Sandra Hill (23 page)

“I cannot dance.”

“You were dancing with the dickhead.”

“Who?”

“Dylan.”

“I was just standing still. He did all the moving.”

Zachary made a growling sound low in his throat. “Do the same for me, then.” Without waiting for her response, he led her out onto the dancing arena. He put both arms around her waist, then advised, “Put your arms around my neck, sweetie.”

She did.

He then yanked her hard against his body so they were aligned breast to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, and some interesting places in between. With her high-heeled shoes, she was eye level with the rogue.

“Surely this is not a dancing position for normal folks.”

“It is for lovers.” He put his face against her cheek and began to sway from side to side.

“We are not—” she was about to say.

“Don’t you dare belittle what we have between us.”

“I was about to say, we are not lovers
anymore
.”

He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, you are so full of it.”

They remained quiet then, just swaying and occasionally turning. It was like a soft embrace, with the backdrop of music. He smelled good, like mint and his distinctive manscent. She liked the feel of his arms enveloping her possessively, especially since she was enveloping him just as securely. And his ardor, blessed Frigg! His ardor for her was enough to turn a saint lustsome. What woman wouldn’t feel complimented by that?

“I missed you,” she murmured before she had a chance to stop herself.

“I know,” he said, drawing his head back to look at her and smile.

She smacked his arm. “Your ego far exceeds your worth, lout.”

“Ya think?” He leaned forward, a hairsbreadth from her lips, and whispered, “I missed you, too, baby. So much it scares me.”

And then he kissed her.

When smart women turn the tables on clueless men…

Women were right. Slow dancing was foreplay to a guy. Not the best kind, but still, a prelude to sex…or at least a chance for seduction.

The question was: Who was being seduced? Him or her?

There was no explanation for the way he felt about Britta. She had him from the moment she’d called him a lackwit. Didn’t matter that it was two years ago, or that she’d been holding a big-ass broadaxe at the time.

Every time he kissed her, like now, he felt an incredible sense of rightness…that he’d been dog-paddling all his life to reach this woman. He couldn’t—he
wouldn’t
—let her go.

“Come home with me,” he urged, breaking the kiss but not his hold on her.

She shook her head. “I cannot.”

“Don’t you want to be with me?”

A choked laugh escaped her lips. “I want to. Too much.”

“Then why?”

She sighed. “Zachary, why do you pursue me?”

“I don’t know. I just know I have to.”

“I but wish…”

When she didn’t immediately continue, he prodded, “You wish what?”

“I wish I had met you long ago. Afore my life path was set in another direction.”

“What life path?”

“The one that dictates I be a warrior. Not a wife or mother. Oh, do not get your loincloth in a twist. I am not suggesting you would want me for a wife.”

“Don’t make assumptions about me, Britta. And I don’t accept that life paths, or fate, or destiny can’t be changed. In fact—”

Just then, he felt a vibration in his back pocket. He pulled his beeper out and couldn’t believe his eyes. He was being called to active duty. Glancing around the bar, he saw his fellow SEALs doing the same thing. It must be something really critical if they were willing to overlook his recent transgressions.

“Uh, I have to go, Britta.”

“Go? Where?”

“That was my beeper. I’m on active duty, as of this minute.” He took her hand and led her over to the table.

All the guys were there watching JAM, who was already on his cell phone to the command center. JAM was nodding his head and saying, “Yes, sir. Sly, Cage, Geek, and Pretty Boy are here with me. I understand, sir. Right away, sir.” JAM handed the phone to Zach. “He wants to talk to you.”

“What’s your home situation, Lieutenant?” the XO asked him. “Are you able to go on a live op?”

“Yes, sir. A contingency plan is in effect.”

“Good. See you in two hours for the predeployment workup. Geared up. No uniform.”

Zach closed the cell and handed it back to JAM.

He was elated. He was back on call. Maybe his life would get back to normal now.

The guys were already leaving, paying their bills, saying good-byes to the women, and heading for the door.

“What is happening?” Britta asked him.

He realized that he was still holding her hand. Lifting their clasped hands, he kissed her knuckles. “We’re to report for duty. Walk me out to my car?”

She nodded.

With his arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist, they walked outside and toward the back lot. Since he’d arrived late, he hadn’t been able to find a parking space anywhere close to the entrance. She was a little wobbly on her feet, the high heels digging into the gravel, so he held on extra tight, inhaling the smell of her apple shampoo.

But he was distracted, his mind racing with all he would have to do before going wheels up. He didn’t know where they would be heading yet, but that didn’t matter. The security force his father had hired for him would continue to watch over his home, and a female guard would stay inside. Sammy wouldn’t be a happy camper, but he would be safe. Zach kept his weapons in good condition…broken down, cleaned, and lubed on a regular basis. No problem there. His will and other legal documents were stored at his lawyer’s, just in case.

They were almost to his car. He hadn’t realized it was this far back. He would drive Britta around to the front when he left. No way would he let her go back alone, not with a tavern full of half-drunk horndogs.

He noticed her staring at him then…and that she was especially quiet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I am just thinking.”

“Uh-oh.”

She didn’t smile…or smack him upside the head. “Where you are going tonight…will it be dangerous?”

“I won’t know till I get back to the command center, on a need-to-know basis. But yeah, there’s always a risk of danger on any mission. You know that.”

She nodded. Still serious. Still staring at him in the strangest way. “Dost know how long you will be gone?”

He shook his head, frowning now.

Suddenly, he knew.

Holy shit! Britta is planning to offer me a pity fuck. Or more precisely, a good-bye fuck.
He shouldn’t be surprised. Women got all teary-eyed and softhearted when a soldier was about to deploy. Yo-yo panties were the norm on any military base the night before the troops went off to war. Men had been taking advantage of that perk since the beginning of time.

But this was Britta.

Should he take her up on the offer…when she makes it? Or should he be noble and not take advantage?

But then she surprised the spit right out of him. She didn’t make the offer. Nope. Before he could say “Hallelujah” or “No thanks,” like that was ever gonna happen, she slammed him up against the trunk of his Firebird, bent him backward, and began to rip off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

He was laughing and protesting, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” at the same time.

“What?” She stopped.

His chest was bare, his shirt pushed back over his shoulders and halfway down his arms.
Man, she’s strong.
Her blouse was off.
When did that happen?
He grabbed her upper arms to hold her in place. “Wait just a minute, honey.”
I sure hope I have a condom in my wallet.

She went still, even before he released her arms. “Are you not feeling lustsome tonight?”

Oh, yeah. I’m feeling lustsome, all right.

But she didn’t wait for him to answer. She put her hand over his erection, checking for herself.

Talk about a kick-start hard-on. He went from mild interest to full-blown boogie in a nanosecond.

She smiled and stroked him several times.

He was pretty sure he gurgled something out. And in that split second where his eyes were rolling back in his head, she’d begun caressing his chest with her breasts, back and forth.

“I like how that feels. Do you?”

Are you kidding?
“I don’t know. Do it again.”

She did. Again. And again. Then she plucked at his nipples, which had a direct line to sex central. “Now your nipples look like mine,” she murmured.

“Huh?”
I don’t think so.

“They’re all pointy and hard.”

Okaaaay.
“Let me see.” His fingers played with her breasts then, fluttering the engorged peaks, twirling them between a thumb and a forefinger, then fluttering again.

She moaned and arched her back so her breasts stuck out even more. What a picture! Like a hood ornament. Which gave him an idea.

He sat up, then stood. Picking her up by the waist, he carried her to the hood, which faced the woods behind the lot, and placed her on the cool metal so that her head was almost to the windshield. “Don’t move.” He pulled off her high-heeled sandals, tugged her jeans and bikini panties off, then put the high heels back on, spreading her legs slightly in the process. “Raise your arms.”

“Like this?”

His you-know-what gave a mental shout of “Hoo-yah!” He, on the other hand, was unable to speak at first. Then, “Don’t move,” he repeated.

Damn, he wished he had a camera. This was a picture he’d like to have. But, no, he didn’t need a photograph. This image was imprinted on his brain for life.

He shook his head to clear it, which was almost impossible with testosterone barreling through his body, sizzling his gray matter.

In the blink of an eye, he was nude, covered, and ready for action. He crawled up and over her, kissing his way, till he was on his elbows facing her, and they were belly to belly, with his cock pressing against her clit. Sex heaven.

She lifted her belly, trying to make him enter her. “Not yet.” He panted for control, sweat beading his forehead.

He kissed her softly, once he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. “You didn’t have to do this for me, you know.”
Am I nuts?
“But thank you anyway.”
I’m carrying on a bleepin’ conversation on the hood of my car with a naked woman. How amazing is that?

I better be careful, or there’ll be a dent in the bodywork.

Hah! Who the hell cares?

“Do what for you?”

“Make love.”

“Oh, I am not doing this for you.”

WHAT?
his brain squawked. “For the team then,” he joked.

“Do not be a lackbrain. I am doing it for me. I want to have another orgasm.”

“In case I don’t come back?”

“You better come back. I am not being stuck here in the future without you.”

“You sweet talker, you.”

“Nay, I need a comparison.”

“With what?”

“Other men?”

“You’ve been with other men?”
This is unbelievable. She’s having sex with me so she can rate my prowess.

“When would I have time to be with other men? Nay, ’tis just that I felt nothing when Dylan touched me, and I wondered—”

Okay, so it hasn’t happened yet.
“Dylan touched you? I’ll kill him. Where?”

“In the tavern.”

“I meant, where on your body? He copped a feel, didn’t he?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “You speak in riddles. I just meant that when he touched my hand or danced with me, I did not feel that tingle that I do with you.”

A big ol’ smile started to spread across his mouth, and he didn’t even try to hold it back. “I make you tingle?”

“Hah! All you have to do is look at me, and I tingle.”

“I tingle, too,” he admitted, though that wasn’t quite the word he would use. “Are you tingling now?” he asked as he rocked against her clit, then thrust inside in a long, slow stroke.

She gasped out, “Like a bell.”

He started to tell her that bells tinkled, not tingled, but stopped himself. Actually, he liked the comparison. “How do you like my gong?” He moved from side to side.

“Nice.”

“Nice?”

“That was a compliment.”

“No, babe, nice is not what a guy wants a woman to say about his favorite body part. More like, ‘Wow!’ ‘Huge!’ ‘Yikes!’”

She started to laugh, then stopped abruptly as her inner walls began to clasp and unclasp him in a hard rhythm. She closed her eyes and stiffened.