One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

A warm hand closed over her bicep, and she turned to find Holden’s eyes gleaming back at her through the darkness.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was groggy, but the concern there was undeniable.

“I can’t sleep, that’s all,” she said, only too grateful that he didn’t ask why she’d decided to join him in bed after all.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her back toward him. She tensed, all too aware of the way her body responded to him, of the almost instantaneous need to settle back against his chest and let him have whatever he wanted. Let him have her.

“I should probably make warm milk or something. Or—” She stumbled over the words, but it didn’t matter. She was already following his touch, leaning backward until her shoulder blades connected with the warmth of his chest. One broad hand wrapped around her waist, and she held her breath as his thumb dipped beneath the elastic of her waistband.

Just one thumb. Just enough for her to know he was there, keeping her still.

With the other hand, he brushed her hair away from her face and behind her ear.

“Holden—” she said, but he hushed her.

“Just relax.” His whisper filled the darkness, and she tried, really tried, to do as he said, but she was too aware, too hardwired to do anything but focus on his touch, on how close his lips were to the shell of her ear. She could feel his warm breath there, and it was driving her crazy.

Unbidden, the memory of his kiss returned to her. The softness of his lips. The way he’d coaxed her to respond, to give and take in equal measure until she was nothing but putty in his hands. An ache rose between her thighs, and again she thought of his thumb, resting so gently above the apex of her sex.

“Holden,” she whispered. “Will you touch me?”

His response was automatic. Slowly, his hand dipped lower, and she spread her thighs for him, allowing him to slip beneath the cotton of her panties and feel the wet need waiting for him.

“Jesus, Avery,” he whispered against her ear, and then he was kissing her, brushing the hair back again until his teeth caught her lobe, and he sucked with every flick of his thumb, every pulsing of his fingers inside her.

She shuddered, wanting more, wanting him, but he never made a move to take her. She could feel his length hardening against her backside, could feel the way his cock pulsed and throbbed, but he kept on until she writhed and bucked and moaned his name.

Until she’d lost the last shreds of her control.

“Holden, Holden I need you,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Please, please…”

Make love to me…

“Take me,” she said, but knew that it wasn’t what she’d meant.

Somehow, she thought he might know, too. Might, deep down, know what she wanted.

If he did, though, he didn’t bother to name it. Instead, he pulled her shorts and panties down in one tug, then freed himself of his own clothes as she watched the moonlight bathe his rippling muscles. She licked her lips, waiting for him, needing him more than she ever had, and not caring.

Knowing she should pull away, and not being able to find the will to do it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and then he gripped himself and eased into her, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt and their lips were only millimeters apart.

He was still for a moment, then he cupped her cheek and pulled her face to his until their lips met, and that spark he’d lit on the beach spread through her like wildfire, bringing every cell to life.

She gasped against his mouth, but her momentary surprise was answered with a thrust of his hips, and she found herself dizzy and needy and full, so full of him that she couldn’t bring herself to think anything but yes, yes, oh yes.

Tonight, for the first time, Holden was claiming her as his own.

And when it was over?

She’d have no trouble sleeping. Not even a little bit.

Chapter Eight

Two days later, Avery blinked her eyes open, bleary and confused.

The clock on her bedside table told her it was five in the morning—one precious hour before Holden would invariably wake and start his American Ninja Warrior workout in her living room, grunts and all. Never remembering to close the door after himself.