barely held back a snort. Wrong? Oh nothing, except he was turned on. Extremely aroused. Hard. As. Hell. Other than that, he was peachy.
Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had sex in a while. Hell, he’d had some last night, several times, in the arms of a willing woman passing through Amarillo. He’d met her at the Lonesome Steer. They danced, shared some laughs and a few beers before ending up at the hotel where they’d knocked boots. And this morning, she’d thanked him for his service by doing some incredible things with her mouth. So, this massive hard on biting into his zipper right now was insane.
“Get in my bed.”
Chapter Five
Damn . That came out wrong. Sort of. Brett’s whole body tightened at the image those words created, and an instant later, he recalled Trisha’s taste, hot, giving, demanding, and the way the corporal had melted against him when they’d kissed in the driveway. That wicked tongue of hers, and how she’d boldly explored his mouth.
“What?” she squeaked.
He inhaled, then let it out slowly. “Take the bed. I get the couch.”
Damn woman shook her head and walked to him. Why the hell was she coming close? Didn’t she realize he had his hands jammed in his pockets to keep from grabbing her curves?
“That’s silly,” she said, stopping in front of him, indignation flying off her like welder sparks in the night. “Look at the difference.” She stood toe-to-toe, poking him in the throat where the top of her head reached.
Without her boots, the corporal wasn’t as tall as he was used to, hell , he could rest his chin on her head. Why she appeared petite and delicate, inspiring a desire to protect and keep her safe, he had no idea. She was a marine. A very capable marine. And yet…
“It’s stupid for you to take the couch when I’m much shorter, sir.” Blue eyes, clear and heated, stared up at him.
Christ . She was killing him. With some of her hair falling out of her ponytail, that thin, damn T-shirt barely covering her sweet spot, those eyes. So blue. So earnest. And her luscious, full lips? Heat skittered down his spine as he recalled how they’d felt under his—soft, warm…hungry. Yeah, she was killing him.
In a desperate attempt to hold onto his control, he stepped around the tempting woman and strode to the sofa. He couldn’t seem to think when she stood so close. It was damned annoying. He sank onto the mattress she’d vacated and proceeded to remove his boots.
“What are you doing?” She twisted around and glared.
“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like?” he asked, without glancing at her. No way was he going to peek at her peaks.
He peeked at her peaks.
Shit .
His erection twitched in a painful salute to her sexiness.
“But I was sleeping there.”
He gave his head a slight shake and cleared his throat. “You’re right. You were .”
She glared at him for a full thirty seconds more, chest rising and falling, nipples pushing against the material, testing his strength. His dwindling strength.
Mouth watering at the thought of drawing one of her delectable tips inside to tease with his tongue, he clenched his fist to combat the itch to touch the other. But part of his brain balked. This was wrong. She was one of his marines.
Disgusted with his lack of control, Brett grasped the bottom of his shirt and ripped it off over his head, effectively breaking eye contact with her hotness.
“Your chivalry is noted, Captain, but be reasonable,” damn woman continued to protest. “You and I both know I’ve slept in much, much worse. I was quite happy on the sofa.”
“You’re right. You were,” he repeated, his control nearing depletion. Irreparable damage imminent . He drew in a breath through clenched teeth. “Take the damn bed, Corporal.”
She shook her head.
Son of a…
Jaw cracking, he counted to five. Time to intimidate.
“You want to sleep here? Fine. We’ll share.” He rose to his feet and stared at her
Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had sex in a while. Hell, he’d had some last night, several times, in the arms of a willing woman passing through Amarillo. He’d met her at the Lonesome Steer. They danced, shared some laughs and a few beers before ending up at the hotel where they’d knocked boots. And this morning, she’d thanked him for his service by doing some incredible things with her mouth. So, this massive hard on biting into his zipper right now was insane.
“Get in my bed.”
Chapter Five
Damn . That came out wrong. Sort of. Brett’s whole body tightened at the image those words created, and an instant later, he recalled Trisha’s taste, hot, giving, demanding, and the way the corporal had melted against him when they’d kissed in the driveway. That wicked tongue of hers, and how she’d boldly explored his mouth.
“What?” she squeaked.
He inhaled, then let it out slowly. “Take the bed. I get the couch.”
Damn woman shook her head and walked to him. Why the hell was she coming close? Didn’t she realize he had his hands jammed in his pockets to keep from grabbing her curves?
“That’s silly,” she said, stopping in front of him, indignation flying off her like welder sparks in the night. “Look at the difference.” She stood toe-to-toe, poking him in the throat where the top of her head reached.
Without her boots, the corporal wasn’t as tall as he was used to, hell , he could rest his chin on her head. Why she appeared petite and delicate, inspiring a desire to protect and keep her safe, he had no idea. She was a marine. A very capable marine. And yet…
“It’s stupid for you to take the couch when I’m much shorter, sir.” Blue eyes, clear and heated, stared up at him.
Christ . She was killing him. With some of her hair falling out of her ponytail, that thin, damn T-shirt barely covering her sweet spot, those eyes. So blue. So earnest. And her luscious, full lips? Heat skittered down his spine as he recalled how they’d felt under his—soft, warm…hungry. Yeah, she was killing him.
In a desperate attempt to hold onto his control, he stepped around the tempting woman and strode to the sofa. He couldn’t seem to think when she stood so close. It was damned annoying. He sank onto the mattress she’d vacated and proceeded to remove his boots.
“What are you doing?” She twisted around and glared.
“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like?” he asked, without glancing at her. No way was he going to peek at her peaks.
He peeked at her peaks.
Shit .
His erection twitched in a painful salute to her sexiness.
“But I was sleeping there.”
He gave his head a slight shake and cleared his throat. “You’re right. You were .”
She glared at him for a full thirty seconds more, chest rising and falling, nipples pushing against the material, testing his strength. His dwindling strength.
Mouth watering at the thought of drawing one of her delectable tips inside to tease with his tongue, he clenched his fist to combat the itch to touch the other. But part of his brain balked. This was wrong. She was one of his marines.
Disgusted with his lack of control, Brett grasped the bottom of his shirt and ripped it off over his head, effectively breaking eye contact with her hotness.
“Your chivalry is noted, Captain, but be reasonable,” damn woman continued to protest. “You and I both know I’ve slept in much, much worse. I was quite happy on the sofa.”
“You’re right. You were,” he repeated, his control nearing depletion. Irreparable damage imminent . He drew in a breath through clenched teeth. “Take the damn bed, Corporal.”
She shook her head.
Son of a…
Jaw cracking, he counted to five. Time to intimidate.
“You want to sleep here? Fine. We’ll share.” He rose to his feet and stared at her
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