Below the Belt(35)

“You’re a different guy here than in the gym,” she said after awhile.

“Jesus H., I hope so,” he muttered, and she laughed again. He was always doing that, though she was pretty sure he never intended to be so funny.

“Not that way, because, first of all . . . ew. Do you know what kind of germs are on those mats?”

“Don’t tell me,” he warned when she opened her mouth. “I’ll just let my imagination run wild.”

“Just make sure you always shower post workout,” she warned. “But I mean your personality with the guys. You’re so solitary with the rest of them. I know it’s not because you’re shy, or have the social skills of a tin can. We’ve never struggled to talk.”

“You’re different,” he said simply, and she had a feeling he considered that to be the beginning and the end of it.

She wasn’t going to push. Pushing would be bad. Pushing had no place in their little haven of wonder.

After another few moments, he sighed. “I have to deal with the condom. Don’t move,” he said sternly as he got up and walked to the bathroom.

She moved. She couldn’t help it, it was just too awkward sitting there, buck-ass naked, waiting for him to come back. She didn’t even sleep in the nude when she was alone. So she grabbed her pajama bottoms and slid them on. She was still topless when he walked back in, all shiny and muscly and . . .

Bad Marianne.

He scowled at her bottoms.

“I can’t just sit here naked.” She spread her arms out over the mattress. “This bed isn’t a buffet, and I’m not a bucket of crab legs sitting on ice, waiting for you to come back.”

He raised a brow at that, but found his jeans on the floor and pulled them on.

Oh. That wasn’t the intended purpose. “I can take them back off,” she said quietly.

His lips twitched as he buttoned his fly. “I’d say yes, but then we’d just go at it again.”

Well, okay then. She lifted her butt off the mattress to wriggle the pants back down, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ve got to get back. I just gave four Marines an earful on eating better and getting more rest. And they were already kicking my ass in the talent department. I probably signed my own death warrant with that one. I’ve gotta get to bed.”

She debated playing vixen and suggesting her bed was ready for action—of the sleeping kind. But she could see in his eyes he was earnest in his quest to get a full night’s sleep.

And there was no doubt, if they were together in bed all night, rest would be the last thing on either of their minds.

“Fine, fine.” She rolled her eyes and groped the floor for her top. “Geez, you’d think you cared about it or something.”

He ran his hands down her bare back as she bent to scoop up the shirt. The calluses and rough tips brought goose bumps to her skin. He wrapped them around her front as she straightened, cupping her breasts. With her back pressed to his front, he cupped the heavy weight in each palm, plucking gently at the nipples with his thumbs and forefingers.

He kissed the skin of her neck, just below her ear. His voice rasped, “While you were up there, arched back over me, and these pretty things were straight in the air, I could barely think of anything else but wanting to get my hands on them.”

She pressed his hands harder into her chest. “Anytime.”

“That would make for an interesting icing session.” With a half laugh, he squeezed them and let them fall gently. After she’d put her shirt on, he turned her and kissed her slowly, as if they were about to start the seduction process all over again.

“That arch,” he continued, rubbing one hand over her lower back. “Looked painful. But so f*cking sexy.”

She’d be calling Kara tomorrow to thank her profusely for her insistence on yoga. “Not painful. You’ll be having some yoga lessons soon. Maybe you can do it, too.”

“I’d rather just watch you bend and twist.” With a friendly pat on her ass, he walked toward her front door. When he opened it, he turned back. “This isn’t going to be weird tomorrow, is it?”

“What, like am I going to chase you down on the mat to give you a big kiss in front of your teammates?” When he paled a little, she bit her lip to keep the laugh inside. “I’ll restrain myself. It’ll be tough . . .”

He slapped her ass in mock punishment, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then closed the door behind him.

She waited a second, palm against the door, listening for his footsteps away. But she heard nothing. The man was a ghost.

“Lock your damn door.”

She jumped at the sound, then covered her mouth to stifle the gasp. “Go home.”

With a laugh, she clicked the dead bolt over.

With a muttered, “Jesus H.,” she heard Brad walk away.

She headed to her pad of paper, tore off the day’s completed to-do list and wrote at the top of the next day’s list: “Yoga.”


*

BRAD and Higgs walked into the gym the next morning to find Marianne front and center on the main mat with Coach Ace and Coach Cartwright. Coach Willis was absent. A few other guys were stretching and talking, but nothing out of the ordinary.

The pile of mats off to the side was unusual, but he ignored that in favor of watching Marianne.