Cinderella Liberty by Cat Johnson Read Free Book Online

know it will kill you if you don't and I want all of your attention on me, not on thinking if your shirt will be wrinkled in the morning."
    "Thank you." Crash spun to the desk chair, shaking out the shirt with one brisk flip of his wrists as he walked. While he went, she got a look at the tattoos the shirt had hidden. An eagle, globe and anchor on his back. A confederate flag on one shoulder. An American flag on the other shoulder. She liked them. She'd have to take a closer look. Later, when she wasn't so distracted by other things, such as anticipating what this bad boy could do to her with that tattooed body of his.
    The T-shirt neatly draped over the chair and safe from wrinkles, he was back to her in an instant, gloriously shirtless with all those tempting, hard muscles exposed. She ran her hand up the skin of his chest, moving her fingers over the fine blond hair covering him.
    He reached around and unhooked her bra before sliding it down her arms and clear of her fingertips. Holding it out to the side, he dangled the item from one finger. Wearing a smirk, he let it drop to the ground.
    She smiled. "Very good. I'm impressed."
    "You ain't seen nothing yet." Crash lifted her as if she weighed nothing, tossing her onto the mattress and following her down.
    As his body covered hers, she spared a brief thought that they shouldn't be rolling around mostly naked right out in the open in the living area. Her brother was in the next room. But so was Dawn, and the bathroom was in the bedroom, so why would Danny come out here? She couldn't think of a single good reason he or Dawn would leave the bedroom and discover her and Crash.
    That was good because the last thing she wanted was for this to be interrupted. Trish forgot her worries about her brother as Crash's weight pressed her into the mattress. He slid one of his legs between her thighs, parting them.
    God, it had been too long since she'd had a man over her or between her legs. And it was very possible she'd never had a man quite as manly as Crash ever. Idiosyncrasies aside, he oozed masculinity. She felt it in his every touch. In his kiss as his lips possessed hers, soft at first, and then harder, more demanding.
    In between punishing kisses and thrusts of his tongue against hers, he pulled back far enough to say, "I leave in a couple of weeks."
    "I know. It's okay."
    His blue eyes focused on hers. "Predeployment sex can get pretty wild."
    If that was meant to be a warning to get her to change her mind, it did the opposite. He'd only made Trish want it more. "That's fine. Go for it."
    Crash groaned. "Oh, God, you're perfect."
    He moved down her body and closed his mouth over one of her breasts. She hissed in a breath when he tugged her nipple with his teeth. Sex with a man about to leave for a seven-month deployment that held no possibilities for sex of any kind . . . Just the thought had her getting wet.
    He moved lower, down her stomach, his mouth spreading heat over every inch of skin it touched. She grasped for his head and felt the soft brush of his cropped hair against her palms. He slid his hands down her torso to hook his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear. She knew any second that last item of clothing was going to end up on the floor next to her bra. With any luck, his boxer briefs would join them there shortly.
    Crash paused with his hands so temptingly close to baring her to him. "I need you to know something."
    "Okay." Trish could think of far better uses for Crash's mouth than talking, but he had something to say, so she was willing to listen. Besides, he could talk all he wanted, as long as he finished taking her underwear off some time in the near future.
    "I have a couple of condoms in my pocket, but that's because Zip—uh, the guys—made me bring them. Medical gives tons of them out for free on the boat whenever we pull into a port."
    Trish smiled. He was so cute, not wanting to tell her it was Danny who'd been the guy who gave him