Her Marine Bodyguard (10 page)

“So?” She didn’t dismiss his concerns, but she could feel the thickened whorl of a scar beneath her fingers. She hadn’t missed the puckered flesh along his right biceps or the thin, six-inch-long white line stretching from his abdomen to his side. “You’ve been in way worse situations with bombs, bullets, and crap. I fell out of a car. Big deal.”

His eyebrows rose, and the gorgeous line of his mouth turned down at her description. “I’m a Marine.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve wrestled with said Marine before. I think I can handle it.” Where the hell the need to push him came from, she didn’t know, but she embraced it. He’d been so careful with her from the moment he’d walked in the door. She didn’t want careful, she wanted Brody.

All of him.

A smile softened his expression. “Are you sure? You’ve had a hell of a last few days.” And he couldn’t stop protecting her; he didn’t have it in his nature. Their first night together, he’d done the exact same thing. Given her everything and taken nothing for himself. If she’d not been willing to try and touch him, he’d never have asked her. Maybe he didn’t see it, but she did. He took care of people—
his
people.

He’d taken care of her. Later, he’d reached out to Logan and Zach when Jazz had been hurt. She knew he’d been boots on the ground that day, and though he’d never said the words aloud, she’d heard the worry for his friends in his voice. Again and again, whether it was Marines he sent home in hospital choppers or body bags, every single one had left a mark on him. Her heart may never recover from hearing Rebel’s injuries could have been his.

And here he was again, fresh off a plane without a thought for himself or his needs, wanting to take care of her.

“You know? The last few days have sucked.” Honesty, he deserved it. “I’m not pretending they haven’t. I hate what that man did, I hate that he was in my place, that he shot Katrina, and that he tried to take me. I hate that because of him I’m
here
hiding away, and I hate the fact I get queasy with so many men giving me orders and making decisions and crowding around me....” She tightened her hands on his shoulders.

It wasn’t only the fact that the men around her were giving her orders or too close for comfort. No, she suffered from more than her old hang-ups. Katrina had been shot defending her, and every single one of those men outside her door were willing to put themselves in front of a bullet. The man in her arms? Brody would do it without even a shadow of hesitation. And it scared the shit out of her.

“I know, and I’m going to fix all of it.” A promise. His promise. Brody brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then set her down. All that raw passion, he contained it with an effortlessness she envied. No, damn it, she craved more than his restraint.

“Wait.” She followed him when he fell back a step, never losing contact. He peeled her hands off of him then pressed a kiss to the bruises on her wrists. “Brody—”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’m going to get dressed, and then we can eat.” He pivoted and headed out of the kitchen.

Unwilling to let it go, and annoyed, she chased after him. One step into the bedroom, he stripped off the towel, and Shannon stared at the taut line of his ass. Like the rest of him, there was nothing spare, just hard, cut muscles rippling with his every step. While his arms and face were darkly tanned, his ass and legs weren’t. Combat gear didn’t leave much for the sun to touch.

“Would you stop?”

His back stiffened at her words, but he ceased moving away from her. “Shannon.” His voice sounded unnaturally thick, as though it took tremendous effort to even say her name. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. You’re not ready.”

“Who says?” Irritation struck a match in her system.

He angled his head, only enough to seet her. “You did. It’s been a hellish last few days, the last thing you need is….”

“Is what? Touching you? Having you touch me?” Where the hell her boldness came from she had no idea, but she went with it. Especially if it meant he would stop walking away from her.

With a sigh, he faced her. “You’ve got injuries….”

“Really?” Because from where she stood, she could see the wear and tear of his years in the Marines etched into every gorgeous muscle on his body.

“Yes, really.” The words were a plea. “Go out and get the pizza. We can eat together. We don’t have to do anything else.”

They didn’t? If his intention was to drive her crazy, he’d already succeeded. Grasping the hem of her shirt, she dragged it up and over her head. Her shoulders and back protested the treatment, but she ignored them. She’d been sore and stiff for two days. Everything hurt.

Everything had hurt until he’d touched her, then she forgot about being in pain or afraid. She’d spent too many years studying the human body to be ashamed of hers. His whole posture froze, and she let the shirt drop to the floor. “Yes, I’m hurt. I have bruises.” And she turned so he could see her back. She hadn’t seen it, but if it matched on the outside the way it felt on the inside, then it probably was a shock. “My arm is scraped up.”

With her back still to him, she stuck her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and shoved them and her panties down at the same time. “I’m pretty sure my ass is bruised, too.” Kicking the clothes away, she continued her circuit until she faced him once more. “My boobs hurt. My face hurts. And my soul hurts. But you know what doesn’t hurt?”

“What?” One syllable, low, rough, and hard. Her nipples tightened to stiff points under the heavy weight of his gaze.

“You touching me. You kissing me. You.” Her courage threatened to flee, but she dared to close the distance between them because he hadn’t walked away. “I’ve missed you.”

His hard stance cracked, and his eyes softened. “I missed you, too, and I don’t want to push you.”

Her. He wanted to take care of her, and she melted on the inside. Brody put her needs above his own. He’d done it from the first day they met; he gave and gave and gave, never asking for anything in return. Hell, he was on his first leave in forever, and he’d come straight to her and seemed ready to take on her problems.

“You’re not pushing me,” she said in a soft voice. “In fact, you’re way over there.” Extending her arm to prove a point, she traced her fingers over his chest. His heart had to be going a million miles an hour. Maybe he could discipline every other part of him, but his heart gave him away. Dipping her gaze down to the length of his hard cock, she smiled. Well, one of the two things that gave him away.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The reluctance in his tone couldn’t be manufactured. She dared to go a little closer, and when she slid her arm around his neck, his arms came around her, caging her in. Shannon rested her head to his chest. He smelled of the same soap she used, clean and masculine. His flesh practically burned her, and the last knots of tension bulging in her spine let go.

“You would
never
hurt me.” Maybe he didn’t understand or believe it, but she did. “Please, Brody?”

With a groan, he lifted her, then his mouth found hers, and her world began to spin again. As before, he took control of the kiss, demanding and playful in the same breath. His tongue plunged deep, and she met him stroke for stroke. Somehow, she’d forgotten how wonderful he tasted, but no sooner did his tongue swirl with hers than he moved on. A nuzzle to the corner of her mouth, a nip to her jaw, then a hesitation and the lightest of touches to the scrape on her cheek. He pressed feathery, light kisses to the injury, and she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with an expression so tender it wrenched her heart.

Drowning in the sensations, she dug her fingers into his shoulders as he settled her on the bed. The blanket was chilly on her back, but Brody followed her down, and the heat rolling off him threatened to burn her up. He trailed kisses along her throat, stopping at her shoulders.

She had another set of bruises there, and he laved his tongue over the sorest point. She tried to hold still for him, but he seemed intent on tasting every inch of her skin. When he reached her breasts, she wasn’t prepared for the light scrape of his teeth or the way he latched onto one nipple before moving to the next. Every pull sent another pulse to her sex, and she squirmed.

Brody caught her ass in a firm grip, but instead of squeezing, he held her still, and he went back to the first nipple he’d kissed and sucked hard. A low groan broke free, and she ran her fingers over his scalp. His hair was so short, soft and bristly at the same time. The weight of his erection pressed against her leg, and she tried to shift. She wanted to touch him how he did her, but when she stretched a hand between them, he gave her nipple a bite with just an edge of sting, and she gasped.

Lifting his head, he gazed at her with drowsy dark eyes. “You touch me and I’m going to go off all over your hand. And that’s not where I want to come.”

The words sent another pulse singing through her nerves, and her sex clenched, already imagining him inside of her. “Then hurry.” She wanted to lose herself in his touch and feel him surging in her.

He met her demand with a chuckle and cupped his palm on her sex, one finger gliding between the labia to circle her clit, and she arched her hips up to meet the caress. Tension wound upward, spiraling her tighter as he continued to tease without quite touching.

“Mean,” she whispered, then laughed as he eased one finger inside of her. When his finger curled and added pressure on her inner wall, her eyes crossed.

“I forgot how tight you are, sweetheart.” His pleasure turned the words into a compliment. He continued to tease her, thrusting his finger in gently and pausing to add more pressure to the stroke. Sweat dampened her forehead, and a fresh wave of arousal skated through her system. “We’re going to go slow, even if it kills me.”

It would kill them both. She’d never felt so ready for him, and she grimaced, wanting to protest, then he added a second finger to the first while pressing her clit with his thumb, and she forgot how to breathe. The second stroke of his thumb erased her thoughts. He continued to kiss a lazy path across her abdomen, but she always knew when he found a bruise or a scrape. He paused, his hand slowing while he kissed the injury.

So much care went into every touch, and tears filled her eyes when he took a moment to gently nuzzle her hip. The bruise had darkened to a lovely shade of deep purple. “Does it hurt, baby?”

“Not right now.” No, nothing hurt. She tumbled along a lazy river of pleasure.

The faint rub of his cheek on her inner thigh gave her the only warning she had before his mouth fastened on her clit. The slow drift became a raging rapid, and she catapulted from one explosive orgasm to the next. Fisting the blankets, she tried to hold back her shout, then he vibrated his tongue and the world splintered. She bucked under his mouth, and he kept her where he wanted. Though she floated down, little sparks sizzling through her system, he continued to nuzzle and lick along the seam of her labia, returning time and again to tease her clit.

Surely he was ready, but no—he seemed utterly content to continue exploring her sex with the same thoroughness he’d applied to her injuries, teasing her to the brink before easing her back again and again. He seemed determined to drag this out, and she twisted slightly, trying to see him. The sight of his dark head moving against her sex was nearly as erotic as the feeling of his tongue thrusting into her. No, he wouldn’t be hurried.

As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced up and met her gaze. Something inside her softened further, and her thighs clenched as he swirled his tongue. Nothing mattered when they were together. Nothing. Not her stalker. Not the military. Not all the months and distance that had separated them. The heat in his eyes burned all the rest to ash.

With a kiss to her inner thigh, he lifted his head. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she admitted with a sigh. It didn’t matter that he’d already given her an orgasm, she was still hungry for him. The need to have him zinged through her system, an electric tingle racing along her spine. Could he see what he did to her?

“I want to play with you for hours,” he said, dragging a finger through her labia again. “I want to see you come over and over. Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are when you cry out?”

She believed him. “Anything you want.” Anything. If he wanted to keep her on the edge for hours, fine. If he wanted to melt her into a puddle of wanton need, she could take it, too. Adoration shone in his hard face.

“Be careful,” he teased, but the way he said the two words held as much joy as they did warning. “I’ll take everything.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t believe him. He gave everything, too.

“Oh, yeah.” And he licked her from her entrance to her clit and down again, never once looking away. The naked desire in his eyes made her heart skip a beat, and she didn’t try to suppress the low throaty cry as he continued to torment her sensitive flesh.

“Yes,” she called out as he locked his lips around her clit and sucked it hard against his teeth. The pressure built up to an almost unbearable level, then he backed off again and she shook with both laughter and frustration. “Anything you want.”

Anything. Everything. She wanted to give it all to him. Every night she went to bed and hoped she would dream of him—because in her dreams she could wake in his arms, feel his hands on her, and know absolute security with him. If she wanted to play, he would lie still for her and let her explore his body, do whatever she wanted. He was her toy and her canvas—how could she be any less?

“Don’t move.” He rose so swiftly she wanted to keen from his absence. The world seemed so much colder and lonelier without him.

Obeying him didn’t mean she couldn’t watch. He walked back into the bathroom, returning seconds later, a foil package in hand. Standing at the foot of the bed, he stared at her. The intensity in his attention seemed to stroke over her even though he didn’t touch.

Stretching, she held her hand out to him, beckoning him with a curl of her fingers. “I won’t break. I promise.”

“You break me.”

The confession tightened the fist around her heart.