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

sheened her eyes, but she blinked them away and her expression toughened. “I don’t want to get involved and find out in a month or two that it was all about a recovery attachment, and that when you don’t need me anymore—the attraction will go away.”
    Well, he had asked.
    “You don’t sound like a baby,” he assured her. “You sound like a woman guarding her heart—and I’m all for that. I want to protect your heart, too.” It would be so easy to sweep aside the cotton and explore the warm skin beneath, but he had to address her fear. “I will protect your heart. This isn’t about my recovery, babe. I adore you. I adore the way you don’t take my shit, you give it right back to me. You don’t let me give up, and you never let me think I couldn’t be something or do something—but most of all I love that you see me . Not my missing pieces.”
    She’d never made him doubt his masculinity—never let him doubt it.
    “The hardest part of any new beginning is not rushing it.” As a counterpoint to his words, he slid one hand up her back, over the cotton, and traced the length of her spine. “It’s admitting that we may not get everything right the first time, or the second, or the third. But I’ve had a lot of doctors, a lot of therapists, and a lot of nurses work with me this year, Noel. What I want from you—with you—is not about my recovery.”
    He’d deserve sainthood for the next part, especially with her liquid heat pressed so firmly along his erection. “And nothing has to happen until you’re ready for it. I like feeling you in my arms and in my bed, and I like having you here with me.”
    She closed her eyes and tipped toward him until their foreheads brushed. “It does feel good.” Her thighs tightened against him, the flex of muscle as alluring as a caress. “It could feel better….”
    His arousal ratcheted up. “When you’re ready.” And not a moment before.
    “Rebel.” Dark eyes met his.
    “Yeah?”
    “I’m ready.”
    Crushing her to him, he met her open-mouthed, tongue-thrusting kiss with a groan. It would be fantastic for both of them, and damned if he wouldn’t prove it.
     
    Understanding the sheer power housed in Rebel’s arms was completely different from experiencing the way he held her. He swung her around on the bed as though she were nothing more than a feather—and that was hardly true. She could lift a hundred-and-fifty pounds over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, one of the requirements for her job. She appreciated strength, but damn, did Rebel make it sexy.
    He never stopped kissing her; from tiny, teasing brushes to long, slow, wet ones that left her toes curling and her body humming. She had never been one for a casual affair….
    Nothing about Rebel is a casual affair . Intellectually, she believed that, but her heart stuttered, and when she dug her nails into his shoulders, he lifted his head, seeming to sense her hesitation.
    “It’s okay.” He smiled and her breath caught in her throat. Flattening one hand on the bed, he lifted some of his weight off her and she shifted her own grip, tugging him down.
    “I want this—Rebel, I’m just—”
    “Don’t sugarcoat it, sweetheart.” He captured her mouth again, but it was slower—sweeter and all the more sensual. “There’s two of us in this bed. If it’s not good for you, it’s not good for me.”
    He was right. They didn’t sugarcoat things. Sometimes a painful truth stung, but it was easier to digest if they didn’t try to disguise it as anything but reality. “I’m not a casual girl. I never have been. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you—and there’s this little voice in the back of my mind that keeps screaming if we cross this line….”
    “Yeah.” He rubbed his nose to hers; the boyish gesture made him seem so young and indescribably gentle. “Onward and upward, Noel—I want our relationship to change.”
    With a few words and the most innocent of touches, he’d