The Last Marine (11 page)

But even if he succeeded in his self-imposed mission and killed Randolph, would it be enough? Would he feel redeemed from whatever ate away at him? Or would he keep going?

Chapter 14

Two days later, Prudence had to re-evaluate her expectations of Griffin’s patience. He was stalking her like a predator.

They’d left their little paradise the next morning and discovered that small oases dotted the remainder of the desert. They’d just set up camp at the third one in three days. She also discovered some edible root plants that liked to grow near the water’s edge. Griffin wasn’t a huge fan, he complained about the lack of meat, but the roots kept their bellies from grumbling.

She felt his gaze on her. Felt cornered by the way he kept circling their little camp, doing this or that, but mostly watching.

On his thirteenth trip around the perimeter, she’d had enough. “Sit down.”

“Only if you sit in my lap.”

A very unladylike growl came from low in her chest.

He chuckled. “How ’bout a game?”

Her eyes narrowed. “A game?”

“Mm. I found a travel kit in that bag I pilfed. There’s a deck of cards in it.”

A simple card game might be nice to pass the time. At this point she’d do anything to keep him from stalking her. “Fine. If it’ll keep you from prowling around camp, let’s play.” She settled herself in the grass and waited while he retrieved the cards and joined her. “What game?”

“Poker.”

She arched her brows. Her father had enjoyed playing poker, but he often had to teach those he played the rules of the archaic game. “That’s rather old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

“Poker never goes out of style.” He grinned. “I played a lot while on tour. It’s pretty much the only game all the guys in our unit could agree on. We’d play for snacks, smokes, booze, whatever we had handy.”

“We don’t have anything to bet with.” If he thought she’d bet the items in her bag, he was howling mad.

“Don’t we?”

She harrumphed.

“Seems to me, you want something and I want something. You think you want me to leave you alone—”

This was ridiculous. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

His intense gaze locked onto hers. “And I want fifteen minutes of kissing you wherever I want.”

Her mouth went dry and parts of her that should want no part of any of this burgeoned to life.

“What’s fifteen minutes of foreplay against a lifetime without me bothering you?”

She bit her lip while she thought it over. Fifteen minutes of kissing him? She’d thought of little else since the last time. She’d come to like him over the last few days. He’d lost that wild air of desperation she’d glimpsed while they shared their first meal. His teasing had turned sweeter. Most importantly, he’d never harmed her. Never tried to take advantage. She’d grown to trust him. She just wasn’t sure she trusted him in this. He always had conditions where she was concerned. Her eyes narrowed. “Just kissing?”

“I promise I won’t stick any of my hard bits into any of your soft bits.”

The rogue. “Any?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up in wry amusement. “No fingers, no toes, no nose, no uncivilized cock.” He leaned back on one elbow, looking, at first glance, relaxed. On second glance, she realized his muscles were tensed. Coiled to strike.

Fifteen minutes against a lifetime free from his advances? She was curious if he could arouse her with such ease a second time. Fifteen minutes of kissing would give her a chance to enjoy his attention for a little while without any expectation for later should she lose, but if she won . . . she’d be free from the uncertainty. Free from the possibilities. “Okay.”

His grin spread into an evil smirk and he sat up to shuffle the cards.

He wasn’t a beginner. That was clear in the way he handled the cards. He fanned them down against the grass, then up against the bridge of his fingers, never faltering in the quick, graceful movements. What might it be like to have those clever digits play on her skin? In her soft bits? She snapped up her five cards and sorted them—jack, queen, ace of hearts, three of spades and a four of diamonds. If only the goddess would see fit to throw her a King.

“I dealt, bets already placed. How many cards?”

She agonized for long seconds. Should she discard the ace for a chance at the king? She discarded the four and the three. “Two.”

He dealt her two cards. Her heart stuttered in her chest—two fours. She had a horrible hand, had she kept the four of diamonds she’d be in a better position, but this was a losing hand if ever she saw one. She met his gaze—his intent, hungry gaze. There would be no renegotiating bets. What had she done?

“Dealer holds.”

Griffin appeared negligent about the whole thing, reclining back on one elbow, his cards face down on the grass. She wasn’t sure he’d even checked to see what cards he held.

He grinned. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

With a hard swallow, she put her cards down.

“Two fours, not bad.” He winked at her as he laid down four tens. “But not quite good enough.”

Oh, did he look pleased with himself. A nervous flutter of anxiety erupted in her belly. “We could play three out of four.”

He glanced past her into the horizon. “Sun's setting. No time.”

She gathered the cards up and put them back into the box, resisting the urge to throw them at his head. Once the cards were put away, she took a deep breath and leaned forward, offering him her face.

That infuriating grin returned. “No.”

“No?” She sat back on her heels. He played for a kiss, she was paying up, what was the problem?

“Stand up.”

With a curious glance, she complied.

“Very nice.” He reclined back on his elbows. “Now, unbutton my shirt.”

Her gaze shot to the black tee-shirt pulled taut over his chest.

The low rumble of his amusement rolled over her. “My shirt . . . that you’re wearing.”

If he thought she would renegotiate, he was delusional. “You said kissing.”

“Exactly. Me, kissing you, wherever I want. I figured you wouldn’t let me undress you. Wasn’t part of the bet, now was it?”

And I want fifteen minutes of kissing you wherever I want.

Her mouth went dry as the Black Desert. “I thought you meant location.”

“Mm-hm.” His lazy gaze hit her lips. “Location.” Her breasts. “Location.” The V of her jeans. “Location.”

She propped her hand on her hip. He’d tricked her. “Chief Payne—”

“Griffin.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Fitting. Both names.”

He chuckled. “Just so you know, my fifteen minutes don’t start until my lips are on your skin."

With a growl, she turned around and unbuttoned his shirt with angry motions. She should be happy—she’d gotten what she wanted, after all, but part of her was terrified. The part of her that knew her body didn’t behave like other women’s. She was frigid. Both the Parnells had reminded her often.

She slipped her bra off through the sleeves and removed her shoes and jeans. Luckily, his shirt came almost to her knees, covering her. There would be no getting out of this little bet and she only had herself to blame. Goddess help her, he’d see how skinny she was. How small her breasts were. The nervous excitement vanished, leaving her with a knot of dread wound tight in her belly. With one last prayer that this Marine was everything her father claimed a Marine to be, she composed herself. Distanced herself. She wrapped the garment tight around her body and turned, keeping her eyes focused on the horizon.

He stayed silent so long, her composure almost slipped. She wanted to scream at him to get it over with.

“Come here and lie down.”

She followed his command with all the emotion of a robot, lying down and placing her hands flat on her stomach. Still and silent, she waited for the pain. Literally, she supposed.

Why didn’t he get it done?

One warm hand wrapped around her foot.

Her foot?

She refused to look and see what he was doing. He must be messing with her. Was he examining her skinny legs? Her knobby knees? What set down would he give her?

He lifted her leg, bending her knee and something hot and wet slipped along her ankle. Open-mouthed kisses burned over her skin. His lips only touched her ankle, but her joints loosened as pleasurable tingles raced up her leg to pool low in her belly. The hands she had placed on her stomach, curled into the fabric of his shirt.

He drew a thin, wet trail up her calf to the base of her knee with his tongue. How did she feel that one stroke all the way in her breasts, her stomach and her pussy? She inhaled a deep, controlled breath.

“You’re a bit of a thing, but you’re all legs, Angel. Gorgeous legs.”

Gorgeous? He lied. She’d always been told her legs were too skinny, her knees knobby.

He traced the seam of her knee with that errant appendage of his and a shiver raced over her, lifting the hair on her head. He followed the path of her inner thigh, kissing, licking, nipping until he paused so close to her core that his cheek brushed her pubic curls. He sucked a spot on her thigh until she felt a tiny pinch. When she jumped, he backed off, soothing over the spot with the flat of his tongue.

She squirmed. She couldn’t help it. Her body had taken on a life of its own, making her want to strain toward him. He was so close to her core. . . . He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He skipped right over her center and started down her other thigh.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs on a shaky sigh. She tried to go back to ignoring him, she wanted to stay dispassionate, but all her nerve endings seemed to gather and pool under his lips, trailing after his mouth like tiny puppies seeking scraps. He got all the way down to her ankle, then disappeared.

Was time up already? Had he realized how ugly she was?

A shadow fell across her face and she heard his heavy breath a scant heartbeat before he suckled the pulse at the base of her neck. Her breath came out in a harsh exhale. He took his time, begrudging not one inch of her throat his attention.

Confusion clouded her mind. He didn’t act like a man disgusted with her body. But then, if he was enjoying her, shouldn’t he be rushing toward the deed? He had her almost naked and sprawled before him like some wanton light-skirt; why didn’t he take her? Instead, he nipped, suckled, and kissed. Goddess, she’d never define a kiss the same. This was no bruising, violent act of ownership. This was passionate, needy, and desperate. His kisses weren’t just about lips. They were about tongue, teeth, and harsh bursts of air buffeting her skin. They were lovely.

He drew her earlobe into his mouth and then disappeared again. The next place she felt the wet heat of him was her breast. Where had the shirt gone? Her fingers dug into the soft, thick grass as he pulled her nipple into his heat. His tongue battered her, sending sparks of need coiling deep in her belly.

The tone of his voice dropped low. “I take back what I said.”

What? What did he take back?

“It’s your breasts. They’re perfect.”

A pleased warmth heated her flesh.

“Your nipples are hardly a shade darker than your lips.” He licked her other breast. “Every time I look at you now, I’m gonna remember this.” He drew the tip into his mouth and she arched off the ground, shaking her head. She didn’t want him to remember this. Did she?

Her nipples tightened further as he scraped his teeth down her ribs, leaving her moistened breasts to the evening air. She squirmed and writhed when he found each of her ticklish places, teasing her into response. Her breath caught and held as he traced her mating mark with his tongue.

She let out a low, keening moan when he returned to her core, spearing his tongue through her curls and lapping at her. White-hot heat blazed over her flesh and her hips rose off the ground. Something deep in her belly wound tight. That wicked tongue of his found her entrance and sank inside her—his softest bit in her softest bit. The rogue. Everything inside her wound tighter, straining toward something.

“Look at me.”

She shook her head. He’d ruin it. He’d embarrass her. Punish her. And she was enjoying this, damn it.

“Let me see those beautiful, lavender eyes, Angel.”

She couldn’t refuse that request. Regret, yes. She was sure she’d regret obeying him. Her pride, her need for someone to see beauty in her had always caused her no end of pain. Still, she raised herself on elbows and looked at Griffin.

Face half buried between her thighs, those sea-green eyes of his didn’t waver once as he tongued her closer to something profound.

Orgasm? No. She’d never had one before. Not even when she tried on her own. Frigid women couldn’t find release.

His eyes sparkled with mischief. He sucked her clit into his mouth and her whole world shattered into stardust. A cry burst from her lips and she shuddered, her legs flexing around his head. Her heart pounded in her chest as the last ripples of release rolled through her. Goddess bless him, he’d done it. He’d given her an orgasm. She held on to the experience, held on to him and sent up a prayer of thanks. Maybe it wasn’t the same as reaching fulfillment during intercourse. She had no delusions she’d be able to experience such heights during the pain of sex. But the gift he’d given her left her awed.