Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) Read online

  “I’d like that, Sergeant, but is it so easy? No drug deals this time?”

  As she spoke, their waiter came up with their dessert and coffee, giving them both an odd look. When he walked away, she giggled.

  “Oops, I have the worst timing. He must think we’re thugs.”

  “Yeah, big bad you. All what, one hundred ten pounds of you?”

  “You’re very kind, although I think you left out a few rounded body parts in your guestimation.”

  “Believe me, I took into account all your round parts and gave them due consideration.”

  Again, she averted her gaze. Yes, definitely submissive or terminally shy. With her wit, teasing and lack of blushes, he didn’t think it was the latter.

  The date ended much too soon. Set up in temporary housing upon discharge from Walter Reed, he wouldn’t insult her by asking her there on their first date. He made a mental note to follow up on his request for an off-post apartment, especially if he was going to be there for the next several months. The other reason for cutting it short was that his leg was beginning to throb and he needed to put it up.

  He hailed her a cab, prepaid her fare, despite her protests, and before tucking her inside, he moved in for a goodnight kiss. It was light, seductive yet restrained, with only a whisper of tongue since he was trying to remain a gentleman. She was breathless and melting in his arms by the time he raised his head.

  “See you Friday, nightingale?”

  “Yeah, Lucky, I’ll see you Friday.”

  With a slow grin, he asked, “Why lucky?”

  “You mean other than some quack leaving shrapnel in your leg so you could meet me?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed laughingly, “other than that.”

  “Because I wear scrubs 90% of my life and you got me into a dress. You are indeed a lucky man.” Flashing him a brilliant smile, she slid into the back seat and blew him a kiss. With great reluctance, he shut the door and watched as the cab pulled away from the curb. He wanted more, so very much more. The cast up to mid-thigh and throbbing pain in his leg both trumped the ache in his dick, however. It was best to take it slow with her.

  Chapter Three

  Slow turned out to be weeks, which turned into a month and then some. During that time, Sean went back to work, a temporary desk job at the pentagon in his C.O.’s office pushing papers, which he hated, but it kept him occupied. Although it didn’t take his mind off of Mara, who seemed to possess his thoughts nearly every waking moment. Admittedly, he was hooked. With her full-time nursing job at Walter Reed, working straight evening shifts and alternating weekends, he didn’t get to see her as often as he’d like. They made the best of it, spending as much of their down time together as possible.

  Options for dates were limited due to his decreased mobility and the continued swelling if he was on his feet too long, so it was usually dinner, movies, or doing both at his apartment. They did the tourist things neither of them had ever done before, despite Mara being a lifelong resident. Conscious of Sean’s healing leg, they took in the D.C. After Dark bus tour, observed the July 4th fireworks show from a buddy’s downtown balcony, and took a three-hour Segway tour about town, which reduced Mara to fits of laughter when she took forever getting the hang of it or went round in circles.

  After six weeks, Sean’s cast was replaced by a brace and the grueling physical therapy started. Slowly his leg began to get stronger and the pain gradually decreased. The swelling, although reduced, persisted and had Mara concerned, even though his doctors didn’t seem worried. Sean soon progressed to a cane, which wounded his male pride, but it made him more mobile than with the crutches.

  The cane helped while he was maneuvering around his cramped kitchen as he made Mara dinner one evening after work. He was making spaghetti, one of the few things he could cook that was edible. The salad was tossed and chilling in the fridge with the ranch dressing (not from the bottle, the freshly made kind with milk, mayo and the seasoning packet). The oven was preheated, the Italian bread buttered, sprinkled with garlic salt and ready to go. On the stove, the meat sauce was hot and bubbly. The water was boiling, salted, oiled and ready for the pasta to be dropped the minute she walked in the door. A red wine would have been nice, except he didn’t like to drink alone. Mara never touched the stuff, admitting only that her mother had been an alcoholic and she wasn’t about to take any chances if she had the addiction gene. For dessert, he had her favorite, white chocolate raspberry macaroons from The Sweet Lobby in Barrack’s Row.

  Everything was ready. He checked his watch—half past five—she was running late. He grabbed his cell from the counter. As it rang in his ear, he heard her ring tone faintly from outside the front door.

  “It’s open, baby,” he called as he rounded the counter heading for the door.

  She walked in before he got there, juggling an overnight bag, her immense zebra print purse—which he teased her about relentlessly; it was bigger than she was—and a tote bag.

  “Success!” Moving to help, he grabbed her overnight bag with his free hand. “I’ve worn you down and you’re moving in.”

  She glanced up at him, appearing flustered and let out the nickname she’d given him with a shuddering breath. “Lucky.”

  Seeing her face crumple, he pulled the rest of the items from her arms and tossed them on a nearby chair, then gathered her close. “What’s wrong?”

  “There was a drive by shooting at my apartment building this afternoon.”

  “Shit! Why didn’t you call me? I would have come and gotten you.”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to get through. There were emergency vehicles everywhere. I saw a bunch of ATF and FBI agents in bullet proof vests, too. I was scared to death. After they interviewed me, I packed my stuff and hightailed it out of there. If walking four blocks with three heavy bags before flagging down a cab counts for hightailing it, that is.” She buried her face in his chest. “It reminded me so much of—”

  “Of what, Mara?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “We’ve discussed this. You know how I feel about hiding things.”

  Without meeting his gaze, she nodded. After a brief pause, she explained. “It reminded me of where I grew up, okay? It was not a nice place. I thought my apartment was a rung or two up the ladder from West—um, Westland. Either I misjudged it or it’s in a rapid decline.”

  As he held her, he didn’t mention her little slip, she was about to say something other than Westland. This woman, his woman, when it came to her family and her past was like an M2 Bradley armored vehicle, impenetrable. Other than the fact that she didn’t know her father and her mother was an alcoholic who struggled to put food on the table, she told him she didn’t want to talk about it because it was too painful. Seeing how upset she got when he brought it up, he had honored her request, but things kept coming to the surface making him wonder exactly how bad it was. If her apartment building with its drive by shooting was a rung or two up the ladder, he shuddered to think what her childhood home had been like.

  “Let’s get you something to drink and you can keep me company in the kitchen while I finish up dinner. Afterwards, we’ll get you unpacked and settled into my room. You are not going back to Hyattsville tonight, or ever. You’re moving in with me.”

  “Sean.”

  His hands slid along the sides of her neck while his thumbs slid beneath her chin, angling it up to him. “Don’t argue, nightingale, it’s happening. I’m not sending you home to a ghetto apartment with bullets flying everywhere and god knows what other crimes going on next door. I’ve fallen for you, Mara Westbrook, which means you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine.”

  Clearly stunned, she stared at him silently a moment. “Am I yours, Sean? We’ve never—”

  He knew what she was going to say. They hadn’t had sex yet. After six weeks of dating, he’d gotten to second base, though hadn’t pushed beyond. Partly because his leg was still healing and he didn’t want to come off like an inept putz
when he finally made his move. The other part was because she seemed cautious. When he’d asked, she admitted to some bad experiences with men. She wanted to go slow, seeing intimacy as an important step and she wanted to be sure.

  “Even without sex, I feel closer to you than any woman I’ve ever been with. The physical side will come soon enough. For now, I need to know you’re safe.”

  Her lids dipped, shielding both her thoughts and her emotions. He wasn’t having any of that, which she’d learn soon enough. “Mara, look at me.”

  He waited until he saw her beautiful green eyes gazing up at him. In them, he read a mix of emotions: anxiety and desire, but most of all fear, whether from the shooting or the important step he was asking her to take, he wasn’t sure.

  “Trust me to take care of you, baby. When I say you’re mine, I’m not being an arrogant ass. Remember how I told you I have this need to be in charge, to protect and defend? That wasn’t me blowing smoke; it’s who I am. It’s why I advanced quickly up the ranks to Master Sergeant. It’s also why I take care of my woman. I’m not going to dictate what you eat, or how you dress—well, not all the time—and I won’t dick around with your career. However, when it comes to your health, safety, and a goddamn drive-by shooting at the shithole apartment complex where you live, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  With a small smile, she gazed up at him. “I’ve never had anyone want to take care of me or protect me before. I like it.”

  “It breaks my heart that you never had anyone to rely on, beautiful, but those days are over. You’ve got me to cherish and protect you now. I have to warn you though; this won’t always be a democracy. Sometimes it will be like a dictatorship where you only get to say ‘yes, Sir’. If you don’t like it, we can talk about it and I’ll help you get your head turned around to my way of thinking. Or, you can trust me to take care of you. Understood?”

  “Yes, I understand, although it’s rather high-handed for a man who has spent over a decade fighting for freedom and democracy.”

  “Ironic, huh? What can I say? The Army drummed into me the importance of respecting the chain of command.”

  “So you’d be my commanding officer?” Her eyes were twinkling which told him she was more on board with this than she was letting on.

  “In certain situations I’ll absolutely outrank you, Mara.”

  “Situations like my health and safety, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, and don’t be surprised if I take exception to insubordination, recruit.” He was only half teasing.

  In turn, she gave him a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir! What did you have in mind if I mess up? KP or latrine duty? I probably shouldn’t admit this, but neither of those things scares me, Sarge. As a nurse, I’ve dealt with some nasty, foul stuff in my day. I suppose waking me before dawn for a 5-mile run with a full pack is doable. It would be torture, since I despise running, so as punishment goes it would be quite effective. Pushups, regrettably,” she flexed her upper arm and grimaced, “are so not happening.”

  In return for her teasing, he pinched her bottom lightly. Too lightly, evidently, because she laughed outright.

  “My idea, was the flat of my hand against your naughty behind.”

  The image silenced her in a heartbeat. Wide-eyed, after a moment, she asked, “Seriously?”

  Both hands lowered to her full, gorgeous ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Her quick intake of breath told him she understood how serious he was, still he warned, “You could test me to find out, though I don’t recommend it.”

  Planting a kiss on her upturned nose, he tucked her under his arm and led her into the kitchen.

  “Uh, Sean?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “I shouldn’t admit this either, but that’s doable too.”

  His mouth fell open for a split second before the joy bubbled up within him and he threw his head back, laughing. He lifted her onto the counter. With his hands caging her on either side, he leaned forward intending to seal the deal with a kiss. Before he could make it happen, her hands slid up his chest and cupped his jaw. Without a hint of reservation, she met his gaze.

  “I’ve more than fallen for you, Lucky. I’m in love with you.”

  Her hands continued upward, sliding around his neck as their lips met and ending with her fingers threaded in his hair. She tasted as she always did, sweet with a hint of spice, which was the cinnamon toothpaste she favored. Whatever the flavor, underneath he tasted Mara.

  Against his lips, she murmured, “It’s soon enough.”

  He pulled back slightly, not understanding. “Say again?”

  “You said we’d get to the physical soon enough. I think it’s well past ‘soon enough’, babe.”

  Searching passion-filled eyes that shimmered with wetness and were as green as a deep forest pool, he worried she was reacting to the stress of the day. Wanting her more than ever, he also wanted the time to be right for her. So, he took the high road, though his cock pressed against the V of her spread thighs jerked in protest.

  “Are you sure? I want you to be ready for this, not reacting out of a need to be close after what happened today with the shooting.”

  “I can’t say it didn’t shake me up or deny how sleeping in your arms would make me feel safe again, but it’s more than that, a lot more. I want you, Sean, and if I’m being honest, I’m about ready to jump your bones. It’s been a long time for me.”

  Leaning in, his lips brushed softly against hers. “Mm, sounds like my nightingale is horny.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Those aren’t the love words that start the romantic interlude of my dreams, but yeah, I’m hornier than a sailor on shore leave.”

  His head came up as he groaned. “No navy analogies, please.”

  “Sorry.” Her voice had turned husky and she sounded distracted. The next instant she proved she was as she nudged aside his collar. Targeting his neck, her mouth opened as soft lips moved over his skin, teasing with little flicks of her tongue. When she reached his ear, she latched on as he often did to her, teeth nibbling on the lobe as she breathed, “Take me to bed, Sean, and make me your woman for real.”

  How could he deny such a request? Twisting, he switched off the oven and stove. Dinner would keep. Sliding his hands beneath ass cheeks that fit perfectly in his palms, he lifted her.

  “Your leg!” she protested, as he carried her.

  “Hush. The leg is stronger. No way is it going to let me down, especially when I’m about to get lucky.” He was teasing, but she buried her face in his neck and he thought he felt the dampness of tears. “Mara?”

  “No, it’s me who got lucky. The day you were admitted to my ward, I became the luckiest girl on the face of the earth.”

  He veered to the left suddenly, heading for the nearest flat surface—the couch—not willing to wait to have her another second longer. In the back of his mind, he doubted luck had anything to do with them finding each other. It was more like fate. Whichever, Sean knew how much both could fuck with a man’s dream and turn on a dime. He wasn’t about to take any chances tonight.

  * * * * *

  Wrapped in Sean’s arms, knowing she was minutes away from truly becoming his, Mara was practically dizzy. In an incredibly romantic gesture, he’d swept her up in his arms and carried her like a hero in the movies. She was surprised when he turned away from the stairs leading up to his bedroom and set her down in front of his wide sectional couch.

  “I don’t think I can wait long enough to get to the bed.”

  Without waiting for a response, he sat, pulling her between his wide spread thighs. His fingers found the top button of her gauzy blouse and released it. Another came undone and another until it lay open. Sean spread the sides wide and lowered his head to kiss her exposed belly. The warmth of his lips and hot tongue were in contrast to the cool air from the A/C wafting over her bare skin. Her nipples tightened more, poking almost painfully against the lace of her pink bra. He licked up the midline of her abdomen until he reached the
valley between her breasts. Lifting his head, he drank her in while his fingertips traced the edges along the upper curves of her breasts. Her chest froze, the air locked in her lungs while she trembled, her breasts quivering in the insubstantial lace.

  “Very pretty. I like pink on you.”

  “You do?” she choked out. “It’s not too girly?”

  “No, I like girly.” His voice was husky as he nuzzled his face between her breasts, the scruff of his bearded jaw along her swollen breast making her shudder.

  “Don’t men like black and red, something more sexy and racy?”

  “Some men might, not me. Black and red would be too harsh against your light skin and blonde hair.”

  She stiffened. “Um, about that,” she began, closing her eyes as his blue ones, gleaming with intensity, tipped up to her. Feeling silly for not being able to look at him, she forged on with her confession. “I should tell you up front, since you’re about to find out anyway. I’m not really a blonde.”

  “Hm,” he hummed with approval, “I like that too.”

  She peeked at him, noting his lips quirked up in a wicked grin. “What, you don’t actually like blondes?”

  “No, I like the fact that there is something down there which requires explanation.” She’d obviously piqued his curiosity because his hands went to the waistband of her jeans.

  She wasn’t a fan of all bare. Not to mention all the expensive and painful maintenance. Instead, she kept her pubic hair neatly trimmed so the brown tuft in front would be a dead giveaway. Mara Westbrook’s carpet did not match her drapes. She started to laugh at the old joke, but it stuck in her throat as he popped the button of her jeans.

  He eased her zipper down, exposing her matching pink panties.

  “Very nice, darlin’. Next to green, pink is my new favorite color.” His strong fingers curled into her waistband as he leaned forward and rubbed his face along the V left by her open zipper. She heard him inhale deeply. “Damn, you’re sweet. I can’t wait to see if you taste as delicious as you smell.”