Their Masquerade (The American Soldier Collection 6)

“You think we shouldn’t care about you, worry about you?”

She tried to turn away, but he adjusted his hold around her shoulders, his face inches from her own. Her breath was caught in her throat as he waited for an answer to his question. Quentin, with his green eyes, muscles everywhere, even on his neck, and his tan skin. He had tattoos, too. She longed to touch them, and trace them with her fingers.

“I don’t need looking after. I can take care of myself.”

“You may think you don’t need us, but you do. It’s a dangerous world out there, baby. You could get hurt,” he said and she lost her temper.

“God damn it, Quentin. I’m not a child. I’ve been away for two years. Two damn years and look at me. Do you see a fucking child?” she yelled at him, and his expression suddenly changed. He looked so fierce, commanding, and, holy shit, lethal. He pulled her onto his lap. Her beer bottle and his fell to the ground. She straddled his waist as he cupped her face between his hands.

“Fuck, no. You don’t look like a child, and never have. You’re a fucking gorgeous sexy woman, and it has taken everything I’ve got not to want you in ways I shouldn’t be wanting you,” he stated firmly. She saw the fire in his eyes and felt the fire in her heart, her soul, from his proclamation. He held her face still between his hands and they stared at one another. Were they both in shock? Should she just kiss him or what?

“Quentin, I—”

He covered her mouth and kissed her hard.

She kissed him right back, feeling his ironclad thighs under her thighs and ass as she thrust her hips against him. His hand moved under the back of her head against her hair as he plunged his tongue between her teeth. He gripped her hair hard, dominating her and the kiss, which nearly sent her exploding on his lap. She ran her hands up his chest through his crew cut hair making the Stetson fall from his head. It was wild and crazy and so much more than she had ever fantasized about. His other hand explored her breast, cupped the mound, and squeezed her as he plunged his tongue over and over again into her mouth.

When he finally pulled from her mouth so they could breathe, they were both panting, as he kissed her neck, released her breast, and pulled her into a bear hug.

“Oh, fuck, Mariah. Damn, baby.” He carried on, as his hot breath collided against her skin and she hugged him back as tightly as he hugged her. She inhaled his cologne, the scent of his skin, and the feel of his whiskers on her neck. It turned her on entirely too much. She wanted him. The need, the desire was so incredibly intense she shivered.

The feel of being in his arms, having his large, thick hands caress over her ass and lower back made her feel content. Then the sound of a cell phone ringing killed the moment.

He eased away, and she sat up on his lap as he pulled out the cell phone.

“Yeah. I’ve got her. She’s safe. Yes, we’re headed back to the house shortly.”

He closed up the phone and she felt the disappointment and the anger begin to creep up into her again. He was only trying to keep her safe. This didn’t mean anything.

“Mariah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t, Quentin. It was long in coming. I kissed you, too.”

She got up off of his lap and fixed her sweater. Her lips felt swollen and red and she tried wiping them, hoping that her light-colored lipstick wasn’t smudged across her face. She saw a little bit on his cheek near his lip and she reached up to wipe the smudge away.

“It was wrong of me to do that. I have a lot more experience than you and should know better.”

His words stung like a beesting. She recovered quickly, considering the kiss and the fondling had completely shocked her.

“Don’t apologize. I’m not so inexperienced either, Quentin. I’ve lived in Italy the past two years. Give me a break.” She picked the two bottles up off the ground and placed them into the holder. Quentin grabbed her arm and pulled her up straight.

“You have a boyfriend? A lover?”

She widened her eyes.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Michael would want us to watch out for you. It’s our job.”

She stared at him and shook her head. He was fighting the feelings he had for her and she didn’t want to waste time trying to convince him that they could be good together. Their trust issues ran way too deep.

“The four of you are officially fired. Go on with your lives. I’ve gone on with mine.” She walked away from him and headed toward the truck. Glancing behind her, she saw Quentin running his fingers through his hair and then bend down and place his Stetson back onto his head. He looked so good, so sexy and appealing. He had a great ass, and she had to use all her willpower to turn away before he saw her drooling.

She started the truck and headed down the road. Slamming her hands on the steering wheel she felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

“That could have been perfect. Why did it go so wrong?”

As she headed to Uncle Jeb’s she thought about Quentin and the others. They truly were hardcases. All four men feared commitment, connecting with people, getting close to anyone, probably from the fear and danger they’d experienced while in the military. Losing Michael probably made them more fearful of connecting on a deeper level. Whenever someone died people questioned their own mortality. But these men were scarred deeply. She would love to be able to help them, but getting pushed away and making her feel too young and unsexy was not something she was willing to accept.