Free Marine Under the Mistletoe (Always a Marine) by Heather Long

they waited for the sunrise. They sat vigil through the longest night of the year as Yule celebrated the return of light to the world, the turning of the wheel. From this day forward, the days would grow a little longer, minute by minute.
    Kaiden lay on his side, his head pillowed on her lap—sound asleep. He’d drifted off while she’d stroked his hair, and the combination of his position and the rising sun afforded her a chance to drink in the softness easing the hard planes of his cheeks and the relaxed line of his jaw.
    Her stomach bottomed out. No, she was not falling for him. She liked him. He was an utterly lickable, likeable guy. Oh hell . Rowan squeezed her eyes shut. Hormones on overdrive and her heart engaging at full throttle were not what she needed to be facing. He’d said it several times—he was a Marine. He was on leave.
    He’s going to go back…no matter how much you’re enjoying yourself right now, he’s going to pack his things and walk right back out of your life. The sinking sensation in her gut dropped further and she blew out a breath. I’m being a friend, I’m showing him the same love and trust the circle showed me when I first got here .
    She could probably toss some glitter on that thought and hang it on her own personal excuse tree. A snicker worked loose and she bit down on her lip to keep the laughter contained. Movement against her leg jerked her attention downward and she met Kaiden’s sleepy gaze.
    “What’s funny?”
    “Nothing,” she lied. “The sun is coming up—we made it through the night.” Unable to help herself, she stroked her fingers across his scalp lightly. Even with the short, tight haircut, what strands he had were soft.
    Stretching, he made no attempt to move away. “Sorry I fell asleep.”
    “You were tired.” She caressed his cheek with her knuckles and the bristle of his morning stubble rasped her skin. She knew damn good and well she should stop touching. So why don’t you? Not that she was remotely interested in not touching him.
    “Did you get cold?” He slanted a look toward the still-flickering fire.
    After the heat he’d stoked in her with his expert kisses? Not hardly. “No.” She traced the line of his jaw, then the shape of his lips. “I’m fine.” A yawn caught her off guard and embarrassment scorched her cheeks.
    “Or not.” Stretching again, he rolled to his feet with an ease and verve she envied. Her legs were sound asleep. “I’ll get this out and—”
    “No!” She held out a hand to him to stop him from kicking sand onto the fading campfire. “We don’t put a Yule log out, remember?”
    “Not technically a log .”
    “Doesn’t matter. We sat vigil, we kept the light alive from sundown to sunup, we let it burn out on its own.” Extending her legs one at a time, she tried to hide the wince as sensation raced on pins and needles down her thigh. By the time it reached her toes, she’d be in for a very uncomfortable time.
    “Rowan, most of us—observing doesn’t mean down to the last tendril of smoke. The sun is awake, it’s returned.”
    Fisting her hands, she experimented with curling and releasing her toes. Each motion sent a fresh wave of agony up her legs. “It’s not the point.” The words came out harsher than she intended. Tapping the side of her fist on her leg, she winced. “It’s important to me .”
    “You okay?” He dropped back onto his knees next to her and cupped the back of her calf and the nettles burst to life, a thousand angry bees stinging her muscles.
    “Yes. No. Ow.” She pushed the words out past her laughter. Better to smile and giggle than to cry. Not crying happened to be a skill she’d perfected long ago. “I think I sat still too long.”
    “Hang in there; keep wiggling your toes.” He massaged her calf muscle until the spasms of pins and needles decreased and she settled on the blanket. The sun’s continued ascent washed fresh color across the lake and she closed her eyes to