Off Base (20 page)

Only he didn’t do that. Of course not. She wasn’t the irresistible sort that drove controlled men like Cullen to lose control. Last night had been an anomaly.

She tugged on her door and he let it go. It shut with a thud, sealing her in like she was protected within a little bubble. She on the inside. He outside.

With shaking hands, she turned her ignition and started the car. Still watching him, she backed out of her spot, her breath a ragged rattle in her chest
. Get it together, Huntley. You have a date.

Training her gaze ahead, she drove away.

* * *

It took everything in Cullen not to march across the parking lot and get into his truck and follow her.

Why the hell hadn’t he kissed her
?

Now he was consumed with this regret, feverish for the taste of her he had missed.

Shit
. He dragged a hand over his scalp. When it came to Huntley, he had ceased to think. The only thing guiding him was his cock. It was a real problem.

He could only replay her words in his head.
We didn’t even kiss. We skipped first base.

It was a fact he had been achingly aware of from the moment she left his house last night. He couldn’t explain the oversight. Only that when he felt her back her ass into him, he could only think of getting his hands on her, sliding his fingers inside her heat, touching her where he imagined burying his dick.

Her words served to taunt and challenge him simultaneously. He knew she didn’t intend for that, but her intention didn’t matter. There was only what he felt. The need to chase her, pin her down and take. Claim. Finish what they began. This possessiveness was a wholly new experience for him. It never happened with other women, and he knew it was because Huntley wasn’t like other women for him.

Cursing, he retreated to his truck and headed home. Once there, he changed and took a run, pounding out his frustration on asphalt in the fading light of day until sweat clung to him.

He pushed himself until his muscles burned, and then he turned back and ran the remaining miles home. He sought exhaustion. Bone-deep weariness. Maybe if he were good and tired, he wouldn’t spend the rest of the night thinking about her.

That plan lasted until he returned to his empty house and took a shower. Walking into his bedroom, he glanced at the clock. Five minutes past seven.

Immediately, he had a vision of Huntley sitting at Java Joe’s, nursing her steaming mug with whatever latest book she was reading in one of the coffeehouse’s comfy, well-worn armchairs. She was probably there now. He usually joined her. He chalked it up to doing his part, keeping his promise to Beck and keeping an eye out for her.

But Beck was back now.
You don’t have to go there and babysit her.

He pulled a black T-shirt on with angry movements, wondering why that didn’t seem to matter to him. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He knew he should probably give them both some space after yesterday. God knew he needed perspective. Or maybe a quick hookup with someone else to help him shake off this unacceptable bout of lust he was feeling toward her.

And yet the image of Huntley sitting alone in Java Joe’s spurred him on.

He told himself he was going there for her, because he couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting all by herself. Because he was her closest friend in this town.

Not because he wanted to see her again. Not because he craved more of last night.

Not because he intended to have her.

Chapter Seven

“You’re a lot prettier than your picture.”

Huntley forced a smile at the compliment. “Thank you.”
And you look shorter in person.
The thought skidded through her mind as she swapped pleasantries with her date. They stood at the coffee bar, waiting for their drinks. She chafed one hand up and down her arm, pretending not to notice him checking her out.

“I bet your patients never want to go home,” he continued. “Security probably has to drag them out of the ER.”

She smiled again, wondering if they were going to move beyond the inane compliments. According to his profile, they had a lot in common. When were they going to start clicking?

Her favorite barista, Sheridan, set her drink down before her, her purple-tipped red hair bobbing stylishly above her shoulders as she moved. “Here you go, Huntley.”

“Thanks, Sheridan.” She picked up her mug and met the girl’s inquisitive gaze. In the years Huntley had been frequenting Java Joe’s she had never brought a man here. Well, other than Cullen, of course.

“And here’s yours.” Sheridan slid a mug at Greg, her smile slipping. For whatever reason, she did not bestow her usual perky smile on him.

Greg accepted his drink. When his phone started pinging, he fumbled for it in his blazer pocket. Glancing at the screen, he looked up at Huntley through his wire-rimmed glasses. He was cute in a scholarly way. Not muscular. Not a soldier. Her hands might even be larger than his. His hands definitely weren’t like Cullen’s big, capable mitts. Nor like his long, deft fingers that stroked—

STOP. She gave her head a single swift shake. This was the kind of guy she was looking for. Someone gentle and academic, cerebral, who liked to spend his free time at libraries. According to his profile, he made an epic goat cheese frittata.

It would be nice, after a day of mayhem, to return to a home-cooked meal. An image of Cullen’s big body over hers, his hand working between her thighs, making her shudder out her release, flashed across her mind.
Sweet Jesus, yes. That would be nice at the end of a hard day too.

“Would you pardon me? It’s my on-call service.”

She blinked, chasing away the inappropriate thoughts. “Of course.”

He ducked toward the back of the coffeehouse.

“Who’s the tool?” Sheridan leaned over the bar to inquire.

Huntley huffed. “He’s a dentist. And very nice.”

“That so? Where’s Cullen?”

Her face flushed. “It’s not my day to watch him.”

Sheridan held up both hands as though to ward off an attack. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t be so touchy. Just thought that there was something between you two—”

“We’re just friends. You know that.”

Sheridan snorted. “Friends with benefits, you mean?”

“No!” She sent a quick look to where her date talked in the corner. He lifted his chin and waved back at her. “It’s not like that with us,” she insisted.
Last night it almost turned into that though.

“Well, it should be like that. I’ve watched you two flirting around it forever. I don’t know what’s stopping you from crawling all over that man and licking him from top to bottom.”

Huntley rolled her eyes. “It’s not that simple. We’re just friends,” she insisted, nervously tracing the rim of her cup.

“Does Cullen know that?”

She nodded. “Of course. And he knows I’m dating.” In a way.

“Really? As in, he knows you’re on a date right now? Because here he comes. We should ask him.”

Huntley’s head swiveled to watch as Cullen stepped inside the coffeehouse. Gone was his dress uniform. He was wearing a pair of well-worn, faded jeans and a snug black T-shirt that did amazing things to his chest. Okay, maybe that chest did amazing things for his shirt.

His gaze landed on her. Sheridan leaned closer across the bar to whisper, “Mmm-mm, that man,” she nodded once, “is hotter than two mice fucking in a wool sock, and if I were you I would hop on him.”

Huntley didn’t even blink at the girl’s colorful speech. She fixed her gaze on Cullen as he advanced.

He stopped before her. “Hey.”

“Hey, Cullen,” Sheridan chimed. “Your usual?”

He gave her a quick glance before looking back at Huntley. “Yes, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” Huntley blurted, resisting looking over her shoulder to Greg.

He shrugged. “It’s Wednesday. What’s so unusual about me being here?”

Not that unusual, but she hadn’t expected it. She’d already seen so much of him lately, and with Beck here he didn’t need to hold himself up to the same standard of watchdog-ness. She thought she would have been safe.

She had the insane urge to throw a coat over Greg as though that would somehow hide him. Ridiculous, of course. She had no reason to hide the fact that she was on a date. In fact,
let
Cullen see she was dating. Then he’d know she wasn’t clinging to last night … that everything was truly fine and normal and there wasn’t any lingering weirdness between them.

The decision was taken out of her hands when Greg returned, stuffing his phone back in his blazer pocket. “Ah, sorry about that.” He stopped at her side, his hand coming to rest at her elbow.

She pasted a wobbly smile on her lips. “That’s okay.”

Cullen tensed, his gaze moving from her to Greg, his cold eyes pointedly dropping to the hand that clasped her elbow.

“Here you go, Cullen,” Sheridan’s voice intruded as she offered Cullen his usual coffee.

Cullen dug into his pocket and removed his wallet. Without removing his gaze from Huntley and Greg, he offered a few dollars to Sheridan. “Keep the change.”

“Cullen, this is Greg.” Huntley motioned to Greg. There was no getting around introductions now. “Cullen is my … friend.”

She could kick herself for the pause there. She almost had said her brother’s friend, but the way she had paused he probably thought she was looking for some other filler word.
This is Cullen, the guy I made out with last night who gets all my girl parts torqued up.

Cullen stared hard at her for a moment before shaking hands with Greg.

Greg did a quick assessment of Cullen, not missing the cropped dark hair or glint of dog tags. If she wasn’t mistaken, Greg’s nostrils flared as though he had encountered something tainted.

She shifted on her feet, feeling a surge of defensiveness. As though she needed to protect Cullen, which was crazy. He was the least vulnerable person she knew. Even hurting over losing Xander, his veneer was rock solid. Greg’s opinion of him wouldn’t affect him in the least.

“How about the table by the window, Huntley?” Greg suggested, urging her along, his gaze on her, Cullen forgotten.

“Sure.” She nodded, reminding herself this was a date.

“See you later, Cullen.” Together she and Greg weaved between tables and took their seats.

She tried to focus on Greg as he dove into a story about himself. The back of her neck prickled. She reached a hand there and rubbed self-consciously, trying to concentrate on Greg. A good half hour passed and the situation was unbearable. She told herself it was because of Cullen. If he wasn’t here, she could enjoy herself on her first date in forever.

She felt Cullen behind her. Felt his stare. She heard the higher feminine tone of Sheridan’s voice and the deep rumble from Cullen as he replied, and her stomach pitched. Huntley crossed her legs and then uncrossed them again beneath the table, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

“So I know this town is full of Army meatheads,” Greg was saying, “but the cost of living here is great, and there aren’t too many dentists to compete with.” He stopped for a breath and it looked like he might let her get a word in. “What about you? How did you end up here?”

“Well, my twin brother is a meathead actually. He completed his training here and helped get me a job at the hospital on base before he was deployed.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence fell between them. She rubbed at the back of her neck again, still feeling Cullen’s eyes drilling into her.

She forced herself to swallow the last bit of her latte. She tapped the rim of her mug idly. “Well, this has been nice.” Her voice squeaked a little at the end of the lie in an attempt to sound perky. As though this really had been nice and not all shades of uncomfortable. She reached for her handbag looped around the back of her chair.

“Yeah.” Greg pushed to his feet the same time she did. “I had a really good time, too. Maybe next time we can do dinner? There’s a great French bistro that just opened.”

“Sure.” She lifted one shoulder even though staying home alone and curling up on the couch sounded more tempting. “Just email me.” She supposed she should try at least one more date with him before calling it quits. She wasn’t going to meet anyone if she was too picky.

“Great.” Beaming, he settled his hand on the small of her back and led her from the coffeehouse.

As she stepped from the building and out into the warm sunshine, she risked one final glance behind her to the bar where Cullen sat perched on a stool.

He was still there as she knew he would be, one palm pressed flat on top of the counter beside his cup, his other arm hanging loosely at his side. It was a casual pose. Almost listless. And yet it wasn’t. Tightly leashed energy radiated off him as he sat there. He reminded her of an animal, frozen for an endless moment before he sprang into action. The sight made her pulse thrum faster at her neck.

She squared her shoulders. He had no reason to be angry, and she had no reason to feel like she had done something wrong. They were friends, moving on from one little misstep.

Greg stepped closer. His face was near enough that she could make out the slight overlap of his front tooth over its neighbor and she couldn’t help thinking it ironic that a dentist would have less-than-perfect teeth.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

A swift “no” rose to her lips. She hardly knew him. Forgetting that fact, she didn’t
want
to kiss him. He might not be ugly, but he was the last man she wanted to kiss. The man she wanted to kiss sat inside that coffeehouse, watching her.

Watching her
.

If Cullen saw another man kiss her, then he couldn’t possibly think she was hung up on him. She seized upon this idea. Somehow it made perfect sense to her.

“Yes,” she blurted before she fully considered the consequences.

Greg’s eyes lit up like he was presented with an unexpected toy. He worked his mouth as though getting ready for some heavy-duty lip action and closed the distance separating them. He flattened his mouth on hers.