Free Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine) by Heather Long

a nagging ache at the mall turned into raw skin and a blister— damn it . Thank God for her though. She made soothing noises as she helped remove the prosthetics, cleaned up his stumps, and rewrapped them until the burn alleviated. Only then did she torture him with a massage.
    A puddle of warmed muscles and half-asleep on the sofa, Rebel dozed while she made her phone calls. He loved the way she spoke to people on the phone, no matter whether she was brisk and factual about a medical status, or offered emotional support as she explained why some patients were less enthusiastic about their family involvement, she never failed to be kind.
    “When you get to my mom, let me know,” he said when she hung up from the most recent call. “I want to talk to her.”
    “Yeah?” She stroked her fingers through his hair.
    “Yeah.” His scalp tingled with every gentle caress. “I need a haircut, too.”
    “Hmm, I kind of like it a little longer. It’s soft.”
    The compliment rolled over him. “Yeah?” Peeking up at her, he grinned. “Maybe I’ll keep it a little beyond regulation for you, then.”
    “Tease.” She winked.
    Chuckling softly, he cupped her nape and she accepted the invitation. The sweet hesitation in her gentle nuzzle at the corner of his mouth tormented the hell out of him. He shifted and dragged his tongue across the seam of her lips, and she opened to him. Claiming her mouth, he delved inside and her soft moan was all the encouragement he needed.
    She tasted so familiar, but exotic in the same breath. Deepening the kiss, he kneaded her tight muscles, skating his thumb over her soft, silky skin and her pulse beat madly—or maybe it was his. Her second breathy, low moan went straight to his cock and he wanted her in a bed, below him, and crying out his name.
    The intoxicating scent of her—peppermint with hints of vanilla, sexy, sweet, and fresh, wrapped around him. A man could drown in her scent. Dark, hot arousal burned in him and he lost himself in her. When she shuddered, he slid his free hand to her breast. Brushing a thumb over her nipple, he delighted in the pebbling of the tip beneath the fabric.
    Noel dug her fingers into his shoulder and his control began to slip. He craved the feel of her nails raking down his back, and the idea of her hair fanned over a pillow, hearing the long, low, sultry cries as he discovered every glorious inch of her body. Holding her was a revelation, but he needed to make it as special for her as he knew it would be for him—and special meant that he carried her into the bedroom, not the other way around.
    With regret, he pulled away. The fever in her eyes threatened to drag him under once more, but he adjusted his hold on her and caressed her lower lip. “You have more phone calls to make.”
    Her slow blink of confusion fed his ego. “I’m sorry.” She licked her lips and he imagined repeating the action—in slow motion. “Who am I again?”
    A burst of laughter rocked through him, puncturing the raw heat. “My lady.” He’d staked his claim. His woman. His funny, sassy, and oftentimes obstinate and determined woman.
    All that mattered—she was his.
    “I’m going to call your mom now, smartass.” She pressed a kiss to his finger as he traced the line of her mouth. “You still want to speak to her?”
    Right then, he felt like he could fly. “Yes ma’am, I do.” The conversation was stilted at first. He didn’t know exactly what to say to her when she answered the phone. Stretched out on the sofa with his head in Noel’s lap, he found the words came easier and easier.
    He skirted the issue of where Noel would sleep until she declared it was time for bed. Emotionally exhausted, but exhilarated at the same time, he didn’t argue. He kept a wheelchair in the house and he headed in to wash his face and brush his teeth while she got the coffeemaker ready for the next morning.
    “What time do you have to be up?” He’d changed into shorts for