Free A Candle for a Marine (Always a Marine) by Heather Long Page A

open trust, the tiny laps of her tongue and soft vibrations from her—he drank it all down. He loved her so damn much it tore him in two. Her shirt was in the way and it aggravated him. He wanted skin and tugged her blouse half open to find her nipple peaked and hard, shoving at the fabric of her bra. Pulling back, he glanced down. He wanted to see.
    A red flush spread from her face down to her chest. She’d always been creamy-skinned, eschewing tanning except on her arms and face. It pleased him to see that had definitely not changed. Palming her breast, he rubbed in slow circles, teasing the nipple until it hardened further.
    “Isaac.” The ragged whisper dragged his attention upward. Her eyes were dark, the pupils dilated until they threatened to drown out the deep brown with utter blackness. “Not here.”
    He wanted her then and there, against the wall, and it took time for her words to sink past the haze of desire coating his mind. She leaned in and nibbled a path of kisses from his jaw to the corner of his mouth, not helping him get control. Blood rushed south to his cock. He massaged her breast and she squirmed, releasing another delicious moan.
    “Isaac,” she repeated, digging her nails into his nape. “We can’t do this here.”
    “Why not?” The question far more petulant than he cared to admit.
    “Because I work here.” Laughter underscored the words. “And I don’t want to check on the kids and remember they’re standing or sitting where we were getting naked and sweaty.”
    He grinned, ignoring the kids part, but liking the image of her all spread out below him, panting with need. His cock ached to be free.
    “It would be our secret.” He claimed her mouth again, drowning in the want of her. She groaned a laugh, the sound managing to invite and push him away at the same time. Attempting to unhook her legs from his hips, she flattened her hands on his chest. Still, he didn’t let her go.
    “You are a bad, bad man, Isaac Janko.”
    He raised his head, delighted by the echo of the past. “You said that the first time, too.”
    “We were at your parents’ house and everyone was downstairs in the backyard, having a cookout.” Amusement and passion danced in her eyes.
    “Oh, I remember, and we had to be quiet.” And she’d had a hard time being quiet, every touch eliciting another sound from her, and he’d loved how she turned to liquid heat in his arms.
    “Hmm….” She traced a finger around the collar of his shirt. “But no one is at my house remember…? We can be as noisy as we like.”
    More want fisted him from his spine to his cock. “That’s a long way to go.”
    “It’s two blocks, and you can handle it.” Challenge laced her words, and he wondered how much cajoling it would really take to get her naked on the sofa in the game room. Probably not much. Although soft and willing in his arms, she didn’t want to do it there, and he didn’t want the sting of regret to mar this.
    Getting his body under control took no small amount of effort. Discipline fraying, he focused on her and what she needed. Thinking about what to do for Zehava helped him put a lid on his desire. “Okay.” He withdrew a step, straightened her shirt, and something tender unlocked in him as he closed each button. “I did promise you dinner.”
    Her tongue swiped over her lips, and the motion fascinated him. He dipped his head and stopped when she pressed an index finger against his mouth. More humor filled her expression. “Bad man.”
    “It’s so good.” He grinned and bit her fingertip with a light possessive scrape of teeth.
    Shaking her head, she pulled away farther, then caught his hand and tugged. He followed willingly, the jaunty sway of her hips an invitation and torment.
    “Now who’s being bad?” He groaned, but not in complaint.
    “Only if I’m teasing.” Zehava tossed a look over her shoulder at him as they paused in the front room and began blowing out the candles. He didn’t