Off Base(41)

His chest squeezed and his hands opened and closed like he was seeking something to grab, something to pull him free from the quagmire.

Someone.

His gaze slid left to Huntley again and he laughed once, a low, tormented sound. He really was one broken SOB.

His friend was dead because of him, and he was in bed with a hard-on for his other friend’s sister. This might be the lowest point in his life. Considering his less-than-stellar upbringing, that was saying something.

He expelled a breath and returned his gaze to stare blindly at the ceiling again. Gradually, his eyes grew heavy. The alcohol chugging through his system was finally working its magic. With a heavy exhale, he closed his eyes.





Chapter Three




Huntley woke to a darkened room. She blinked sleepily against the murky light and struggled for a moment to remember where she was. She sniffed, missing the usual sugar-and-vanilla aroma of her condo. It probably didn’t help her near-insatiable longing for cookies, but the aromatic candles comforted her and made her remember her grandmother’s kitchen.

This space smelled musky. There was a bare hint of leather and laundry detergent and … soap. Man. Cullen.

Awareness flooded her. The events of the night rushed back. Bombs Away with her brother and Cullen. Driving Cullen home. Getting into bed with Cullen.

In bed with Cullen.

Panic and something else that felt dangerously close to excitement sizzled through her. She was on her side under the blankets—somehow she ended up underneath. She could feel the heat of Cullen radiating at her back. He drew her like a warm fire, beckoning her to come out of the cold.

She closed her eyes. It had been so long, and she had rarely ever spent the night with Jackson. Sex with him had been hasty trysts in the back of his car or at one of their houses while their parents weren’t home. There was never a lot of privacy and always a sense of urgency.

She had lived at home while completing her nursing degree, and he had never moved out of his parents’ home after high school. He was following in his dad’s footsteps and planned to take over the family hardware store. Sleeping in a bed with a man was a whole new experience for her, and her stomach felt like it was alive with a thousand butterflies. And not just any man. Cullen. Sexy, hard-body, dark-eyed Cullen. Sometimes it gets a little rough. God. She would never get his voice, those words, out of her head.

She shifted slightly and became aware that her skirt was around her hips. Her legs slid sinuously against the sheets. She lifted her head and dared a peek behind her at the still, long line of his body. The curve of his muscled shoulder. The shadowed angles of his face looked slightly softer in sleep. He was on his side, too; his bigger body limned in the pale glow of light seeping from the blinds. If she just snuggled back one more inch they would be spooning.

His soft breath fell with the even cadence of sleep. What would it hurt? He was asleep. For just a moment she could experience what it felt like to share a bed with a man. A man and not a boy who spent all his free time playing video games.

She inched back until the warm wall of his chest was flush with her back. She aligned her bent legs against his so they fit together like two snug spoons.

Air shuddered from her lips at the simple contact, at this closeness. She found herself regretting that she wore a shirt and could not feel the ridged contours of his chest and stomach without the barrier of clothing. Man to woman. Flesh to flesh. She yearned for it. For him.

His mouth was directly in her hair, his warm breath fanning the strands. The heat from his crotch scalded her bottom. She pushed back, ever so slightly, settling against that part of him. Curiosity emboldened her. She could feel the ridge of him there. Only the thin barrier of her panties and his briefs separated them.

It was terrible of her, but she wiggled. She couldn’t stop herself. Her breath quickened as she felt him grow. It was awful what she was doing—using him for her own cheap thrills while he slept—but desire seethed through her. Her sex pulsed, clenching with need. It had been too long. The vibrator in her bedside drawer couldn’t get her off like this.

She bit her lip and swallowed back a whimper as she rubbed her bottom against him. It was a mistake. Even if taking advantage of Cullen while he slept wasn’t wrong, now she ached with desire.

She couldn’t handle another moment of this self-inflicted torture. She would sleep the rest of the night on his couch. Live and learn. She flung the covers back and started to ease away.

She had one foot on the floor when a hand grabbed a fistful of her shirt and hauled her down on the bed. Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud. A woosh of air escaped her as Cullen loomed over her, larger than life, his shoulders rock solid and bunched with tension that undulated down to his taut biceps.

His hands flattened against the mattress on either side of her shoulders, his arms twin bands of muscle that effectively caged her in. Her stomach dipped and twisted at the sight of so much masculinity hovering on top of her.

She moistened her lips as she looked up into his shadowed face. His short hair hugged his scalp, accentuating his carved features. That face was like a damned Calvin Klein model. Hard lines and chiseled good looks. The throb at her core pulsed deeper.

She felt herself drowning in the liquid depths of his eyes. They devoured her, gleaming like pools of dark water. This was unknown territory. She had seen Cullen in action with other women. She knew that he could be intense and almost predatory, but she had never thought he would direct all that intensity on her.