Always a Marine 21 - Lest Old Marines Be Forgot by Heather Long

he comforted her embarrassment over her breakdown and accepted her need to cry, kindled a heat so foreign it had actually taken her a moment to recognize the sensation as desire. Asking for a do-over had seemed a fair compensation for the dignity and respect he’d shown her. Anticipation rising, she’d nearly choked when he’d started the count over. The spike in her frustration had also amped up her determination. It had been difficult to start the count over again, but when he closed his mouth on hers—a wild burst of ecstasy swept washed her under and she forgot to think.
    Short, jagged bursts of color dazzled her and she arched into the kiss, demanding more from the bold invasion of his tongue that came straight out of her wettest dreams, all masculine and hot. The steel band of his arm around her flexed and then she wasn’t on the ground anymore, but held to him and damn, what a man to be wrapped up with. Hot, and unapologetically male and her palms itched to find the skin beneath the crisp fabric of his jacket and shirt.
    Breasts aching, she had to settle for caressing his nape and skating one hand up to stroke through the short, crisp hair on his head. If he let it grow out, it might thicken up. As it was, the softness teased her palms. She wanted to fist her fingers into it and feel his luscious mouth on her naked skin.
    Raw, wanton need exploded through her veins and it had nothing to do with the holiday, a lifetime of loss, or anything more than she wanted to explore the passionate side of this man who’d been so focused on her all evening. He lifted his head and she He lifted his head, and she whimpered a sound—all low, needy. Panting hard, she opened her eyes to meet his gaze— God, he’s acting as half-starved as I feel ….
    A purely feminine shudder passed over her. Kissing her had put that look on his face and it was a wonder to her. “Happy New Year,” she managed to whisper, barely recognizing the husky note of her voice.
    “I meant what I said earlier,” he said, all sober control and steady focus. The hungry dilation of his pupils, however, betrayed the calmness of his voice. “Nothing has to happen.”
    Who was he trying to convince? Swallowing, she fought to pull her fragmented thoughts back to the realm of reality. No, clearly nothing had to happen. The man’s restraint was a thing of beauty, but…. “I want something to happen.”
    His nostrils flared and a hint of a smile touched his gorgeous mouth. “Brenda….”
    “Shh.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, aware of how easily he continued to hold her, as though she were light as a feather. “You know, I thought Amelia was insane to push me to do this.” Actually she’d used far harsher words—interfering and pushy being only two. “But….” Her heart stuttered and her stomach clenched. “But I like you. I’ve been in a holding pattern for years, and you are way outside my comfort zone, and utterly not, all at the same time.”
    Strange how saying it out loud increased her vulnerability. She didn’t want to feel so raw and exposed, but she didn’t want him to walk away either. He didn’t answer immediately, but a muscle worked in his jaw. “I’m not sure I won’t be rough….”
    The concern underscoring that admission melted her. “I’m not going to break,” she promised. “I’m not that fragile.”
    “No.” He stroked a thumb over her throat and everything in her went loose and hot at the low growl in his voice. “You’re perfect.”
    “Then be as rough as you need to be.” She didn’t know where that encouragement came from, but she wanted to go with it. She wanted to be used until they were both wrung out from the pleasure. If words weren’t enough, she caught his face in her hands and pulled him into the kiss, pouring all of her longing into the contact. One moment she was in his arms and the next, she was on the bed, her dress landing somewhere on the floor.
    Heat scorched her as he paused to