Just Give In… (5 page)

“A frozen pizza and a can of peas,” she reminded him with a smile that shot straight to places he’d rather not be thinking about right this second, but like a dog, he kept on thinking, anyway. He kept on panting, too, kept on remembering the sight of her perfect breasts.

A tiny voice urged him to take, but there was something in her eyes that held him back. He saw desire there, sure, but also he saw gratitude, and he felt as if he should lay out the ground rules before she did something they would both regret.

“Brooke?”

“Yes?”

Suddenly, a rabbit jumped across the road, and Jason swerved to avoid it. Brooke fell against him, her hand clutching his thigh, his engorged crotch.

Damn.

Quickly, her hand was gone, and Brooke shot to the opposite side of the bench seat. It was safer with her there.

Jason cleared his throat. “This is a very small town, and there are a lot of behaviors that are frowned upon.”

She glanced at him, a provocative smile on her provocative mouth. He wanted to taste that provocative mouth.

“Are we having the sex talk?” she asked.

“It’s not a sex talk,” he protested, then rubbed his face where his scar was starting to throb. “It’s more of an anti-sex talk. This is a dangerous situation and I know you think you’re attracted to me but, hell, Brooke. I don’t want a woman in my bed because I bought her a shirt.”

It was the wrong thing to say because off came her shirt. Jason tried desperately not to stare at the twin mounds of taut flesh. Failed. “Can we please wear our clothes?”

She turned, offering her breasts before him like some buffet plate. “It’s your shirt and you think I want to sleep with you because you gave me a shirt. Ergo, no shirt. No problem.”

His mouth grew dry, his cock started to ache and his foot was pushing as hard as it could on the gas. “Put on the shirt.”

She grinned and ran a hand through her hair, dark against her perfect ivory skin. “No.”

“Please,” he asked nicely, hearing the crack in his voice.

“No. I’m an adult, capable of following the call of my loins, and if your shirt is going to get in the way…”

Jason kept his eyes on the road, but it didn’t help distract him from his desire for her. Up ahead he could see his long, gravel drive. His bed, her laying across his bed, wearing nothing but him.

“Brooke,” he tried again, not looking. Damn. He was looking. The woman had the most perfect set of breasts on the planet, and apparently she wasn’t shy about showing them off.

This was probably how Hart got in trouble with her. They were probably somewhere in Vegas, she pulled off her shirt and kapow. Circuits were fried, good intentions were lost and sex was had. Halfway up the drive, he slammed on the brakes because he needed clothes on her before they made it to the house. In the truck, there were rules, gear-shifts. In the house, all bets were off.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, laying her arm across the back of the seat, so hot, so warm, so…

“Brooke,” he repeated, pleading, since all he wanted to do was touch her, kiss her, take her. Her fingers tiptoed across the edge of his seat, flicking against his neck. It was the first time she’d ever touched him.

Jason turned, met her eyes firmly. “No.”

She cocked her head. “You don’t want me?” She knew he did, but he couldn’t tell her. It was the last armament keeping him in check.

“I don’t want you.”

Her hand slid from his face to his hard-on. Softly, tortuously, she squeezed. “Liar.”

“This isn’t right.”

Brooke slid closer, her breasts brushing against his arm, and he could smell his soap on her, his shampoo. “Kiss me. Make it right.”

As she said the words, she licked her lips and that was all he could take.

Jason grabbed her, pulled her astride him, and devoured her mouth like the starving man he was. Her fingers stroked his hair, his face. So long, too long. He explored her mouth with his tongue, feeling her warm welcome. It was like drowning.

His hands grabbed her breasts, knowing exactly where to touch, and she arched into him, riding his cock like they were already there.

He wanted her already there. He wanted inside her. He wanted to feel her. All of her. With clumsy fingers he attacked her fly, feeling the metal give, sliding beneath the rough denim, finding…her.

His finger thrust inside her, and she nipped at his lip, and Jason knew he wouldn’t make it to the house.

It had been so long. She felt so good. His finger pushed harder, higher, feeling the wet heat. Each time he thrust, she rode him. Hard, sure…sweet.

A woman at a vulnerable place, a woman who needed respect and patience.

Sweetness.

Some of his calm returned and he kissed her again, trying to take things gentle and slow. Her mouth tasted like peppermint and fire and her hips kept arching toward him, riding him…loving him.

Patience?

He was going to die.

“Take me here, Captain. Please.”

Her hands poised over his fly, waiting.

And who was he to stay no? Resigned to his fate, Jason opened his one good eye, stared at his house, blinked twice, and then prayed that his vision was wrong.

Survival instincts kicked in, he pushed Brooke aside and fumbled for the damned shirt.

“What’s wrong?” asked the topless woman who didn’t think that modesty was a good thing.

Wrong? She had no idea of the trouble her breasts were about to get them into. Everything was wrong because approaching the truck in her ridiculous heels was Sonya.

Seeing the other woman, Brooke finally had the sense to cover herself. “Who’s that?” she asked, and he could hear the hurt in her voice. He hated the hurt.

“I’m Sonya Kincaid. Mrs. Sonya Kincaid.”

Brooke gasped, but before she could kill him Jason clarified the situation. “Ex. She’s my ex.”

O
UT OF THE THREE OF THEM
, Brooke was the only one completely relaxed. Inside the house, Sonya was perched on a barstool and the Captain brooded unhappily on his couch. Brooke pulled in a footstool from the porch and prepared to watch family dynamics in action. On television, families fought and then laughed, all in a thirty-minute interval punctuated with fast-food commercials. In shelters, families never fought, only stared ahead, silent and shuttered, not wanting to give anything away. Brooke suspected reality was somewhere in between.

She glanced curiously back and forth, until Sonya flushed pink.

“Could we have some privacy?” asked Jason’s former wife in a snippy voice that Brooke thought was stress rather than a natural condition.

“I could go out to the car,” Brooke offered cheerfully.

“She’s a guest,” the Captain said. “She stays.”

At his words, Brooke looked at Sonya and shrugged innocently.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” the Captain asked his former wife. Sonya Kincaid was very pretty in a very blond way and was wearing a sleek red suit that matched her lipstick perfectly. She wasn’t what Brooke would have expected of the Captain’s ex-wife. She was way too neat, but maybe that explained the divorce.

Sonya brushed at her skirt, which was immaculate like the rest of her. “Aunt Gladys called last night. I had been planning to drive out to see you anyway, so I decided it was time to stop by. She was concerned. We all are.”

The Captain scowled. “You drove out here for nothing.”

Sonya nodded at Brooke. “Apparently not.”

Sensing the tense undercurrents in the room, Brooke felt it was time to clarify the situation. “Primitive sexual urges are completely normal. No reason to worry about that. Giving in to our animalistic nature is inevitable.”

Sonya rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re taking advantage of Jason, and there’s no one out here to put a stop to it.”

The Captain stood and glared at his former wife. “Get the hell out.” His voice was low, gruff, and it was the first time that Brooke felt a shiver of fear.

Quickly, Sonya gathered her purse and started for the door, but Brooke called out before she could leave.

“Wait. Don’t go like this. You walked in on an awkward situation. I’m sure that seeing your ex locked in a torrid embrace with someone new was difficult, and you’ve got a right to be a little bitchy.” Brooke winked at the Captain. “But we’re all mature adults here, and I know the Captain is a big enough man to forgive you.” Then she smiled at him. “Isn’t that right?”

Sonya didn’t seem happy, but at least her nostrils had lost that pinched look. She stared at the Captain, and Brooke waited, hoping that she’d done the right thing.

Finally the Captain waved a hand, and Sonya sat. “So why are you here?”

“Can we discuss this in private?” Sonya asked, apparently not one to learn from her mistakes.

“No. Brooke stays.”

Once again, Brooke shrugged innocently and Sonya sighed. “I want to talk to you about the test well.”

Test well?
Now Brooke was intrigued. This was oil country, the land of black oil and undiscovered riches.
Her home.

“No,” snapped the Captain, apparently not so intrigued.

“Why?” his former wife asked, a perfectly reasonable question in Brooke’s opinion.

“After the discharge, I moved out here to be by myself. The last thing I want is people hanging around here.”

“You need the money,” Sonya argued.

“You mean you need the money,” the Captain replied. “You have the house in Killeen. I have this place. You got the better deal. Case closed.”

Sonya glanced at Brooke. “Let’s not have this argument in front of the girl.”

Brooke grinned. “Don’t mind me. I’m thinking of making popcorn.”

“Jason!”

“Brooke,” the Captain warned.

Brooke held up her hands to keep the peace. “No popcorn.”

By now the Captain’s color had returned to normal, his scar faded to the color of bone, and Brooke was happy to see the smile at the corners of his mouth. He was having a good time…just like she’d intended.

He leaned back against the couch, legs splayed, the faded jeans clinging to powerful thighs that were as hard as bricks. Remembering exactly how they felt beneath her, Brooke felt a momentary throb between her legs, a reminder of an itch that had yet to be scratched. Secretly, she checked the digital clock on the wall. Eight-seventeen. It was still early. Darn it.

“How’s Tom?” the Captain asked.

Sonya crossed her legs, uncrossed her legs. “He left, and please don’t lecture me. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” the Captain said, and his former wife’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Did you love Tom?” Brooke asked, which was not any of her business, but Sonya seemed heartbroken and Brooke wanted to know exactly who had broken her heart. The Captain or this Tom?

“I thought I loved him.” Sonya peeked under lashes at the Captain, apparently still fostering some hope. “I was wrong.”

While the Captain watched his former wife, Brooke held her breath. If there were still feelings involved, she certainly would get out of the way. It was the honorable thing to do, but…

Brooke frowned, not nearly so intrigued anymore.

Sonya stood. “I’ll leave now. I’m sorry for interrupting. Think about the well, Jason. At least then you could hire someone to haul away this junk.”

Brooke kept quiet, this wasn’t her concern, and after she heard the door close, she found the Captain watching her. There was no fire in his gaze, no feeling at all.

The apathy hurt, and she wished it didn’t.

“There’s a bunk in the shed outside,” he started, and Brooke managed a smile.

“I’ll sleep in my car. It’s more comfortable and I bought this goose-feather duvet in Oklahoma. It’s very nice.” Brooke moved toward the door, but the Captain took her arm before she could leave.

“I’ll take the shed. Sleep in the bed. You need the rest.”

Okay, rest wasn’t what she’d been thinking. The Captain noticed her look, and his hand fell away. “I knew this wasn’t smart.”

“You still love her?” Brooke hadn’t meant to ask, but the words were out before she could stop them.

“No. A long time ago I was stationed at Ft. Hood. I met Sonya. We got married. After I was in Iraq, she met Tom. Three months later we were divorced.”

And instantly Brooke understood the depths of Sonya’s betrayal. Wishing she could do more, Brooke covered his hand, marveled at the strength, the competence, the heart within him.

For a moment he held on before opening the door. Brooke frowned, wondering what she had missed. “Why are you leaving?”

He touched her hair, smiled sadly. Somehow the Captain seemed worldly wise. “It’s not right.”

“You think I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No. I think I’m taking advantage of you.”

The anger simmered slowly inside her, building, spilling over into something more dangerous. “Do I look stupid?”

The Captain took a cautious step back. “No.”

“Then why have you decided that this is a bad idea? You were a happy man earlier. You seemed thrilled.” She glanced at his crotch. “All of you.”

The Captain flushed. “It was a mistake. You’re in an uncertain situation. I’m the only person you know in Texas.”

“Except for Austen,” she reminded him.

The Captain’s expression was alarmed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see him.”

Brooke sighed. “Well, no, not until I get back on my feet. And I will,” she added, seeing his skepticism.

“I know, but sex confuses things.”

She glared. “Do I look confused?”

“No.”

“Are you confused?”

“No.”

Somehow the Captain could be very dense. “Then why are you still wearing clothes?”

This time, she was happy to see an appropriate level of apprehension. “You haven’t eaten,” he pointed out, an obvious stall tactic, and Brooke took a predatory step closer.

“If I was hungry, I would say so. I have a tongue in my head. I know how to use it.”

The Captain took another step back. The door snapped shut.

“This is gratitude,” he argued.

Her hands went to the hem of her T-shirt.

“Not the shirt. Not again.” He swore, and Brooke realized that she needed to change her tactics, so she did.

She came to him, rose up on her toes, and laid her head on his heart. It was a good heart, a noble heart, and Brooke was pleased that Sonya had thrown him over.

Sonya was an idiot.

Ever so slowly, his arms wrapped around her, iron bands made of steel. Everything faded to silence, except for the beat of her blood. He tilted her chin, met her eyes, giving her a last chance to leave. However, he felt right, this felt right, and she reached up to trace the jagged edge of his scar with a gentle touch.

Instead of letting her touch him, the Captain bent, covered her mouth with his, kissing her urgently, with no gentleness at all. His strong hands skimmed lower, molding her hips to his, and when she felt the hard ridge honing between her legs, Brooke groaned happily.

This was what she wanted, he was what she wanted. He pulled her shirt over her head, and his mouth moved to her breast, her nipple, sucking until the flesh was taut and needy. The stubble on his jaw was rough against her skin, a friction that was both pleasure and pain.

There was something about this man that spoke to her, aroused her. Underneath the scars and the machines was a man who cared. A man who didn’t want to.

Tonight, she wanted to give him what he had given her. Peace. Hope. Happiness.

Needing to feel him, she tore at the buttons on his shirt, ruining a perfectly good garment, but his mouth was making her crazy, the prodding pressure between her legs was making her crazy. Her hands explored the smooth planes of his back. With her lips she tasted the warm salt of his neck, and her fingers teased his nipples until he told her to stop. The couch was too far, the floor so convenient, and they fell there, the Captain stripping off her jeans and her panties, thrusting a finger inside her. Her eyes locked with his, the gray darkened to smoke. With each stroke, her muscles pulsed, the pressure building higher and higher.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt. The pleasure, yes. The security, no, and that was the most erotic thrill of all. Her nails dug into the wall of his shoulders, anchoring there because her body was about to explode.

She could see the sheen of sweat on him, feel the strain in his body, his arms. Total control.

Her legs flexed and she shuddered, and still his hand moved. Faster, harder…

Yes…

A low whimper broke from her and when she was ready to come, he stole his finger from her. She whapped at his back, but then his mouth trailed kisses down her breasts, her stomach. With rough hands, he parted her legs, and Brooke’s heart stuttered and then threatened to stop.

She couldn’t survive this. It was too much.

Head bent, he sucked at the skin of her inner thigh, playing, then tracing with his tongue. Because the Captain was an evil man, one finger traced her plump outer lips, lazy, insidious, diabolical.

Her hips arched up to meet him, to beg him, to kill him, but she could tell that he liked seeing her like this, liked her incoherent speech.

“Please,” she managed, when his finger slid inside her, his mouth a whisper’s breath away. Then his tongue flicked once, tempting her pulsing core, and the world started to spin.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, not teasing at all. A push, a pull, anything, anything.

This time, his tongue flicked twice.

Brooke yelped.

His hands gripped her thighs, and this time, oh, yes…time.

His tongue moved over her, sucking her swollen lips, her clit, sucking her soul. She was going to explode, she was going to die.

The next thing she knew, she was floating, and she could hear her name. He was saying her name. “Brooke?”

She opened heavy eyes and seeing the Captain’s worry, she smiled. “Mmm?”

“You haven’t had enough to eat. You passed out.”

She grabbed him by the neck, pulled him down, and gave him her best “not hungry for food” kiss. The Captain, being an astute man, kissed her back, slid his cock between her thighs, and with one powerful thrust, the world went golden again.

J
ASON PRAYED SHE WASN’T
going to faint because he needed to come. She was so hot, so wet, so perfect. Brooke was every man’s fantasy, every man’s dream, but the thin smile on her face was cause for concern. Each time he thought of pulling out, her muscles pulled him in, locking him there and, oh, hell…

Over and over he thrust, his balls pulling tight. Just when he knew he was going to explode, her eyes opened and stared, taking in his face, his body, and he waited for her to look away. Instead, she smiled, the world’s most beautiful smile. A man could drown in the light of her eyes, and there was nothing he wanted more. Her legs tightened around him, her muscles clenched, and the smile turned to something more carnal.

“Captain,” she whispered in invitation, and that was all. His muscles froze, his back arched, and he wanted to roar. But there was only one sound, one word he could say.

“Brooke.”

T
HREE HOURS LATER
, the Captain had prepared frozen pizza, topped with peas. It wasn’t gourmet, but for Brooke, it hit the spot. Her other spot. Apparently tonight the Captain was two for two. They ate on an old army trunk that the Captain had rigged up for a table. As he had pulled the heavy trunk in front of her, he apologized, saying that he wasn’t used to company. Considering the man was doing his heavy lifting in the nude, Brooke had added in a lot of unnecessary directions, simply because she liked to watch him move.

His body was long and lean, with muscular thighs, powerful arms and, not that she was going to tell him, but his ass was divine. Made for a woman’s hands. Like hers, for instance.

His face fascinated her, too. The scar and eyepatch were an odd counterpoint to the full lips, and there was a dimple on his chin as well. Before his accident, she suspected that he’d had a very boyish appearance. Now, he looked like a man who had shouldered the world without complaint.