21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (80 page)

“I have expectations.” He caressed her side, the stroke of his fingers sending delicious ripples through her, winding her up tighter than a watch.

“Okay.” She rested her forehead to his. “What expectations do you have?”

“I want to be better for you.”

“You don’t have to be better, you just have to be you.”

“I meant—”

Silencing him with a kiss, she fought to keep her libido in check. The urge to get naked and wild with him warred with her desire to make it better for him. “I know what you meant. I also know that you’re working on you, and if a relationship with me hurts that progress, then absolutely—say ‘thanks, ma’am, but no thanks.’ We can eat our Chinese food and watch some bad comedies together. But I’m a big girl, Matt. I grew up with four brothers who are made of boot leather and determination. I get it. I want
you
, not some perfect, idealized version of you—but the
you
sitting right here with me. If you can believe that, then I’d recommend nudity is no longer optional.”

He said nothing for so long she thought he would tell her no. Bracing for that disappointment, she wasn’t prepared for the shock when he slid his hand up to cup her breast, or the teasing stroke of his thumb through the fabric of her bra. “If nudity isn’t optional—then we better get naked.”

Matt allowed Naomi to lead him into the bedroom. Despite his bravado, when it came to stripping her clothes off, he didn’t trust his control. Jethro watched them go with solemn eyes, but made no move to follow. Apparently the Labrador trusted Naomi even more than Matt did.

Good to know.

Naomi aroused an unpredictable array of feelings in him. She thought him respectful and compassionate—but damn, she was drop dead gorgeous with a beautiful voice and the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen. Every single time he listened to her sing, he watched her mouth—imagining all the things he might do with it and then pushed the thoughts back down.

In a way, she belonged to his larger family—his Marine brotherhood—but damned if he felt remotely familial toward her. Coming back to her door the other night and kissing her left him humming, and he’d carried that good mood throughout his day. His session with James diminished it, bleeding the color from the joy. But seeing her again in the park, it returned full force and flooded him.

He hungered to touch her, kiss her, and make love to her until she couldn’t walk. But Naomi would never be a fuck or a casual lay—she was the real damn thing. Standing next to her bed, she must have sensed his hesitation. Sitting, she patted the space next to her.

The invitation sent his blood racing. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes dark and mysterious in the muddy puddle of light cast by the low wattage bulb in the nightstand lamp. Her lips were full and just a little swollen from their earlier kiss, color flushed her cheeks, and her hair spilled in loose curls around her shoulders. Ripe, perfect, and every bit the girl next door type he favored most of his life—only she wasn’t a
type
.

Those other girls were just pale imitations of her—understudies because she hadn’t arrived in his life yet.
God, I sound like Lauren…I am spending way too much time around the actress
.

Shuttling thoughts of everyone else away, he cupped Naomi’s cheek and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “You really are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

Hands down. No contest.

“Keep saying things like that to me and I can’t be responsible for my actions.” She caught his thumb between her lips and teased the tip with her tongue. The sensual gesture caught him off guard and captivated him.

Sliding back on the bed, she caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. One by one, she shed her clothes and he forgot how to think. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he didn’t dare say anything for fear of babbling like an idiot. She possessed an athletic and trim build, but her curves were distinctly feminine. He knew from experience how wonderfully soft and firm her body was. She finally knelt on the bed, wearing only her bra and panties.

Rooted to the spot, he stared, his brain fizzling. But he stood silent for too long and her expression wavered, uncertainty darkening her eyes.

“I’m sorry…,” she murmured, reaching for her discarded shirt, but he snatched it and threw it aside then joined her on the bed.

“Don’t be—I just couldn’t take my eyes off you long enough to respond.” But he planned to rectify that. He crushed his mouth against hers, and she opened to the invasion like a flower soaking up the spring rain. Her skin scorched him until heat danced across his nerves. He made quick work of the bra and panties. The rise and fall of her chest sucked all the oxygen out of his lungs, and he nearly strangled on a moan.

Rosy nipples, sweet like strawberries, stiffened under his gaze. He kissed his way down to them then indulged in one of his favorite fantasies—sucking one turgid tip between his lips. The moment he grazed the nipple with his teeth, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, the sweet, sharp sting of her nails rocking his insides. His cock stiffened painfully, reminding him he was still fully dressed.

Unsure who he tormented more as he played with her breasts, he was torn between wanting his clothes off and continuing to tease her sweet flesh. Wanting what came next won out. He slipped away, and she objected with a very audible groan. Laughter bubbled up through his intensity and he grinned at her. “I’m feeling very overdressed….”

Pulling off his shirt, he toed off his shoes before stripping out of his jeans. She rose up on her elbows and stared at him with hunger, her naked, wanton look a powerful thing. The raw desire in her face demanded action. His erection thumped against his stomach, and he fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for the condom in his wallet.

Always carry a condom. Always be prepared.

God bless his training.

She reached out and stroked him, her attention on his cock and he groaned. The action sent all blood flow south and shut down everything but the most basic thoughts in his brain. Wanting her was a powerful thing, wanting to make this good for her even more. He caught her wrist in a light grip and stopped her caress. Her gaze rose to meet his, a frown wrinkling her brow.

Oh, she didn’t like that
. For some reason, the objection in her all-too-willing expression amused the hell out of him. “You keep doing that and we’re going to be over before we even get started, and that’s not how I want this to end.”

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up and her smile grew. “Oh.”

He didn’t let her repeat a third time, tumbling her back on the bed and kissing her soundly before nipping and licking his way down her body. He allowed the indulgence of teasing her nipples before settling between her legs. Spearing his tongue between the seam of her sex, he didn’t hesitate to taste her.

Divine honey, sticky and sweet.

Every lick elicited another gasp or soft cry until she writhed and he gripped her hips, pinning her to the bed. Damn she was so responsive. He sucked on her clit until she let out a little scream. Satisfied with the pleasure he delivered, he eased away and looked up.

She beckoned him with glazed eyes. More than willing to fulfill the slightest request, he sheathed his cock and settled again between her legs. She didn’t act like a virgin or respond like one, but he hesitated, poised at the entrance to her sex. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” She rubbed her palms across his chest then up over his shoulders. Even the slightest contact of skin on skin sent electric shocks through his system. Primed, he expected to blow any second—and wanted to be inside her when that happened.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He dug his fingers into the bed covers next to her, fighting to maintain the last slender threads of his control. The urge to thrust damn near bowed his spine.

She hooked her legs around his hips, and arched her back. He slid in an inch and surrendered to the desire to thrust inside of her with one, long stroke. They groaned in unison and fierce laughter burst from his chest. It felt so fucking good to feel her clamping down around him.

“Don’t stop.” She whispered, the small bit of encouragement before biting down on his earlobe. The light pressure, the encouraging brush of her nails on his ass, and he pulled out slowly before driving his cock home again. Far from put off by his hard thrusts, she encouraged him. Their mouths collided in a hot, wet kiss that stoked the tension gathering in his balls.

The bed rocked with them, and she rose to meet his every thrust. She let out a soft cry and her legs locked around him. The orgasm stormed through her expression and she screamed. Her convulsions drove his and he came in a rush of pure, blinding pressure, crying out her name.

He wouldn’t stay the night. She wanted to argue, but something in his eyes when he talked about going to sleep arrested her words. Fear. A genuine concern, tinged with shame, when he murmured he had to leave.

“It’s okay.” She walked him to the door, holding his hand and leaning on his arm. She was soft and warm all over. Equal parts erotic and sweet, his lovemaking took her breath away. Burying the longing to sleep in his arms, she kissed him softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Lock this door.” He clipped Jethro’s leash on and kissed her again. “Thank you….”

She smiled and indulged in a quick hug and then he left, closing the door behind him. Turning the lock, she rested against the door and sighed. No matter how much she understood his declining her invitation to stay overnight, his exit stung.

Get it together, Naomi, it’s not a rejection
. But it certainly felt like one. Her body still tingled, pleasantly sore and tight in all the right places. Walking into her bedroom, she inhaled the sweet musk of sex still hovering in the air. She slid onto the bed, pulled the pillow close that he’d lounged on for the little while, and breathed in the hint of his scent. He hadn’t been there long enough to really leave a mark.

I said I could handle this
…. Intellectually, she got it. The PTSD diagnosis sent her back years—to Brent’s homecoming—to the brutal conversations and outbursts of temper. Her tough, fierce, older brother reduced to tears and later, loathing at his own inability to function. Fighting his way through it, he got the help he needed—hell, he was a Congressman now, married and working on having a baby with his wife.

I can handle this
…. But understanding all of that, educating herself, attending support groups for families of returning veterans, and dedicating her time and efforts to the cause didn’t quite cover the current situation. Intellectual knowledge didn’t cut it where her heart was concerned. She wanted to go to sleep in his arms, wanted to wake up with him and not reduce their moment to a slam, bang, good night ma’am.

Matt didn’t trust himself to sleep next to her. She’d seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Did he suffer from night terrors? Did he lash out in his sleep? Not having the answers to those questions, but suspecting both to be true, didn’t do much to assuage the emotional wound of sex followed by a swift exit.

Wow…it took me less than thirty minutes to go from afterglow to emotional Fruit Loop. He’s still the same guy. He’s got issues and he’s working on them. I can handle this
.

God, what if she couldn’t? The sobering thought cut through her. What if she couldn’t handle a relationship on his recovery’s terms? One fear after another tumbled in her head, like a cat chasing its tail. Inconceivable and painful, because she wasn’t even sure she wanted to catch the tail.

Rolling to her side, she stared at the clock. It ticked a little after midnight. Hours and hours until they would see each other in the park.

I like him…he’s wonderful, but he hasn’t lied to me once about what’s going on with him. Telling me about his PTSD took courage
.

Her phone rang and she eyed it.

The landline.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“So….” Matt’s voice washed over her and the knot in her gut loosened. “I walked Jethro home and realized I don’t even have your phone number.”

“Hey.” She sank into the pillows, warmth rushing out to heat the chilled places formed in the few short minutes since they’d said goodbye. Never a high maintenance, needy girl—she certainly didn’t want to become one.

“Are you okay?” Worry colored his words.

“Much better. I was having a silly woman moment.” Biting her lip, she swallowed a rueful laugh.

“Hmm, be nice to my girl. I like her.”

He said
my
and shivers raced over her skin. “She likes you, too.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay—I….”

“You don’t have to explain.” He really didn’t. “I get it and I-I respect that you recognize your own limitations.” She grimaced at the word. “That didn’t come out right.”

Soft laughter met her embarrassment. “No, it came out exactly right. It’s what I’ve been working on…recognizing what I can do and when I push myself too hard. Sometimes…sometimes I push and I want more than I am capable of—it would be really, really easy to push with you, Naomi. I want to be there, but I can’t, and I won’t, risk you.”

His raw vulnerability and utter openness did her in. “I won’t risk you either, Matt. It’s okay.” She snuggled down in bed, hugging the phone to her ear and his pillow to her chest. “But can you do me a favor?”

“What?” He sounded as relieved as she felt.

“Can I have one of your shirts?”

“Sure…can I ask why?”

“’Cause I like the way you smell.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and she barely managed to whisper the words.

His soft groan sent tingles of excitement racing through her. “You can have any shirt of mine you want.”

“Hmm, thank you.” If she couldn’t have him in her bed all night, she could wear his shirt and have his scent. The disquiet in her soul settled.

“You’re welcome. Now, go to sleep.”

As if conjured by his words, the yawn cracked her jaw. “Okay….”