Basic Training (6 page)

“But…” Any idea of proving points or proper decorum or even preserving friendship was forgotten as he tumbled backward onto the table, dragging her with him so that she spilled on top of him. “Trav!”

But he didn’t stop. She didn’t retreat. And no one was laughing.

As her pliant body molded to his harder places, he reclaimed her mouth and drove his tongue deep inside. Whatever rationale she’d intended to stand by was dashed away in the full-body press of their kiss.

B
ASE TO
McCormick. McCormick, come in! Retreat! Retreat!

Even disguised in his commanding officer’s voice, the warning signals firing off inside Travis’s head couldn’t get through the static of full-blown desire that was short-circuiting every commonsense impulse in his body.

Tess’s predictions were wrong. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t thinking of baseball. And he sure as hell wasn’t thinking of his sister.

This girl was a natural. Every move he made, she answered back with her lips and a chorus of hot, sexy moans that hummed in her throat. He’d wanted her closer and she’d obliged. No, she’d taken charge with eager abandon. Crawling on top of him, straddling his hips, rubbing those knotted firebrands against his chest and sinking her white hot promise of satisfaction against his throbbing groin.

He tangled his fingers in the caramel silk of her hair and freed it from its twisty thing in the back. The wavy strands fanned around their faces like a privacy curtain, daring him to do what he would to her lush, responsive mouth.

“You’re…” she nipped, he thrust, “a great…” he traced her lips with his tongue, she softened beneath his
probing touch, “kisser,” He finally finished. She angled her mouth and demanded full-on contact, he accepted the challenge. Endless moments passed before they came up for air. “Been practicing?”

“Not much chance of that around here.” She pushed her tongue inside, erasing Travis’s questioning frown. He wanted to sort out the cryptic comment, but he was too busy losing himself in what had to be one of the best kisses of his life. He’d rank it number one if he only counted the women he remembered.

There’d been one back in college. A fantasy kiss. A mystery woman. He’d never been that drunk before—had wisely never been that drunk since. But whether that make-out session had been the perfect solace for his breakup with Stacy, or just a feverish wet dream, he’d probably never know.

“Travis?” Tess was squiggling again, rubbing choice parts against bits of his anatomy that leaped in eager response.

“I’m with ya.” Reality topped fantasies and shadowy memories every time. He tightened his arms around Tess and reclaimed her kiss.

“Mmm,” she moaned with a ragged impatience that matched his own. He dragged his lips to her throat to lap at the sound and taste the drumming beat of her pulse beneath his tongue. “Trav—” she gasped, arching her back and inviting his lips into the unbuttoned gap of her shirt.

Retreat! Retreat!

But Travis was ignoring the order in lieu of discovering the exact spot where the taut skin across her collarbone and sternum gave way to the softer swell of a
breast. His pulse pounded in his ears and his nose filled with the arousing scents of citrus and sunshine that clung to her hair and clothes. His mind was lost in the moment—lost in the reawakening sense of manhood, potency, virility, success. He was lost in the woman.

She’d dared him to kiss her.

Seemed like a sweet deal. In exchange for putting his father’s fears to rest, he could erase a few doubts about that future spinsterhood she questioned. Give her a shot of confidence. Offer a little expert training to make Ashton sit up and notice the new Tess Bartlett he had become aware of. As a bonus, he could explore, fulfill, then finally cast aside this crazy need that had tormented his waking moments as well as his dreams.

Except…nothing in him seemed to be easing, abating. The more contact he had, the more he wanted. He skimmed his hands along the backs of her smooth, sinewy thighs. Up beneath her shorts. Inside her panties where he kneaded and squeezed a handful of that tight, gorgeous ass.

He tugged her across his chest until one sweet, ripe breast dangled above his mouth. Lifting his head, he captured her nipple through shirt and bra, and suckled until she squirmed and moaned and batted helpless fists against his shoulders.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he wanted to coach her. “Don’t fight it. Just enjoy.”

“Travis—” she gasped. Her fists beat a little harder, but her thighs convulsed around his hips in an unspoken signal of pleasure.

“Touch me.” He suckled harder and a tremor racked through her body. “We need…” The cotton knit was wet
enough that he could feel the seam of her bra, the puckering of her areola, the needy, greedy thrust of her nipple dancing inside his mouth. “…to touch.” He worked his hands between them, unhooking the button of her shorts.

Her fingers slid beneath his shirt, finding and singeing his sensitized skin with her hot, seeking hands. “Like this?”

“Oh, yeah.” Travis grabbed at the hem of her pink top. Her back was smooth and supple beneath his hand. He shoved the shirt up and reached for her bra clasp. He wanted a naked, straining tit in his mouth. Now. He fumbled with the hooks. “Damn.” He was out of practice. This was going to be a two-handed job.

“We should slow down.” She palmed a pectoral. How could he possibly slow down? “Do you think we—?”

“Yes.” She brushed her lips against his and he caught them, silenced them. One hook popped. “It’s just a kiss.” He nipped at her. “Just…” The sensuous curve of her bottom lip fit perfectly between his. “Kiss…”

Pop. The last hook gave way.

He was done talking.

He bucked beneath her, bouncing her up, then sliding his hands inside her shirt and bra, catching her bounty in his palms. She groaned. “This is too much.”

It wasn’t enough.

He squeezed the dusky tan nipples between his thumbs and forfingers and guided one of them to his eager tongue.

When his teeth got a little nip of the action, her sexy moans erupted into an erotic yelp. He might have laughed when she clapped a self-conscious hand over
her mouth, if he wasn’t so far gone himself. He rolled, letting her slide onto the table beside him. This was the kind of physical therapy he could get into. This incendiary connection had only one place to go, and he intended to take it all the way. He snatched at her zipper. He’d suffered through hell this past year and had no doubt the solace he’d find burying himself inside Tess would go a long way toward his recovery.

Where the hell had he been for almost twenty years? Not to notice Tess this way? Not to want her like this? This must be summer magic messin’ with his head. A moment stolen out of time. It was as if all the surgical teams who’d stitched him back together had altered him somehow. He hadn’t been with a woman since the accident. The setting was wrong or the timing was off or he just hadn’t been in a friendly mood. But with Tess, in the middle of the afternoon in a public hospital’s therapy room…hell, he couldn’t get inside her fast enough.

When he reached for his own zipper, he cursed, realizing he wore those damn pants where he had to pull everything down in order to take care of business. Warning her of his intention with another kiss, he twisted himself and lifted her, trying to ease her onto her back so he had room to maneuver. The table stayed rock solid, but his stiff leg protested the sudden acrobatics. A lightning bolt of pain shot through his knee and fired every nerve from his thigh to his hip, effectively stunning all interested parties in between. “Son of a bitch.”

Every muscle in him clenched and Travis gritted his teeth, breathing through the aftershocks of pain and frustration. The game had just been called on account
of his frickin’ body letting him down one more time. Bye-bye, sex. Bye-bye, solace. Bye-bye, Tess.

Hello, reality.

“Trav?” Tess froze, her arms clutched tightly to her exposed breasts. Her voice sounded ragged and distant though she was only inches away. “Did I hurt you?”

“Did you…?” Travis collapsed onto his back beside her and let the colorful commentary rip again. “No.
You
didn’t do a damn thing.”

They lay side by side on the narrow table, facing the ceiling’s fluorescent lights. He still had one arm trapped beneath her shoulders, one hand still splayed with possessive intent atop the dimple of her belly button. The diaphragm muscle beneath his palm rose and fell, indicating the same desperate need for oxygen and sanity that he felt.

She whispered into the charged atmosphere still heating the air around their bodies. “This was a mistake.”

No shit. But not because she’d done anything wrong. “I’m the one who screwed up. I let that get way out of hand. I was just supposed to kiss you, not—”

“It takes two to get out of hand.” He felt her skin cooling to match the bite in her voice. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’m getting up. If you’ve reinjured something, I don’t want to aggravate it.”

“Dammit, T-bone, it’s not your fault.”

But she was already sitting up on the edge of the table, her back turned as she contorted herself to refasten her bra. Fine. He understood the message:
This is awkward as hell. Promise me we’ll never do anything this nutso, out of control again.
He dropped his legs over the edge of the table on the opposite side and sat up.

“Travis! You weren’t supposed to move until I check you out.”

“I’m fine.” Well, mostly. He tugged his T-shirt down and stretched it out to mask the tent in his pants. The Ashton Hospital and its sexiest physical therapist couldn’t do anything about
that
problem. “I twisted wrong. It was just a twinge. Now it’s gone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Tess.”

She stilled, feeling sufficiently dressed, he supposed, to finally relax. “That was weird, right?”

He tried to think of other women—other men, even—who knew as many secrets and personal baggage about him as Tess did. Besides his sister, there wasn’t anyone who came close. He’d been with several women over the years, and had always taken precautions—both the physical and the emotional kind. He knew how to separate fun from intimacy, how to make the act good for both parties without strings being attached. He’d learned the hard way early on that letting his heart get involved in a relationship made him an easy target for heartache. A lover could take his secrets and dreams and walk away. But Tess was loyal to the bone. She was someone who would always be there, someone he could always trust.

He’d never gotten the two categories of women mixed up before.

Travis needed to back way up and think about what he was doing here. “Yeah,” he finally dredged up a response. “Weird.”

“But I was okay?”

Okay
didn’t quite describe the fireworks going off
and trains colliding and his dick being as hard as it had been in a year.

“Yeah.” The answer didn’t feel right. Having this whole conversation didn’t feel right. He glanced over his shoulder at the sexy muss of Tess’s hair and the shade of embarrassment dotting her cheeks. Through her cotton shirt, he glimpsed the shape of one pebbled nipple, pointing north above the tight hug of her crossed arms. In the south, his penis danced in helpless response.
Okay
was far too tame a word to explain what she had done to his body.

With one finger, he reached out in a peace-making gesture to brush her hair off her neck and drape it behind her shoulder. “I don’t get what the men of this town are waiting for if no one’s asking you out. You were more than okay. You were hot. You just have to make them see that.”

“And you’re willing to help?”

“Why not? Fair trade, right? My reputation for yours?”

Her forced laugh grated on his ears. But he caught the hint of a genuine smile when she turned to face him. She pointed to her pink, swollen lips and drew a circle in the air. “You’ve got a little…”

Travis wiped the back of his hand over his own bruised mouth and came away with streaks of tawny rose lipstick. He grinned. “Nice shade.”

He pointed to the unzipped fly of her shorts to return the favor. “And you…”

“Oh.” Tess glanced down and immediately jumped off the table. Amazing how quickly she could tuck and zip and smooth away the evidence of being so thoroughly groped. “That’d look real professional, wouldn’t it?”

He laughed at her sarcasm and ignored the twinge of
discontent nagging at him. Probably guilt. The easy repartee was coming back; he’d better not do anything to spoil it. He eased himself more slowly to his feet. “Not that I was complaining about your bedside manner, but you’d be reprimanded if you showed up for formation looking that sloppy.”

“I told you to wait.” Tess dashed around the table. Her hands were firm and cool on his shoulder and forearm as she urged him to sit. “I need to check your injury.”

Travis shook off the impersonal touch.

“And I told you I was fine.” Minding every precise placement of his foot so he wouldn’t limp, he headed for the bench where his towel, keys and wallet lay. “It’s nothing but a charley-horse. I’ll walk it off.”

“You’re a lousy liar. No wonder you need my help fooling your dad.”

He grabbed the towel and flicked it her direction then draped it over his arm in front of him. “For your information, I’m a damn good liar. You’re just better at reading me than most people.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “There’s no way I can convince you to come back here for real physical therapy?”

He glared. “Read this.”

“Okay, so you’re not an invalid. My mistake.” She laughed at his effort to look tough, and things almost felt normal again. Almost.

He still had one pesky problem to take care of. But he managed to grab his keys and wallet and stroll toward the exit without giving himself away. “I’m gonna run home and take a shower.” He’d have to finish what they’d started by hand. “We probably
should talk a little strategy, get our story straight for Dad and negotiate other ways I can repay the favor.” He paused at the exit and turned. “You know, I don’t think you need as much practice as you think in the…sexy…department.”

“You couldn’t tell how out of practice I was? Pickin’s are mighty slim here in Ashton.”

“They won’t be when the fleet comes in next week.”

A laugh snorted through her nose. “You want me to trust this sexual makeover to some stranger I meet at the carnival or in a bar?”

No. Definitely not. Travis squeezed his eyes shut and fought to block out the disturbing image of a dozen uniformed men trying to get at what Tess had just offered him on that table. No frickin’ way. A woman looking to brush up her sexual image was a prime target for a man to take advantage of. At the very least, he owed her some sort of watch-dog protection. Maybe he could screen the candidates for her. He could at least give her some tips on self-defense if something should get out of hand. “You got plans tonight?”