Falling for the Marine (A McCade Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen) Read online

  He moved first—or at least he thought he did—but the next instant they were tangled together. He was drowning in the taste of her—champagne and apples and something sweet and addictive that was just, plain Chloe—his arms were full of her warm, soft curves, and no matter how much of her he got his hands on, or how intently she clung to him, they couldn’t seem to get close enough. In between kisses Chloe giggled hysterically, which told him she was running on pure, unadulterated relief as much as passion. Truth be told, he felt a little giddy himself.

  “Come here,” he growled, and pulled her over the center console until she straddled him. Her lips locked on his and she proceeded to take his tongue into her mouth and treat it like her favorite candy. He dug through the folds of pretty, pink skirt spread over his lap, got a good grip on her pretty pink ass, and shifted her into a position guaranteed to drive both of them out of their minds in about three seconds.

  Her giggles were officially gone. A moan slid straight from her mouth into his and flowed directly to his cock.

  His thoughts devolved to single words. More. Now. He tried to break the kiss, with the half-formed intention of figuring out the best way to get her naked in such confined quarters, but she kept her mouth fused to his and clamped a hand at the back of his head for good measure. He groaned and leaned into her. She leaned back, which sent her hips sliding even more tightly against his. That felt so good he leaned forward some more. She wrapped her other arm around his head and bowed back, more…more… Her lower body rocked against his in a rhythm he was starting to recognize as her preferred pace. He tightened his hold on her ass, bent her backward a little more and—

  A horn blared. He jumped. Chloe jerked back, and the horn blared again, inconceivably loud. Wide, dilated pupils sought him. “What the—”

  “It’s us.” He shifted her into a more upright position. He’d had her bent back so far she’d braced herself against the steering wheel and accidentally bumped the Jeep’s horn.

  His explanation seemed to satisfy her. She lowered her eyelids, ran her hand along his jaw, and brought those spectacular lips back to his. He could feel himself giving in to the reckless desire that seemed to grip him whenever he got too close to her. Urges that made him forget about goals and tugged him off the straight, narrow path he’d set for himself. It took a huge dose of self-discipline to wrap his hands around her upper arms and hold her a hairbreadth away. “Not here.”

  They were parked under a streetlight, directly in front of his CO’s house, for Christ’s sake. He needed to get himself in check, and—she rocked against him as best she could given the tighter angle. The move sent his good intentions into a tailspin. Then she groaned his name and the sharp-edged frustration he heard in her voice perfectly echoed his own.

  “Not here,” he repeated and ran his hand up and down her back. He nodded toward the house on the opposite side of the street where a woman stood in the doorway, clipping a leash to a golden retriever’s collar.

  She glanced at the woman and then looked back at him and summed up the critical dilemma. “Home is too far. Where can we go?”

  “I have an idea.” He dropped her back into her seat and started the engine. The Hardings lived on the last street in the planned community. The backyards of the houses along Dolphin Way faced the bluff. Nothing stood between those backyards and the bluff except an unpaved fire access road. No streetlights. No houses. No audience…unless some other desperate couple had already parked there. “Hold on.”

  Chloe gripped the dash as he peeled away from the curb, but as soon as the ride stabilized, she leaned back in her seat and said, “Hurry.”

  “I am hurrying. Lift up your skirt.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  He glanced over at her. She raised her eyebrow but then slowly drew the skirt up, baring her legs, her thighs. He looked back at the road.

  “Touch yourself.”

  “I’ve spent the last twelve months touching myself. I have a better idea.” She took his hand off the wheel and guided it to her, and, Christ Almighty, she felt soft and warm and incredibly wet. His dick immediately snapped to attention, and he had to swallow a curse. “This is a risky game, Chloe.”

  The smile she leveled at him in return made him want to stop the car, pull her out and take her right there on the hood of the Cherokee.

  “In case you haven’t figured out by now, I like to take risks.” She moved his hand over her in a tight circle, increasing the pressure and speed a little more with each pass. He listened to her breath quicken and struggled to keep his eyes on the road.

  Apparently his ability to multitask could use some improvement, because he misjudged the curb when he made the turn onto the access road, bounced onto the dirt trail, and stomped on the brakes. Directly in front of them was a bluff-top, one-hundred-and-eighty degree twilight view of the Pacific that any photographer would have been happy to frame in his viewfinder, but it was wasted on Chloe because her attention wasn’t on the scenery beyond the windshield. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back, and a dewy glow of sweat sheened her face. She was biting her lip as she worked herself against his palm. He put the Jeep in park, and set the emergency brake, but left the battery on so the air-conditioning kept pumping cool air into the interior.

  She looked so beautiful, wrapped in the last fading shades of dusk and dappled in moonlight, concentrating fiercely on the orgasm she was chasing, he almost hated to interrupt. He let her ride it out a few more precious moments, to get a little closer, and then he extricated his hand from her grasp and danced his fingers over her heated, swollen folds, experiencing a ridiculous surge of satisfaction when she whimpered. She opened her eyes and looked around at the darkening scenery.

  “Are we there yet?”

  And now he wanted to laugh. All part of the Chloe magic—passion and humor. “Yes.”

  “Good.” She unbuckled her seat belt, then his, and reached for the fly of his pants. “I can touch you now.”

  “Not so fast.” He cut her off, because he’d explode in two seconds if she got her hands on him. “You’ve been a naughty girl, remember? You’ll have to earn your privileges.” He leaned over, grabbed her hips, and helped her climb onto his lap.

  “How?” she had time to utter before he kissed her again.

  They were both breathing hard by the time they broke for air. Her eyes were slumberous and incredibly sexy, her hands were anchored in his hair as if she worried he might try to get away. Or maybe for balance, because his hands were under her skirt, palming her ass, moving her up and down and enjoying the friction of their bodies brushing together through their clothes.

  What felt this good through clothes would feel even better without them. “Off.” He tugged at her dress. “This needs to go. Now.”

  “Back zipper,” she panted, busy unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest.

  His fingers scrambled along the back of the dress, found the zipper, and yanked it down. Then he bunched the skirt in his fists and started drawing the dress up her body. She struggled to undo the last few buttons of his shirt before he got to the point where she needed to let go to raise her arms over her head. She didn’t make it and ended up pulling the shirt apart, sending buttons flying. “Oops.”

  “Uh-oh. More naughty behavior. That’s a setback.” He forced her arms up and yanked the dress over her head.

  She brushed her hair out of her eyes and laughed. “Oh, I’m trembling.”

  “You will be.” He tossed her dress into the back seat and snagged his fingers in the front of her bra. A second later it joined her dress in the backseat.

  The cool air from the vents kissed her breasts, contracting the nipples. She crossed her arms over herself and craned her neck to look out the windshield. “Holy…crap. I-I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  He kissed the hollow of her throat where her pulse hammered. “You like to take risks, remember?”

  “I know, but I feel so…exposed.” Her vo
ice quavered on the word, and he loved the small sign of vulnerability.

  “You are exposed.” He didn’t bother denying that part, since she was sitting on his lap, naked as the day she was born. “But only to me. You’re completely safe. I promise.” He kissed his way along her collarbone, and covered her breasts so he could feel her nipples against his palms. “Does this help?”

  She arched toward him and her head fell back. “It helps…something.”

  Full, warm breasts seemed to swell in his hands. He pinched the distended tips lightly, and just a little harder when her breath hitched and she drove her hips into his. He was determined to get her past the point where she had the capacity to focus on any external worries. The only thing he wanted her worried about was what he would do to her next.

  He palmed her ass and lifted her until he could suck one tight, pink peak in his mouth. She squirmed and cried out and then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Nervous eyes collided with his.

  “Nobody’s going to hear you. The windows are closed, the nearest homes are a hundred yards uphill,” he assured her, drawing her hand away from her face. “Scream all you want.” He sucked the other breast. She cried out again, but this time he heard less surprise and more unvarnished yearning in the sound.

  A sudden compulsion to taste those cries swamped him. He lowered her until their mouths were level. She sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him like his tongue was her favorite treat. He went back to squeezing her ass, lifting and lowering her hips, but this time the feel of skin against skin, hard nipples scraping his chest, nearly undid him.

  “Michael, I need you inside me.”

  He eased a finger into her and closed his eyes as her body clenched around him.

  “Oh God, oh God.” She shivered uncontrollably. “You know what I meant. Please.”

  “I’m about to please you.” He glided his thumb along the point where he possessed her. Yes, he was torturing them both, but he had promised some punishment.

  “I want to come…with you.”

  “You want my cock inside you?” He raised his hips and ground against her a little.

  “Yes.”

  Hearing her say so brought him close to the edge, but he buckled down on his lust. “You have to earn it. Come for me first, like this.”

  She twisted her fist into his shirt and made a tormented sound as he nudged his finger deeper. That seemed to give her something to ground herself to—a focus—and she pumped her hips in a quick, steady rhythm. He bent his thumb so she could use the knuckle as a backstop, but otherwise let her do what she needed to do. Their mouths slid together and apart, together and apart, as she rode toward glory. Her body shook. Her skin glistened in the moonlight. She bucked and strained and struggled for release, but after several long moments, she lowered her head to his shoulder and rested against him, breathing as if she’d just sprinted uphill. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t—”

  Oh, no, she definitely could. “Liar,” he teased, and slipped another finger inside her hot, tight channel.

  “Oh…oh sweet…”

  He thumbed her clit.

  “Heavvvvven!” She came—long and hard and with total, unrestrained, abandon. And he loved every fucking second of it.

  Before she finished shuddering, he scooted her back a few inches, managed to get his fly down without injuring himself, and get the condom out of his pants pocket and onto his dick without mishap. When everything was ready for her, he pulled her closer and looked into her stormy gray eyes. “Now you’ve earned my cock.”

  Her eyes widened. She dug her knees into the seat on either side of his hips and positioned herself over him.

  “Are you ready?” He hoped to God she said yes, because he was light-headed at the thought of finally being inside her.

  She rested her damp forehead against his and stared back at him with such a naked expression his heart melted. “I’ve been ready for days.”

  He covered her lips with his and absorbed her cry when he plunged into her.

  Things got kind of frenzied after that. Her first orgasm had left her soft and giving, but still so incredibly tight. They fit together perfectly, as if she’d been made for him. He wanted to go slow, to make sure he brought her back to the brink before he unleashed himself completely, but the sight of her bathed in moonlight, and the intensity of her body clutching him, overrode his good intentions. He dug his fingers into her hips, lifting her, rocking her, stirring her for all he was worth, grunting when she arched her neck, curled her fingernails into his shoulders, and matched him thrust for thrust. And still, it wasn’t enough.

  The next thing he knew, she reached down between the seat and the door, found the lever that controlled his seat, and sent him reclining…all the way back. He slid his hands behind her knees and pulled her even closer, sank into her even deeper. “Like that,” he gasped, let her inch up, and then brought her down on him again, appreciating the extra depth provided by the new angle. “Just like that.”

  Her feet slid into the gap between the seat and driver’s side door, on one side, and the center console on the other. “My heels—let me take them off. They’re going to tear the leather—”

  His lungs were on fire. His balls were slowly being sawed off by his zipper. None of it mattered. “I don’t care. Rip the seat to shreds, just don’t stop.”

  God bless her, she dug those high heels in and increased the pace.

  Their bodies slapped together. “Jesus,” he heard someone swear from a long way off. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, in time with every slap of flesh against sweaty flesh. Then she tensed up, grabbed a handful of his hair in an iron grip, and stared down at him, into him, as if he was the only person in her universe.

  “Michael,” she sobbed. A tear rolled to the end of her lashes, trembled there for a second, and then broke free, leaving a wet trail down her cheek.

  His heart stopped cold, paralyzed by the sudden fear he’d hurt her, but she hugged him to her and murmured, “So good. You make me feel so good. After all this time, I’m glad it’s you.”

  And then he knew. He was her first since the divorce. A mix of emotions swirled in his chest, but all he could say was, “Chloe,” through a throat as scratchy as sandpaper. And then he lost himself, driving into her blindly and holding her tight while the world spun away, and his body came home, and a voice somewhere inside him wondered how he’d ever let go.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Yeah, baby. That’s right. Straight down the line. Stay on it…stay on it…fuck me, did you see that?”

  Dane cheered and jostled Michael’s beer in the process, but he forgave his friend because he had to admit the inning-closing double play the Padres just pulled off was a thing of beauty. And passing a few hours on the shady side of the stadium, watching the Padres annihilate the Nationals, wasn’t a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

  The players hit the dugouts. Dane sat back, smiling, and turned to Michael. “How’s your back holding up?”

  “Fine. Not a twinge since Friday.”

  “Awesome. A good masseuse can work miracles. I’ll bet you’re a believer now.”

  Michael didn’t offer a response, and Dane didn’t seem to expect one. “I’ll schedule you for an MRI next week and we’ll see how things look. Maybe get you into the cockpit sooner than expected.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “And speaking of good masseuses…how’s the wife?”

  He didn’t waste his breath correcting Dane. “She’s good.” Too quiet and too still. After all the fireworks last night, she’d been subdued on the way home. Normally, he appreciated a relaxed, peaceful drive as much as the next guy, but there was nothing peaceful or relaxed about her silence. Quiet Chloe had him worried. Yes, she’d gone along when he’d tugged her to his bed, and she’d stayed all night—sleeping with the abandon of a four-year-old, stealing all the covers and more than her fair share of the mattress real estate in the process—but it didn’t do much to di
spel his impression something troubled her. She’d been pensive this morning.

  “How come she didn’t join us? I could have scored an extra ticket.”

  “She’s not much of a baseball fan.” Which he understood, given her past, but, then again, something in her expression told him she would have declined no matter what the activity, so he couldn’t lay her absence at her ex’s doorstep.

  Dane sipped his beer. “Ah well. Nobody’s perfect. What’s she up to this afternoon?”

  He had an inexplicable vision of her packing her stuff, and an equally inexplicable, completely knee-jerk compulsion to rush home and make sure she was still there. He forced his muscles to relax, stared at the field, and shook his head. “I don’t know. She said something about freeing her Chi.”

  “Huh. What’s that mean?”

  “No clue.”

  “Sounds hot, though.”

  Michael wasn’t so sure.

  …

  Chloe stood on a chair and taped the roll of aluminum foil to the top of the bathroom door. Once secured, she stepped off the chair, carefully rolled the foil down the back of the door, and cut it on the serrated edge of the box. She smoothed the length of foil against the door, making it as flat and shiny as possible. When her blurry, slightly distorted reflection stared back at her, she got down on her knees and taped the hanging end of the foil under the door. Then she sat back, tipped her head to the side, and squinted at the copy of Everyday Feng Shui lying on the carpet beside her.

  She’d already decluttered the living spaces, as she’d promised Michael, and, coincidentally, the book recommended. Now the items on display served a purpose, which she figured a purpose-driven guy like Michael would appreciate. The grouping of red candles on an end table symbolized fire. The green beads she strung through the light fixture over the dining room table represented wood. The blue silk scarf draped along the back of the sofa symbolized water. Her pair of espresso-colored throw pillows stacked in the corner of the living room symbolized earth, and the trio of nail polishes she grouped on the kitchen counter, in shades of gray, silver, and white represented metal.