of her inner muscles locking down on him felt so fucking good.

Pushing up on his hands, he stared down at her, wanting to watch her as he started to move. They rocked together like a perfect dance. Her legs tightened, and she arched up to meet him. He sank deeper with every thrust. He wanted her to orgasm again, but he didn’t think he’d last much longer. His balls tightened unbearably and, with each thrust home, heat spiked in his veins.

She pulled at his neck and he went to her, diving down to take her mouth. He drove inside one last time then his body dissolved, coming in a torrent, shattering even the minor illusion of his control. Everything blurred, and he rode the tidal wave, helpless. The clamp of her sex on his cock dragged every wild ounce of his orgasm from him.

“Charlie,” she whispered, shuddering, and he collapsed. It was his turn to shake. Shivering with the release and closing his eyes, he buried his face against her neck.

Jana didn’t know how long they lay there, wrapped together. In her experience, guys passed out after good sex—hell, even after okay sex—but mind-shattering, earth-rending sex? Thinking maybe Charlie had drifted off, she didn’t protest the weight of him. Everything about him was hard, from his muscles, to the way he held her to the way he kissed, but she enjoyed the feel of him, the taste of him, and….

Lord knows my body enjoyed it
.

He pressed his lips to her neck, and a delicious shiver raced across her skin.

“You’re awake.” Surprise filtered through her.

Amusement softened his expression when he lifted his head. “It would be terribly rude to fall asleep and crush you.”

She chuckled, and his face tightened as she clenched around his softening cock.

“That—” His ragged exhale, the way his eyes darkened and the muscles in his jaw flexed, pleased her on a distinctly feminine level. “Is evil.”

Amusement curled through her pleasure, and he let out a hissing breath, surprising her further when he bent to kiss her. Her amusement evaporated under the slow, sensual assault. When he lifted his head, she sighed. The taste of him lingered on her tongue and her lips tingled. Hell, every part of her tingled.

“Are you okay?” He rested his forehead to hers, every glorious inch of his body blanketing her.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Strangely enough, she was. More than okay, actually. She felt loose, like Marley’s ghost suddenly freed of all his chains.

“You sure?” Trouble lurked in his eyes, and she leaned up to caress his jaw with another kiss and worked her way to the corner of his mouth.

“Yes. Don’t regret this, please.” It came out both a plea and a demand. No, she hadn’t come to the base intending to seduce him. How could she? But she didn’t regret it and she wouldn’t in the morning. She didn’t want him to, either.

“I don’t—or didn’t—want to take advantage of you.” Consternation deepened the groove between his brows, the lines seeming permanently etched, deep and thoughtful. How she longed to erase them, smooth them away, and let him relax.

“I think it was quite the other way around,” she told him, primly. “I invited you to stay—not once, not twice, but three times—and, as I recall, you warned me what would happen if you stayed. I told you to. So, by those terms, I took advantage of you.”

“I’m a grown man.” He obviously objected to her characterizing him as the one being taken advantage of.

“And I’m not?” She loved the sound of his voice and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he tried not to smile.

“No,” he nuzzled the corner of her lips, “you are definitely not.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and he kissed her again, thoroughly derailing her argument. When they came up for air, she forgot what they’d been discussing.

A satisfied look settled on his face and he grinned. “I win.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

Sometime around three in the morning, he slept. Really slept. He’d intended to go back to his quarters, but every time he thought about leaving, she kissed him or he kissed her. He’d honestly lost track of who did what to whom, but had made one trip back to his quarters…for another condom or three. When she finally fell asleep, sprawled across him, head pillowed on his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.

Instead, he listened to her breathe. The soft sound soothed him, and the whispery little eddies of air puffing on his skin eased something deeper inside. For once, he fought sleep when it tried to claim him. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this too-rare serenity. Between one blink and the next, he drifted off, only to snap awake when the warmth pillowed against him pulled away.

He sat up and searched the room, worry tightening his chest. The sound of water running in the bathroom reduced the pressure on his ribs. Swinging his legs off the bed, he leaned forward and stared down at her discarded T-shirt and cotton panties. Reality set in swiftly and he checked the time, though his internal clock was pretty steady.

Gritting his teeth, he sucked it up and rose. Dressing efficiently, he ignored the state of his uniform. He would be shedding it again shortly. At the door to the bathroom, he knocked once. “Jana?”

“Yeah?” The water cut off, and the door muffled her voice.

“I’m going to go shower and change. Do not leave until I come back for you. I’ll make sure you’re in the kitchen in time.” He waited for her acknowledgement.

“Okay.” No argument. She turned him inside out. The door opened, and she gave him an almost shy smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, Charlie.”

The unexpected sweetness damn near robbed him of his good intentions—twice. But the night had ended, and he had to be in uniform and ready for duty no matter what his body wanted. Bending, he brushed his mouth to hers gently. “Happy Thanksgiving, Jana.”

Training alone forced him out of her room. He retreated to his quarters, showered quickly, dressed in a fresh uniform, and suited up. By the time he returned, she stood ready—flak jacket and helmet in place. He fixed one of the buckles, smiling the whole time. Yeah, he still thought her visit was a bad idea, but couldn’t help but be grateful for it at the same time.

“Ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Another shy smile curved her mouth, and he smothered the need to kiss her until her eyes glazed over. They had a lot of work to do.

It was O-seven-hundred when they entered the kitchens, and the mouthwatering scents jerked him out of Afghanistan and thousands of miles away to home. If nothing else, she’d accomplished one mission. Every Marine working in the kitchen greeted her warmly, though traces of the innate wistfulness for home remained.

“Someone want to hit the music?” Jana called out, stripping out of her jacket and helmet like a pro. “I’m ready to get the yams in the oven.”

Charlie found a perch near the door and settled in. It would be his duty station for the day, keeping watch over her.

He didn’t mind one little bit.

By the time they served the second meal of the day, Jana pushed through her work on a diet of adrenaline and euphoria. Adrenaline because every time she glanced at Charlie, her heart rate increased and heat flooded her body. Euphoria because she’d found Robbie’s friends.

They came in a batch at the end of the first Thanksgiving mealtime, and Charlie made a point of introducing her to them.

Hutch, Phelps, Camden, and Martinez from Robbie’s unit each gave her a hug. They told her stories about her brother that left her sides aching with laughter. The moment she lost her breath occurred when the entire room rose up to applaud her. As one, they gave her a gift. The men had pooled their resources to make a donation to the Toys for Tots fund in Robbie’s name. He had actively supported the charity and raised funds and toys for them whenever he had the opportunity.

Overwhelmed, she made a point to learn the name of every single Marine involved in the effort. She also got Sergeant Hall to part with information on items—socks, playing cards, cookies, magazines, even a list of DVDs—the others might enjoy receiving in care packages. By the third shift of dinner, her gratitude and cheer turned maudlin. The Marines had devastated the turkeys, stuffing, veggies, bread, and briskets, and she’d put in fresh batches of bread when they threatened to run out. But soon it would be over and she’d pack her duffel to go home.

She’d have to say good-bye to everyone…and to Charlie.

They’d
met
just a little over twenty-four hours before, but she got it. She understood why soldiers, Marines, and veterans came home from these places and—no matter how bad it was—wanted to come back. Their unit was still there, and their people needed them.

Robbie’s people, these brave heroes, somewhere in the last day, had become her people, too.

I have to go home. I don’t have a choice
.

If she did, no matter how awful it all seemed, she understood—she would choose to stay.

He couldn’t get her to leave the mess hall until the last Marine had eaten and the last of the dishes had been cleared away. He’d known about the fund in Robbie’s name, and he’d donated to it. The charity was the pride of the Marine Corps Reserves, and he’d been involved for years, in one aspect or another, with the rest of his family. Whoever flagged the idea as a good one to unite the men understood Marines.

Despite the tension and the grief disturbing the ranks, raising money, the Thanksgiving dinner, and Jana’s presence all helped kick-start the healing process. Thirty-six hours before, she’d been a name on a file, the recipient of one of the hardest letters he’d ever written, and a fledgling pen pal of sorts.

She’d become a hell a lot more than that.

After sundown, the temperatures outside plummeted. The last of the recordings the Marines made would begin airing at home as Thanksgiving Day kicked off in the States. He imagined families gathering, food cooking, and arguments over who might win the game.

Some of the guys headed to the media room to watch a tape-delayed game from the previous weekend, but he’d passed on it. He passed on all of it. In twelve hours, he’d lead the detail to return Jana to the air base, put her on a C-130, and get her the hell out of Afghanistan. But not for twelve more hours. She followed him to her quarters in subdued silence.