Hot & Bothered (18 page)

She trailed her fingers over his collarbones. “You can't pinch an inch on your body. No cellulite, no saddlebags, no tummy. Lucky for you I'm so enamored of it, or I'd have to hate your guts.” She scooted down his legs several inches and leaned forward to press a kiss on his chest. Her gaze lifted to meet his and nose wrinkling, she smiled against the mat of hair on his chest. “Tickles.”

“God, Tori.” Her body looked pretty damn perfect to him, spread out over his, but he was too riveted with the wonder of what she might do next to drag out the words to tell her so.

And wasn't that a kick in the ass? Charm-their-pants-off Miglionni, official silver-tongued devil of Company C's 2nd Recon Battalion, tongue-tied. Needing to get back on a more even keel he reached up to tweak her nipples the instant she sat up.

She closed her eyes, arched her back and made a sound deep in her chest. But she also wrapped her hands around his wrists and leaning forward again, she stretched to press his hands down onto the comforter on either side of his head. “Be a good boy,” she whispered in his ear. “Don't force me to bring out the belts and scarves and tie you to the bed.” Blinking, she rocked her stomach against his erection, which had just given a major twitch. “Oh! You like that idea, don't you?”

“I like any idea that ends with my cock inside of you.”

“Ooh, God. Me, too.” And right before his eyes, her nipples grew longer yet as she sat back upright. Before he could reach for them again, however, she'd scootched
back and leaned to press her lips against his diaphragm. Then she feathered kisses down the thin stripe of hair that ran from the thatch on his chest to his pubic hair. He forgot to breathe about the time she got to the waistband of his jeans.

She glanced up at him then back down at the rampant hard-on making its presence known behind the fly. “I'd forgotten how…impressive…you are,” she said and for a second consternation furrowed her delicate brows. Then she shrugged and lowered her head, pressing a kiss on his dick through the denim fly.

He slid his fingers into her hair and gripped two fistfuls of the soft, unruly mass, but even in his own mind he wasn't sure if it was with the intention of pulling her away or holding her in place to make sure she didn't
get
away. He hadn't reached any conclusion when she abruptly gave his cock a gentle bite.

“Jesus, tease us!” He jerked in reaction.

She merely smiled at him and turned her head so her lips were parallel with his shaft and opened her mouth to delicately grip it between her teeth, widening her jaw in her effort to encompass as much of its circumference as she could through the worn denim. Scraping her teeth delicately across its width, she brought her lips together, kissed the spot she'd just toyed with, then pressed her cheek against it and gave him a satisfied little smile.

John's fingers tightened against her skull, providing the answer to his question. Saving her from herself hadn't been a top priority when he'd initially buried his hand in her hair. And now…

Victoria unbuttoned his waistband and eased his zipper down. She reached inside and wrapped her hand around his penis.

That's when she faltered. She'd been enjoying herself immensely, knowing how hot and bothered she was getting him, but now all her big-shot confidence started to wilt.

God, it had been so long—what if she no longer knew how to do this? “I haven't seen one of these bad boys in a long time,” she murmured and glanced up at his face. “I'm not sure I remember what to do with one.”

“Hey, it's just like riding a bike,” he assured her. “You never really forget how.”

The strain in his voice and the sight of his lips pulled back from his teeth as he stared down to where her hand disappeared into his Levi's restored her sexual surety. She gave an experimental squeeze and felt Rocket's…rocket…pulse in her hand. Confidence on the upswing, she fished his sex free of his pants and stared down at what she'd uncovered.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I remember you.”

He changed in front of her eyes from a sexual supplicant to the man she'd first clapped eyes on in a resort bar—all confidence and lady-killer smile as he focused those heavily lashed ebony eyes on her. And for a moment she fell right into his hot, bottomless gaze.

“It never forgot you, either, darlin'.” He rolled them both over in a flurry of long arms and longer legs until she was flat on her back with him propped up over her. Brushing a strand of hair off her face, he smiled gently and lowered his head.

He kissed her with such hot, drugging intensity the last of her good sense simply dissolved. And by the time he raised his head again she was once more a mass of seething, throbbing nerve endings. That's when she realized he'd begun to work his way inside her. She sighed and widened her thighs.

Heaping whispered words of praise upon her for everything from the softness of her lips to the freckles on her chest, he kissed his way down one side of her throat and up the other. Reaching her ear, he sucked lightly on its lobe, then flicked his tongue against its sensitive whorls. She moaned and shifted beneath him. When he switched ears, she found herself raising her hips in restless yearning.

And the next thing she knew he was all the way home, as deep inside of her as a man could go. She felt stretched, and filled, and…
good.
Oh. My. Very good.

Until a realization struck her. “Condom!” She pushed at his shoulders. “No condom!”

“Shit!” He pulled out and fumbled with the back pocket of the jeans that were still pooled around his ankles. Swearing to himself, he yanked out his wallet and fished through it as he kicked free of his pants. “Hoo!” His breath exploded from his chest. “Got one.” He pulled out a foil packet and looked down at her. “How about you?” he asked, ripping the package open and rolling the protection down, down,
down
the intimidating length of his erection. “I suppose it's too much to hope that you might have some, too?”

“Yes. No. That is, I don't have any.” And regret over her woeful lack of foresight filled her, because she had a strong suspicion that one time with John simply wouldn't be enough to scratch an itch this persistent and deep.

As if reading her mind, he said, “Not to worry,” and dropped back over her, catching himself on his forearms. He pressed his hips forward and her legs fell open as if all her nerves remembered the tune they'd been taught and were gearing up to sing the entire “Hallelujah Chorus.” John kissed her softly and she
blinked up at him when he raised his head and said, “We'll just have to make this time count.” He slowly sank back into her.

“Oh, God.” She'd almost forgotten this feeling, this chock-full sensation of having him deep inside, encroaching upon every nerve-enriched centimeter of the sheath hugging him. She clamped down to feel even more.

He hissed. For a second he simply breathed in and out, then he whispered, “Oh, man.” His eyelids, which had closed, slowly reopened, and he stared down at her as he eased his hips back.

Feeling the tender drag against tissues desperate for more aggressive friction, she grabbed his rear, sank her nails into his hard cheeks and yanked him back.

“You want it faster?” John's hips picked up their tempo and he pushed up on his palms to look down at her, watching her face as he pulled nearly out of her, spread his thighs to widen her legs, then slammed back in. “I can do that.”

He bumped a rich bundle of nerves with each inward stroke and she couldn't prevent the needy little sounds emerging from her throat to save her soul. She stared up at him, arching her back as her climax started to build.

“Oh, Jesus.” He hunched his back to reach her thrusting breasts. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he worked it with his tongue for an instant, then let it pop free. Sweat trickled down his tan throat and his ponytail slid over one hard shoulder, tickling the damp tip of her left breast. He looked down at her, but his eyes were unfocused and she wasn't certain how much he actually saw.

“I don't think I can hold on much longer,” he said hoarsely, the rhythm of his driving hips picking up speed and force with every thrust. “I'm sorry, darlin'. I really wanted to make this last for you, to give you a couple real
good O's before I came…but I don't…oh, fuck, Tori—I just don't think I can hang—”

The desperation in his voice thrust her straight into the middle of a blazing conflagration. Nerve endings deep inside sizzled and popped and strong, long, contractions exploded inside of her, bearing down on the source of all that pleasure. Body afire, mind fried, she heard herself panting, “Oh, God, John, oh,
God!
”

In an endless litany as her orgasm went on and on. And on.

His breath exploded from his chest in a sharp, wordless exclamation, and he shoved himself deep and held there. A long, deep groan climbed from his throat as his own climax erupted.

With another groan he collapsed atop her a moment later and Victoria wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as her heart continued its demented beat. Oh, boy. She was in big, big trouble here. She'd known from the first night they'd met that Rocket was experienced in ways beyond her ken, and she'd be a liar if she tried to claim she hadn't taken full advantage of that expertise. His practiced charm, however, she'd found resistible.

It was his honest confusion over his inability to stay in control whenever they made love that had grabbed her right where she lived. Being wanted as strongly as he'd constantly shown her he wanted her had made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. And she'd felt herself falling deeper and deeper under his spell. It was the main reason she'd run. Having accepted the rules he'd laid down, she'd felt a burning need to get out before she found herself hurt beyond repair.

So what now? It wasn't as if she weren't in every bit as much danger of falling in love with him now as she'd
been six years ago. Chances were, she was in even
more
danger, for she was beginning to know him. Not inside and out, of course—at least not in the intellectual sense, her conscience amended wickedly—but certainly so much more than she'd managed to do the first time around.

John's lips pressed the side of her neck and she felt his voice rumble in his chest when he said, “You okay?”

She realized she was. Okay and then some. She needed to put some serious thought into the viability of jumping headlong into another relationship with him, but it had been a long, eventful night, and right this moment she wasn't in the mood. The whole idea of soul-searching, in fact, felt a bit like the old locking-the-barn-door-after-the-horse-has-flown thing. They'd taken a major step tonight, but she was too tired to hash over what it might mean to them.

The heck with it. It would still be there in the morning.

So she said, “More than fine,” and turned her head to catch his mouth. Within moments she was sinking into a sensual haze and only one thought filtered its way through the red-hot haze.
I'll figure it out. I will.

Tomorrow.

J
OHN LET HIMSELF BACK INTO
the hotel room a little before seven the next morning. Moving quietly, he walked over to the bed to stare down at Tori as she lay sleeping. After making love to her in the wee hours, he'd gone the extra mile to see that she got a little additional satisfaction. Not because his rep as a hotshot lover was on the line, but because he'd wanted to. Almost
had
to.

Of course, being the type of woman she was, she'd then insisted on reciprocating. And what the hell—it had seemed like an excellent idea at the time. He'd been so hot for her and it was just a little oral sex. He was experienced enough that getting a blow job hardly qualified as a novelty, so he'd assumed he was prepared. After all, how different could one woman's technique be?

Mind-bendingly different, as it turned out. Tori might not be the most proficient woman he'd ever been with, but she sure as hell was the most lethal to his peace of mind. Her enthusiasm had damn near been the death of him.

That was the thing that kept grabbing him by the balls—or another organ that he didn't even know what to name—her enthusiastic willingness to try anything. It had been that way during their week together and apparently nothing had changed. She was so genuinely passionate about everything she did that he could never quite get enough of her.

And hadn't he seen
that
coming a mile away? This persistent, constant hunger for her was the reason he'd tried so damn hard not to start things up with her again—because he'd known at a gut level it would only make him want her more and more and frigging
more.

He shook off a little niggle of unease. Hell, he didn't have a clue what was going to happen between them in the long run. But—he tossed up the box in his hand and grinned crookedly as he snatched it out of the air—luckily for the short run they were in a first-class hotel. And in a good hotel, a guy could get anything.

When he'd explained his problem to the concierge, the man had opened up the gift shop for him. And here he was, with a decent supply of condoms so they wouldn't have to confine themselves to one measly bout of lovemaking if they felt like two. Or three or four or five.

Except…he was beginning to get to know Tori in more ways than merely the biblical sense. And he had a feeling that when she woke up, screwing his brains out wasn't going to be tops on her list of to-dos. He knew how worried she was about her brother and he'd lay money down she'd wake up with a humongous guilt-on because she'd forgotten the kid for a brief time. But a guy could dream and at least he was prepared if it turned out he hadn't read her as well as he thought.

Dropping the box onto the nightstand, he kicked free of his clothing and slid back into bed beside her.

 

V
ICTORIA HADN'T BEEN
conscious five seconds when a load of guilt dropped out of the sky and landed squarely on her chest. The warm contentment with which she'd awakened curdled and she was left with an uncomfortably speedy heartbeat, tight shoulders and tense limbs.
How on earth could she have seen what she had out on the streets last night, then just turn around and blithely blow it off to satisfy some selfish yen to jump Rocket's bones? Good God. What kind of sister was she?

“Don't do that to yourself,” John said softly from behind her.

She jerked and only then did she become aware of his warmth curled around her back, his muscular arm draped over her waist. His erection pressed against her bottom.

She ought to move. She knew she should. But to her shame she didn't budge an inch. Her voice sounded weak and little when she inquired, “Do what?”

“Beat yourself up for blowing off a little steam with me last night. You didn't take anything away from your brother.”

What was he, a mind reader? Yet against all good sense, her tension faded a little. She gave her head an impatient shake and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Then why does it feel as if I did?”

“Because you care so much? I don't know, darlin', and I don't care. The truth is, we'd finished looking for the night, and the only thing you stole from anyone was a little of your own sleep time.”

She rolled over to face him. “We're going to look for him again today, though, aren't we?”

“Sure. We'll hit the 16th Street Mall again and go check out the Auraria College campus. It's a good place for street kids trying to blend in. Then tonight we'll hit the streets again.”

“Good, let's go.” She started kicking back the blankets.

His long fingers, which had been splayed over her hip, tightened, staying her. “As soon as you've had some breakfast.”

Shaking her head, she scooted away from his warm
body and eased toward the periphery of the mattress. “I'm not hungry.”

“No?” He propped his head on his hand and made no move to leave the bed. “You're going to eat anyhow.”

“John—”

“It's fuel. You remember how tough last night was?” He obviously took her involuntary shudder as an answer. “Well, you've got today, tonight and a good part of tomorrow to get through before Stand Up sets up for the kids and it's unlikely to be a helluva lot easier. You want to keep up, you'll eat. Otherwise, plan on staying here while I go out by myself.”

“No!” The word came out much louder than she intended, but just the thought of prowling this room like a caged animal all day, instead of being out looking for Jared, made her crazy. “I'll eat.”

“Good girl.” He threw back the sheet and climbed to his feet, supremely unconcerned with his nudity.

Victoria noticed he was still half-tumescent and couldn't seem to stop herself from staring. There was just something so primal and compelling about him in that state.

“You prefer to call room service or go down to the dining room?”

She blinked as she watched him grow fully erect. “What?” Excitement thrummed through her when he suddenly strode across the floor, walking right up to her.

He tapped a finger under her chin and her gaze snapped up. “You gotta keep your eyes up here, darlin',” he said in a voice that sounded rusty and hoarse. “You can only expect me to be so good now that I've had a taste of you again—and I'm depending on you to help me out here.”

Her cheeks burned like a three-alarm fire. “I'm sorry. You must think I'm such a lousy sister.”

“I don't think anything of the kind.”

“A slut, then.”

Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, he jerked her against him. “No,” he said flatly. “I've been with my share of sluts and you're not even a runner-up in that arena.”

“No?” The thought of all the women he'd been with in his life shouldn't have the power to annoy her—but somehow it still scratched at her temper. “So what's the difference? I fell into bed with you the night we met, same as them.”

“Fell?” He laughed and shook his head. “You have no idea how hard I worked to make that happen. And I wasn't used to that, you know.” He flashed her a lopsided, confident smile. “I'd never run up against the need to put so much effort into a seduction before.”

It bugged her to know that he probably hadn't and she stuck her nose in the air. “You being so drop-dead gorgeous and all?”

“Honey, just being a Marine and having a big dick is like holding the winning ticket to the daily double at most of the bars I used to hang out in. Good looks would've just made it a ticket for the trifecta.”

She felt her mouth drop open and snapped it shut so hard her teeth clicked. “And next I suppose you'll be telling me that women need only take one look at you to know you have a big penis.”

“If they're looking in the right place they do.”

“My God. Does your ego know no bounds?”

He shrugged. “Not when it comes to this. I'm hung, okay? Word gets around—or it used to, anyhow.”

“Like some big Hollywood stud?” A sound suspiciously close to a snort escaped her. “That's ridiculous. I certainly didn't know anything about it.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know. It was pretty refreshing.” She must have looked as irate as she was beginning to feel because he hastened to add, “Look, every branch of the service has its groupies. For my friends and me that meant women who slept with Marines simply because we were Marines. And a subculture of that were the women who only slept with guys who were particularly well-endowed. Part of the rush for them, apparently, is providing details of whatever guy they bang to their sister size-bunnies. So—like I said—the information got around.”

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and for the first time she realized she was every bit as naked as he was. She started to pull back, but his fingers tightened.

“My point, though,” he said, “is that from the moment you walked into that bar I knew you weren't like anyone I'd ever met. And if you think I didn't work like a maniac for your attention, you're crazy. Before that night women had always seemed pretty interchangeable to me. Lose one and there'd be another along to take her place. But I didn't want just anybody else that night—I wanted you.”

“Why? Because I was a challenge?”

“No! Maybe. I don't know.” He shook his head impatiently. “The only thing I knew was that you were worth any effort it took. Or maybe it was because talking to you
wasn't
an effort. You made me hot, but you also made me laugh and think about things. You made me be…I don't know—just me. That's a person I very rarely was around women, but I knew I was willing to be the real deal if it meant making you stick around. So don't go calling yourself a slut. I don't like it.” He set her loose and turned toward the other end of the room. “Why don't you order us room service?” he said over his shoulder. “I'm gonna take a quick shower.”

She was still standing there slack-jawed when he disappeared around the corner. A second later she heard the bathroom door click shut.

She walked over to her suitcase and opened it. For a moment, however, she simply stood and stared blindly at the contents while her mind went back in time.

Yesterday she would have sworn up, down and sideways that she remembered every detail about the night she'd met Rocket. Yet here she was, realizing that in the emotional upheaval following her time with him, she'd somehow managed to shove aside the fact that she
had
made him work to catch her. She'd buried that memory in the farthest recesses of her mind where it had languished until it was forgotten.

She'd been attracted to him from the minute he'd slid into a chair next to her at the table where she'd been sitting with two women she'd met earlier that day in the check-in line. He'd struck her as a little too cocky, though—his charm a bit too practiced. So she'd divided her time between him, her new acquaintances, and the man who'd come to the table with him. What had the guy's name been? Rooster? No, that wasn't right. Something like it, though. Oh, wait—Bantam! That was it.

As if it mattered. The other Marine hadn't stood a chance with her. Not when Rocket had crowded close, making her feel warm and bursty tight, as if her skin were a size too small. Not when he'd gotten her jokes, laughing as though she were the funniest thing to sashay down the pike since…she-couldn't-think-who. And certainly not after he'd left off consciously milking the Mr. Charm role. The real Rocket had blown away every last inhibition she'd ever possessed.

And the rest, as they said, was history.

She reached into the suitcase, grabbed the first thing her hand came into contact with and carried her selection over to the bed. But she stopped dead before she reached it and stared down at the box of condoms that sat on the nightstand. Where had that come from?

Well, okay, Rocket had obviously gone out and gotten it while she slept. But why hadn't he mentioned them? Or…used one? He could have had her—he had to have known that.

Damn it! She rubbed her forehead. Every time she thought she had him nailed down as this kind of guy or
that
kind of guy, he went and did or said something that messed with all her neat preconceptions. She wanted to believe he was all about sex, because that kind of guy would be so much easier to ignore, since she was pretty sure she'd never fall in love with a man that shallow.

But John
wasn't
merely about sex.

And she had gone and fallen in love with him.

She sucked in a breath. She'd been denying it for a long time now, but she could no longer hide from the truth. The process had begun long before today. She'd had strong feelings for him six years ago—it wasn't as if she'd reneged on their arrangement and slunk off into the sunrise because she'd been
bored
and had felt it was time to move on. She'd left because she'd known she was in imminent danger of developing feelings far deeper than their short-term, open-ended agreement had been designed to bear.

Slowly she set her clothing down on the unmade bed and tugged her mental shields back in place. Okay. She was a strong woman. She hadn't caved under the relentless pressure her father applied when he'd discovered she was pregnant and thought it was his God-given right to
know who the father was, and she didn't intend to turn into a hearts-and-flowers type dreamer now. Admitting her newly realized feelings wasn't the same as expecting some fairy-tale kind of relationship to come from them. And everything else aside, she had Esme to consider. She planned to study her options very, very carefully.