Falling for the Marine (A McCade Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (18 page)

Before her inner muscles could wring an orgasm from him, he pulled out, spun her around, and put her forearms flush to the wall. Hallelujah for the lucky shoes, because they made her the right height for everything to line up perfectly. He hiked her skirt up and prepared to push into her from behind when the phone rang.

Chapter Nineteen

Holy crap, you just came so hard your ears are ringing
. The annoying noise reverberated in her head. Chloe groaned and opened her eyes. The weight of Michael’s body held her against the wall, which accounted for her not sinking to the floor in a boneless puddle.

“Are you okay?” His low, slightly tortured voice came from just behind her ear.

The distracting ringing noise stopped and then started again. “I don’t know. I hear ringing in my ears.”

“As much as I’d like to take credit for ringing your bell, that’s the phone.”

“Oh.” A smile hijacked her lips and she pushed her hips back encouragingly. “In that case, yes, I’m okay. Better than okay.” She was about to add, “Carry on, fly-boy,” when the message machine kicked on, and after the beep, Lynne’s voice intruded into the otherwise quiet room.
Hey, Chloe. I need to speak with you right away. Pick up if you’re there…

Talk about timing. There she stood—barely—with her bra shoved up above her breasts, her skirt in a bunch around her waist, and Michael poised to deliver on part two of his promise. “Shit. I’m sorry, but I’d better get that.”

His hands tightened around her waist, and for one heady moment, she thought he might simply growl, “Call her back,” and continue having his merry way with her. But instead he kissed her shoulder and then smoothed her skirt down. She turned with an apologetic smile ready, but he’d already stepped away and headed down the hall. Pulling her bra back into place, she crossed to the phone on unsteady legs.

Okay, I guess you’re not there…

She lunged for the receiver and hit talk. “I’m here.” Her voice sounded a little breathless, but she was prepared to blame it on rushing to answer the phone.

“Thank God. Hey, I just got a call from the spa in New Mexico. The woman you’re filling in for went into labor this afternoon—”

“Oh no. Is she all right? The baby?”

“All is well. She’s just a couple weeks early. But this means the assignment starts ASAP.”

“Oh.” Of course. Of course that’s what it meant. That her heart wanted to bleed out of her chest at the thought of leaving Michael was neither here nor there.

“Yeah,
Oh
. You sound like I just told you your dog died. You don’t have to take this job. I can get another therapist—”

“No!” The word burst from her mouth like a bullet. She took a stabilizing breath and continued more calmly. “No. I want the assignment.”

Lynne exhaled. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, did you know that?”

“I’m honored.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Staying would be the mistake. Handing my heart to a military man? Look how well that worked out for my mom and dad.”

“Are you your mom?” Lynne shot back, more than a little exasperated. “Do you need attention every second of the day, and would you run around behind your man’s back to get it?”

“No, I don’t have my mom’s abandonment issues, because I’ve worked hard to get over them. I’ve made it a goal in life not to be the same endless well of need for attention. And, no, I would never cheat on anyone.”

“Let’s stick a pin in those goals of yours for the moment. Is Michael anything like your dad?”

“He’s in the military. As far as I can tell, he plans to stay in.”

“The occupation is a superficial similarity. Is he cold and remote? Does he withhold affection and put his ambitions ahead of everything else?”

“No, he’s none of those things. He’s funny and charming and he put his ambitions at risk to help me out.”

“Okay, then. In our little game here, I’m going to claim this point. You’re not your mom. Michael’s not your dad, and, by the way, your parents’ shitty marriage had nothing to do with the military. The marriage failed because she craved constant adoration, while he used attention as a bargaining chip and put his own needs first. He could have been an accountant or a teacher and the marriage still would have sucked. Don’t use Michael’s uniform as an excuse to run away.”

“Why does everyone keep saying I’m running?” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. “I travel. It’s my job. After all the mistakes I’ve made trying to find stability where none existed, why is it so hard to believe being a rolling stone suits me better?”

“It suited you for a while, because you needed to spend some time alone and gain your self-confidence back after your divorce, but now it’s just a crutch—something you use to justify avoiding attachments. But whether you wanted to be or not, you’re attached to Michael. Stick around and see where it leads.”

“I did that with Drew, and it didn’t lead anywhere remotely resembling happy ever after. I’m not ready to attempt the journey again.”

“What I’m hearing now is just leftover fear and insecurity. Bury the past, get on with your life, and enjoy where you’re at right now.”

Chloe felt her own exasperation growing. “It’s easy to say ‘Get on with your life,’ but, you know what? It’s surprisingly hard to do. I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to move on, get myself back on track, and I’m still a walking disaster.”

“You’re not a disaster—”

“I got fired, got so drunk I couldn’t stand up and, oh yeah, got fake engaged to my neighbor so I could avoid ending up at a homeless hotel. What part of all this says to you,
Hey, that Chloe has her shit together
?”

“Everybody screws up now and then. Everybody. You can’t judge yourself by the last few days. Look at the bigger picture and tell me what you see.”

“There is no bigger picture.”

“Fine. You win. If walking disaster is all you see when you look at yourself, you’re right. You’re not ready for Michael or anybody else.”

Chloe winced at the blunt reply, but Lynne wasn’t a mom of two boys for nothing. She could dish out the tough love when she needed to.

Michael wandered back into the room, stopping a few feet away from her to pick up his wallet from the spot where she’d tossed it earlier. She absorbed him with her eyes and felt her face heat when he caught her looking and raised his eyebrows.

“So, ASAP means?” she asked Lynne.

“I figured you’d need twenty-four hours, so as not to leave Veronica in the lurch, plus you have to pack and say your good-byes, so I had travel book you a flight tomorrow evening at 6:00 p.m., out of John Wayne.”

Tomorrow!
She gripped the phone to keep her hands from shaking. Across the room, Michael stood utterly still, watching her. She drew in a deep breath, then another, before she felt calm enough to attempt a reply. “I-I can make that work.”

“Fab,” Lynne said curtly. “We’re putting you up at an extended-stay hotel near the resort. I’m emailing you the details as we speak. Will you be able to log-on somewhere and get them?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“You know what, Chloe? Don’t thank me. Thank your lousy parents, and your no-good ex, because they’re the reason you’re going to New Mexico. They’re the reason you’re running away from a chance at a real, honest-to-God, happy ever after. You’ve got some dark periods in your past, but you’re letting them ruin your future too. You’re giving them more power than they deserve.”

“I can’t get into this with you right now.” She could barely talk around the tightness in her throat. Barely concentrate on anything beyond the fact that her time with Michael was winding down. By this time tomorrow she’d be on a plane to New Mexico.

Lynne muttered something that sounded like, “Maybe
he
can talk some sense into you,” and hung up.

Chloe returned the phone to its stand. With a knot twisting in her stomach, she turned to face Michael.

“New Mexico?” he asked from across the room. He didn’t back away or come closer.

She nodded and forced a laugh. “Your prayers have been answered. You’re going to get your apartment, and your life, back. No more Chloe and her clutter everywhere.”

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. “When?”

“Tomorrow evening. My flight leaves at seven.”

“And you want to go?”

“That was always the plan.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

No, he’d asked what she wanted, but the question had no easy answer. “I love…so many things about being here,” she eyed him meaningfully, because that was as close as she could come to saying the words, “but this isn’t my place. This isn’t my life. It never was.”

“It could be.” Impossibly, his dark gaze turned even more intense. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want—” Her vision blurred as hot tears burned her eyes and she suddenly feared how that sentence was going to end. Desperate to cut herself off, she crossed the room and fused her mouth to his.

His hands found her waist and for a few precious moments he held her close and kissed her back, but then he raised his head and looked down at her. “Chloe, we need to talk.”

No. No talking. Conversation would change nothing—only waste what little time they had left. She framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips against his. “Later. You asked me what I want. I want you. I want to finish what we started when you walked in tonight.” She kissed him again, going deep and hard to try and commit his taste to memory, all the while pulling him toward the bedroom. Relief mixed with desire when he didn’t resist.

In the bedroom, she broke the kiss long enough to take her bra off. Then she pressed her face against his neck and breathed deeply.

His hands wrapped around her upper arms. “This isn’t fair Chloe. I want you, too, but there are things I need to say—”

She couldn’t let the conversation happen. There was no way she’d survive it. “Say them tomorrow,” she murmured, knowing full well there wouldn’t be a tomorrow for them, because tomorrow wouldn’t change things one bit. No matter how deeply she wished otherwise, she’d still have her hard-and-fast rules, and he still broke every one of them. She pushed his shirt out of her way and then ran her palms over his shoulders, down his spine, granting herself one last massage of his now strong, healthy back, and reveling in the restrained power beneath smooth skin.

“Wait for me to get home.” He trailed his mouth down her neck, to the hollow at the base of her throat.

Her heart twisted painfully tight. There was no way she could wait, and no way to explain why without hurting him. She didn’t want to offer him false words. Instead she twined her arms around his neck and let her head drop back while his lips and tongue exploited the vulnerable spot.

“Promise me,” he pressed.

Damn him. He knew she tried hard to keep her promises, and he kept nudging her into an impossible corner. She grabbed his head and pulled his mouth back to hers. Everything she couldn’t let herself say went into the kiss. Maybe he took that as a yes because he drove his fist into her hair and held on while she dropped her hands to his waist and undid his pants.

His hands got busy, too, and within seconds, they were both naked. She drank in the sight of him, all height and breadth and rigidly controlled muscles. He took a condom from the nightstand, rolled it on, and then reached for her, but she shook her head. She wanted him under her, so she could watch him and memorize every moment of their last time together.

She put a hand to his chest and gently pushed. He got the message and sat down on the bed, then groaned when she straddled him. Their groans overlapped as she rocked her hips forward, sliding along the ridge of his erection and creating bone-dissolving friction.

After the mind-blowing climax he’d already given her, she wasn’t counting on coming again, but now her body went on some kind of orgasmic autopilot. A sob broke from her throat as the lock she had on her emotions threatened to fail.

Michael, God bless him, misinterpreted the reason for her distress. “Shh. I’ve got you. I won’t stop until I finish you.” With an arm banded around her waist and his hand clamped to her backside, he worked her up and down his shaft. All she could do was hold onto him and bite her lip to keep from crying out, because she couldn’t trust herself to speak. Too many conflicting needs churned much too close to the surface.

The hand at her waist moved up to the back of her head, and he slowly brought her mouth to his. He used his teeth to free her lip and then kissed her until the only thing she could taste was him. The only thing she could smell was the scent of his skin. The only thing she could feel was his body—under her, against her, moving inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to hold onto the sensations, because although she hadn’t yet walked out his door she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there would never, ever be another man in her life like Michael McCade.

“Wait for me,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips, so gently she wanted to burst into tears.

“I—oh God. I’m trying.”

He rejected her attempt at distraction. “Tomorrow. Promise you’ll wait.”

She was on the verge of promising him anything he wanted, and that scared her enough to scramble for control. Planting her knees wide, she rocked up, forfeiting everything except the wide, smooth head of his penis, and closed the distance he’d created. His groan of protest reached her ears seconds before she devoured his mouth. Her fingers traced his brow, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. She tightened her inner muscles, clasping him in quick, rhythmic hugs designed to drive all thoughts of tomorrow out of his mind and focus him solely on the here and now.

A long, low, tortured sound rumbled from his chest, and then she was flat on her back, legs wrapped high around his waist, rising up to meet him. Dark eyes stared at her, into her.