Falling for the Marine (McCade Brothers 2)

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He glanced over at her. She raised her eyebrow but then slowly drew the skirt up, baring her legs, her thighs. He looked back at the road.

“Touch yourself.”

“I’ve spent the last twelve months touching myself. I have a better idea.” She took his hand off the wheel and guided it to her, and, Christ Almighty, she felt soft and warm and incredibly wet. His dick immediately snapped to attention, and he had to swallow a curse. “This is a risky game, Chloe.”

The smile she leveled at him in return made him want to stop the car, pull her out and take her right there on the hood of the Cherokee.

“In case you haven’t figured out by now, I like to take risks.” She moved his hand over her in a tight circle, increasing the pressure and speed a little more with each pass. He listened to her breath quicken and struggled to keep his eyes on the road.

Apparently his ability to multitask could use some improvement, because he misjudged the curb when he made the turn onto the access road, bounced onto the dirt trail, and stomped on the brakes. Directly in front of them was a bluff-top, one-hundred-and-eighty degree twilight view of the Pacific that any photographer would have been happy to frame in his viewfinder, but it was wasted on Chloe because her attention wasn’t on the scenery beyond the windshield. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back, and a dewy glow of sweat sheened her face. She was biting her lip as she worked herself against his palm. He put the Jeep in park, and set the emergency brake, but left the battery on so the air-conditioning kept pumping cool air into the interior.

She looked so beautiful, wrapped in the last fading shades of dusk and dappled in moonlight, concentrating fiercely on the orgasm she was chasing, he almost hated to interrupt. He let her ride it out a few more precious moments, to get a little closer, and then he extricated his hand from her grasp and danced his fingers over her heated, swollen folds, experiencing a ridiculous surge of satisfaction when she whimpered. She opened her eyes and looked around at the darkening scenery.

“Are we there yet?”

And now he wanted to laugh. All part of the Chloe magic—passion and humor. “Yes.”

“Good.” She unbuckled her seat belt, then his, and reached for the fly of his pants. “I can touch you now.”

“Not so fast.” He cut her off, because he’d explode in two seconds if she got her hands on him. “You’ve been a naughty girl, remember? You’ll have to earn your privileges.” He leaned over, grabbed her hips, and helped her climb onto his lap.

“How?” she had time to utter before he kissed her again.

They were both breathing hard by the time they broke for air. Her eyes were slumberous and incredibly sexy, her hands were anchored in his hair as if she worried he might try to get away. Or maybe for balance, because his hands were under her skirt, palming her ass, moving her up and down and enjoying the friction of their bodies brushing together through their clothes.

What felt this good through clothes would feel even better without them. “Off.” He tugged at her dress. “This needs to go. Now.”

“Back zipper,” she panted, busy unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest.

His fingers scrambled along the back of the dress, found the zipper, and yanked it down. Then he bunched the skirt in his fists and started drawing the dress up her body. She struggled to undo the last few buttons of his shirt before he got to the point where she needed to let go to raise her arms over her head. She didn’t make it and ended up pulling the shirt apart, sending buttons flying. “Oops.”

“Uh-oh. More naughty behavior. That’s a setback.” He forced her arms up and yanked the dress over her head.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and laughed. “Oh, I’m trembling.”

“You will be.” He tossed her dress into the back seat and snagged his fingers in the front of her bra. A second later it joined her dress in the backseat.

The cool air from the vents kissed her breasts, contracting the nipples. She crossed her arms over herself and craned her neck to look out the windshield. “Holy…crap. I-I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

He kissed the hollow of her throat where her pulse hammered. “You like to take risks, remember?”

“I know, but I feel so…exposed.” Her vo

ice quavered on the word, and he loved the small sign of vulnerability.

“You are exposed.” He didn’t bother denying that part, since she was sitting on his lap, naked as the day she was born. “But only to me. You’re completely safe. I promise.” He kissed his way along her collarbone, and covered her breasts so he could feel her nipples against his palms. “Does this help?”

She arched toward him and her head fell back. “It helps…something.”

Full, warm breasts seemed to swell in his hands. He pinched the distended tips lightly, and just a little harder when her breath hitched and she drove her hips into his. He was determined to get her past the point where she had the capacity to focus on any external worries. The only thing he wanted her worried about was what he would do to her next.

He palmed her ass and lifted her until he could suck one tight, pink peak in his mouth. She squirmed and cried out and then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Nervous eyes collided with his.

“Nobody’s going to hear you. The windows are closed, the nearest homes are a hundred yards uphill,” he assured her, drawing her hand away from her face. “Scream all you want.” He sucked the other breast. She cried out again, but this time he heard less surprise and more unvarnished yearning in the sound.