Off Base Read online

  Cullen grabbed her arm, stopping her as Beck and Mary slipped out through one of the auditorium’s exit doors.

  She tugged on her arm. “The nerve of her coming all the way here after what she did—”

  “Give them some privacy.”

  She glared at him. “Let me go—”

  “Are you going to go after them?”

  Her mouth pursed mulishly.

  He shook his head down at her. “Your brother is a grown man and can fight his own battles.”

  “I know that, but Mary just isn’t some girl he dated. They’ve been together forever. She was my friend first. Did you know that? Since kindergarten. She betrayed us all when she betrayed him.”

  Cullen held her stormy blue gaze for a moment before nodding and letting go of her arm.

  She looked toward the door where they departed and then back at him. “Fine.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the wall beside him. “I’ll give them a couple of minutes and then nothing is stopping me from following and giving her a piece of my mind.”

  A smile twitched his lips.

  “What’s so funny?” she snapped.

  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Mad.” Before he could consider it, he added, “It’s kind of hot.”

  Color flooded her face, and suddenly all the tense awkwardness of last night was between them again. They were in his bed and his hands were on her skin, sliding her thighs apart, sinking into her satin heat, wringing soft little cries from her lips. He inhaled and smelled that fruit shampoo of hers. His gaze slipped down and he got caught up in the way the coral dress made her skin look lush as peaches. Lust slicked through him and he dropped his hands to disguise his sudden hard-on.

  She stared straight ahead, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s enough time.” Turning, she made a beeline for the exit, the hem of her dress flirting around her knees.

  Chapter Six

  Huntley rounded the hallway and stopped hard. She didn’t see Mary anymore. No. There was only her brother lip-locked with a dark-haired girl in a white lace dress. Well, that would explain the absence of Mary. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was over his ex.

  Not that it was hard to imagine him getting over Mary when he had this girl to help him along. She was vaguely familiar and Huntley thought she might have seen her around town. Maybe on base. She was beautiful. Edgy, even in white lace. Beck looked like he was going to pull her deep inside himself and never let go. Her hands crawled over Beck’s massive shoulders, and it was clear she was all for that plan.

  This girl was the reason for that elusive expression on her brother’s face on the drive over. He was in love with her. She knew this about him just like she knew he loved banana and peanut butter sandwiches and spent the first eight years of his life with a Rambo poster on his wall.

  Cullen came up beside her. She was assailed by his scent. That faint hint of soap and laundry sheets and man. And something else. That thing she had smelled in his bed with him. A pheromone that belonged to him alone. Whatever it was, it shot a bolt of lust straight through her.

  God. It was like she was a victim of her body. For a brief moment she was on her back again, his hand between her thighs, the salty musk of his skin swirling all around her. She salivated as though she was hungry. Starving. Only not for food. For him. For what he could give her. Last night had been a sample. Sometimes it gets a little rough. She knew there was more. So much more to be had. His body was built for pleasure, and she knew he would have sex like he did everything else. With focus and intensity and power.

  “I don’t think he’s going to need a ride home,” he murmured beside her.

  “No,” she said evenly, glad her voice came out normally. “Looks like he’s got that covered.”

  Whatever was going on with her brother and this girl, it wasn’t meaningless for him. Her chest hollowed out a little watching Beck make out with a girl whose name she didn’t even know.

  With Cullen beside her, she shifted nervously. She tried not to think about them. About them yesterday.

  He had lit a fire within her. Stirred coals to life that had been long dormant. She needed to get laid and soon, before she threw herself at Cullen’s feet and begged him to finish what he had started.

  Cullen propped a hand on the wall, his arm brushing along her back. “Well, good for Beck.”

  She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. Yes. Good for her brother. He had found someone. He had been here all of three days and found someone. Meanwhile, she was a leper. Even Cullen didn’t want to seal the deal. Last night she had been his for the taking and he had stopped.

  “Yeah,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound as shell-shocked as she felt.

  “He deserves it.”

  She turned to face Cullen, suddenly not wanting to talk about her brother and the happiness he’d found. Yes, he deserved it. Yes, she wanted him to be happy. But right now it only reminded her of how she got a fat fail when it came to relationships.

  Cullen’s sculpted lips twitched like he wanted to smile, clearly pleased for her brother.

  “And you don’t, Cullen?” she asked.

  He turned to face her, his mouth all hard and flat again, a faint question in his eyes.

  “Deserve happiness,” she clarified.

  Okay, calling attention to his perpetual single status might not have been the way to go if she was trying to get things back on normal footing between them. She never questioned his lifestyle. She certainly didn’t pressure him to get serious and date any of his one-night stands.

  His eyes grew more hooded, the dark depths shielding whatever was going on inside his head. “Don’t put me on your shrink’s couch, Huntley. I’m satisfied with my life. I think it’s you who isn’t happy.”

  Cullen was right on that score. She’d joined a dating service because she wasn’t happy with the status quo. He knew that. But at least she was working on changing her life. Grandma always said there was nothing wrong with taking a hard look at your life and not liking what you saw. The wrong was in doing nothing to fix it.

  She glanced back at her brother, still lip-locked with his girl, his big hands cupping her face like she was the most treasured, special thing in the world to him. She wanted that for herself. Returning her gaze to Cullen, she knew she wasn’t going to find that with him. Her stomach churned sickly. Suddenly that mattered a lot. It hurt. Even though she told herself not to let it, last night with him mattered.

  Without another word, she turned and started down the long hallway. She’d text Beck later. She didn’t want to interrupt what was obviously an intimate moment. Besides, she had a coffee date tonight that she needed to get ready for. The first step to fixing her life. Grandma would be proud.

  Cullen’s dress shoes clicked next to her. “Where are you headed?”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lifting one shoulder as she stepped out into fading sunlight, unwilling to tell him about her date for some reason. It felt weird confiding that after last night.

  “Home. I’m kind of tired.” She winced over the implication that she hadn’t slept last night, but the words were out of her mouth before she could snatch them back.

  He scanned the parking lot, his eyes squinting slightly against the sea of gleaming hoods and glinting windshields. “Guess I’m to blame for that.”

  “No blame,” she quickly replied, her voice breathless. “It was a rough night. I get it.” The word rough conjured other ideas too. Conversation. Memories. The surety of his movements. He didn’t coax. He didn’t ask for permission. His fingers claimed their place between her legs like they belonged there, as though it was his right. Her body had only responded with invitation, panting and moaning and clinging to the sheets like a woman begging to be ridden.

  He’d made her feel so small and feminine. His big shoulders wedging between her legs along with his hand, his fingers. The ridge of his ere
ction had felt bigger than anything she ever encountered.

  A moan welled up from her chest, and she bit her lip to trap it inside.

  He shook his head and snorted lightly. “It was still wrong of me.”

  Heat slapped her cheeks. That’s what he was calling what happened between them. Wrong. She stopped beside her car, punching the unlock button. “It’s okay. You were dealing with a heavy load yesterday and—”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m some fragile soul, Huntley.” The warning rang in his voice. “Save that for your patients. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Oh, I know you’re not fragile. Not an ounce of weakness in you.” She clucked her tongue and leaned back against the side of her car, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh. You’re the eternal soldier. Never weak. You carry the world on your shoulders and take the blame for everything.”

  Suddenly, she felt very tired. Who was she to think she had all the answers and could fix him? It was enough effort to carve the life she wanted for herself. She couldn’t save him too.

  She waved her hand slightly in a gesture of apology. “Look, let’s just forget last night. We’re friends.” She laughed once. “You’re probably the best friend I have here. I don’t want to mess that up, and I don’t want things to get weird.”

  A muscle feathered along his jaw. “Agreed then. Let’s just forget it.”

  She blinked and stared at him for a long moment. Squaring her shoulders, she tried not to feel offended that he could so easily forget it and move on when that was precisely what she was asking him to do.

  “Good.” She nodded stiffly. “I mean, we didn’t even kiss.” Okay, this would be the point where she stopped talking. “We did that other … stuff … but we’ve never even kissed.” Sweet Jesus, she was babbling.

  His head tilted to the side a fraction, his hooded eyes studying her, the corners of his well-carved mouth dipping as if that had not occurred to him. “No,” he said softly, his voice a deep purr that stroked her skin. “We skipped that.”

  “Yeah.” She continued nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls. “Right? We haven’t even kissed, and that’s the most basic form of making out, right? Like first base. We skipped first base, so. So …”

  God, Huntley, shut up. Before she could insert her foot any deeper in her mouth, she whirled around and unlocked her door.

  She pulled it open and her spine collided with his chest. “Oh, excuse me.”

  His warm breath gusted her cheek. She turned. His mouth was so close. Tantalizingly close. She caught a whiff of his mint toothpaste. Her gaze darted from his lips to his eyes, so dark and mesmerizing. They pulled her in, muddied her thoughts. She leaned in slightly, forgetting everything, wanting that mouth.

  “Such a shame,” he murmured. His thumb brushed her bottom lip and a bolt of lust shot through her body. “I should have tasted this mouth when I had the chance.”

  Desire licked through her, mingling with regret. He exerted more pressure on her bottom lip, parting her mouth so that his thumb dipped between her lips. Her breathing hitched. She tasted him with her tongue, the barest, swirling stroke, and his eyes went black with heat. He closed the fraction of space between them, his chest grazing the front of her dress. Her breasts grew heavy and tight, aching. Sweet Jesus, he was going to do it. Yes, yes, please.

  He dropped his hand and pulled back.

  She fell back a step against her car, gulping a shuddering breath, fighting for composure. Tossing him a faltering smile, she slid inside her car. “Glad we had this talk.”

  He stared down at her, the heat in his eyes banked.

  She offered him a tremulous smile. Everything was supposed to be fine between them now. There wasn’t supposed to be any more weirdness or tension. Except for the fact that she couldn’t quite catch her breath and her skin felt like it might catch fire.

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat, desire still pumping through her and settling heavily between her legs. “I’ll see you around.” Ugh. Couldn’t she project more confidence? It sounded more like a question than a statement.

  He nodded, looking at her with his cold, hooded gaze. The dark, slashing brows over those deeply set eyes made her stomach dip and twist.

  “Sure,” he said, but his hand lingered on the frame like he was going to stop her, and a part of her wanted him to.

  She wanted him to argue with her. To insist things could never go back to normal. To yank her door open and haul her out of the car, snatch her up in his arms and kiss her senseless.

  Only he didn’t do that. Of course not. She wasn’t the irresistible sort that drove controlled men like Cullen to lose control. Last night had been an anomaly.

  She tugged on her door and he let it go. It shut with a thud, sealing her in like she was protected within a little bubble. She on the inside. He outside.

  With shaking hands, she turned her ignition and started the car. Still watching him, she backed out of her spot, her breath a ragged rattle in her chest. Get it together, Huntley. You have a date.

  Training her gaze ahead, she drove away.

  * * *

  It took everything in Cullen not to march across the parking lot and get into his truck and follow her.

  Why the hell hadn’t he kissed her?

  Now he was consumed with this regret, feverish for the taste of her he had missed.

  Shit. He dragged a hand over his scalp. When it came to Huntley, he had ceased to think. The only thing guiding him was his cock. It was a real problem.

  He could only replay her words in his head. We didn’t even kiss. We skipped first base.

  It was a fact he had been achingly aware of from the moment she left his house last night. He couldn’t explain the oversight. Only that when he felt her back her ass into him, he could only think of getting his hands on her, sliding his fingers inside her heat, touching her where he imagined burying his dick.

  Her words served to taunt and challenge him simultaneously. He knew she didn’t intend for that, but her intention didn’t matter. There was only what he felt. The need to chase her, pin her down and take. Claim. Finish what they began. This possessiveness was a wholly new experience for him. It never happened with other women, and he knew it was because Huntley wasn’t like other women for him.

  Cursing, he retreated to his truck and headed home. Once there, he changed and took a run, pounding out his frustration on asphalt in the fading light of day until sweat clung to him.

  He pushed himself until his muscles burned, and then he turned back and ran the remaining miles home. He sought exhaustion. Bone-deep weariness. Maybe if he were good and tired, he wouldn’t spend the rest of the night thinking about her.

  That plan lasted until he returned to his empty house and took a shower. Walking into his bedroom, he glanced at the clock. Five minutes past seven.

  Immediately, he had a vision of Huntley sitting at Java Joe’s, nursing her steaming mug with whatever latest book she was reading in one of the coffeehouse’s comfy, well-worn armchairs. She was probably there now. He usually joined her. He chalked it up to doing his part, keeping his promise to Beck and keeping an eye out for her.

  But Beck was back now. You don’t have to go there and babysit her.

  He pulled a black T-shirt on with angry movements, wondering why that didn’t seem to matter to him. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He knew he should probably give them both some space after yesterday. God knew he needed perspective. Or maybe a quick hookup with someone else to help him shake off this unacceptable bout of lust he was feeling toward her.

  And yet the image of Huntley sitting alone in Java Joe’s spurred him on.

  He told himself he was going there for her, because he couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting all by herself. Because he was her closest friend in this town.

  Not because he wanted to see her again. Not because he craved more of last night.

  Not because he intended to have her.

  Chapter Seven

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nbsp; “You’re a lot prettier than your picture.”

  Huntley forced a smile at the compliment. “Thank you.” And you look shorter in person. The thought skidded through her mind as she swapped pleasantries with her date. They stood at the coffee bar, waiting for their drinks. She chafed one hand up and down her arm, pretending not to notice him checking her out.

  “I bet your patients never want to go home,” he continued. “Security probably has to drag them out of the ER.”

  She smiled again, wondering if they were going to move beyond the inane compliments. According to his profile, they had a lot in common. When were they going to start clicking?

  Her favorite barista, Sheridan, set her drink down before her, her purple-tipped red hair bobbing stylishly above her shoulders as she moved. “Here you go, Huntley.”

  “Thanks, Sheridan.” She picked up her mug and met the girl’s inquisitive gaze. In the years Huntley had been frequenting Java Joe’s she had never brought a man here. Well, other than Cullen, of course.

  “And here’s yours.” Sheridan slid a mug at Greg, her smile slipping. For whatever reason, she did not bestow her usual perky smile on him.

  Greg accepted his drink. When his phone started pinging, he fumbled for it in his blazer pocket. Glancing at the screen, he looked up at Huntley through his wire-rimmed glasses. He was cute in a scholarly way. Not muscular. Not a soldier. Her hands might even be larger than his. His hands definitely weren’t like Cullen’s big, capable mitts. Nor like his long, deft fingers that stroked—

  STOP. She gave her head a single swift shake. This was the kind of guy she was looking for. Someone gentle and academic, cerebral, who liked to spend his free time at libraries. According to his profile, he made an epic goat cheese frittata.

  It would be nice, after a day of mayhem, to return to a home-cooked meal. An image of Cullen’s big body over hers, his hand working between her thighs, making her shudder out her release, flashed across her mind. Sweet Jesus, yes. That would be nice at the end of a hard day too.