Page 11 of Her Marine Master (Master Me #4)

She watched him come, thrilled to see the same level of pleasure she'd achieved mirrored in his expression. When he finished, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingertips tracing the puckered skin there.

He jerked away, his hand flying to her wrist.

She gasped. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

He seemed to force himself to relax. He leaned back against the sofa pillows again and returned her hand to his neck, his larger palm covering it. "No. I just don't like to be touched there. But it's okay. Go ahead."

"Does it feel… icky?"

One corner of his lips lifted, probably at her childish choice of words. "Yeah."

"Someday, will you tell me what happened?"

He closed his eyes, and she wished she hadn't pushed.

Hadn't they already fought once today over this?

But to her surprise, he spoke. "I was Force Recon.

On a security detail. My three other detail members and I were scouting the area before we allowed the VIP's Jeep to come through. There was a bomb."

"An IED?"

"Well, a regular roadside bomb. IED technically stands for improvised explosive device and this wasn't improvised. It was a regular landmine, doing what it was supposed to do."

"You weren't the only one hurt?" She made a guess.

The light in his eyes died completely. "I was the only one who lived."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she looked away and blinked rapidly. He didn't need her tears—they helped nothing. "I'm sorry," she choked.

His lips twisted as if he was holding in some threatened emotion. He lifted her off his cock and to her feet, and her heart ached for him.

Damn, he was pulling away again.

He stood, removed the condom and headed into her bathroom.

She pulled up her panties and put her shorts back on. Well. She wondered what would happen now. Would he leave when he emerged? What should she do? Sit down? Clean up the kitchen?

She was still standing there like an idiot when he returned. He sat right back down on the couch and grasped her hand, tugging her down to sit on his lap.

"My mom emailed me about a possible job opportunity."

Kaitlyn tried to hide her shock at this sudden confidence. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it's with a hot air balloon company here in San Diego. I guess they like having retired military because we're good in high-stress situations, we're strong, and we know how to use radio communications."

"Sounds good." She went for a neutral tone.

He toyed with the fingers of her hand, examining them, running his thumb over her fingernails. "Yeah, I guess I might try it out. Maybe they'd let me trade for a ride for us or something."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, surprised.

He looked uncertain. "I mean, if you'd be interested in something like that."

"I would," she said quickly.

He smiled, a slow smile that stretched farther on his good side. "Cool."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek—on the scarred side, hoping it didn't bother him too much. She wanted him to get used to her touch there, to accept that part of himself.

"Listen," he said and she tensed, preparing for another brush-off. "I know I've been a dick. I wasn't looking for a relationship."

She held her breath, her heart thudding bluntly against her chest. Totally a brush off. It was okay. She could handle it. She was a big girl.

"But I really like you. I didn't expect any of this." He waved his hand at the two of them, their bodies intertwined on her sofa. "But I'm down. I mean, I'd like to give it a shot. Be your man." He shrugged. "Or just date. But I'm not very good at that. With you, I'd be an all-in kinda guy."

She put her hand on the mottled skin of his face. "I'm down. Or in, or whatever."

His lips twisted into a sexy smile. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Totally."

"Good, because I have this fantasy about you. Wait—it might piss you off."

She giggled. "What is it?"

His eye crinkled on the right side. "No, never mind."

She picked up a couch pillow and smacked his head with it. He let it fall once, but the second time she swung, he snatched it away and tossed her face down over his lap.

"Naughty girl." His hand clapped down on her ass. It seemed to hurt more post-orgasm. He spanked her four more times in rapid succession, then let her up.

She fell back to the sofa beside him, breathless and probably red-faced. Still, she persisted. "Tell me."

He had a devious look on his face. "I keep seeing you as my 1950's housewife.

You'd have your hair pulled up in that ponytail like you did the day I met you, and you'd be baking brownies or a rib dinner in a frilly apron and nothing else.

I'd bend you over the kitchen table and paddle your ass with a wooden spoon when you disobeyed. "

Her pussy moistened again.

"Oh yeah?" She cleared her throat because it sounded a little froggy. "Does that mean I'd be a stay-at-home mom? Er… wife?" She blushed, wondering if she'd just overstepped with her own fantasy.

He straightened his back, his expression turning earnest. "You could. I have great retirement benefits because of my disability."

She must be beet red now. Was he serious?

As if he, too, realized he'd gone too far, he said, "I mean, if we get that far. You know. It's a possibility."

Her heart jackhammering, she swallowed down her nerves and asked the question most important to her. "Do you want to have kids?"

He blinked at her.

Oh crap. She shouldn't have asked. He looked so startled.

He picked up her hand and smoothed her fingers down on his thigh. "You know, with you, I think I would."

She hardly dared breathe.

"When I was a kid I always thought I'd be a family man.

I mean, I had nice parents. A nice upbringing.

But eight years in the military hardened me.

I didn't think about shit like that because it was more about staying alive and completing the mission.

" He reached a hand out and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

"Maybe that's why I didn't go for girls like you—" He waved his palms out in surrender— "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I know I made some false assumptions. But what I'm saying is—I didn't mess with the kind of girl you pick to be your wife and the mother of your children because I didn't see that on my horizon. "

She wasn't sure whether to be offended or pleased. When she tried to withdraw her hand from Rob's knee, he caught it, lifted it to his lips and bit down.

"Ow," she giggle-shrieked, more shocked than harmed.

"So am I way off base again?" he asked.

It was hard to believe this was the same gruff man she'd met just a week before. His face was open and friendly, his pale blue eyes still assessing, but in a much warmer way.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you see yourself as my little housewife?"

She nodded her head, hardly daring to speak. Her face still flamed with embarrassment.

His gaze was decidedly warm now. "You'd make a great mom."

She sort of wished she had that apron now, because she would lift it up and hide her face. Actually, she did own an apron that fit his description. "Hang on a sec." She lifted one finger in the air and extricated her hand from his grasp. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He gave her a curious look. "You'd better hurry," he warned.

She grinned, her bottom clenching at his mock threat. She dashed to the kitchen, which was really just behind the couch, since her place was tiny. She stripped right there, keeping an eye on Rob. When he started to turn his head, she cried, "Don't look!"

He chuckled. "Okay, but make it snappy, little girl."

She pulled the apron out of a drawer and tied it on.

Adorned with little decorative balls as fringe, the blue fabric print actually featured hundreds of tiny 1950's type pin up girls.

It was perfect. She dashed into her bedroom for a pair of high heeled pumps to complete the look.

She wished she had a beer to bring him, but settled for a glass of iced tea and used a plate as a serving tray.

The heels clacked on the floor as she returned. "You can look now."

His eyes bugged. "Oh lordy, yes . Now that's what I'm talking about."

She knelt in front of him and offered up the iced tea. "I'd greet you at home with a beer and a blowjob," she said, blushing at her own audacity.

His stare grew intense.

She seemed to be in a permanent state of flush. Her cheeks burned.

"Are you fucking serious?" he demanded after a beat.

"Y-yes?"

If he liked it that much, she'd do it every day.

He took the iced tea and set it down on the side table, then lifted her by her forearms, pulled her in and crushed her mouth to his.

"You are so fucking hot. I can't believe you just offered that," he murmured between bruising kisses.

He maneuvered her onto her back on the couch, grabbing her ankles and tossing them over his shoulders.

Her breasts fell to the sides, peeking out of the bib of the apron. He slapped one of them.

She gasped, pussy clenching.

"You'd better know that I'm going to fuck the hell out of you now. There is no way you can wear that outfit without serious consequences."

She loved the way he made sex sound like punishment. It made it seem dangerous and thrilling and terrifying all at once.

He patted his pockets. "Except I don't have another condom. Do you have one?"

"Yes. In the drawer of my nightstand."

He gave her a fierce look and lifted her legs straight in the air. "Do. Not. Move. If you move one muscle before I get back, I will spank you until you cry, understand, Katie-Girl?"

She nearly orgasmed right then. His dominance turned her to jelly. "I understand," she gasped.

"Good girl."

She closed her eyes. Those words should not make her feel so warm and gooey inside. With her legs held stiffly in the air, she counted the seconds until he returned—thirty-three.