ComfortZone (8 page)

He let his fingers drift down, thumb still working her clit.
One slowly entered her, then two, satisfied with the way her pussy clamped down
on him in intimate rejoice.

A little mewling gasp escaped her lips and he smiled against
her wet skin. Soap. She wasn’t one to use frilly, girly bath gels and scents.
She was good, clean and simple. He only wished the angle would give him better
access to her breasts. Next time…

“Oh my— Oh my God. Brice.” He felt her whole body tighten
up, including around his fingers. She vibrated with the effort to hold back her
climax, to deny herself as long as possible.

He bit one earlobe. “Come for me, baby. Now, come on.”

And he pressed hard, using a rapid rhythm with his thumb
that left her no choice but to shatter around him. He tightened his grip on her
leg, pressed her a little harder to the wall to keep her upright as she shook
with the force of her release. Her cries echoed in the small room, seeming
twice as loud, twice as insistent.

And then she went limp, all but draping herself over his
shoulders, as if the effort, the very strength to stand was beyond her.

No problem, he thought as he shut off the water and stepped
out with her, drying her off. He could be strong for both of them.

Chapter Seven

Mary Ellen blinked, not sure what caused her to wake up in
the middle of the night. But unfortunately, now she was up. Never fun, but
that’s how her system worked. Instead of moving, rolling out of bed to go
accomplish something like she normally would, she waited. Breathed deeply for a
moment. Let the scent of Brice fill her, let his warmth surround her a little
longer. She was glad he’d insisted on coming back to his cabin, with its
king-size bed to accommodate his height.

With her back to his chest, his arm around her waist, hand
curving around one breast with unconscious instinct, she felt protected.
Cherished. Loved.

Not that he’d dare utter the “L” word. No, that would take
too much faith, give up too much control to an unknown. A feeling. Huge
emotions like that weren’t something Brice was willing to surrender, not easily
and not without a lot of struggle. If she wanted his love, she’d have to work
for it. Earn it.

And she wanted it. He didn’t realize how special he was. How
giving and sweet he could be. Yeah, sure, he gave off the domineering,
I’m
in charge here
attitude. But it wasn’t him. Not an act, per se, but a thin
veneer to cover up something else. If she wanted him in her life, she needed to
crack that top layer and see what was underneath. He’d have to let her.

And it started with seeing how easily he could let go of the
reins.

She rolled over, pushed his shoulder gently until he was
flat on his back and climbed on top of him.

He slept on, like a coma patient.

“Figures,” she mumbled. She just had to pick now to try out
a seduction. But she’d started, so she’d finish. Kissing her way around his
jaw, the bristle scratching at her lips, she rubbed her hands up and down his
arms. She looked down and watched her fingers glide around his biceps. She
loved the beautiful contrast of her pale skin against his slightly
darker-than-tan coloring. Unique to them.

He shifted, as if subconsciously aware of her touch, but not
quite ready to slip into awake status. The rising erection beneath her butt
though, that was becoming more ready by the minute.

Men. They could get a boner even in their deepest REM cycle.

She worked her hands down his chest, over his ribs where she
knew he was ticklish. A little poke had him squirming, closer to the surface of
consciousness. One hand continued to play over his ribs, fingers walking over
each bone as the other reached behind and took a firm grasp of his now-hard
cock.

“Hmm?” His eyes didn’t even crack, but he turned his head to
the side.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” she sang softly, teasingly.

“Eggs? Huh?” His voice rusty with sleep, he cracked one eye
and stared at her. Though to be honest, she wouldn’t have been shocked if he
was still sleep-blind. “There’s eggs?”

She blew out a breath, shifting some of her hair off her
forehead. “No. There’s not eggs. Nice to know where your mind immediately goes
upon waking up, though.”

“Well good Christ, Mary Ellen, it’s—” He turned to peer at
the bedside clock. “Three-fourteen in the morning. Sorry for not being with
it.”

She squeezed his cock, ran her palm down the length with
enough pressure to have him open his other eye.

“What are you doing up there?”

Ah, there we go. Finally starting to catch on. “I’m having
my way with you.”

“Easy enough when the guy’s not awake.” In one agile
movement, he rolled them both over until she was pressed into the mattress. One
knee firmly planted between her thighs, forearms caging her shoulders. She
wasn’t moving unless he let her.

“Hey. I wasn’t finished up there. Let me up.”

“Uh huh.” He nipped her lip, soothed his tongue over the
same spot. “Now I’m the one who’s up. Or is this not what you wanted?”

“Not really.” She pushed ineffectively on his chest. She had
no strength this way, no leverage. “I wanted to be in charge this time.”

“Mmm. But I like you this way.”

She wasn’t surprised. “Why don’t I get a vote?”

As if he didn’t hear her, he worked his lips down her
collarbone, pulling up her sleep tank at the same time until one nipple was
exposed. He gave one long, hot lick then blew on the damp skin until the tip hardened
tightly. “There we go.” He sucked the distended point into his mouth, and her
pussy responded immediately with little tingles.

Oh God that felt so good. She gripped his wrists, hips
twisting, looking for friction…wait. No, it was her turn. She rotated her torso
until his mouth let go.

“Seriously.” She fought to control her breathing even as he
pressed his cock against her mound, the pressure only distracting her. She had
to push back against the wave of pleasure to keep her mind clear. “It’s my turn
to lead for once.”

His face, previously playful and languid in the hopes of
some languid, sleepy lovemaking, hardened. “I lead.”

She blew out a breath. “This isn’t the tango.” When he
raised a brow, she rolled her eyes. “Not
that
tango. The ballroom tango.
Foxtrot. Waltz. Whatever. Guys don’t have to always lead. I want a chance.”

He shook his head once. “This is my thing.” He took another
nip at her breast, and she almost let the whole thing go. “Am I not satisfying
you?”

“You know you are,” she grumbled and twisted again to break
contact. “But I want a turn. Somehow you always end up the one calling the
shots.”

“I don’t see the problem here.” He kissed her, tongue
delving in to meld with hers. His weight settled more fully on her, the head of
his cock scraping past her clit to rest close to her center.

She pulled back. “I think that’s the problem.”

Brice cocked his head to one side. “You just lost me. What’s
the problem?”

“You don’t see
why
it’s a problem that you can’t step
back and let me control something for once?”

He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. She groaned and,
with a few interesting and somewhat painful maneuvers, rolled out from under
him. Where were her shorts? There. She grabbed them off the back of the chair
where they’d landed earlier and started dressing.

“What are you doing?”

“Making an omelet. What does it look like?” she snapped.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“Yeah, I do.” Shirt. Where was her…ah. Shirt on and halfway
buttoned, she looked back up. “You need to figure this thing out. I like when
you take control. It’s sexy. It drives me nuts. It’s your thing. I get it. But
I’m not a wallflower, Brice. I don’t just sit in corners and wait for others to
do for me. I want to lead sometimes. If that’s not something you’re capable of,
well…” She finished the last button with shaking fingers and shrugged. As she
slipped on her flip-flops, she heard the bed creak behind her. She knew what he
was doing. Getting dressed. Even in the middle of a fight, he’d walk her to her
cabin rather than her go alone in the dark. It’s just the kind of guy he was.

And she could appreciate him for who he was. But she didn’t
always have to like it. This was one of those times.

“Don’t bother,” she said, knowing it was pointless.

He huffed as he slipped on a pair of jeans. Her mouth
watered just a little as the denim slid over his butt, as he hopped and shook
to reposition his erection enough to zip up.

Whoops. Well, that was his problem. He had a hand. He could
fix it later himself, in nice, controlled strokes.

She could run. Between not having his shoes on yet and still
having to deal with a zipper imprint on his dick, she’d win. It wasn’t all that
far. But that wouldn’t be the mature thing to do. Satisfying, but not mature.
So she waited in silence as he slipped on a pair of running shoes and grabbed a
hoodie before holding his door open for her.

They walked together, not talking, the muffled night sounds
surrounding them. Feeling like the only two people in the world. It could have
been romantic.

Could have. If he wasn’t such a stubborn ass and she wasn’t
pissed.

Yeah, other than that…

They reached the door to her cabin and she took her key out
from her pocket. “Thanks.” She turned away from him but he closed a hand over
hers before she could unlock the door.

“Why is this so important to you?”

“I’m not a follower.” She spoke quietly, for some reason not
wanting to disturb the somber night peace. “That’s just who I am. I can play at
it for a while, but then I need my own chance to lead.”

He sighed then let go, let her walk into the cabin and close
her door without a word. She rested her back against it, wanting to scream.

Was this just it? He wouldn’t give up control, ever, and she
wouldn’t be permanently controlled. So they were at an impasse.

Give it time. The rational part of her said to just give it
time. It’s not over. It’s just halftime.

* * * * *

Mary Ellen managed to avoid Brice for the rest of the week.
Wasn’t too hard. She stuck to her stables and her babies and let him do his
thing. The only real risk was during meals, but she knew exactly when Brice ate
every day, so it wasn’t that hard to sneak down, grab some food and run back to
her office.

And how sad was that, sneaking around her own home? Camp
truly was home for her, despite her parents living not so far down the country
road. But she just wasn’t ready to deal with it. Or him. Not yet.

“Knock knock.”

Mary Ellen’s head shot up from paperwork. “Ariel! You’re
back.” Jumping up, she gave her friend a big hug. “And you’re tan. Hey lady,
you look good.”

Ariel grinned and shooed her back into the office chair.
Hopping up on the dusty bench, she let her legs swing. “Honeymoons agree with
me, what can I say? So what have I missed?”

Oh, nothing much. I just got in a fight with your brother
at the reception, then I had sex with him. And then we did that again, and it
was great. And I’m pretty positive my serious longing for him for the past
decade has morphed into actual, tangible love. And I don’t think he feels the
same way back. And I’m mad. And he’s mad. And I’m staying out of his way
because it’s easier than hearing that final “we’re through” speech.

“Oh, nothing much.” She shuffled a few papers. “Actually…do
you wanna take a ride?”

“Great!” Ariel hopped down and out the door and was halfway
to the stable before she yelled, “Gonna change into jeans and boots. I’ll be
right back. Saddle Rachel for me.”

* * * * *

Brice debated, for only the thousandth time that day, if he
should take the walk up to the stable. The elemental pull to be where she was,
to just be around her, watching her even from a distance, was uncomfortable.
The dull ache in his stomach as every day passed that they weren’t talking—even
in snips or swipes at each other like before—was worse.

“You look like crap.”

He didn’t even have to look up from his computer. “Hey,
Trav. Bring back my sister in one piece?”

“More or less.” The other man flopped down on a chair and
hitched his boots up on the desk. “You know, it’s amazing how much I was
looking forward to getting out of here for a break. Thought I was getting antsy
after being so used to moving around with the Marines. Being settled in one
place, I didn’t think it’d agree with me. But while we were gone, I was ready
to just come home and start living.”

Brice gave up the appearance of work and sat back, lacing
his fingers over his stomach. “You already had the townhouse set up to move
into, right?”

“Whenever we’re not here. Which, during the summer, will
likely be often of course. I couldn’t drag her away from this place with a
crowbar. Not that I’d want to.”

No, he wouldn’t. In the camp—and the Winstons—Trav found the
same thing Brice had…family. Besides his sister, Trav had only ever known the
Marines as his family. Some people might have been a little intimidated by the
tight group the Winston clan made, and how easygoing they were about
adopting—formally and informally—people into their fold. But Trav seemed to
soak it up like a sponge.

He was good for his sister. And Brice was glad she found the
guy, however randomly it happened.

“What’s been going on around here? Anything new, any fun
stories?”

Oh, where to begin. Or did he even go there? Thanks to the
isolating nature of his job, friends outside of the camp were few and far
between. So the odds were, if he went to anyone, they were going to know Mary
Ellen too. There’d be a bias one way or another.

“You’re struggling with it, that much is obvious.”

Brice glanced up, saw the smirk on Trav’s face. “Struggling
with what?”