Soldier, Come Home Page 7

  "Over there? You did?"

  "Yeah. I fantasized about my fingers in your hot little pussy." He growled, brushing a thumb over her lips, pressing on the center. "Did you think about me?"

  "Yeah," she whispered.

  "You're smart and beautiful and we have fun together. I'm ready to settle down. If that's not something you can deal with then let me know."

  "Wow!" she responded.

  "Yeah, wow."

  "And we have great sex," she added.

  He drew both arms around her waist, snugged her in tightly, and chuckled. "Yeah, that too. So, what d'ya think? Are you ready to give it a shot?"

  "This is crazy," she said, but at the same time, she leaned up on her tiptoes to put her mouth against his, but not in a kiss exactly.

  "Crazy good or crazy bad?" he asked, her breath bathed his lips, tickling them.

  "Crazy good," she said laughingly and gave his lips a little peck.

  "Crazy good is okay, but can you do better than that little kiss?"

  Her lashes lowered. He couldn't tell if she closed her eyes or if she was focusing on his mouth. Then she angled her head and kissed him. Feathered her lips over his. It drove him nuts, but he didn't want to take over. He needed her feelings to be clear for both their sakes.

  Without warning, unless you counted the hot, humid, gusty winds, the heavens opened up and rain pelted them in sharp, stinging drops. Whirlwinds drove sheets of water sideways against them pushing her closer into the shelter of his arms.

  "I'm afraid," she shouted over the din of rain and drafts of wind howling around them.

  "Let's go," he shouted back, looking around for some protection. He spotted the viaduct leading under Lake Shore Drive and towed her in that direction.

  Soaking wet, he whirled her back against the concrete wall. "There, you're safe now."

  "I meant I'm afraid to be hurt. Afraid to hurt you," she explained.

  "If we don't try, we'll never know if we're meant to be together. I want to see where this'll lead," he murmured into her ear so he didn't have to shout over the noise of the rain.

  "You're right!" She leaned up to curl her arms around his neck. "You make me feel alive like no one ever has. That has to mean something important." She pressed her lips to his cheek, to his nose, his chin, wrapped her fingers in frenzied little motions into the hair at the nape of his neck.

  Now he took over the kiss. He'd heard what he wanted to hear. He'd won. They'd won. He kissed her thoroughly, making it completely clear that he trusted his own feelings and that he wanted her in his arms and in his life. Lifting his lips after a very long time, he whispered, "Good, that's settled then."

  Chapter Eleven

  "My client won," she announced when Jess met her at her office the next day. "Her abusive husband was found guilty and sentenced to three years. We can help her disappear and move somewhere else, so it would be highly unlikely the asshole could find her."

  "That's wonderful, honey. You do good work." He embraced her, and giving her a squeeze, he kissed her forehead. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"

  "You have no idea how satisfying this is to help put a miserable bastard away and help a woman start a new, safe life."

  Could she do this in Cataldo? He had something to ask her, and her answer to that question was the key. "Do you want to go somewhere to celebrate?"

  With her arms around his waist, she said, "I want to go home."

  The minute they were inside her apartment, he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She squealed, but started giggling when she landed on the bed in a flurry of arms and legs.

  He wrestled her out of her clothes and shucked his off right after. She lay on top of the coverlet, sprawled was more like it. And he liked it. A lot. All that long, sweet, white skin, naked, lushly naked. He sighed. He was the luckiest bastard when he came home to Lorren. Graced by God that he was able to come home to her, he lay tucked in bed, belly to belly, skin to skin. Just the way he liked it, her head on his shoulder. She'd won her case. The jerk who'd beaten his wife and threatened their child had been sentenced to prison. He was so proud of her and still wanted to make it one of the best days of her life, celebrating with dinner, champagne, and finishing up with her favorite dessert—a hot fudge sundae at Margie's.

  "What's the matter?" she asked. "You look troubled."

  "Not troubled, just thinking how happy I am to be here with you. I'm so proud of you."

  She scooted up, plumped the pillows, and leaned back against the headboard. Holding out her hand, she said, "Come here."

  He didn't hesitate long to take her up on her offer but had other plans in mind. Crawling back off the bed, he picked her up and stalked into the bathroom. She had a magnificent shower, heads all over the place, and room enough for two. A small nightlight shed just enough of a glow so he could steer them to the marble tiled space of the shower. "Okay, baby?" he asked as he set her on her feet and reached in to turn the knob. When the temperature was right, he drew her in with him.

  Her hands all over him gave permission, especially when she kissed his chest and covered his ass with greedy palms, pulling his hips tightly against hers.

  He ground his swollen cock against her belly. Hot water blasted them, plastering their hair flat to their heads. He soaped his hands and spread them over her shoulders and chest, watching the soap trail off and around her breasts and turning her rigid pink nipples white. Blocking the spray with his back, he tormented her slick breasts, caressing and balancing their soft contours in both palms, twisting her nipples, his fingers slipping on and off, rewarded by her moans.

  "Turn around," he ordered roughly, nudging her arms up, bracing her hands on the marble wall. He stroked his thumbs up and down her backbone, pressing each vertebra on the way down. Soapy water sluiced over her ass and down her crack. God in heaven. He curled his fingers around those squeezable cheeks—white, round, wet, soapy cheeks. His thumbs rode down the crack. Once he started he didn't want to stop. "Your ass is beautiful," he groaned into her ear.

  She moaned his name and thrust her bottom back, widening her stance.

  His fingers slithered between her thighs, skimmed over her pussy hole and circled her clit.

  Her forehead rested on the tile. "Yes. Yes," she crooned. Her hips shifted forward and back, again and again. Her thighs squeezed his hand.

  He slid his fingers back, pumping once, twice into her pussy, then tracing the cleft all the way back.

  "Jess," she whimpered.

  Leaning in, he covered her ear with his lips. "It's all right. I won't hurt you. I just want to touch you. Here." He skimmed slick fingers between her cheeks, going deeper with every pass.

  She groaned again, rolled her forehead from side to side.

  He would have thought she was resisting except for the fact that her thrusting ass encouraged him to forge ahead.

  "Relax, baby. Let me love you here." He rested his thumb on the tight pucker of her back hole. "God," he moaned. It was so small.

  She gasped and pushed back. Her groan was pure pleading and pleasure.

  Gently he pressed, stroking and circling, every second pushing his thumb a little further in. It occurred to him that he should have started with a smaller finger, but she was relaxing, opening with every thrust.

  Her hips swung and swayed, pulling his thumb inside her. "Oh my God!" She went wild then, taking him, crying out.

  He pumped until she stopped writhing and pulsating, until she squeezed his thumb tightly. Jesus, Jesus. Her climax overpowered him. His cock was so hard, his balls achingly tight up into his body. When he pulled his thumb out, her moan was as strong as when she climaxed. Turning her around, all he could think of was getting inside her, of her snug pussy gripping his cock.

  Her eyes were wide and wild. She'd bitten her lips until they were a deep red.

  He lifted her, balanced her back against the tile, and urged her legs around his hips. Pushing his cock inside, he kissed her
at the same time. She opened her mouth, and his tongue ravaged her there too. He didn't move. Just reveled in filling her sweet, tight cunt. It pulsated and throbbed, milking his dick until he couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't stand still. His hips shifted, circled. He needed to feel every inch of her, to stimulate every nerve ending, to go deeper, to be so far inside her that he would never come out again. Just being inside, being there, was glorious.

  Hot. God, she was hot. It had been so long, so long that he'd been hard, so long pleasuring her. He couldn't wait much longer. A growl built from deep inside his belly. He withdrew and thrust mindlessly, feeling every inch of him clutched by every inch of her. "Baby." Thrust.

  "Baby." Thrust.

  Hard. He groaned loudly on each thrust, and then he came, forcefully, explosively, ejaculating with Olympic proportions. Christ. He just folded down, his knees landing on the floor, her legs still locked around his waist, her head thrown back, eyes closed tightly, her body still vibrating with his.

  An hour later, and they still hadn't moved from her apartment. Indeed, they hadn't moved from the bed. Snuggled together in each other's arms, he thought this might be the best time for his…"Lorren, would you be willing to get registered or licensed, whatever it's called, in Idaho? I have a big house, the land is wonderful, so picturesque that I know you'd love it."

  ***

  "Wow, that's a big step."

  "Yeah. It is."

  "Jess, what are you really asking me?"

  "I think you can probably guess. And my dad and brother would love you."

  "Oh, sure," she responded with a self-deprecating chuckle.

  "Oh, baby, I can guarantee it. They'll love you."

  She brushed her fingertips over his flat nipples quickly pebbling under her ministrations.

  A breathy moan escaped him, his arm tightening around her waist. "You keep teasing me that way, and we won't be going anywhere any time soon."

  "Really?" she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth, exulting at the moisture seeping from his ready shaft onto her thigh.

  "Yeah." His fingertip gently circled, polishing the pale skin surrounding her nipple.

  "Mm." She moaned and looked down at her breast, at her nipple hardening and darkening to a deep strawberry red.

  He caught the prickling nub between thumb and forefinger.

  "Jess," she sighed, pursing her mouth, cupping her breast as an offering.

  "Close your eyes, love."

  Lorren felt something cool and hard touch the tip of her breast. Her gaze flickered down. Something dangled from her sensitive nipple. Her eyes widened.

  "Will you marry me?" he murmured.

  It was a diamond ring, the round, multi-faceted gem sparkled even in the dim light of the bedroom. He brushed the smooth surface over and around her nipple. "I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives."

  "Oh, Jess, it's beautiful. Are you certain?"

  "Are you?" Putting the focus back on her, he then plucked the ring up and reached for her left hand. "I'm more than sure I'm in love and want to marry you. At least come home with me, and see if you can stand it."

  She heard that moment of uncertainty in his voice. The endearing worry that she might say no. Then, she let him slip the ring on her finger, the erotic sensations in her body almost forgotten at his unique proposal. She only had to think about the shower, the site of the most profound experience of her life, for her blood to pound thickly through her veins. He'd touched her where no man had ever touched her before. She'd reacted as never before. They had a connection, but did they have a future?

  "You know, not that it's a good thing, but we have troubled families out west. You could make a difference there the same as you can here."

  That's when she knew they had a future. This beautiful, strong, sensitive man respected what she did, what she was. He wasn't asking her to give up her life here. He was asking her to continue it elsewhere. With him.

  "Yes, I'll marry you." She snuggled deeper into his embrace. This was meant to be. From the first moment she'd seen him on the street, throughout the long wait for him to return, Jess was the man she was meant to be with. "I love you too. We can do this." She lay with her ear over his heart, listening to the fast, anxious beats becoming slower until she also felt herself relax into a sublime contentment.

  ###

  About the Author

  I’m one of the lucky ones—a published author. My debut novel, Ancient Ties, received 4-½ Stars and Top Pick from Romantic Times and was nominated for Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Erotic Romance of 2006.

  It is my honor and pleasure to write romance. My tag line reads: My Romance: Love with a Scorching Sensuality. I love to wring every ounce of passion out of my characters and bring them together for their well-deserved Happily Ever After.

  I understand about HEA. I met and married my husband a bit later in life, so I know it can happen in real life. We live in Chicago, and my writing space overlooks the park and lakefront. My message to you is take that chance to do what you want in life, and more importantly, take the chance to fall in love. Please check out my website to read about my other wonderful stories.

  http://www.janeleopoldquinn.com/

  ***

  Other Books by Jane Leopold Quinn

  Ancient Ties

  Home to Stay

  Undercover Lover

  A Promise at Dawn

  Mercenary Desires

  Winning Violetta

  Hot Under the Collar

  Valentine's Day

  His Hers & His

  The Keeper

  I'll Be Your Last

  ***

  Read on for previews of some of my other books.

  Preview of Home to Stay

  Chapter One

  "Oh my God, someone's outside my house!"

  "What's your name and address, ma'am?"

  "It's…unh…one-zero-zero-nine Larkin Road," Nickie Grace whispered into her cell phone. "Hurry!"

  "Units in vicinity of one-zero-zero-nine Larkin Road, respond. Woman reports prowler. Copy?"

  "Are you still there?" Nickie asked the police dispatcher.

  "Yes, ma'am. Is anyone else there with you?"

  "No. I'm alone." Her fingers ached, she held the phone so tightly. In the silence of her kitchen, she could hear the crackling sounds of the police response.

  "…Unit five-seven…in progress…one-zero-zero-nine Larkin."

  "When will they get here?"

  "Unit five-seven, what's your ETA?"

  "Three min…Molly, wh…name?" It was a man's voice.

  "Ma'am, the deputies will be there in three minutes. What's your name?"

  "Nickie Grace. Please, tell them to hurry!" she entreated from her crouched position in the corner of the kitchen. She'd taken refuge there, out of sight of the back door and the window over the sink.

  "Nickie, my name is Molly. Is someone getting into the house?"

  "No, I don't think so. Stay on the line with me."

  "I will. Unit five-seven, the name is Nickie Grace. Nickie, the deputies will be there in a minute."

  "Okay…" Calm down…where the hell are the cops? They said three minutes…I don't hear any sirens. "Molly?"

  "I'm here, Nickie."

  "I heard a sound outside. I just felt creepy like someone was watching me…you know…like little prickles on your neck," she babbled on, but she knew Molly was still on the other end of the line. "I'm from Chicago. It so noisy there all the time. It's so quiet here, so any little noise is magnified, you know? Where the hell are they?"

  "Don't you hear sirens yet, Nickie?"

  She did. Finally past the thumping in her head of her heartbeat. It was pitch black outside at ten o'clock, and she could see nothing inside either since she'd flipped off the kitchen light before calling 911. Back home, sodium vapor streetlamps and fluorescent lights from high rise office buildings would have lit the night. In the city, the sometimes explosive sounds of traffic—c
ar horns, motorcycles, buses—were constant. Now all she could hear in the country were crickets and the swooshing of twisting leaves in the stormy wind. There had been a prowler a few minutes ago. She'd heard…something.

  The shriek of sirens got louder, stopped. Tires crunched on the gravel drive, then footsteps pounded on the wooden floorboards of the front porch.

  "Nickie, are you all right? The deputies are there, aren't they?"

  Knock, knock. "Marion County Sheriff's Department. Are you there, Ms. Grace?"

  Relief. She closed her eyes a moment and shakily pushed herself to her feet.

  "Nickie?" Molly repeated.

  "Yes, I'm here." Her voice quavered. Don't fall apart now. The cops're here.

  Knock, knock. "Ms. Grace! It's Deputies Rayne and Crossman of Marion County. Open the door, please."

  Creeping toward the front door, she eyed the bulky shadows shifting outside the tall frosted art glass panes on either side of the door. "Molly, what are the names of the deputies?" she whispered even though she knew the men outside couldn't hear.

  "Deputies Crossman and Rayne. You're all right, Nickie, if they're there. It's okay to let them in."

  "Thank you. I just wanted to be sure." Punching OFF, she forced her trembling muscles to move and made it to the front door to retrieve the baseball bat leaning against the wall. Maybe it was overkill. Maybe not, but she felt a little safer with the bat perched on her shoulder. Ready to swing, she flipped the front hall light on, turned the lock, and drew open the door.

  Holy freakin' cow.

  Two wide-shouldered giants in khaki uniforms and black gun belts filled the doorway. For a moment, she forgot about the bat. Faced with the men, she forgot she only wore panties under her horrible, shapeless, dingy robe, and even forgot why she'd called 911 in the first place.

  And men they were. Long-legged hunks of masculinity. They were the good guys but looked wickedly intimidating with those huge, thick, black belts full of equipment slung around their middles.

  "You don't wear Smokey the Bear hats." She choked at the first words out of her mouth, appalled at her inanity.

  "We're county, ma'am, not state."

  "Oh?"

  "State police wear those," he said, his lips quirked in amusement. "We're county deputies. You're out just beyond Parkersburg city limits, so you're in county territory."