Not Another New Year’s (17 page)

…gone gone gone.

The condoms were four days old and right where he’d left them New Year’s Eve. He ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled the latex over himself, watching her watch him with half-mast eyes.

Her legs were splayed and everything between was glistening, such a pretty sight that it caught his breath. But then he couldn’t merely admire any longer. He needed to feel, slide, possess.

Despite her slick arousal, she gasped as he pushed forward the first inch. Four years, he remembered, gasping too, the hold of her body was just that tight.

“Easy, easy, sweetheart,” he whispered, twining their fingers on either side of her head. “Let me in, just relax and I’ll slowly come in.”

The next inch was excruciating.

Hannah moaned.

“Shh, shh,” he crooned, holding there so she could get used to him. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”

She bit her plump bottom lip, creating white marks in all that pretty red. Her fingers tightened on his. “Tanner…”

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he reassured her, making promises he hoped to God he could keep.

“No,
no.
” She lifted up, her mouth latching onto the pad of his pec, and bit.

At the small sting, his shoulders jerked back, his hips jerked forward. Hannah’s body opened to him and he was fully seated, clasped in burning, yielding heat.

They both groaned.

It wasn’t supposed to feel this good. Sure, it had been eleven months, but he was over thirty and remembered quite well what a woman’s body was like. But this was Hannah’s body. Hannah’s demand, then…then Hannah’s surrender.

“It’s so good,” she whispered, a touch of awe in her voice. “It’s so good that you’re filling me.”

Hannah who had been celibate much longer than he had. So that’s what made the difference, Tanner told himself, flexing his hips to slide yet another, excruciating, spine-tingling inch.

She groaned again, her thick lashes drifting down on her sunburned cheeks.

Celibacy accounted for how different sex seemed to him this time. Yeah, that had to be it, he decided, pulling halfway out so he could thrust home again.

That had to be it.

Hannah’s hips tilted, and this time when he slid inside, her ankles crossed at the small of his back and urged him deeper.

Deeper. Faster. More. More. More.

One of them was saying the words aloud, or maybe they were just in his head…and in his blood…and in his cock that was going wild.

She was going wild too, arching up, grinding,
demanding that he give her everything he had. His mouth found hers, and when he thrust his tongue inside, she sucked on it, messing with his rhythm, sending his body even deeper than before as that tingle started at the base of his spine and moved down and up.

He hoped to God she was close, because he was seconds away from imploding. Lifting his mouth, he stared down at her, noticing the flush on her chest, the rosy tightness of her nipples, the way her breath was heaving in and out.

“Tanner Tanner Tanner.”

“Right here.” On his latest thrust he held himself still, inside of her, trying to delay the inevitable, desperate to detain the orgasm from breaking free.

She squirmed, the roll of her hips making him nuts.

“Hannah…no…” He closed his eyes as she did it again.

“Have to,” she said, her voice broken. “Have to…
Tanner.
Need…”

He knew what she needed. “Hold on, sweetheart, hold on.” Ignoring her little moan of protest and every demand of his own lust, he broke the clasp of her legs. Then he sat back on his heels, his thighs splayed wide, and draped her thighs over them.

The thrust was shallower this way, but he could touch her too, and he did, pushing inside even as he rolled her clitoris with his thumb. She gasped, arched, and the look on her face was almost as good as the clench of her inner muscles around his cock.

He made the dual move again, and her body arched
again, her breasts and their hard, reddened nipples rising in invitation. His free hand was shaking as he reached out toward one rigid peak.

“Sweetheart,” he said, catching it between the scissor of two fingers. His balls felt swollen and hot. “Sweetheart, sweetheart,
now.
” He pulled back, thrust forward, and used his hand to finesse the climax out of her.

She cried out. As her explosion rippled around his cock, his own orgasm detonated. He grunted, falling forward and catching himself with his palms against the mattress, helpless to do anything but let himself have his way with her.

Apparently she didn’t mind, because her legs came around him again and her arms tugged down his head, and as the last throes of fiery bliss shook him, she made love to his mouth like he was doing to her body.

It was the most erotic moment of his life, because even as his orgasm was winding down, her tongue was inside him like they were already on a second round. Finally, though, finally, his hips collapsed against hers, his skin twitching in reaction. She broke the kiss so they could both draw in a breath.

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Wow,” Hannah said.

“Yeah.” Another tremor shook him, and her body clamped down on his dick in reaction.

They both shuddered this time.

Her tongue came out of her mouth to swipe against her bottom lip. He couldn’t look away.

“Tanner.” There was a note in her voice he couldn’t decipher.

On sudden alert, he glanced up.

In the dim light, her eyes were dark pools. “We’ve never had sex before, have we?”

“What do you mean? In my car—”

“
We’ve
never had sex before, have we?” He still couldn’t read her take on the revelation. “I could never have forgotten that, I don’t care how many mojitos I downed.”

“Well,” he said, wary, but knowing he couldn’t lie. “No.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “Okay,” she said, nodding her head. “How soon can we do it again?”

T
he bar wouldn’t open for at least half an hour, but Bartender Jack had the music already blaring. Troy wore his earplugs and had turned off the lights in his office, but the relative quiet and the half shadows didn’t dull the clamor inside his head.

Guilt, anger at himself, the nauseating throb that signaled the beginning of one of his recurrent headaches, all three pounded on the inside walls of his skull. Unfortunately, not one of them was breaking free.

He folded his arms on the desk and dropped his aching head on top of them, cursing his weakness. Cursing himself. He deserved the pain, he supposed.

The last time he’d seen Desirée, he’d crushed her like a boot heel crushing a delicate flower.

“And you call me lazy,” said a voice from the doorway. “Here’s my butthead of a boss, snoozing when he should be stacking glassware or something.”

Desirée, the delicate flower.

Her belligerent sass would have made him grin if he dared risk moving the muscles of his face. Instead he lifted his hand and gestured with it, shooing her away.

As if that would work.

He heard her stomp farther into the room, each of her footsteps seeming to vibrate through the floor and into his head, adding more chaos to what was already tumbling inside his brain. She halted on the other side of the desk.

“Troy?” Her voice sounded uncertain this time and had lost its waspish edge. “Troy?”

“Go ’way, Dez,” he mumbled. He didn’t want to deal with her right now, and he damn well didn’t want her to see him like this. He wanted her dislike, not her pity.

Her fingertips touched his bare scalp.

His skin jittered and he cursed her, and what ever impulse that had caused him to shave his head in the first place. Funny, he often jabbed at Tanner by laughing at his long “sissy” hair, but now it was obvious his own big bad baldness didn’t render him more macho.

At least not where Desirée was concerned.

Hell. He had to be strong around her, he had to
stay
strong around her.

“Go ’way,” he said again, trying to put a Marine-like bark in his voice.

“You get migraines.”

“Not migraines.” He made himself lift his head and squint at her, even though the movement sent shafts of pain to his belly, where they knotted and writhed. “I’m fine. Get back to work.”

“One of my roommates at boarding school got migraines. She looked like you do when they came on. Mean, and her eyes squinched.”

He was glad he looked mean, he told himself. “My eyes aren’t squinching.”
Squinching. Yucktard.
What kind of woman made up words like those? They made his head hurt even more. “Squinching isn’t even in the dictionary.”

She ignored the criticism and lifted the receiver from the phone on the desk, and then, after glancing at the speed-dial list, pressed a number.

Troy didn’t know what number. He was directing the gaze of his squinching eyes off to the side. It seemed to help the pain.

“Tanner?”

That’s who she’d called, then. Troy wondered if his brother was coherent now. He’d called him that morning and Tanner had mumbled something about Hannah and sleep, which sounded more like “Go away, I’m having great sex.”

“Tanner, this is Desirée. Troy’s got a blazing headache and I’m driving him home. You need to get over to the bar and take his place…Yes. Yes. Can do.”

“Can do what?” Troy muttered.

“I told him I can seduce you to a quivering mass of jelly.”

“Honey, right now a harem full of girls who look like you couldn’t seduce me.” Christ, now the pain was causing him to spit out truths.

“That sounds like a challenge.” She walked around the desk and tried lifting him by the arm.

He didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere. And if I did want to go anywhere, I could drive myself. I know how to get anywhere I want, any time I want.”

“You’re babbling. And you couldn’t drive half a block, not with that squinching. So stop being an idiot.”

That was the problem. Being an idiot around Dez was one of his only defenses. Act the idiot, act the mean, unrelenting bastard, and she’d get tired of him and his abuse and take herself away for good. Forever.

He wanted that.

“Troy.” Putting her weight into it, she pulled on his arm again. “Let’s get you back to your den of Zen. You’ll feel better there.”

“Den of Zen?”

“Sure, I expected more of a stinky, sticky bachelor pad, but now that I know you’re a yoga-practicing vegetarian—”

“Vegetarian!” Shit, the syllables only made his head pound more. “I don’t know who told you that but it isn’t—”

“It is too true, and if you don’t get your stubborn butt out of that chair, I’m going to announce to everyone in the bar that your famous Macho Marine chili recipe is vegetarian too.”

He groaned. “You’ll ruin my rep.” This was blackmail.

“And laugh uproariously while I do it.”

Desirée considerately turned off her car stereo as she drove him home. Nothing could turn off his
alarm, however, at the reckless way she drove. Gritting his teeth, he braced his arm on the dash as she whipped into each turn. The first time it was a left one, and she pulled directly in front of an oncoming vehicle, sending his heart to somewhere near his nasal passages. When she almost overshot a stop sign and had to stand on the brakes, he lost his cool.

“Slow the hell down!” he shouted, the words pounding like another hammer in his skull. “You’re going to kill yourself like this. Or someone’s going to do it for you in an act of road rage.”

“What do you care? Then I’d be out of your hair for good.”

It was such a childish response that he wanted to strangle her. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dez, I’m in the car at the moment too.”

“Always looking out for number one.”

Flippant brat. How she goaded him beyond belief. “Believe me, Desirée. A beautiful woman doesn’t make a beautiful corpse. Severed arms and legs are pretty ugly no matter how fucking sexy they were when they were part of a package.”

“Hey.” She pulled into his driveway and turned to him with a bright smile. “So you think I’m fucking sexy?”

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead he opened the car door. “Thanks for the lift.”

She was out faster than he was. “I promised Tanner I’d get you all tucked in and make sure you took your medication too.”

Oh, crap. When he felt better he was going to take his little brother to the mat for this one. “He explained the lycanthropy, did he?”

“Yeah, Wolf Man, he did. And he told me sometimes you try to sweat it out through the full moon rather than taking your prescription like a good little puppy.”

“It makes me woozy.” Now
he
sounded like a child.

“That’s while I’ll be here to catch you.”

“My folks…” He gestured to the house next door.

“Are at their desert place, Tanner said.”

His head was hurting too bad to come up with another argument. She didn’t rub it in, though, and he was grateful for her silence as they entered his house. He went immediately to the kitchen and located his bottle of pills, then shook out a couple.

Dez was ready with a glass of water, and he took it with a grunt of thanks. Then he set it on the counter. “I’m going to take a shower now and go to bed. You can assure Tanner you’ve done your duty.”

He turned toward the hallway. “Show yourself out, all right?”

Lukewarm water sluiced away some of the tension. The medication was starting to do its thing too. As usual, it seemed to work on him from the outside in—fuzzing the edges of his brain first, then moving toward the middle.

He was working on a full fuzz when he walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, naked.

Desirée was sitting in the easy chair beside the bed. Her shoes were off and she had her bare feet stretched out in front of her. The headaches played havoc with his vision, but thanks to the pills, it cleared even as his thought processes got muddy. So
what he thought he was seeing came to him in sharp detail.

Dez’s bare toes dabbled in the pool of light from the bedside lamp. Each nail was painted a pale green, like a spring field, and tiny, multicolored flowers were scattered across them too. On each big toe was a perfect butterfly, the tips of their antennae glittering like jewels.

He knew it was a hallucination, of course. Not just because of those fantastical toenails, but because Desirée was silent, big-eyed, her mouth soft and unmoving instead of spewing her usual vinegar. Troy didn’t worry too much about the vision. It was sure as hell better than some of his nightmares, though he supposed he’d have to tell the doc what the pills were doing at his next appointment. For now he was planning to enjoy the pretty picture.

His gaze still on the delusion, he pulled back his sheets and slid into bed. Then he folded one arm behind his head and smiled at the daydream just a few feet away. Drowsiness was starting to descend like a curtain, just another of the medication’s side effects, but he didn’t mind it so much this time.

“Why don’t you come right here?” he whispered, patting the expanse of bedspread beside him. “Over there you’re too far away.”

His fantasy blinked slowly, then rose and walked toward the bed. It was so real that he felt her weight dip the mattress, and he turned on his side the better to watch her stretch out beside him.

“Are you all right?” she whispered back.

“I’m tired. You know the pills knock me out.”

“You don’t like the feeling.” The dreamgirl Dez
reached over to trail her fingertips along his cheek. “You want to always be in control. Why’s that?”

He would have shrugged if he could make his shoulder muscles respond to his command. But they were beyond him now. “Marine officer training,” he mumbled. “Leadership principles. Knowledge. Decisiveness. Dependability.”

“You can always be depended upon to think you know everything, I’ll decisively give you that.”

Troy tried lifting his heavy eyelids. His fantasy Desirée, the one he’d often brought into the shower with him along with a fistful of liquid soap, didn’t talk in that caustic tone. “Where’s my Dez?”

Her fingertips traced over his face again. “Shh. Right here. But how did you hurt your head, Troy? What happened?”

Without trying to open his eyes again, he frowned. She was a product of his brain, right? Then she should know what happened to his brain. “It was that ambush. On the highway in Afghanistan. Remember?”

“Mmmm.”

“The truck. I was up on the hill, and I saw the Marines down below who had the wire stretched out across to stop traffic. That truck didn’t stop. Got all tangled up. ’Course now know they meant to.”

“That’s right.” Her fingers traced his face again.

“Then our guys approached the driver. Two guys shot up from beneath tarps in the truck bed holding assault rifles. The checkpoint guys let ’em have it, but the bad guys had it too, RPGs, ammunition, fuel. Yeah, all that stuff went up in a blaze of glory. One of those sizzlin’ RPGs our guys blew up blew in just a little too close to my position. Concussion.”

“That would give me nightmares,” she whispered.

“Nah. That part was like the big finale at a Fourth fireworks celebration. But then another of those RPGs hit one of ours who was positioned nearby. Blew him the hell up, then his body parts rained down on me.
That’s
the nightmare, Dream Dez.”

“Troy.”

“That’s why the real Dez has gotta slow down in that damn car. Can’t lose her. Can’t take another nightmare.”

Dream Dez sniffled.

With effort, he reached out and pulled her closer. “C’mon.” By feel, he managed to turn her in his arms so he could spoon her body and cup one breast in his hand. Those damn pills. His pecker was soft, when wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be pressed hard and randy against the cleft of her perfect, fantasy ass?

With a sigh, he settled his cheek against the sandalwood scent of her long, silky hair. On a tide of medicated calm, he floated away.

Troy woke with full-on morning wood. For a moment he tried to ignore the sensation and fall back asleep, but then other sensations crowded in.

He had a woman in his arms, and not just any woman. One breath and he knew that scent. Desirée.

Opening his eyes, he lifted onto one elbow. Sure enough, she was asleep on top of the covers beside him. He was still cupping her perfect breast in his other hand. His hard pecker was pressed against her round butt.

He should be in heaven.

Of course, he was in hell. Last night he’d revealed his weakness to her. It came back to him in an unpleasant flash: In his memory he heard himself tell her about Afghanistan and then, worse, that he didn’t want to lose her.

Between one breath and the next, Desirée’s eyes popped opened. Her body didn’t move, only her eyes swiveled, so that her gaze met his.

It appeared neither one of them knew what to say.

He should be finding some way to recoup all he’d set free. He should be kicking her out of his bed or leaping from it himself, faking disgust or distaste or at the very least dismay. But then something happened to put all that from his mind.

Her nipple hardened against his palm.

Her pupils went wide too, and he saw her lips part.

Without thinking, he leaned close.

She pushed her head deeper into her pillow. “What are you doing?”

What he shouldn’t, of course. What he
really
shouldn’t after that kiss in the parking lot. Desirée was a boiling pot, always at the bubble and ready to burn him, her little spits and splashes stinging his skin, her steam fogging his brain.

She wasn’t the peace he’d been seeking since that horrific night in Afghanistan of brain-popping blasts and blood-and-body-parts rain.

“Troy…”

Peace or no, though, he leaned closer. Along the lines of the best defense being a good offense, Marines were trained as predators. And with Dez in his arms, with his cock ready for battle and his adrenaline now pouring like gasoline onto the flames of lust
starting to pump in his blood, there was no going back from this moment.