One Night With a Hero

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  She tugged the top button through the hole and drew the zipper down, exposing a pair of black cotton boxers made tight by his straining hard-on.

  Breathing faster, shallow, he reached into his rear pocket and tossed his wallet to the seat, then he helped her shove his shorts and boxers down enough to release his cock to her gaze. A streetlight down the row of cars threw just enough diffuse light into the truck’s cab that her mouth watered and she swallowed, hard. God, he was thick and veined, swollen with need. She grasped him and his hips jerked upward.

  He wrapped a big hand around hers where she held him, stroked him. “Joss. Damn it all…” Her thumb swiped over his head and spread around the slickness. He groaned and grabbed at the length of her skirt again and again until he found the bottom edge and could push it up her thigh.

  The heated cab of her truck smelled of the summer night, the cool spice of Brady’s aftershave, and the promise of damn hot sex.

  When he’d exposed her to the waist, he dragged a finger over the triangle of white silk covering her, then turned his wrist and pressed three fingers between her legs. He stilled when she gasped, his eyes tracking her reaction before he rubbed the sensitive covered skin at the juncture of her thighs.

  The press of his fingers made it all the more clear just how wet she was. She moaned at the wild sensations ricocheting through her. Her heartbeat echoed thunderously in the enclosed space of the cab, or maybe that was just her blood pounding against her eardrums. Brady grabbed her hip and stroked her harder, the wet slide of her thong adding an incredible friction. For a long moment, she lost the ability to do anything but feel him touching her, but then she realized her hand had stilled, and no way did she want to be the only one this out of control. She fisted her grip up the length of his thick erection, her thumb swiping over the head before lowering again.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. His hands fell away.

  She forced her eyes to focus in the dimness and watched as he fished a condom from his wallet. She arched an eyebrow as he tossed the leather to the side and removed the rubber.

  “What?” he asked, his cocky expression both infuriating and sexy as all hell. “I didn’t expect anything, I promise. Just had, you know, an avid hope.”

  She shook her head, but truly she couldn’t even work up any fake indignation. Had he not brought the condom, she might be tempted to do something really crazy. She was that aroused. Way, way past the point of resisting what her body was demanding she have. Now.

  Brady placed the latex over his cock, holding himself as he rolled it down to the base. Joss couldn’t pull her gaze away. The sight made her stomach flip and the muscles in her core clench.

  “Come here, sweetness.”

  She pushed onto her knees and scooted closer.

  He braced a hand against her stomach and met her gaze. “How much do you like these?”

  “What?” Dazed, she glanced down.

  He rent the flimsy fabric of her thong apart, and a second yank removed the material between her legs altogether. “If they were your favorites, I’ll buy you another.”

  A nervous giggle worked its way up her throat. “You just tore off my thong.”

  He grinned and tugged her hips over him. She gripped his shoulder with one hand and held her skirt out of the way with the other. Then he was right there, his swollen head poised just below the aching flesh of her center.

  She sank down.

  “Oh, fuck me,” he groaned.

  “That’s the plan,” she managed, her throat tight around the incredible pleasure grasping every part of her. When she had taken him in all the way, Joss paused and let her body adjust to the pressure of his presence inside her. He was a damn big boy.

  “You okay?” he rasped.

  She nodded and gripped harder onto his shoulder, damp with a thin sheen of sweat. “More than.” She began to move, slowly, setting a dragging, teasing pace that had them both panting.

  He clutched her hips, anchoring and guiding her. “Too damn hot not to see this,” he said, his eyes trained where his body disappeared inside hers.

  She curled her hand around the back of Brady’s neck and held on. Her center throbbed at his invasion, her thighs strained to keep up the pace, to quicken it, her clit urged her forward, until her body rubbed against his with every stroke.

  He slid down in the seat, then grasped her left hand and guided it to the hand strap hanging above the door. “Hold yourself up a little,” he said.

  She obeyed and held her skirt out of the way as Brady used his massive thighs to hammer his hips upward, fucking her even though she was on top. She moaned long and low and gripped the old leather so hard it bit into her palm. His pace was fast. Hard. Insistent. And gave her body a massive shove toward the explosive free fall that had her name written all over it.

  His hand slid off her hip and moved to her mound. He worried his thumb over her clit and Joss threw her head back and swallowed the scream that threatened.

  “No, no. Look at me. I want to see you when you come.”

  Somehow, she found the muscle control to respond. Arousal made the hard angle of his jaw and strong brow stand out. “Oh, God.”

  “Yeah? I like that one better than ‘sailor boy.’”

  She nodded.

  He pulled his thumb away and she gasped. “Tell me I’m not a sailor.”

  Her brain swam through her arousal. “What?”

  “I want to hear you say it,” he said on a harder thrust.

  “Seriously?” she gasped.

  He arched a brow and gave her maybe the sexiest grin she’d ever seen. His thumb flicked against her clit for a half dozen strokes, then pulled away. “Say it.”

  She sighed, but it came out sounding like a soft moan. “You’re not a sailor,” she said, her indignation lost in the softness of her voice.

  “That’s right.” He grinned, returning his thumb to her clit with renewed enthusiasm and luring her toward the edge of her body’s pleasure threshold. “You feel so good, Joss. I can forget the whole fucking world when I’m inside you.”

  What his thumb didn’t do, his words finished. Her belly went tight, tight, tighter until he was groaning and she was coming, her muscles pulsing hard around his thrusting cock.

  “Oh, sweetness,” he whispered, his voice a rough scrape. His shaft erupted inside her, over and over. With two hands, he slammed her down, held her for a long moment, lifted her up and repeated that motion, once, twice, until finally, their bodies stilled.

  Joss released the hand strap, and Brady cradled her body against him. Her head fell to his damp shoulder and he stroked her hair off the side of her face. It was a moment more quietly intimate, with him still inside her and his arms around her, than any other she could recall. Just then, she would’ve sworn she’d known him for years.

  He kissed her forehead.

  A tight sting settled behind her eyes.

  Hell, no! Do not cry on the sex god Special Forces soldier after he just gave you the orgasm of your life.

  She blinked the sensation away and forced on her mental big girl panties. Which brought to mind that she didn’t have any to wear now.

  “Wow,” Brady whispered into the stillness.

  “Yeah,” she said. What was that aching pressure inside her chest? Out of nowhere, the image of Ethan and his fiancée slammed into her mind’s eye so hard she nearly gasped. Why was she thinking of him now?

  He kissed her again and squeezed her in the tight circle of his arms. After a long moment, he released her. The suddenly cooler air made her shiver. “Here, let me…” He reached between them and eased her off his lap. “Aw, damn.”

  “What?” she asked as she straightened her skirt and settled on the big bench seat beside him. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

  “Nothing. Almost slipped off. But I got it.” He tied a knot in the condom.

  Joss handed him a tissue from the box on the floor. “I’m on the pill, any
way,” she whispered.

  He nodded and wrapped the condom in the tissue, then hiked up his shorts. When he was all put back together, he looked at her so long she started to squirm. She didn’t understand the pensive expression on his face as he stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “I like your hair down.”

  “Oh? Thanks.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, loving how easily, how freely, he gave out these little compliments and considerations. She could so easily imagine herself falling into him. Asking him to come home with her. Making him breakfast. Spending the day with him. Many days. And that scared her.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

  Joss didn’t realize how long she’d just been sitting there. She drew her knees up next to her. “I’ve never done this before.”

  His eyes went wide. “Had sex?”

  “Oh, my God! No! I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ve had sex before.”

  Brady held his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He blew out a breath. “I just didn’t realize what you were—”

  She smacked him in the arm. “Such a pain in the ass.”

  Chuckling, he said, “That’s not the tune you were singing a few minutes ago.”

  Heat bloomed across her face and she waved a hand. “Yeah, well… No, I mean sex in my truck. Sex with a man I’ve just met. Sex in a freaking parking lot.”

  He grinned. “That’s a lot of firsts.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, thank you for sharing them with me.” He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Seriously, I had a great time with you tonight. And not just this.” He waved to indicate her truck and what had happened there. “The whole night. Dinner. The fireworks.”

  “Me, too.” She wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen now. A big old part of her still wanted to make those plans with him. But she knew that wasn’t what this was about, and she knew herself well enough to know he made her heart duck and run for cover. She had no doubt he was a good guy, but he was also a player. And he was a soldier who’d move on to his next assignment in a year or two. Neither was going to do anything good for her fear of being left behind.

  Cart before horse, much?

  Probably. Definitely. She sighed.

  One-night-only offer. That’s what she’d said. And what a one time it was. She’d never forget this night. As good memories went, it was right up there.

  “So, where are you parked? Can I drive you to your car?”

  He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Nah. It’s only a couple blocks. I’ll enjoy the walk.”

  “Okay.” This is weird, her mind yelled. You two are great together. Ask for his number. She wanted to. She really did. But she couldn’t read him. Wasn’t sure what he would want. Or what she could risk.

  And it wasn’t like he was asking for hers.

  He gave her a long look full of that intensity she now associated with him. “See you around, Joss.”

  She nodded and watched him push out of her truck. The door slammed behind him. He stood there, waiting for her to go.

  Her stomach clenched as she fastened her seat belt, started the truck, and backed out of her spot. That damn stinging returned at the back of her eyes. She blinked as she pulled up next to him and rolled down the window.

  Ask for my number, she thought as she forced herself to smile at him.

  He leaned his head through the opening and gave her a long kiss that tasted like more. “Be careful going home.”

  “I will. It’s not far.” Her gaze swept over the quiet lot, hiding her face from his view. She didn’t want him to see how much she needed him to want her. “Well, good night, sailor boy.”

  She pulled away, the outraged expression she saw on his face in the rearview mirror making her smile, just a little.

  Chapter Four

  Virginia LCK 2176.

  Without meaning to, Brady committed the truck’s license plate number to memory.

  It wasn’t like he needed that information. Not unless he planned to… No.

  This was a one-night-only deal. Exactly his style. He didn’t do sleepovers. He didn’t call the next day. He didn’t make plans. Good as the night had been—and it had been fantastic—he didn’t want to see Joss again. Something about her made too many “maybes” and “what ifs” float through his brain. Damn if he didn’t feel…good around her. That kind of connection had a better than average chance of leading down a path he had no intentions of running. Ever.

  Fuckin’ A.

  Brady crossed the lot and tried to ignore just how much Joss still dominated his senses. His mouth remembered the cool metal of her piercing. Rubbing his thumb against his fingers, he could almost feel the moisture of her peaches and cream on his skin. His thighs still carried her warm weight. And his dick was ready to volunteer for round two in the truck sex Olympics.

  Out of habit, he made a scan of his surroundings as he walked up Oronoco to Fairfax, where his new Land Rover was parked. He’d treated himself to the wheels when he’d returned stateside back in June. It was pretty much the only thing of value he owned. Buying it was probably stupid since he had no idea what he’d do with it once he was done here, but maybe he’d just give it to his sister Alyssa—her car was such a POS anyway.

  The Rover unlocked with a click and a flash of taillights. Brady got in and started the engine.

  You should’ve gotten her number.

  Aw, hell no.

  He didn’t even entertain the argument. He pulled out, drove up Fairfax, and waited at the light, his brain on autopilot. To block out the thoughts slinking around the edge of his consciousness looking for a weak spot, he cranked up the tunes and allowed the persistent bass beat to drive the bullshit away.

  Twenty minutes later, he parked in front of his new town house. Well, it wasn’t really his, since he was renting, and it wasn’t new, since the whole community was at least seventy years old, but it’s where he’d be laying his head for the next eighteen to twenty-four months. Having an actual address where he could receive mail and get pizzas delivered was him being more settled than he’d been in a long time. Maybe ever. And damn if that didn’t make him as restless as a short-timer awaiting orders.

  His place was second from the end on the left side of a horseshoe-shaped grouping of brick town houses. Fairlington had been built at the beginning of World War II to house the office workers at the then-brand-new Pentagon, so it was kinda appropriate he was living here now. He slid the key in the lock and stepped inside, doing a sweep over the dark, still parking lot before securing the door behind him.

  Home empty home.

  Uniforms, workout gear, a handful of civvies, and a few boxes of necessities were about all he owned at this point, aside from the bed he’d had delivered the previous night. He’d reported for duty at Army Staff, Pentagon, right after the Fourth of July, and had crashed at an acquaintance’s apartment while he searched for a place. Guess he’d have to pick up a few things to fill the house soon. No rush, though. The idea of acquiring a bunch of possessions felt as constraining as humping a fifty-pound ruck over twenty miles of rough terrain.

  Actually, he’d feel more at home on a ruck march.

  Brady made his way through the dark first floor to check the locks on the back door, the only sound in the place the restless jingle of the keys in his hand. He glanced out back at his small fenced-in patio. All secure. He grabbed a beer from the fridge—the case a housewarming gift from the work buddies who helped him move in—and made his way upstairs. He stopped to use the head and debated showering, but he wasn’t ready to wash away Joss’s scent yet. Couldn’t he allow himself that much?

  In his bedroom, the overhead light was harsh against the bare white walls and closed plastic blinds. He dug through one, two, three boxes before he found the new sheets he’d bought. Oh, hey, there was the new shower curtain, too. The Target home department might as well have exploded in his room.

  He ripped the plastic wrapping off the dark gray sheets and unfolded them
. Square pieces of cardboard fell out as he did. Damn if these sheets weren’t stiff as shit. And he thought army-issue was bad. Maybe he was supposed to wash them first? He shrugged and whipped the fitted sheet out over the new queen mattress. S’all good.

  After he got the sheets on, he opened the new pillows and wrestled the fucking things into the pillowcases. That was some bullshit right there. But, whatever.

  Finally, he unzipped the bag encasing his new comforter and spread that out, gray pinstripes running lengthwise on the otherwise black blanket.

  He grabbed his beer and took a long swig as he admired his handiwork. Look at him being all domestic.

  He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and kicked off his sneakers. He yanked a box closer to the bed’s edge and placed his watch on it, then ditched his tee and shorts and crossed the room to kill the light. In bed, he stared up at the dark ceiling and all he could hear was the nothingness. Holy hell, it was quiet. No night noises. No quiet conversations. No teammates snoring. Dammit. He wasn’t used to being this alone with himself.

  He got out of bed. At the window, he yanked up a blind and opened a window. He could just make out the noise of traffic on King Street. Somewhere close, a dog barked. Every once in a while, the wind murmured through the big tree on the other side of the courtyard. Yeah, that was better.

  Horizontal again, Brady locked down wandering thoughts of his one-night stand and gave in to the lure of sleep. Between the drinking, the late night, and the mind-numbing orgasm, he could use some serious shut-eye right about now.

  What felt like ten seconds passed.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  His eyes flicked open and squinted against the light that was soft enough he knew it was still early.

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

  “What in the fuck?” He pushed into a sitting position and glared at the wall behind his head. Whoever was banging was also playing music.

  What time is it?

  He made a grab for the watch and gawked. 6:52 a.m. A big bucket of pissed off parked itself in his chest. Unfuckingacceptable.