Always a Marine 21 - Lest Old Marines Be Forgot by Heather Long Read Free Book Online Page B

escaped. “You’re funny, but I think I like that about you more than anything else. You don’t make me feel stupid.”
    “Good, you have nothing to feel stupid about.” If he’d had a girl like her waiting for him and he’d died—he’d want someone to look after her. That no one had all those years was a damn shame, but he planned to make some changes. She just didn’t know it yet.
    “Actually, I do have a small favor to ask.”
    He straightened. “Name it.”
    “Could you set your watch back by….” She twisted briefly and glanced toward the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes?”
    Glancing down at the timepiece, he nodded and did as she asked. “It’s one minute to midnight.”
    “That’s right somewhere in the world, I’m sure.”
    He didn’t agree with her, but it was hardly important enough to argue over. “Thirty seconds to midnight.”
    Brenda closed the distance between them and murmured, “I’m sorry about the fireworks.”
    “I’m not.” What did he care about a bunch of gunpowder-loaded explosions? He’d seen his share in and out of combat. “Twenty seconds.”
    She placed her hands on his shoulders, light and delicate. Grasping her hips, he matched her gentleness—though he wouldn’t mind in the slightest if she wanted to dig her nails into him. He kept a mental count, though the elusive hint of her perfume teased his concentration.
    “Ten seconds.” He recognized what she was attempting to do and weighed whether he should discourage her against the desire to explore their connection further.
    “Nine.” She pushed up on her painted toes—belatedly he realized they matched the dark glitter she’d decorated her fingernails with.
    He could almost see the rapid beat of her pulse. “Eight.”
    “Seven.” Her breath hitched.
    “Six.” He canted his head down until their gazes locked.
    “Five.” Flush with him now, she slid her hands up to lock behind his neck.
    He forgot to inhale for a moment, captivated by the blush spreading across her cheeks.
    “Three.” She tickled his nape.
    Focused on the dilation of her eyes, he knew the moment the count hit one. He stroked his thumb to the pulse on her neck. It hammered like a baby bird’s, erratic and nervous. “Ten,” he whispered.
    She blinked and drew away a fraction, stopping only because he held her still. “We were at one.”
    “You weren’t ready yet. Eight.”
    The line between her brows went tight. “I was ready.”
    “No, you weren’t.” He smiled, continuing to stroke the skin over her frantic pulse. “Seven.”
    “Six, and yes, I was.” The jackhammer rate slowed, and the color flushing her face deepened.
    “Five.” He rubbed his palm along the curve of her lower back, and her heartbeat dipped to a more reasonable rate.
    “Four.” She sounded positively grumpy about it.
    “Three.” He took advantage of her distraction to brush his nose to hers.
    Her breath hitched again and a note of strain turned her word taut. “Two.”
    Not bothering with the last word, he angled his head and took possession of the sweet mouth he’d only brushed before. That first gentle kiss had ignited a slow-burning fire in his blood.
    With the smallest of gasps, she opened to him and welcomed the sweep of his tongue—and detonated the tight rein he’d leashed on his passion all evening. The sharp sting of her nails digging into his neck had him lifting her. She was a gorgeous, curvy woman, but he was taller, and lifting her one-armed and keeping control of her head as she met his tongue stroke for stroke gave him a better angle.
    Her groan meshed with his. Tom had meant only to indulge a taste for her, not gorge like a starving man set before a banquet. Brenda, however, came to life in his arms, and the air sizzled.
    They needed to come up for air or he would be taking those last two steps to the bed, to hell with the consequences.
     
    Her emotions seesawed between old, familiar grief and fresh interest. The ease with which