Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island 3)

“You’re home,” he murmured, not sure what words would bring her back. Carefully, he curled his fingers around her shoulder, feeling warm skin through the black cotton. It was sexy as hell. “There’s no danger here.”

Long lashes swept down, and she released her breath with a shudder. Had he noticed how long those lashes were when he’d had her underneath him? Or on top of him? Hell. There weren’t too many positions they hadn’t tried out during their one night. He’d thought she was simply a pleasant memory, but apparently he’d been wrong.

She grimaced, her eyes snapping open. She was back from whatever mental hell she’d been visiting. He dropped his hands to grip her elbows before she butt-planted in the surf. Unless she’d had a personality transplant, his Mia would want to leave with her dignity intact.

“Memories,” she explained, and they both mentally added bad to her one-word explanation. Yeah. For one deceptive moment, she’d looked soft and vulnerable. But now, she squatted there beside his boat, ready to defend him and everyone else on the beach from invisible bad guys and...he respected the hell out of her commitment to getting the job done.

“Come on.” He stood up, bringing her with him.

She’d angled herself between him and the beach like a good officer. He didn’t need her to protect and defend him, but he appreciated the offer. And other things. He definitely appreciated Mia’s body. Her butt brushed his front. Any closer and she’d be fully aware of his interest. Although she only came up to his shoulder, she looked competent and in charge, her hands on her hips as she surveyed her surroundings. Wispy strands escaped from her braid as if she’d just rolled out of bed, softening her edges. And Mia had a great many edges.

“Let me buy you a drink,” she said. He didn’t know whether she wanted to deflect any more questions or make sure they were even.

But did her motives matter? He could do one drink. It was hot. And he could really use a glass of water because he’d been wrestling with the damn boat motor for over an hour now. It would have been nice, though, if Mia had actually asked. Instead, like always, she was all tell.

And assumptions.

Not waiting for his response, she strode away from him, laying in a course for the beach bar, and the possibility of his refusing orders was clearly not an option she’d entertained. But...he’d worked around her need to be in charge four years ago. She was simply Mia and a woman he’d like to get to know just a little bit better in the very limited time he had before he shipped out again and she...got on with her own life.

So he followed her pink-and-rhinestone backside up to the beach bar. His thoughts should be illegal. Sweep his thumbs beneath the edge of her bikini. One good tug and she’d come undone.

To his chagrin, the scene at the beach bar was worse than he’d anticipated. The bride high-fived Mia as if she’d scored a hat trick and won the game for the home team, while five other women in pink rhinestone bikinis eyed him assessingly. Hell. This was not a drink with an old Army buddy. This was an interrogation. Or the dating version of musical chairs.

“Sit there.” Mia pointed at the single empty seat beside a blond bridesmaid who looked as though she’d just won the lottery. At least they were color-coded. Pink for available and white for completely off-limits. He sat down in what he was fairly certain was Mia’s seat, but he wasn’t completely sure how he’d ended up here.

Mia made the introductions, then waved down a waiter and placed an order for another round of drinks. The two of them were the only ones going with iced tea today. He watched her effortlessly organize her bridesmaid troop. In some ways, she was just the same as before, giving orders, arranging things. With the best of intentions—he’d give her that. She wasn’t bossy just to be take-charge. It was simply that she was a planner and not afraid to assume command. Ever. In under five minutes, she had the drink orders marshaled, seats rearranged, and the conversational train headed in a pleasant direction.

“You’re active duty?” The bridesmaid next to him toyed with the dog tags around his neck. He put a few more inches of space between them, although there wasn’t much room to retreat. His leg bumped the bare thigh of the bride on the other side. Coward he mouthed at Mia. She’d stuck to her post on the far side of the group.

She grinned, a gleeful smile illuminating her face at his discomfort. Whoa. Her happiness was a one-two punch to his gut. Don’t think about what it felt like to be deep inside her. Good luck with that. Maybe she’d acquired mind-reading skills in her last deployment, because her smile widened. Instead of being all serious and take-charge, Sergeant Dominatrix had a fun side. Who knew?