Make Me (8 page)

Her voice squeaked out in a breathless whisper. “I’m a big girl. Let me decide if I want to be tangled up.”

Oh, she didn’t sound so big just then—more like weak and desperate, because no woman with any sense walked into something so obviously dangerous. Not on purpose.

He exhaled in a rush, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I won’t lie. That felt good. Too good maybe.”

“It did feel good.” Now she held her breath, understanding instantly why he’d done so. They were at a precipice, and the options were clear. Walk away from the pleasure calling them from within the smoky haze of uncertainty, or jump and pray no one got hurt.

He licked his lip, and she knew she’d have to kiss him again. Was there a choice? Not when that delicious sensation beckoned to her. She knew she’d never forget how amazing their first kiss had been. Rebecca closed her eyes, leaned in, and took her chances.

Pleasure marched an effervescent trail through her body almost the moment his lips returned to hers. So soft were those full lips, kissing her with a reverence that didn’t seem to fit someone she’d only just met the day before. Nothing was ever so perfect, so effortless. For Rebecca, this whirling, fizzy-headed feeling that made her muscles go completely lax was a genuine miracle. She’d been kissed before. Sure, there had been more than a few, but none had come close to what Manny was doing. His tongue lapped against hers in a slow, sensuous dance—hypnotic, persistent. This kiss flowed thick and sweet, honey in her mouth from a man whose strength as a Marine was known and whose tenderness was felt. Rebecca could have kissed him all night. Something down deep made her correct that statement—she could kiss him forever.

His hands kept a steady vigil at the back of her neck and on her hip, holding her in place for that endless kiss as though he knew the control he’d taken over her body. The hold was firm, certain. The way her body reacted to him seemed a visceral response to his touch. No, nothing was ever this perfect.

Manny’s lips slipped away from hers, bathing her jaw and then her neck with moist caresses while his thumb shifted pressure under her chin, tilting her head to his liking. She inhaled sharply at the sensation and tingled over the raspy grunt of desire that tumbled from his mouth. His hand retreated on a lazy path over her throat, her collarbone, grazing past her breast to join his other hand at the hem of her blouse. They eased to her belly, his breathing becoming more ragged as he took the fabric into his grip. She heard a growl. Only it didn’t come from Manny.

“Oh God, that’s embarrassing,” she grumbled.

“You’re hungry.” He sat back on his haunches, the spell between them broken. “Dinner should be ready in a few more minutes.”

He got up, and Rebecca wanted to beg him to forget her stomach. She was hungry for so much more than his cooking. “Don’t stop,” she said in barely more than a whisper.

“I promised to give myself time to get past some stuff before I got involved with anyone.” He wasn’t looking at her. He’d ducked into the kitchen, and she heard the oven rack screech with movement.

Rebecca didn’t know what to say to that. She was more than mortified. If only the futon would open up and swallow her whole. “OK.”

He returned. “No, not OK. You make me want to break that promise.” Manny looked unsure of what to do with himself, shifting his weight and completely unsatisfied with any place he put his hands.

Right then, Rebecca knew that Manny suffered with a broken heart. She also knew that she wanted to help him mend it, but only if she could find a way to be the right medicine. At that moment, he looked more tortured than he had before.

“We can stop. It was just a kiss.” Liar. It wasn’t anything less than epic.

Manny frowned at her, but the pinched expression passed as fast as it came. “I’m making a salad too. Do you like tomatoes?”

Rebecca was taken aback by his shift. She wanted to run over to him and take his broken heart into her tender loving care, to nurture him with kisses and slurps and—hell—with the kind of suction down low a Dyson would be jealous about. But she also felt a need to respect his wishes. They’d only just met. What business did she have expecting anything from him? Just because she wanted to get him naked didn’t mean that was what was going to happen.

She’d follow his lead. “Sure, I love tomatoes.”

He smiled at her then, and Rebecca couldn’t help but feel rewarded. Clearly Manny needed time. But exactly when was the last occasion she’d seen a guy want to take things slow? Hmmm…that would have been about a year past never.

Chapter Five

Manny tried to appear as though he wasn’t watching her, stealing glances at Rebecca through the pass-through as she washed up the last of the dishes. She’d insisted on doing it, as if another protest from him would result in something close to a tantrum. He knew to be afraid of sentences that didn’t have an ending: “If you don’t let me clean up after that amazing meal you fed me…” She’d even brandished the spatula at him.

Nope, not going there. Manny recognized a fight that he couldn’t win when he saw it. Now, he couldn’t wait for her to finish, so they could watch some TV together, like they’d done the night before. Nothing special, but damn if he wasn’t itching for her to get those pretty legs curled up next to him. It was crazy, but he missed her. Why had he pushed her away when his cock knew what it wanted?

Because his heart was tied up in someone else’s knot. A few hours earlier Kyle had only kissed him on the cheek and his body had all but caught fire. But Rebecca’s kiss had washed over him like a warm bath. He could soak in the sweetness he’d discovered in her. The soft coos she made when his tongue stroked against hers had made him want to know if they’d be louder once it stroked her clit.

Fuck, he was still hard. So why not slip behind her at the sink and press his cock into the cleft of that gorgeous ass, cup those perky breasts into his hands and tell her how much he wanted to give her the best orgasm she’d ever had?

Ninety days.
Twenty-five more to go.

As flirtatious as he could be, Manny had never been one to sleep around. Not that he had any lack of opportunities, but he wasn’t the type to do anything half-assed. If he was going to make love to someone, he wanted to feel it in more than just his dick. Anything less than real just wasn’t worth his time.

The thing with Kyle didn’t fit into either category. With all the sneaking and hiding, how real could it have been? In the middle of a war, thousands of miles away, they’d discovered a part of each other that for Manny became wholly addictive. His chest ached thinking about their narrow escapes from ground fire, finding themselves high on being alive and then horny as hell. The first time Kyle kissed him had been kind of a joke. Alone in their barracks, he planted him with a big I’m-so-glad-to-be-alive-I-could-kiss-you smackeroo, slapping his hands onto Manny’s face and drawing him in with comedic exaggeration. Manny had laughed, but Kyle then turned serious.

“Fuck man, if I had lost you…” His touch became molten on Manny’s face in that instant. Kyle swept his lips over his chapped, sunburned skin, and he trembled just slightly at the touch. Their mouths had then crashed into action with a roaring hunger that demanded satisfaction, no matter what.

Manny felt carried away on a wave of desire that was at once thrilling and natural. Kyle knew him better than anyone, and the two cared deeply for one another; it wasn’t a secret. In that wooden shed of a barracks they called home, they were alone—for how long, neither of them knew for certain. But Kyle had awakened an out-of-control craving in him that didn’t really give a fuck if someone walked in.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell might have just been repealed, but making out with your active-duty gunner copilot wasn’t exactly behavior befitting an officer. It had been a stupid risk, something Manny had stopped taking years ago. He liked to have his bearings, liked knowing what to expect. Kyle scrambled everything he thought he knew about himself. Was he gay now? He didn’t feel gay. He hadn’t even considered being with another man before. Deep down Manny knew it didn’t matter. Whether he’d ever want to be with another man or not, he wanted Kyle like he wanted air.

But what now? Kyle was New York’s most eligible bachelor, for Christ’s sake, and Manny had leftovers older than whatever he had going on with Rebecca. And yet, she already felt like a part of his life. He scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms, like a revelation would magically appear if he’d only open his eyes.

“Well, that’s done,” Rebecca said, bringing Manny back from his thoughts. She appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands. “So, umm…I’m going to do some reading.” Her thumb floated without determination in the direction of his bedroom.

“Really? I was kind of hoping you’d check out this movie with me.” He didn’t miss the confused look on her face. With the mixed signals he was throwing at her, she had every right to be confused. He looked away. “If you want to.”

She came closer, and he was thankful for her cheery smile. “OK, where do you want me?”

Boy, was that a loaded question. He noticed that she stood on the outside of her feet, balancing in a way that told him pounding the pavement all day in those fuck-me-hard heels had left her hurting. He took her hand and pulled her down next to him, then clasped her left ankle in his fingers, removing her shoe. Manny raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh yes, please,” she said to the first pass of his thumb against the ball of her foot. She relaxed back against his pillow with a blissful expression. “How did you know?”

He smiled, glad he had a smidgen of pleasure he could offer. “
Shhh
…we’re watching a movie,” he said, but the look on her face was far more interesting. How long would he be able to keep from plundering that perfect mouth again? He’d known Rebecca Sinclair for just two days, and already he could barely keep his lips off her.

“You keep that up and you’re going to make me fall asleep,” Rebecca murmured, patting her belly and letting out a yawn.

“That wouldn’t be so terrible,” Manny said, keeping a steady path between her toes, while his knuckles applied just enough pressure into her arch.

She hummed through a smile beneath hooded eyes. “No, it wouldn’t.”

* * *

Three a.m. was an ungodly hour to wake up. That is, unless you found yourself cocooned under a manly arm against a lean, muscled chest that just so happened to belong to the guy you were sure had managed to capture a bit of your heart. Rebecca didn’t dare move, or Manny might wake up and put her safely in his bed, away from the nice erection lodged against her thigh. At some point her leg had meandered over his waist. She didn’t remember doing it, so she figured she couldn’t be held accountable.

TV light still danced in the room, but the volume had been turned down. Rebecca chanced a sniff of his neck. Pure intoxication. Pure torture. She wanted to press her lips there, where his pulse beat steadily under his caramel skin. My God, what she wouldn’t do to get a lick.

He rolled toward her, still asleep, yet his expression was wrought with pain; pinched brow and those luscious lips pressed together in a thin line. His breathing became ragged and shallow. Rebecca noticed the way he suddenly clutched the sheet draped over them both. When the shuddering moans came, she knew a dark dream had him hostage.

“Manny.” She shook him gently. “Manny, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”

He held on to the darkness, or it held on to him. His furrowed brow had become dewy with sweat.

Rebecca doubled her efforts. “Manny!” She touched his face, cupping his cheek, and then tapped him not so gently on his chest. “Wake up!”

“Kyle.” The name fell from his lips just as his eyes opened.

Rebecca stroked his cheek, the way you might for a startled child. “I think you were having a bad dream.”

Manny sat up, wiped his brow, and looked around as though he needed confirmation he wasn’t where he’d been moments ago. He caught his breath, raking his hand over her head. “Fucking war. Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” She rubbed his arm. Manny’s eyes were wild, wide, and intense. His stare seemed enough to send her into flames.

“Come here.” He pulled her close, slipping his long fingers into the nest of curls beneath her ponytail at her nape. She went willingly as he commanded. The gruff tone was something she’d never heard him use.

His tongue found hers without apology, like a bullet to a mark. This time his hands found every reason to be under her blouse and no excuses for why they shouldn’t. Manny’s need was almost tangible, as real as the ache it promised to satisfy inside of her.

“Are you sure?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” He nipped at her lip, a lion under tenuous control.

She nodded, aching for him in a way that didn’t say much for good judgment. She knew he was suffering, nothing else was certain. “Let me try to make it better.”

Rebecca freed him from his T-shirt, and he returned the favor with her blouse. Even in the dim light of the television he was beautiful. Too many hours had passed since she’d seen that strong chest with its dusting of hairs on the sternum. Her tongue went right for a small brown nipple while her hand gained purchase on his strong shoulder. Since the moment she’d seen him shirtless and wet, Rebecca had wanted to lick at that little piece of candy. The sexiest sound she’d ever heard came from him then, and her hand slid over the ridges of his torso to settle against his cock. He was large and firm in her hand as she rubbed the length of him against her palm through his shorts. He rocked into her strokes, pulling her head from his chest and kissing her again. His hands scooped both breasts from the demi-cups of her bra, and his mouth left hers to rain attention on one and then the other.

She took in the sight—simple yet so erotic—as he lapped at the stiffened tips. He’d made her forget how to breathe. Her whole body tingled from the sensation and from lack of oxygen. The feeling consumed her from the inside out. His fingers had their own agenda, working the buttons of her shorts and sliding them over her thighs.