No Reservations (Special Ops: Tribute Book 1) (15 page)

“Oh, baby, you are so tight,” he groaned, entering her slowly.

It had been a while for her, to say the least. And her
channel clenched against him till he was finally fully buried inside her.

Quivering as her neck arched, she moaned.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Better than okay.” Her voice was a whisper turned to a gasp
as he slowly moved in and out of her in the rhythm that her body craved. He
thrust slowly at first, alternating each movement with a gentle kiss. First on
her mouth, then to her ear, stroking his tongue along the delicate curves, and
then he nibbled her lobe. He thrust again, harder this time, finishing it off
with his lips grazing against the curve of her neck. Then each thrust was
punctuated by a kiss to her breasts, gentle at first, then urgently, the
pressure he offered with his mouth mimicking the urgency she felt from the cock
throbbing inside her, granite-hard.

He rolled her onto her side, pulling one of her thighs above
his shoulder.

“Oh my,” she whimpered, feeling him even deeper in this
position.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

She couldn’t respond. Couldn’t think. Would probably not be
able to even tell him her name right now as she felt the tip of his cock
pounding, slowly, methodically, against her womb. A bead of sweat trickled down
between her breasts and she moaned again when he took it in his mouth.

Growing painfully hard inside of her, again he moved her to
her other side. She realized he was changing positions to prolong this, to stop
himself from reaching his own climax to soon.

“You don’t have to wait,” she told him.

“I do have to wait.” Endearingly, he pressed his lips to her
forehead. “We’ll only have one first time together. I want to make it last.”

Heart swelling at his words, emotion stoked the fire inside
of her. She shut her eyes, savoring the slide of him inside of her, the
pressure of being joined with him, the immense feeling of protection she felt
wrapped in his arms.

She could fall for a man like Maddox. If she hadn’t already.

Their gazes fixed on each other, with her drowning in the
cobalt eyes that she swore she’d never be able to wipe from her memory.

“You are so damn amazing, Bridget.”

His lips took hers, making her unable to reply, unable to
even think as he moved her onto her back, pinning her to the soft mattress,
thrusting deep into her core. His rhythm soon matched the intensity of his
eyes, and her body yielded to his completely, molding to him, fusing with him.

Skin slid against skin, the brushing of his chest against
her nipples making them pebble-hard as he pumped inside of her. Drawn tight,
every muscle in her cried out, aching from exertion, yet still she wanted more.

Dragging her fingernails across his back, she pulled him
closer, deeper, till his thrusts overwhelmed her, launching her on a wave of
thick, liquid heat till finally the crest was within her reach. As she cried
out, her body shuddering beneath him, he drove himself into her for one final
thrust, breathing out her name in a rush of passion till he finally relaxed atop
her.

Panting in unison, her body still vibrating from the
aftereffects of her climax, he pulled them both to their sides. They shared an
expelled breath, exhausted, and fully satiated.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was watching her, his
gaze almost tentative as it rambled over her, followed by the long, languid
strokes of his fingers along her neck and down her side, till he cupped a
breast in his hand and gave a gentle squeeze.

Her mouth opened just a touch, letting a murmur of pleasure escape
her until he slid himself out of her. She ached at the void inside of her core.

“That was definitely better than crab cakes,” he murmured,
his voice a rush of hot breath.

A smile touched her lips. “Oh, you just haven’t had
Annapolis crab cakes yet,” she responded, trying her best to look earnest till
she burst out laughing at the look on his face.

He rolled on top of her, planting a firm kiss on her lips.
“I’m gonna get you back for that one.”

She could feel the heat building between the two of them
again. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Garish red and pink loops and swirls punctuated by a fleur
de lis pattern greeted Maddox as he opened his eyes the next morning.

It was vile wallpaper, and definitely not what he’d hoped to
see when he awakened after making love to Bridget half the night. As the sun
struck its pattern accentuating its velveteen-like texture, he had to rub his
eyes to take it in, remembering how Bridget had told him she stopped pulling
wallpaper down when she had reached her own quarters.

He could only imagine what the entire inn had looked like
before Bridget moved in, and he had to admire her even more for the drastic
change.

Pulling his eyes away from the walls—no reason to
destroy his good mood with the gaudy 1970s throwback—he rolled over to let
them rest on Bridget who was still sleeping soundly next to him.

Her eyelids fluttered, as though she were in the midst of a
dream, and the way her pink lips curved ever-so-slightly upwards told him that
it was a good one. At least he hoped that was the case.

And he hoped even more that he was in it.

His body was relaxed in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.
Not just in that way that comes from having a good bout of sex the night
before. Or three good bouts of sex, as the case may be. But in a different way,
as though his soul was finally coming into tune with the rest of him.

When the dawn’s light from her window finally struck her
eyes, they flickered open.

“Good morning.” Her hushed greeting was sleepy, and the
smile she sent him swept his heart straight into her grasp.

“Good morning to you,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her. She
pulled him closer, her fingers weaving into his hair and forcing his bare skin
to meet hers. He eased his body over her, letting nothing come between them.

He could get used to starting the day like this.

His body responded to the sensation of her skin against his,
and he wanted to make a beeline to his room to retrieve the handful more
condoms that he hoped he still had somewhere in his duffel.

“What time is it?” Her voice was weary.

“Seven,” he replied, brushing a lock of her hair from her
forehead. “Why don’t you lay back and I’ll make—”

“Seven?” She bolted upright, the sheet falling from her skin
and revealing her breasts. On sheer instinct, his hand moved to stroke her, and
he smiled as he saw her eyelids droop and her body relax into the caress.

“Don’t do that. Don’t tempt me,” she whimpered.

“Why not?”

“It’s my open house tonight. I have to get things ready.”

A single eyebrow rose skeptically on Maddox’s face. “What’s
to get ready? The place looks great.”

Her eyes flared with exasperation. “I have to pick up the
party platters at the store. Do some last minute cleaning. Maybe hand out a few
more invitation fliers at the Academy gate. And I have to set up everything.”

“That’ll take fifteen minutes.”

“And I have to figure out what to wear.”

“You look great in anything.” He glanced downward. “Or
nothing.”

She smacked his hand away when he reached for a breast again.

“I’m being serious, Maddox. I need to stay focused today. I
need this to work.”

The urgency—the desperation—in her tone was like
a bucketful of ice water tossed over him, dousing his libido. “You’re right. What
can I do to help?”

With that, the morning began in a frenzy. No sultry slide of
her skin against his as they sipped their coffees in bed naked. No lingering
showers together with Maddox exploring her body with his hands lathered in
scented soaps. And no morning sex for Maddox… even though he
did
make
her an omelet.

But when ten minutes before five o’clock p.m. finally came, appetizers,
dips, and cheese plates filled the downstairs rooms, and the refrigerator was
fully stocked with wine and beer.

Holding the
Welcome
banner that they picked up at a
party store, he reached for the door. But Bridget’s small voice stopped him. She
looked at him, her eyes imploring.

“What if no one comes, Maddox?” Her voice was barely a
whisper.

“Of course people will come. You have free food and drinks,
and you’re next to the Naval Academy. Most new Ensigns can smell free beer from
fifteen hundred feet away.”

Cracking a smile, she looked at him from beneath a canopy of
soft lashes. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a survival skill. Do you know what the government pays
a Navy O1?”

A cool breeze gusted in through her door as Bridget moved
the doorstop so that it wouldn’t shut. When she turned around, she was facing Leia
in her doorway carrying two large bags.

“You came,” Bridget exclaimed, obviously relieved to have another
body warming her home now.

“Of course I came. And I brought some of my bestselling blend
of freshly roasted beans,” she replied, sounding a little like a commercial. “And
a grinder. Nothing draws people in like the smell of coffee beans grinding.”

Maddox took the bags and retreated to Bridget’s kitchen. When
he returned, Leia’s mouth was gaping and her eyes were full of humor as she fired
him a sly grin.

She knows
.

“How’d you sleep, Maddox?” she asked coyly.

“I can’t complain,” he answered cautiously, his eyes
searching for Bridget.

“I should think not.” Leia moved toward him. “I like you,
Maddox. I like you a lot. But that won’t prevent me from using that bean
grinder to decimate your dead body before I bury it if you hurt my friend.”

She was smiling as she said it, but the image still made
Maddox’s stomach lurch. He did, after all, remember that look on her face when
she had arrived armed with pepper spray his first morning here.

Leia took him by the arm. “And on that note, let’s go grind
some beans.”

He looked around quizzically. “Where’d Bridget go?”

“Upstairs. I made her change into heels. Nothing wrong with being
known as Naptown’s sexiest innkeeper.”

He could name a hundred things wrong with it, but he decided
it best to keep his mouth shut.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge needing a bit of alcohol
to deal with the image of Leia’s other potential uses for her bean grinder as
she turned it on.

“Want a glass of wine?” he asked after the grinding ceased.

“No, thanks. I gave up wine two years ago.”

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Well, good for you.”

“Yeah. Now I just drink scotch.”

He laughed at that, and walked into the living room to
retrieve the Johnnie Walker that Bridget had set out on a table near the
fireplace. After pouring two fingers for Leia on the rocks, he heard the
clip-clop of heels on the hardwood behind him.

His eyes settled on Bridget as if he hadn’t seen her in five
years. She looked stunning, wearing a navy blue sheath dress that showcased her
curves. Black heels accentuated the calf muscles of her bare, pale legs, and
Maddox desperately wanted to explore their gentle curves with his tongue.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her and all he wanted to
do was shoo Leia out the front door and lock it so that he could steal Bridget
away to the bedroom—any bedroom.

On fire from the sight, he moved toward her, needing to feel
his lips against hers.

But it wasn’t going to happen. A couple wandered in through
the open door with their invitation flier in hand, followed by another. Before
long, laughter filled the rooms of the inn, and the smell of coffee, wine, and
canapés drifted out the front door seeming to lure even more guests.

With the inn bursting at the seams, Bridget was in her
element, moving through the crowd, refilling drinks, and handing out the
brochures they had printed just this week. The inn was alive again, reborn as
the Shifting Sands, and stronger than ever.

Downstairs, friendly games of pool, foosball, and darts started
up and there was a pack of people surrounding the arcade. Upstairs, the wine
flowed, beer caps popped, and conversation reigned.

For the first time, Maddox could envision Bridget as that
successful innkeeper she aspired to be. He’d always seen her determination, her
vision, her creativity. But until tonight he hadn’t seen her as the people-person
she inherently was. The smile on her face was a stark contrast to the woman
who’d greeted him with a scream and a rolling pin a week ago. How different she
was when she was actually
expecting
guests, he observed, unable to
suppress a chuckle.

He could now see why she wanted to do this. It was as though
running an inn was somehow etched into her DNA.

A small, pig-tailed child darted through the open front
door, grabbing a canapé from the foyer table before her parents even made it into
the inn. The couple walked in behind her holding hands, and the man’s eyes
searched the crowd as though he was looking for someone.

Maddox glanced around for Bridget, but not seeing her, greeted
them. “Welcome to the Shifting Sands. Come on in.”

“I’m looking for the innkeeper,” he said.

Maddox cocked his head curiously. An old friend perhaps? “She’s
in the living room,” he directed them. “I’m Maddox. A guest here,” he finished,
extending his hand, and not quite sure how to define himself in this situation.

I’m Maddox. The guy who slept with the
innkeeper last night and is looking forward to doing the same tonight, if my
luck holds out.

The man nodded. “I’m—”

“Tyler?” Bridget’s voice interrupted. She stood there, her
mouth gaping. And Maddox knew this wasn’t just any old friend when the color
dropped from her cheeks.

***

“Tyler?” She felt her voice quiver at the sound of his name
on her lips.

 “What are you doing here, Bridget?” he asked, giving
her a quick, friendly hug that just about sucked the last of the air from her
lungs. “I thought I’d find your aunt here. Not you.”

“My aunt died. She left the place to me.”

“Oh my God. Bridget, I’m so sorry.” He glanced at his wife as
she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. His eyes widened. “I’m
sorry. Bridget, this is my wife, Bess.”

Straining to flash her a smile, Bridget reached out her
hand, but then opted to impulsively pull her into a hug instead. “Of course. I
remember you.” Her voice stopped short, recalling they had no idea Bridget knew
they’d gotten engaged. “I met you at a coffee house once,” Bridget quickly qualified,
remembering the first time she’d seen Bess, when she’d been oh-so-pregnant with
her daughter and ended up giving birth only a matter of hours after that. “So…
you got married. That’s wonderful.”

Bridget was almost surprised at how sincere the words were
as they slipped from her lips. Her gaze moved between the two of them. They
looked so happy, so right.

“And this is my daughter Abby,” Maddox said.

“Nice to meet you, Abby.” Bridget extended her hand and the
child reached a delicate hand out in response. She’d grown since that day
Bridget had last seen her, that day Tyler proposed to Bess. Even though Abby
wasn’t Tyler’s biological child, she had his stance, with proud, squared
shoulders and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She was perfectly adorable, with
her mother’s apple-red hair and shy smile.

 “So what are you doing in Annapolis? Are you living
here now?” she dared to ask.
Please say no,
Bridget thought
.
To
have to face him on her big night was hard enough. She wasn’t ready to bump
into him on a daily basis, reminding her of the life she once wanted so
desperately with him.

“No. Not anymore. We’re down in Savannah. I’m back with the
Rangers for a while. But we sponsored a mid at the Academy briefly before we
got PCSed suddenly. She graduated today, so we wanted to be here for it.”

“That’s great, Tyler.” She glanced toward the living room
where most of her guests were congregating. “Well, please come in. We have lots
of food and there are games downstairs. There’s a pool table and foosball and
an arcade…”

Her voice trailed as she was sucked into a different
conversation with a couple from Connecticut who would be coming to Annapolis
for the graduation again next year. Bridget handed them a business card and
brochure, and couldn’t help it when her eyes glanced Tyler’s way again as they
headed toward the staircase leading to the man cave. She watched him touch his
hand to the small of Bess’s back while his other hand took Abby’s as he told
her how he was once a champion pool player.

The little girl giggled at his words. “You say that about
all games, Daddy.”

Daddy
. Bridget wondered if he legally adopted Abby. Probably,
knowing Tyler. His broad back was facing her and she remembered the feel of it
beneath her fingertips. The warmth of his skin. The feeling of belonging she
used to enjoy every time he linked his fingers with hers.