One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

Her talent for making these sorts of situations seem like they didn’t affect her was legendary. After one short-lived stepfather left town, she threw a rave in the town grocery store. She just didn’t have it in her to cry. Or maybe that was only what she wanted everyone to think. Regardless, she was crazy if she thought it would work on him.

“It’s more like having someone bring you coffee in the morning. Or kiss you awake. Down there,” he said, sitting up beside her.

“Either way, it’s weird.”

“That doesn’t sound good to you?”

“I don’t want to wake up with someone spelunking my lady cave. I like to wake up with a clear mind. No tongues in any unusual openings. That’s the dream, and so far, I’ve been living it.” She nodded her resolution, and the look of it made him feel that much more determined to prove her wrong.

“I think it’s the most useless bodily function. How could waking up that way possibly help you in the wild?” she asked.

He pounced on top of her and pinned her wrists to the bedpost above her head. “I think I could show you.”

Her breath caught, and her pupils dilated instantly. Jackpot.

“I can’t say I’m interested in finding out.” She fought to break free from him, but not nearly as hard as she was capable of. It was all yet another charade to throw him off her scent. This time, he wouldn’t let her get away with the show as easily.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said.

“You’re a terrible—terrible—” With every word she huffed and pushed against his hold, but her muscles didn’t tense as she “struggled.” Despite her protesting, she sank deeper into her pillows with every push.

“Terrible what?” He closed his mouth on hers, finally secure in his victory. She took his bottom lip between her own, sucking on it gently as his groin groaned for release with every lick. It was sweet, and sexy… And then stinging.

She’d bitten him.

He pulled back, releasing her wrists as his hands shot to his fresh wound. And just like that, she wriggled free, launching herself off the bed and jumping up as she shouted, “Who’s the terrible liar now?” Then she darted from the room.

The next couple of days followed in much the same way. He’d try to get her alone, spend some time in the apartment, and then she’d find a reason for them to leave—some special thing he absolutely had to see before he went back to Maryland. They were parasailing, surfing, cliff diving, everything she could possibly think of. When it rained, they did a bar crawl long enough to span all of California. And still, if ever they found a quiet moment to themselves, she would slip away and run in the other direction.

The sex, too, had changed. Ever since that night when she’d given herself to him, when she’d needed him, she’d been extra careful to ensure it never happened again. He’d try to slip into the shower with her, and she’d find a reason to do it on the counter instead. He’d try to make love to her, and she’d beg for him to ride her faster, harder, to flip her over so they weren’t face-to-face.

He knew what she was doing, and every time, it made his resolution falter. After all, if she couldn’t handle something as intimate as sleeping together, how would she manage only seeing him when he was on leave?

But she was getting to him. He’d get glimpses of her life now and then, the way she slept curled in a little ball, then twitched and jerked in her sleep until he pulled her into his arms again and made everything okay.

She never told him that she needed him there. He just knew.

It was impossible for her to hide the remnants of what he’d suspected her life was like when he wasn’t around. It was little things, really. Details he might never have noticed, except they were punctuated by the downturn of her full lips or the too-quick subject change when mentioned. Her dinner plates were dusty. Her phone almost never rang.

Whether she told him so or not, she wasn’t just alone.

She was lonely.

And so, his decision became that much harder.

The idea of leaving her by herself for months on end, thrashing in her sleep with nobody to comfort her, sharing the end of her day with nobody, was too much for him to bear.

So, the scales tipped ever closer toward another deployment. If he was out of her life entirely, then maybe she’d be able to find someone who could stay for good and care for her the way she deserved. It was what he’d always wanted for her.

But every time he wa

s absolutely resolute in his decision, Avery would do something to surprise him. She’d get them thrown out of a bar, and then she’d run out and get them breakfast in bed the next morning. She’d start a riot, and then give the coat off her back to a homeless person.

She was a study in contrasts.

And it was driving him fucking insane.

On their fifth night together, Holden settled underneath the covers and prepared for Avery’s return to bed. She always took forever in the shower, so he knew he was in for a wait.