21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (37 page)

“Fuck me, damn it.” She dug her fingers into his arms and he laughed. Glaring, she tightened her legs as though trying to force him inside, but he held steady, the tip of his cock barely teasing her entrance.

“Do you see what you’re doing, babe?”

“What?” Agitation and curiosity warred in her eyes and she squeezed him with her thighs.

“You’re using your legs.” He slid his cock inside her, amazed as hell at this powerful woman with her ability to turn his insides to mush. He’d never thought of himself as a romantic before, but he could learn. He eased in, inch-by-inch, because she was so fucking tight. Her pussy clenched around him, pulsing as he buried his cock to the hilt. God, he wanted to stay there forever.

But his impatient little Marine arched up into him, and he took her mouth in a kiss. He tried to be tender, but she wasn’t having any of that. He rocked into her, stroking his free hand up and down her body. He wanted it to be good for her. She looked up at him, gaze dark and stormy with pleasure. She held onto his back, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm came quick and she cried out against his mouth. He let go of his control and the world unraveled to the feeling of her pussy clenching him, the friction of her flesh rubbing on his, and his cock jerked as he came.

Regret arrived with the dawn. Her heart hung heavy in her chest, echoing the thud of her conscience’s outrage that she’d given into desire and had sex—although sleeping with her head pillowed against Logan’s chest was the best night’s rest she’d had since waking in the hospital. Pushing up onto an elbow, she studied his sleeping face. He looked so relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other flung out and wrapped around her.

It’s never going to work. No one lives in a full-time ménage. This is a fling—a fucking fantastic fling—but life doesn’t give a woman two perfect men other than to make her choose
. Carefully, she stretched her arms and began to sit up. Three weeks ago, she’d needed help to get that far. But her arm cooperated more often than not even if the tremors in her hand continued.

The tangled sheets shoved away easily when she scooted to the edge of the bed. Her movements were careful, in part to gauge how well her leg would behave, and in part to not wake Logan up. The carpet rasped against the bottom of her feet and she curled her toes, like she’d practiced in physical therapy.

All ten curled. All ten released.
Oorah
! Pressing one fist against the bed, she rose, feet flat against the floor.

“What are you doing?” The husky tone in his sleepy voice caressed her senses.

“Going to pee.”

The bed dipped as he levered up. “Nudge me. I’ll get you in there.”

“No.” She shoved off the bed and stood. Her legs trembled, a hundred pins and needles rolled up from the bottoms of her feet to prickle along her flesh. Logan bounced into her periphery, one arm out as though to catch her and she glared at him. “I got this.”

“Jazz…you’re still not up to this in PT. Let me help.” His hand brushed her arm, and she pulled away, stumbling to the side before catching her balance against the wall. Walking shouldn’t be that damn hard.

“If I can wrap my legs around your waist, I can walk on them. I can still do this even if my brain is fuzzy on the details. I need to pee…I just fucked you, I don’t need you to wipe my ass or treat me like a bedridden invalid.” He didn’t deserve the harsh tone and she softened it. “Logan—I need to do this myself. You want to hover and catch me if I fall, fine. But don’t unless I am falling.”

He withdrew his hand, his expression shuttering. She saw the hurt but refused to be moved by it. The last thing she wanted to do was injure him, but she’d tried to tell him what was wrong the night before and he didn’t get it. Or maybe she sucked at explaining it. It was hard to say that she needed to choose between them when they acted like it was okay for her to be with both.

But for how long
?
It’s okay now. But six months from now
?
A year from now
?
No. Better to cut the loss before it kills us
. Unfortunately, they both held fast to her heart and no matter how insane it seemed, she was in love with both of them.
Focus. Walk to the bathroom. Take a piss. Walk back. It’s not hard. You used to do it all the time
.

“All right.” He acquiesced, almost too easily.

Not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, she put one foot in front of the other and used a hand against the wall to maintain her balance. The walk to the bathroom wasn’t more than a dozen feet—but it stretched out ahead of her like miles.

She avoided the mirror as she stepped inside and made her way to the toilet. There was no shame in flattening her hand on the counter as she turned to sit down.

“Open or closed?” Logan stood right next to the door.

“Closed. Please.”

“You got it.” The door shut and she sighed. It didn’t take long to finish.

“I’m standing up again.” The door swung inward at her words. She did it. She walked to the bathroom and used it alone. Her muscles trembled but she didn’t care. Success tasted sweet. “Would you mind taking a shower with me?”

His guarded expression softened. “I’d love to.”

Thirty minutes later, she walked out of the bedroom with one hand braced on Logan’s arm for balance. She was pushing it. Phillips would have her head on a platter, but she didn’t care. She hated that damn wheelchair. The only way to get out of it was to walk steadily.

The enticing scent of bacon and coffee drifted from the kitchen. They followed the inviting smell through the living room, and her heart did a little fist bump with her ribs as Zach caught sight of her.

“Well, check you out.” He grinned. Pride gleamed in his blue eyes and his white teeth provided a startling contrast for his tan skin. He appeared relaxed, flipping pancakes while bacon sizzled on another pan. “How’s it feel?”

“Crazy good.” She flashed a smile up at Logan, tickled when the right corner of his mouth turned up and he winked. “Not perfect. Yet. But it will be.”

“Hungry?” The loaded subtext in Zach’s question teased a fresh wave of heat in her belly. He looked good enough to eat.

“Starving.” she promised.

“Then carb up, Marine. You have a lot to do today.” He pointed them toward the table where steam rose from the coffee mugs and a dozen pieces of fresh toast waited.

“Yes, sir.” She wrinkled her nose and began the slow walk over, seeming to get steadier with every step. But the faint trembling warned her not to take longer strides. Logan shifted his grip to her elbow, steadying her as she sat. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

He slid his fingers around the back of her neck and tipped her head back. His lips glided over hers and his tongue invaded. Hunger flooded through her. The kiss demanded and gave in the same breath. When he lifted his head, the heat in his eyes warmed her. “You did great.”

She blew out a heady exhale and glanced to find Zach’s hot gaze on them, amusement and desire battling for dominance in his expression. Her nipples tightened at the want in his face and she curled her toes inside her workout shoes. His expression promised they would be naked before the day was over. Her growling stomach interrupted and heat rushed up to her face.

“I’m starving.” She pressed out another deep breath and reached for the coffee cup. She could do this. She would eat and enjoy them and figure this out.

***

“She doesn’t think it can work.” Logan grabbed a bag of sand from the trunk and carried it easily over his right shoulder. On and off rain over the last three days had done a number on the pitcher’s mound. It surprised Zach when Logan volunteered to help rather than stay with Jazz for her physical therapy.

“Her recovery will take time.” He hauled his own load of sand out toward the field. They’d picked up five bags, which was probably too many, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

“No, us. The three of us. She doesn’t think it will work.” Logan’s barely-there limp seemed more pronounced. They’d grab the wheelbarrow on the way out for the next load.

“What did you do?” He dropped his bag next to the mound and stared at his best friend. The man pushed too hard. He’d forced his way through his own recovery, fighting every step of the way, and seemed determined to do the same thing to Jazz.

“I didn’t do anything. She’s been pulling away from us. I told her I wasn’t going to let her do that. She thinks her scars make her ugly. She’s worried about how the TBI is affecting her physically. I wanted her to know that she’s gorgeous and that hell yes, I still want her.” The note of defensive worry echoed in the way Logan slung the bag onto the ground.

“Yeah, but the two of you were together last night….”

“Because I urged it. I didn’t really give her a chance to say no. But something is off—she’s fighting harder to get on her feet. Which is good.” Logan didn’t pace. He went the completely opposite route to almost total motionlessness.

Shoving the baseball cap out of his eyes, Zach studied his friend. “But?”

“But what if she’s pushing because she wants to get away from us?”

The thought never occurred to him. It sounded insane. Why would Jazz want to get away? Get back to work, that made sense. “Did she say that?”

“Not in as many words, no. But she did say it wasn’t going to work—that if she was with me, she had to be with you—I didn’t really let her finish it. Fuck. I shouldn’t have pushed.” For Logan to be questioning himself worried Zach almost as much as what it was that Jazz said or didn’t.

Sliding the knife from his back pocket, he flicked out a blade and cut open one of the sandbags. “Let me ask you this. How did you think it was going to work with the three of us?” He didn’t know his own answer to that question. It occurred to him that he’d made a lot of assumptions. The future wasn’t something either planned for when they’d been in the service.

“The way it did in Vegas. The three of us together.” The answer came swiftly. And so did the suspicion. “Did you have other plans?”

“Not particularly. She’s—everything. But we haven’t spent more than a few hours with her together until now. We had those weekends, but it was like you had yours and then I had mine. Talking to her, getting her emails—we shared those.” He cut into the second bag before clicking the knife closed.

Logan grabbed the bag Zach opened and began spreading the sand. The morning sun shone down on the hazy, humid morning. If it kept up with the rain, he was going to have to put in a request for a tarp to cover the field. “Right. Does it bother you that she was in my bed last night?”

“No.” But that wasn’t completely honest. The twinge in his gut warned him of the lie and he sighed. “Okay, maybe a little. But more because I wanted to join—and didn’t think I should push it.”

“You were welcome, you know that, right?” Logan stared at him.

“By you, sure. But would she have wanted it?” It seemed neither of them had an answer to that one. “Look, if she only wants one of us, I don’t have a problem with that.” Yeah, that was more than a little lie. He wasn’t sure he knew how to untangle his emotions from the woman he was in love with.

“I’m not sure.” His best friend shook his head grimly. “We can make this work. We just have to convince her we can—if you’re still in?”

It annoyed the hell out of Zach to answer that question. “Is there some reason you keep thinking I’m going to bail on this situation?”

“No, but I think if she’s not convinced the three of us can work. We have to prove it to her. The only way we do that is coordinated effort.” Logan nodded slowly as they traded out the empty sand bags for rakes. “In fact, I think we need a plan of attack.”

“Surgical or blitz?” Zach grinned.

“Blitz. She’s so focused on her recovery, we’re going to need shock and awe to overwhelm her. She needs us. I don’t know why she thinks she has to choose, but we drive her to the only choice that matters and that’s both of us. Son of a bitch! What do you say we take our lady on a date?”

Zach laughed. He really hoped Jazz wasn’t too married to the idea of choosing. “What did you have in mind?”

***

“Maybe you need a pros and cons list.” Stormer’s phone call was the lifeline Jasmine hadn’t realized she needed. “You know, what’s great about them, what’s not great. What do they bring to the bedroom individually?”

“The sex is awesome and not open for discussion.” But she laughed at the Marine’s blasé tone. “And they’re both so different, but they support me. They drive me. They take care of me. They care about what I think…they’ve never treated me as less than a Marine.”

“Fuck, honey, if you don’t want both, give me one. I could use a guy right about now. I’m stuck here filing paper and training the new girl. She cannot get over the idea that we’re not supposed to sell pop rocks and American burgers to these people.”

“When’s Roxy due back?” She missed them. She’d met both Marines before the FET assignment, but six months of working in close quarters together developed into the first real female friendships she’d enjoyed in the Corps. Roxy clucked like a mother hen, and Stormer approached everything with the same droll, dry humor. But they’d clicked.

“One more week. Her little girl had appendicitis, so she got some hardship time to stick around through the recovery.”

A lifer, Roxy was one of the lucky ones. Her husband didn’t mind playing stay-at-home dad to their three kids while running some mini-internet empire. She could have opted out at any time after her third child was born, but the woman was a Marine through and through. She loved her kids, but she also loved the Corps.

“Yeah, well you may be stuck with new girl for a while, so break her in gently.” Jazz transferred the phone to her left ear and worked, squeezing the ball with her right hand. It satisfied the urge to do something while helping the strength in her fingers to return.

“Honey, if I had two guys willing to lick me from my toenails to my boobs and everywhere in between, I’d make me break in the new girl, too.”