Marine for Hire (13 page)

She drew back and smiled up at him. “Pull my hair.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pull my hair. Move my head. Show me how you like it.”

He blinked, then nodded, uttering a curse under his breath as she drew him into her mouth again, careful to cover her teeth with her lips. A shudder of pleasure coursed through her belly as she felt his hands tighten on her scalp, felt him twining her curls around his fingers.

He guided her cautiously at first, making it clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable forcing himself on her—
into
her. She sucked harder.

“Sheri,” he gasped, twisting his hands in her hair, driving himself deeper into her mouth.

She smiled around him and flicked her tongue in the soft groove on the underside of his shaft. She reached for the front of her blouse and undid one button, then another and another until her shirt fluttered in the breeze from the ceiling fan above. Her nipples puckered beneath her blue lace bra.

She shrugged the shirt over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind her. She tossed it away and rearranged herself to give him the best view.

Sam groaned and leaned down to cup her breasts in his massive palms. The movement made him sway, and he braced himself against the wall, his hands still cupping her breasts.

“Beautiful. So beautiful.”

“Mmmm.” Sheri could feel every contour of him as she enveloped him with her mouth. She shifted her legs, aware of her own arousal. She drew her hand down her abdomen and moved lower, feeling the seam of her panties through the thin cotton of her skirt. She pressed the heel of her hand against her pubic bone.

“Slip your hand up your skirt,” Sam murmured. “Are you wearing panties?”

Sheri nodded, felt him glide against the roof of her mouth with the gesture.

“Take off your panties and touch yourself.”

She pulled back and grinned. “Never say I can’t take orders,” she whispered, and reached up her skirt to tug off the flimsy lace thong. She tossed it into the corner. “You should take off your shirt, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and pulled the gray T-shirt over his shoulders at lightning speed. She smiled at the gorgeous expanse of bare flesh, wishing she could devour every inch of him.

She’d settle for these inches, though.

She lowered her head to run her tongue over him again. She licked him like a cherry Popsicle, moving up, down, around—

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Please.”

Sheri complied, tentatively at first. She dropped her hand between her legs, parting her thighs as much as possible in a snug skirt. Her knees pressed hard into the pillow as she moved her palm up the inside of her thighs. She hesitated again, then slowly drew one finger between her slick folds.

“Oh,” she gasped as Sam slid against her tongue. He gripped her hair, guiding himself toward the back of her throat. Sheri dipped her head back, letting him go deeper as she circled her own silky warmth with her fingertip.

God, she was wet.

“That feels so good,” he murmured, and Sheri moaned, wondering how the vibration felt against him. “Think of me touching you,” he whispered. “Think of my hand between your legs, my fingers moving inside you.”

His hands were still in her hair, while her own fingers fluttered between her legs, making her brain buzz. Sam thrust against her tongue and she felt herself inching closer to the edge.

“Sheri, I’m going to— You should stop.”

She drew him deeper, plunging her fingers into herself as her thumb swirled over her swollen clit and the pressure built higher.

“Oh Christ!” Sam gasped, and she felt the first shudder of his climax in her hand, in her mouth, at the back of her throat. She swallowed, taking him in, craving more of him. He clutched her scalp as he pulsed again, and Sheri felt her whole world tilt as the heat between her legs sent her spiraling through a cloud of heat and pleasure.

She circled the pad of her thumb over her sensitive spot, her mouth tingling with the taste of him as she swallowed and writhed and cried out, plunging her fingers deep inside herself to feel the tight clench of her muscle and the endless waves of pleasure.

Her hand clutched him still, staying with him until she felt his legs start to buckle and his hands go slack in her hair. Slowly, she felt herself drift down from the clouds.

She sat back on her heels and smiled up at him, licking her lips.

“Holy God,” Sam gasped, releasing her hair and stooping down to lift her up by the arms. He cradled her against his body, looking her in the eyes with a dazed expression. “That was unbelievable.”

She grinned, feeling a little dazed herself. “I really liked the table. And my new closet.”

He laughed, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. He used his knee to nudge the covers back, then tucked her inside. He crawled in behind her, curling his body around hers. His right forearm rested under her head, his left forearm cradled her breasts, and everything else just fit into place as their bodies melded beneath the covers. Sam drew the sheet up over them and breathed into her hair.

“For the record, that’s not why I built the table,” he said. “Or the closet.”

“I know. But thank you. For all of it, I mean.”

He laughed and shifted his arm around her, rolling her onto her other side. They faced each other now, his blue eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her gut clench. For a moment, they just looked at each other. The silence stretched out, and Sheri felt a prickle of anxiety.

“You have a nice singing voice,” she blurted. “‘The Marines’ Corps Hymn’—I hadn’t heard that for years. It reminded me of my grandfather. I didn’t realize you had an uncle in the Marines.”

He nodded once, his expression guarded. “I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—did he—was he killed in the line of duty?”

Sam seemed to hesitate, then nodded again. “Suicide bomber.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been terrible. It explains a lot, though. About you, I mean.”

“How’s that?”

“‘The Marines’ Corps Hymn,’ the hospital corners on the beds—you and your uncle must have been close?”

“Yes,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Were you and your grandfather close?”

“Very. He used to sing that song to me all the time, and then he’d take out his medals and let me look through them. He was such a sweet man. So gentle and kind.” She swallowed, undone by this new level of intimacy between them. “I know I sound like an anti-military bitch sometimes, and it’s hard not to think that way after Jonathan and my control-freak brothers and my over-the-top military parents, but—”

She trailed off, not entirely sure what she meant to say. He stroked a finger under her chin, his eyes meeting hers with understanding.

“They’re not all like that,” he murmured. “My uncle, your grandfather—there are good men out there. Honorable, honest, decent, respectful men.”

His eyes bored into hers, and there was something there. Something she hadn’t seen before. She thought he might kiss her again, that they might make love slowly this time. His expression was oddly serious, and she resisted the urge to shiver.

Sam swallowed. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Talk?”

Sam winced. The sound of Sheri’s sweet voice echoing his suggestion back to him made him want to punch himself in the face. Hard.

The word sounded lame, even to his ears. Especially considering how abysmally he’d just failed at his plan to nip things in the bud with Sheri.

If that’s what failure feels like, imagine success with this woman.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, closing his eyes for a moment to avoid the intensity of her liquid brown eyes boring into his. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep lying to her and then fooling around like this.

Lying is the absolute worst thing. Worse than riptides and parking tickets and pubic lice combined.

He opened his eyes again and plunged forward with his plan, despite wanting to cradle her warm body against his chest and fall asleep with her in his arms.

“Talk,” he repeated, stroking a finger over her cheek. God, her skin was soft. “About this thing between us.”

She gave him a funny half smile that made his gut twist. “That’s just such a girly thing to suggest after sex.”

Sam winced, though he had to agree. “I know. And given my career choice, I’m already aware that I may need to demonstrate my masculinity by bench-pressing your car or providing you with lab tests showing my testosterone score.”

“From what I could tell five minutes ago, your testosterone is just fine.”

She was smiling, but she looked wary, and Sam couldn’t say he blamed her. He sighed. “I was planning to talk before sex. Actually, I wasn’t planning on there being any sex. I kinda messed that part up.”

“I believe we have a former president who wouldn’t define it as sex, so you’re good there.” She cleared her throat and grazed one fingertip over his arm. He watched her play connect-the-dots with the dusting of freckles on his forearm, not meeting his eyes, and his heart ached with the urge to lie here like this forever.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” she asked, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“We can’t do this.”

He watched her hold her breath for a moment, then release it slowly. “I know.”

“Believe me, I love this. I loved last night and I loved everything just now. I wouldn’t go back and undo it if I could. But you have to understand, I can’t, in good conscience, have any sort of relationship with you.”

“Because of my brother?”

“It’s not just that,” Sam argued, knowing it probably wouldn’t make sense to her. “I made a promise to Mac, yes, but it’s more than that.”

“Promise.” She repeated the word like it was “herpes” or “politicians
.
”

“I made a promise,” he repeated, stubbornly. “A stupid promise, I’ll give you that. But it’s still a promise, and I made it to my best friend. A guy who saved my life.”

Sheri frowned. “Saved your life? When?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit,
he thought. God, he was bad at this lying thing.

“In college,” Sam said. “The whole football team took a trip to the beach, and I got pulled out by a rogue wave. Your brother kept me from drowning.”

Sheri frowned deeper, the gesture making a sweet little crease between her eyebrows that Sam longed to trace with the tip of his finger.

“And you’re thinking that binds you to a lifetime of keeping your pants zipped around his sister?” she said.

He shook his head, wishing he could tell her more, but he couldn’t. “I know it sounds dumb when you put it that way. But there’s a code of honor—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She sat up, pulling the covers with her and leaving Sam’s shoulders bare. “I grew up in a military family, and I married a Navy jerk. I’ve spent my whole life hearing about codes of honor, and it never added up to anything.”

“Look, I know how strongly you feel about lying. I’d think you’d be the world’s staunchest supporter of me keeping my word to Mac. Besides, I’m not the only one who thinks it would be ridiculous for us to get involved. Didn’t you say the same thing yourself?”

“I know,
I know
!” She flopped onto her back and groaned. “I tell myself I’m going to be strong and self-sufficient and not fall into the same old trap of needing a man around, and then I go hopping into bed with you the first chance I get.”

She threw the covers back and jumped out of bed as though the mere act would undo what they’d just done. He missed her heat instantly

“No more,” she said, rummaging around on the floor for her discarded clothes. “Seriously, I mean it this time. We can’t keep giving in to our urges.”

Sam watched her pull on her panties and and fought the urge to peel them back off and start all over again.

“I wish it could be different,” he said. “I really do.”

She turned and looked at him, her face so sweet and soft and flushed and that his heart nearly split in two.

“Me, too,” she said. “But this is how it has to be.”

…

Sheri got home after dark the next day, regretful a long meeting had kept her late at the office. She hoped that wouldn’t be a habit. She loved her career, and desperately wanted to do well at this job, but not if it meant leaving her boys all the time in the care of a nanny.

Not even a manny as amazing as Sam.

She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about Jonathan’s words the other night. He’d said she wasn’t equipped to raise the boys alone. That she wasn’t enough for them.

To hell with him.

She didn’t want Jonathan back—that was for damn sure.

But was it so wrong to want a partner in parenthood?

As she shut off her headlights, she was surprised to see Sam sitting in his Jeep in the driveway. His expression said he was a million miles away, though Sheri could see he had an eye on the boys latched into their car seats in back.

She jumped out of her car and approached the Jeep from behind. His windows were down, and the light breeze ruffled his hair in the moonlight.

“Rough day?” she asked, stepping up to the Jeep.

He looked up and gave her a tired smile. “Not too bad. The boys were a little fussy, so it was kind of long.”

She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. “Is it wrong if I say I’m kinda glad?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You want me to suffer?”

“No—I mean, I’m sorry it was a tough day and all, but it’s nice to see you’re human. That you’re not some baby-soothing superhero while I spend half my time wondering if there’s an off switch to make them stop crying.”

He popped open the door of his Jeep. “You’ve seen them fussy plenty of the time with me. I took them to the store today to find stuffed peacocks. I got them these beanie ones that are a little bigger than I wanted, but it was all we could find. Jackson ended up throwing his at an old lady in the checkout line, while Jeffrey screamed so loudly the manager came over and asked us to leave.”

She laughed, hoping that wasn’t too rude. “Is that where you were when I came home for lunch?”

“Lunchtime?” He frowned. “No, that was probably when we were at the farmers’ market. Or maybe when I took them out in the jogging stroller after nap time. Things kinda blur together on these long days.”

She looked at him again, enjoying the way the moonlight made the hairs on his arms gleam golden against the curve of muscle in his arms. The soft scent of tropical flowers hung on the breeze, and the ocean air clung to her skin like a soothing net of warmth. She wished like hell she didn’t want him so badly.

He turned to grab Jeffrey’s car seat out of the back, and Sheri got distracted studying his ass. God, what a beautiful ass. Well-proportioned and muscular with just the right amount of—

“Would you mind grabbing Jackson?” he asked.

“Right,” she said, shaking herself out of her lustful daze as she walked around to the other side of the car, muttering to herself as she went.

A
normal mom
would instinctively grab her child out of the car before ogling a hot guy’s backside.

“What?” Sam called from the other side of the Jeep.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“If I hear you say the phrase ‘normal mom’ one more time, I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.”

She laughed, though it sounded wistful even to her own ears. She pulled Jackson out of the backseat and looped the carrier over her arm, balancing her large purse on the other side. Sam strode around the Jeep and came to stand beside her, pausing to brush the hair back from her face.

“
Comparison is the thief of joy,
” he said. “Have you heard that quote before?”

“No. Who said it?”

“I’m not sure. Theodore Roosevelt, I think. Do you know why I said it just now?”

She shook her head, not sure she trusted her own voice right then.

“Because you need to stop comparing yourself to those so-called
normal mom
s. You need to quit thinking there’s something wrong with you if you don’t respond exactly the way you think you ought to in a maternal capacity. You’re your own kind of normal. And your boys love you very much.”

“You sound like Dr. Spock.”

Sam frowned. “From
Star Trek
?”

“From the most famous book on childrearing ever written, goofball. Isn’t that like the textbook of manny training?”

“Right. Absolutely.” He grabbed the baby carrier from her arm, hefting it with ease. She watched as he strode up the driveway, balancing her babies one on each side as he carried them to the porch. He set them off to the side before pulling open the screen door and digging his keys out of his pocket.

From behind, she watched his shoulders stiffen.

“The door is unlocked.”

“What?”

“It’s unlocked.” He turned to face her, his expression stony.

“I was having trouble with it earlier, but—”

“Stay here,” he commanded, pointing to the baby carriers. “Stay back from the door and keep them out of the way.”

“But—”

“Don’t move an inch. Stay right in that spot until I tell you otherwise.”

He put his shoulder to the door and pushed as Sheri stood too stunned to protest. He charged into the house, slamming the door behind him.

She waited in the silence, alone and blinking in the darkness.