Falling for the Marine (McCade Brothers 2)

“I didn’t really have to use the restroom.”

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head slowly, still smiling like a schoolgirl with a secret. “Nop

e. I had a wardrobe issue to attend to.”

“Uh-oh. Wardrobe issue?”

“My thong was bothering me, if you must know. It bothered me all evening. I think the darn thing shrank when I washed it and, well, it was a little bit too tight.”

A mental picture of her standing in the Hardings’ powder room with her skirt hitched up, struggling to get comfortable in a too-tight thong suddenly filled his mind. His body reacted instantly and predictably. He moved his hand from the small of her back to the curve of her butt. “Anything I can do to help?”

She raised her chin and brought her mouth a fraction of an inch closer to his. Her breath feathered over his lips. “I solved the problem. I went ahead and took it off.”

He swallowed and ran his palm over her backside. He could feel a lot through the soft fabric of her dress, but he couldn’t feel any panty lines.

“Am I a naughty girl?”

Holy shit, she was standing there on his commanding officer’s doorstep with no panties on. Parts of him that had zero interest in toeing the line told him to reach up under her skirt, and…

“Here you go.” A square, Pyrex baking pan appeared in his peripheral vision. Loretta’s sudden appearance startled Chloe, who jumped about a mile, effectively diverting his skirt dive.

“Whoops!” Loretta smiled at them and fanned her cheeks. “Mercy. I remember those days.”

“Sorry,” Michael said and took the pan.

“Oh, please. Relax. You’re off the hot seat.” She waved them off her doorstep. “Go! Have fun.”

No need to tell him twice. He nodded to their hostess, corralled Chloe from the other side of the planet, and hustled her down the walkway and into the Cherokee. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the Hardings’ front door close. He came around to the driver’s side, got in, pulled the door shut, and stared at Chloe.

She stared back at him. The sound of her quick breaths filled the interior of the Jeep. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips.

He moved first—or at least he thought he did—but the next instant they were tangled together. He was drowning in the taste of her—champagne and apples and something sweet and addictive that was just, plain Chloe—his arms were full of her warm, soft curves, and no matter how much of her he got his hands on, or how intently she clung to him, they couldn’t seem to get close enough. In between kisses Chloe giggled hysterically, which told him she was running on pure, unadulterated relief as much as passion. Truth be told, he felt a little giddy himself.

“Come here,” he growled, and pulled her over the center console until she straddled him. Her lips locked on his and she proceeded to take his tongue into her mouth and treat it like her favorite candy. He dug through the folds of pretty, pink skirt spread over his lap, got a good grip on her pretty pink ass, and shifted her into a position guaranteed to drive both of them out of their minds in about three seconds.

Her giggles were officially gone. A moan slid straight from her mouth into his and flowed directly to his cock.

His thoughts devolved to single words. More. Now. He tried to break the kiss, with the half-formed intention of figuring out the best way to get her naked in such confined quarters, but she kept her mouth fused to his and clamped a hand at the back of his head for good measure. He groaned and leaned into her. She leaned back, which sent her hips sliding even more tightly against his. That felt so good he leaned forward some more. She wrapped her other arm around his head and bowed back, more…more… Her lower body rocked against his in a rhythm he was starting to recognize as her preferred pace. He tightened his hold on her ass, bent her backward a little more and—

A horn blared. He jumped. Chloe jerked back, and the horn blared again, inconceivably loud. Wide, dilated pupils sought him. “What the—”

“It’s us.” He shifted her into a more upright position. He’d had her bent back so far she’d braced herself against the steering wheel and accidentally bumped the Jeep’s horn.

His explanation seemed to satisfy her. She lowered her eyelids, ran her hand along his jaw, and brought those spectacular lips back to his. He could feel himself giving in to the reckless desire that seemed to grip him whenever he got too close to her. Urges that made him forget about goals and tugged him off the straight, narrow path he’d set for himself. It took a huge dose of self-discipline to wrap his hands around her upper arms and hold her a hairbreadth away. “Not here.”

They were parked under a streetlight, directly in front of his CO’s house, for Christ’s sake. He needed to get himself in check, and—she rocked against him as best she could given the tighter angle. The move sent his good intentions into a tailspin. Then she groaned his name and the sharp-edged frustration he heard in her voice perfectly echoed his own.

“Not here,” he repeated and ran his hand up and down her back. He nodded toward the house on the opposite side of the street where a woman stood in the doorway, clipping a leash to a golden retriever’s collar.

She glanced at the woman and then looked back at him and summed up the critical dilemma. “Home is too far. Where can we go?”

“I have an idea.” He dropped her back into her seat and started the engine. The Hardings lived on the last street in the planned community. The backyards of the houses along Dolphin Way faced the bluff. Nothing stood between those backyards and the bluff except an unpaved fire access road. No streetlights. No houses. No audience…unless some other desperate couple had already parked there. “Hold on.”

Chloe gripped the dash as he peeled away from the curb, but as soon as the ride stabilized, she leaned back in her seat and said, “Hurry.”

“I am hurrying. Lift up your skirt.”