Prince Charming in Dress Blues (11 page)

Already hard and ready for her, John snatched up one
of the condoms lying on the bedside table and paused just long enough to be grateful she’d planned ahead. Then he ripped the foil packet, sheathed himself and joined her on the bed. Arms lifted, reaching for him, she parted her legs in welcome as he came down to cover her body with his.

His hands moved over her skin with lightning-like flashes of speed and heat. Her breasts, her nipples, her abdomen, the soft cluster of blond curls at the juncture of her thighs. He couldn’t touch her enough. Couldn’t look enough. Would never be able to satisfy the need to simply
be
with her.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered, and arched into his touch.

“What’s that?” he asked, his breath brushing her skin as he lavished kisses on her neck, her jaw, her cheek.

“This,” she said, her hands sweeping up and down his spine. “I shouldn’t be this crazy for you again. So soon after—”

He lifted his head and smiled down at her, and that one dimple flashed wickedly. “Maybe we’re both just crazy.”

She stroked his cheek with the palm of one hand and asked, “Think they’ll lock us up in the same rubber room?”

“If they don’t, I’ll find a way to get to you.”

“Ditto,” she murmured as he lowered his head to claim a kiss.

Tongues twisting, breath mingling, they moved together in a fury of touching, tasting, wanting.

And passion soared.

“John,” she groaned tightly, as need built within, “now, for heaven’s sake,
now.
”

“Yes,” he whispered, “right now.” He couldn’t wait another moment, couldn’t drag this out any longer. He’d waited for this moment for six long weeks. From the moment he’d met her, he’d known they were headed for this and now he was desperate to be a part of her.

In one swift, sure stroke, he pushed himself home into her heat. Into the depths of her soul and heart, and prayed silently that she’d let him stay there.

A soft moan tore from the back of her throat as he moved at first gently, worried that he might hurt still-tender flesh. But as she rocked into him, wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him deeper within, he surrendered to the crushing desire choking him.

Again and again he entered and retreated, pushing them both higher, faster. He heard the soft rush of her breath. Felt its warmth on his cheek. Tasted her hunger in the quick, hungry strokes of her tongue and fed his own needs while he gave to her.

Never, he thought wildly as the first stirrings of completion rippled within him, never had he felt so thoroughly at one with someone. This woman, he told himself, was
his.
As he was hers.

Annie’s head spun dizzily. Her body alive with sensation, her mind whirled with thoughts of only him. She stared up into his eyes, and in those pale-blue depths, saw a future she wished she was brave enough to claim.

He touched her again—not just her body, but her heart and tears stung the backs of her eyes even as the first ripple of pleasure started deep within her. She hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t counted on it. Hadn’t expected it. And now that it was here, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

But then her mind shut down as her body’s response to his ministrations took over. Annie shuddered, groaned and moved beneath him, instinct taking over. Need pushing thought aside as she reached for the rush of sensation she knew was hovering just out of reach. She felt it clawing at her, driving her forward. She gloried in the feel of John’s body, hard, strong, covering hers, claiming hers.

Then her body exploded into a dazzling burst of light and color and she called his name and held on to him tightly. A moment later he sighed, “Annie,” and joined her in a soft, hazy world that belonged to only them.

What could have been hours, but was probably only minutes, passed in stunned silence before she said simply, “Wow.”

John lifted his head, looked down into her eyes and smiled. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed. Licking dry lips, she tried to steady her thundering heartbeat, then gave up and let it race. Why shouldn’t it? Every nerve ending in her body was jangling. Why should her heart be calm?

Then he moved inside her and her breath caught, strangling in her throat. It wasn’t possible, she thought frantically as her body quickened and came alive again. No way could she be ready for more. Not after what she’d just experienced. “John,” she said, shaking her head gently, “I can’t. No more. Not yet.”

“More,” he whispered, dipping his head to taste her lips briefly. “Now,” he said and raised up, his body still joined with hers. He ran the flat of his hands up the length of her, stroking her abdomen, cupping her breasts, and when she moaned, he pushed himself deeper inside her. She lifted her hips, moving into him, as if trying
to pull him in tighter, closer. He smiled to himself and trailed his fingertips own, across her belly, to the triangle of soft blonde curls at her center. Then he touched her and her body jerked beneath him. He caressed that one small bud of desire until she was writhing beneath him, gritting her teeth, blindly reaching for him.

And desire raged within him. This is what he wanted. This is how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Loving Annie. Being a part of her, body and soul. And with that knowledge came a hunger to claim her. To make himself such a part of her that she would never want to let him go.

Leaning over her, he rocked his hips and began that long slow climb to completion once again. Her hands came up and encircled his neck. She pulled his head down to hers. Lips met. Breath mingled. Silent promises filled the room and swirled in a thick cloud above them.

And then there was only sensation. Pure, sweet sensation. He gave himself up to the glory of loving her and when he felt her body tense in anticipation of wonder, he plunged inside her again, forcing her up and over the edge of fulfillment, and then following her into the explosive light waiting for them.

Magic, she thought wildly, desperately as her mind and soul splintered. He was magic. What he’d done to her life. What he was doing to her body. It was all magic.

But when the heat slowly drained from her body and she was left cradled in his arms, she thought again,
magic.
And a moment later her traitorous mind clicked on and reminded her that in the end, all magic was merely illusion.

“I
love you,” John said a moment later, and ruined what was left of the afterglow.

Annie inched as far away as she could, which wasn’t far enough, considering his body was still locked inside hers. Then she looked straight into his eyes and told him, “No, you don’t.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and he nearly growled as he said, “What?”

“I said no you don’t,” she repeated and scooted back while pushing at his chest in a futile attempt to shove him off of her. Naturally, that move didn’t work. It was like trying to push a mountain into alignment.

“And you know this how?”

She knew it because she wouldn’t allow what she was feeling to be anything else. Annie wasn’t prepared to listen to promises of love that would, no doubt, end
up being broken. Wasn’t it better to never make the promises in the first place?

“It’s lust, John,” Annie said, ignoring the flash of anger glinting in his eyes. “Now, lust is good, mind you, but it’s not love.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oomph,” she grunted as she shoved one more time at him and this time he gave in and rolled to one side of her. She moved, too, as soon as she was able, hoping to keep some distance between them.

“You’re darn right I’m serious,” she said, swallowing down the knot of regret creeping up her throat.

She had to mean it. She couldn’t let herself believe him. Believe
in
him. Annie had believed before, and that had turned out too badly to even think about at the moment. Still, it was that experience that had to guide her actions in this one.

Reaching up, she shoved her hair back from her face, and snatched up the sheet, drawing it high enough that it covered her breasts. Okay, a false sense of security, but right now she was willing to take anything she could get.

John turned the bedside lamp on, and the soft shadows of evening darted back into the corners of the room. He drew one leg up and rested his forearm atop it. Casually naked and apparently not inclined to cover up, he just stared at her as if her head was on fire.

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, and the roaring sensation in her ears was deafening. She hadn’t expected to be having this conversation tonight. If only he hadn’t mentioned the
L
word.

“Quit staring at me,” she muttered finally, and told
herself not to squirm under his glare. Squirming would look guilty or defensive, and she was neither. Right?

He scraped one hand across his mouth, then slapped the mattress in a burst of frustration. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to a woman before tonight.”

A quick, all-too-brief spurt of pleasure shot through her before she purposely tamped it down. It didn’t—couldn’t—matter. Not now. Not ever, she thought, already sensing the loneliness awaiting her during the coming years.

“This isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

Okay, now she felt guilty. But then again, she thought, why should she? She hadn’t asked him to love her. She hadn’t gone out and set a trap and then reeled him in. This had just…
happened.
Now she had to figure out a way to make it
un
happen.

“Look, John,” she said, hoping that if she started speaking, the right words would come tumbling out of her mouth. “You can’t love me, and I can’t love you.” There went that hope, she told herself with an inward groan at her less-than-brilliant response.

“Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was a low purr of sound that didn’t fool her a bit. He might sound reasonable, but the anger in his tone was unmistakable.

“That’s right.”

“Care to tell me why?”

“You
know
why,” she countered hotly, refusing to have to defend a perfectly logical decision.

What was that old saying?
Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me?
Well, she’d already been burned, thanks very much, and she wasn’t looking
for another trip to the emergency room. Oh, she probably never should have slept with him. But after six weeks of being around him, near him, wanting him…well, she was only human, right?

“Because of Jordan’s father?” he asked, incredulity coloring his voice.

“Well,” she said, swinging her tumbled hair back from her eyes again, “give the Marine a prize.” Then she turned and half fell off the bed, dragging the sheet with her. She took a step, stumbled and righted herself again before wrapping the fabric around her like an ivy-patterned toga. Then, lifting her chin, she sniffed once, clutched at her sheet and said, “Bingo, big boy. Mike Sinclair might not have been good for much, but he was a good teacher.”

When John opened his mouth to argue, she rushed right on before he could start.

“He taught me well, John. He made promises, told me pretty lies, then got me pregnant and disappeared.” She forced herself to look into his eyes, figuring she owed him at least that much. “He said he loved me, too. Didn’t stop him from leaving.”

“So, naturally,” John said slowly, too calmly, as he slid off the bed and turned to face her, “that means
I’m
a bastard, too.”

“You’re a man,” she pointed out, unnecessarily, she thought, with a quick glance down his unmistakably male body. Oh, boy.

“Guilty as charged,” he told her tightly.

“And I’m not looking for a man.”

“Too bad, since you found one, anyway.”

Had she ever. Too bad she couldn’t keep him. “John, you don’t have to make this so hard.”

Shaking his head, he stalked across the room, covering the distance between them in a few long strides. Then he grabbed her shoulders in a firm grip and gave her a quick shake. “Are you nuts?” Astonishment shone in his eyes, along with an anger that darn near set fire to her skin. “I’m going to make this as hard as I can.”

“Why?” she countered, jerking out of his grasp and backing up until the windowsill nudged at the backs of her thighs. “What’s the point? Why beat each other up over something that won’t change?”

“What’s the point?” he repeated. “I
love
you, that’s the point.”

Annie took a deep breath and told herself not to listen. Not to hear the thread of panic in his voice. Not to surrender to her own heart, which was telling her to forget the past and fling herself at him. How could she trust a heart that was so easily fooled?

“You’re punishing me—
us
—for the actions of some other guy. An incredibly
stupid
guy.”

“I’m not punishing you,” she snapped, wanting to believe it. “I’m protecting myself. And Jordan.”

“I love that baby,” he told her. “Like she was my own. And you damn well know it.”

A sheen of tears unexpectedly filled her eyes, and she blinked them back. Darn it, yes. She did know it. She saw it every time he picked Jordan up. Every time he smiled at her. And maybe one day Jordan would resent her mother for throwing away her best chance at a real daddy.

But wasn’t it a mother’s duty to protect her child the best way she knew how? And that’s all Annie was doing, blast it.

“Yes,” she said, realizing she had to give him this, at least. “I know you love her.”

He nodded.

“Today.”

He tensed and took a step closer. Annie edged to one side. Not that she was afraid of him. She was only worried that if he got his hands on her again, she might surrender. Give in to what her body and her heart were telling her to do. “But who knows what tomorrow will bring?” she demanded.

“You’re right,” he said. “None of us knows what tomorrow’s going to bring. Isn’t that the whole point of enjoying what you have while you have it?”

“I
have
to think about tomorrow,” she told him and felt a soft, ocean breeze dance beneath the partially opened window and sail past her. “I have Jordan’s future to consider. Her happiness.”

“And I want to be a part of that future,” he said, slamming both hands at his bare, narrow hips.

But she wouldn’t be swayed. Couldn’t allow herself to be. So she dragged out her last weapon and fired it. “You don’t even know what you’re going to do with your
own
future.”

“What?”

“You told me you love being a Marine.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you’re willing to turn your back on what you love to go and sell computers.” He winced, and she kept on going. “You tell me to follow my heart,” she told him, “but are you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” she told him. “I know what being a
Marine means to you, and you’re going to give it up, just like that.” And she snapped her fingers.

“I
owe
my father,” he ground out.

Annie took a step toward him and looked up into his eyes. “Bull. When Jordan grows up, she won’t
owe
me anything.”

John reached up and shoved both hands along the side of his head, wishing for the first time in years he had enough hair to pull out in frustration. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, yeah, I do,” she said. “You’re giving up what you love for something else. Just like one day you would give
me
up for something or some
one
else.”

How in the hell was a man supposed to fight an illogical, irrational argument like that one? He looked into those deep-blue eyes of hers and saw that she meant every word. Believed everything she’d just said. Frustration gave way to pure anger. Damn it, he didn’t deserve her distrust.

“Besides,” she snapped, marching around the room like some curly-headed Cleopatra in a toga, “your father doesn’t need you to leave the Corps to run that company. Any halfwit could run it from a laptop anywhere in the world.”

“Is that right?” he countered, not really caring, but getting caught up in her speech.

“That’s right. All he needs is to simplify. Install a faster modem, get a more user-friendly Internet page….”

John’s mind blanked out as it often did when people drifted into computer speak. But even he could see that she was on a tear, rattling off one idea after another.
Though they made little sense to him, he had a feeling his father would have been impressed.

When she finally ran down, she turned on him. “Why in heaven’s name your father would want any of you to be in charge of a company none of you care a fig about is beyond me.”

“We’re family,” he said simply, knowing that those two words said it all.

“Family,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around herself in an age-old defensive posture.

John felt his heart drop at the closed-off look in her eyes and knew that whatever she said next he wasn’t going to like.

He was right.

“Well,” Annie said, lifting her chin again in a gesture he was really too fond of, “Jordan and I are a family now, too. And the two of us will get along just fine.”

“Damn it, Annie,” he said, taking a step closer, and stopping again when she shook her head firmly.

“Just…go, okay?”

“Not until this is settled.”

She shoved her hair back from her eyes, met his gaze squarely, so that he was in no doubt about the tears glittering across the surface of those blue depths, then she said, “It
is
settled, John.”

She was locking him out. Pushing him out of the circle of warmth he’d found here in this small apartment. Well, he’d go. For now. But he’d be back, too.

Because no Paretti alive had ever given up on anything important to him…or her. And he wasn’t about to be the first. But at the same time it was clear he wouldn’t get through to her tonight. What he needed was a battle plan. And some time to make it work.

“Okay,” he said, and saw shock flicker in her eyes briefly. Well, good. At least he could still surprise her. “I’ll go.”

Was that disappointment he saw flash across her features? It was gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure, but John clung to it, anyway. She just stood in the doorway watching him as he quickly threw his clothes on. Hard to believe that a night that had started out so well had ended so badly, he thought grimly.

In a few seconds he was dressed and facing her, and it took every ounce of control he possessed to keep his voice even when he said, “This isn’t over, Annie. I won’t let it be.”

“You don’t get a vote here, John.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, honey,” he told her, and swept her up into his arms. Dipping his head, he kissed her. Long and hard and hot and deep, he poured every bit of his love into that kiss and silently demanded that she accept it. When her arms encircled his neck and held on, he mentally declared a victory.

This war wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And with that thought firmly in mind, he released her abruptly. She staggered backward into the door, and he marched past her, straight through the hall and the living room and out the front door.

Let her miss him. By damn, she’d
better
miss him.

One week crawled into two and Annie wasn’t over him yet.

Irritating but true. She’d tried everything she could think of. She’d watched old movies and cried herself to sleep. She’d eaten enough ice cream to sink a battleship.
She’d stared at the phone, willing it to ring and then cursing it when it did.

In short, she’d used every weapon in the “getting over a man” arsenal, and it wasn’t helping.

It was beginning to appear that there would be no getting over John Paretti.

Heck, even her dreams were filled with images of him. Night after night she tossed and turned, haunted by the memory of his voice, his touch, his kiss. And morning after morning, she awoke, alone and incredibly aroused. It just wasn’t fair, she thought, stabbing at a particularly stubborn weed in the flower bed. Before John, she’d had no trouble living without sex.

Now, though, now that she knew what it could be like between a man and a woman, now that she craved his touch, she was forced back into celibacy.

Beside her on the lawn, Jordan giggled.

“Sure,” Annie muttered, glancing at her daughter, “easy for you to laugh.”

Still, it wasn’t just the sex she missed. It was the laughter. The times spent together on the couch, watching a movie. It was fighting over the buttered popcorn, sharing excitement over each of Jordan’s accomplishments, washing the car and having a water fight.