A Few Good Men. Tori Carrington

fatigues as if trying to keep them from doing something else. The saying, “idle hands are the devil’s play-things,” rang through her mind…and immediately trailing it was, I want to be that bad girl.

      She stepped the few inches necessary to bring her within touching distance, raking her gaze over his fine, male physique. Damn, but marines had to be the sexiest guys on earth. Raw, solid muscle and deadly intent. And if she was correct, Eric had just put her directly in his sights.

      Sara leaned in to kiss him, possessed by a flash of desire to yank fantasy into mind-blowing reality. He didn’t hesitate to return her kiss, his groan reaching inside to a place she’d long forgotten about. A place that had been hollow, empty, for much too long and now clamored for attention, demanded to be filled. Pure, unadulterated need zinged through her veins. She tugged his khaki shirt from his waist and he sucked in his stomach to help her. Finally, her fingers were touching the rippling waves of his muscles. Hot, so strong. Her mouth watered and she kissed him more deeply even as he hauled her sweatshirt up and off, barely breaking contact before she melted against him again, flesh against flesh.

      She wanted to feel all of him…now.

      She couldn’t seem to take his belt off fast enough, and the same applied with him and her jeans. Finally, they each abandoned their efforts and focused on their own clothing until nothing separated them but unwanted air.

      Sara knew a heartbeat of pause as she stared at the exquisite male specimen in front of her. Eric could easily have been carved from granite, standing at least six-three without a cell of unwanted weight on him anywhere. His prime physical condition made him virtually ageless even though she knew he was thirty.

      He seemed to be asking with his gaze alone if she was sure she wanted to do this. That even now if she wanted to turn back, he would. The knowledge made her grateful…and all the more determined to have him…

      SWEET JESUS, SHE WAS everything and more than he’d imagined.

      Eric wrapped his arms around the hotly naked woman who stepped closer to him. She was soft and warm where he was cold and hard. And she smelled better than any-one had the right to. A bit of lavender with the tangy scent of the sea.

      And her mouth…dear Lord, her mouth was the thing of which dreams were made.

      He couldn’t have been more surprised when Sara had stepped into his arms. He could have sworn she’d been about to throw him from the kitchen. Ever since they’d returned from the beach, she’d been antsy and uncomfortable in his presence.

      Then she’d turned and kissed him and he’d forgotten about everything he’d wanted to say to her and focused on everything he’d been waiting to show her instead.

      Every moment of every long night of the past six months were packed into his kiss. If he could devour her, he would. She tasted like salvation and pure temptation combined. Her tongue was merciless, dipping in and out of his mouth so that he felt like he was chasing it, chasing her. He raised his hands to rest on either side of her head and held her still, breaking contact briefly to stare deep into her eyes, and then leaning in for another taste. She clutched his wrists in her hands.

      The two of them stood there, completely naked, just kissing for a time Eric was helpless to measure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman, much less only kissed her when he could be doing much more.

      She made a small sound at the back of her throat and he smiled, finally moving his hands from her head to her shoulders, and then down over the hot silk of her back.So long…so graceful. He pressed his fingers along the line of her spine, following it down to the high swell of her bottom. Then farther still, dipping into the shallow crevice inward until he probed her swollen womanhood from behind. He was surprised to find her so wet, so ready.

      He groaned and picked her up. She automatically curved her legs around his hips, sandwiching his erection between her engorged labia. He turned her toward the kitchen island and sat her down, resisting the urge to enter her to the hilt right then and there. Instead, he reached for his discarded pants and took out the single condom there.

      “I’m…I’m on the pill,” she whispered into his ear before he sheathed himself.

      He pulled back slightly to look at her.

      “I…I never stopped taking it.” She licked her lips, her pupils dilated so that her eyes were nearly black with need.

      He kissed her deeply…and still sheathed himself. Confusion registered on her face.

      “My dad always told me that you should always protect a lady,” he said.

      She opened her mouth to protest as he hauled her hips closer to him until she was on the edge of the counter and entered her.

      Whatever words she might have uttered were eclipsed by a soft gasp. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she arched her body, sensation appearing to take over. He helped her lie back against the counter. Eric’s blood surged double time, her immediate response to their joining heightening his own reaction.

      He’d waited so damn long for this. Too long. He planned to take his time getting to a destination that he had only dreamt about.

      He grasped her hips and withdrew, wondering at the sight of his tanned, rough skin against her pale softness. She clasped his wrists and wriggled against him, hungry for what he’d only given her a taste of. He sank into her to the hilt again, gritting his teeth to keep from coming too soon.

      She felt so good. Hot, wet, inviting.

      “Please,” she whispered, moving her head from side to side. “Please make love to me…”

      And he did…

      Chapter 4

      SARA ROLLED OVER IN bed, pressing herself against the warm body next to her.

      “Andy...”

      It was a dream she’d had a thousand times before. Of waking up next to her husband…only to find he wasn’t there. And she always cried.

      But this was the first time someone actually comforted her.

      “Shh.” Arms encircled her.

      Sara burrowed her nose against a rock-hard chest, clutching to the impenetrable wall that could protect her from everything. Her grief, her fears, the world.

      Then she realized whose arms held her. And what name she’d said in her half sleep.

      She rolled quickly away from Eric, the night before rushing back in snippets of sweaty flesh, soft cries and red-hot passion.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for her robe.

      “Don’t be. I miss him, too.”

      She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked so damn sexy lying against the pillows, the top sheet draped dangerously low across his hips.

      “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll be calling anyone else by his name.”

      He glanced away, and she glimpsed the pain he must be feeling but was trying to hide.

      “I’m going to be late for work,” she said.

      “It’s Saturday.”

      “I work Saturdays.”

      Liar. Worse, she suspected he knew that. They’d talked about their hours during their many conversations and she’d complained about the nine-to-five grind and how she wished she could work from home with flex hours because sometimes she was best inspired during her time off.

      Truman came in, toenails clicking against the wood floor, tail wagging, tongue lolling.

      “I’ll make breakfast and take Tru for a walk,” Eric offered.

      “I don’t eat breakfast and I’ll take care of Truman,” she countered.

      She gathered the clothes she needed and headed for the bathroom. Before closing the door, she