Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns) (14 page)

“Oh, child, you can
not
mean
that!”

“You bet your ass I do. This is twice
he
screws me over.” She took a step closer and lowered her
voice a notch. “Two simple words would have sufficed:
I know!
As in, I
know about our son. That’s all it would have taken to give meaning to this
miserable experience. But God couldn't even give me that!” She crossed her arms
again. Good and ready to take her hurt, her anger, out on someone or something.

“So, I’m calling bullshit on him. I’m
not wasting another second of my life believing in him.”

Elvinia
stared down her long, straight nose at her, unable to hide the smile behind her
eyes.

The telltale signs of humor only made
Meagan angrier. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Just wondering how long it’ll take you
to discover that no matter what you choose to believe, you can’t stop God from
believing in you.” 

She walked out, leaving Meagan alone in
the room with her own thoughts.

Chapter
18

Bachelorettes
and Barfing

Mitch approached Meagan, hard pressed
not to notice the sheen of perspiration on her forehead and neck. “Man, they’re
bustin
’
y’alls
butts
tonight, aren’t they? Neither ends nor the middle of the bar are getting any
down time. Is there another rodeo in town?”

Meagan handed three Coronas to a
customer and started making the first of several pitchers of Margaritas for the
massive group of women that just turned in their orders. She pointed to two of
them, both wearing cheap veils and pins that flashed I’M THE BRIDE in red
lights. “Double bachelorette party: Two sisters marrying two brothers in a
double ceremony.”

“Is that supposed to be good luck or
something?”

Meagan gave a loud snort. “You’ve
gotta
be kidding me, Mitch. You’re asking
me
about
good luck?”

“You were lucky enough to meet me when
you did, fresh from the Corps and still in shape.” He made a show of flexing
his considerably large bicep for her.

“Whatever.” She pushed the blender
button, drowning out the rest of his comeback.

He waited until the whine of the
blender’s powerful motor halted. “How are things at home?”

“Uneventful, thank
Go
…”
She paused, then seemed to think better of it. “Uneventful.”

“So, he’s really gone?”

She shrugged as she filled several
glasses with the icy drinks. “It seems so, and I’d really rather not talk about
this here if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Mitch pinched the bridge of his
nose as a wave of women clamored around the bar for their drinks. The scent of
several different perfumes, mixed with alcohol and body heat had him craving a
breath of fresh air. “Damn!” he rubbed at the ache in his forehead. “I wish
women would wear the same brand of smell-good when they travel in packs.”

“It can get to be overpowering, can’t
it?”

“That’s one word for it. Another is downright
nauseating.”

“Are you going to be sick?” she asked,
looking concerned.

“Nah, but it ain’t helping this
headache. We got anything back here for that?”

She opened a drawer and pulled out a
bottle of aspirin. Wordlessly, she handed him a couple, along with a bottle of
water from the cooler.

He took them, thankfully, and downed
them with half the water. “Thanks. If you don’t need me to stick around up
here, I think I’ll go stand over by the door for a while.”

“Sure.  A little distance will do you
some good.”

He stared at her, hoping like hell she
was talking about the too sweet mixture of perfumes, and not her. “Okay.” He
unclipped his radio and held it up. “Call if you need me.”

She stopped pouring glasses of
margaritas on the rocks long enough to send him a look, heavy with promise and
hidden messages.  “I’ll do that.”

Mitch swallowed, unable to tear his gaze
from her until she turned away. He wound his way around the crowded dance
floor, somehow knowing her eyes were still on him.

****

Meagan studied him—the broad shoulders
that pulled the T-shirt taut across his back, tight on his arms, and tucked
neatly into a pair of jeans that fit the man like a pair of leather driving
gloves. Trim belted waist, narrow hips, a firm butt and muscular legs.
Everything combined to assure that Mitchell looked just as good leaving as he
did coming.

She groaned as an ache started deep
inside her. She’d had no sex since Christopher, who’d been her first, as well
as her only. But that had been
making love
with the man she wanted to
marry. Maybe it was time to step out of her box. She’d even been fantasizing
about down and dirty, no strings attached sex. A little something to feed the
need, though something told her that particular Marine had more to offer than the
average man.

She smiled to herself and turned back to
mixing drinks, feeling more alive than she had in years. Freedom was the key,
freedom to live her life. The headiness had her wishing,
wanting
to be a
bad girl for a change. Maybe it was time to shed her careful, good girl image.
She cast another look toward Mitch, deciding tonight was as good a night as any
to set the wheels in motion. She could hardly wait.

****

Ten minutes after the DJ announced the
last dance of the night, Mitch locked up the front doors of the club. He headed
to the bar area where Meagan was stocking her coolers for the next night,
wondering if he’d imagined her earlier silent signals. “You want some help with
that?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just
finishing up.”

He discarded the empty beer crates and
watched her efficiently organizing her space for the next night. Three nights
on and two nights off—she had the same schedule as he did, and they’d just
completed night number two. Red McAllister didn’t expect any more from his bartenders
than just serving drinks…he hired a cleaning crew for the club’s upkeep. But
Mitch knew that Meagan liked setting up her work area ahead of time. By the
time she finished, he’d decided he’d read too much into the look she’d given
him earlier.

The DJ had long been gone, and Mitch
told the other three bartenders good night as they left through the back door.
“I guess I’ll be heading out myself.” He wasn’t certain if her change in
demeanor called for disappointment on his part, or relief, considering his massive
headache.

“Uh Mitch, there is something you can do
for me. If you’re up to it, that is.”

 The teasing lift of her lips—the
crook of her eyebrow, had him holding his breath as well as the answer. A
subtle lift of her brow had him offering a far-from-subtle comeback. “Sure!
Anything!” He cursed himself silently for sounding so much like an eager junior
high kid. “What do you need?”

She turned to him suddenly, lifted up on
her tiptoes and looped her arms around his neck. “I need you,” she said, before
planting her mouth onto his for a kiss. Not a timid, quick, filled with
innocent yearning type of kiss—but hot and aggressive—tongue seeking, teeth
nipping, hands pulling and threading roughly through his hair. An extremely hot
kiss that had him totally hard in a few, short seconds.

He leaned forward to place his hands on
her lower butt and lifted her easily onto the bar surface. She spread her
thighs and pulled him close, her nails biting into his back through his shirt
as she looped her shapely legs around his waist. With one arm around her waist
and the other tangled in her hair, Mitch pulled her closer. He hadn’t thought
that kiss could deepen, but damned if it didn’t, strengthening with an
intensity that had him about to explode.

The feel of her hands, first pulling his
shirt out of his jeans, her hands—Meagan’s hands—on his bare skin—good God—he’d
never felt anything so fine before. Her nails lightly scraped along his
ribcage, and he sucked in his breath, only to release it a moment later as she
dragged them roughly across his back. Her hands slipped around to the front,
caressing his abs, his
pecs
. A feather light brush of
her fingers had his nipples tightening so quickly it was almost painful.

Suddenly her hands were unbuttoning his
jeans, then on his zipper, jolting him to his senses.  He pulled away,
holding her arms.

“Hold it, Megs. Don’t get me wrong, I
want this, and I want it tonight. Just not here.”

She pulled him back for one final kiss
before jumping down from the bar. “I agree. Let’s go to your place. You drive
and I’ll follow.”

“My place isn’t much to look at right
now. I mean, I don’t need mu—”

“—You have a bed?” She slipped her hands
under his shirt again, touching, exploring.

He groaned as she pushed up his shirt
and her mouth found his bare skin.

“Do you, Mitch?”

She had to repeat the question twice
before he could manage to answer. “Uh, yeah.”

“What size is it?”

Her question threw him off. Considering
all his blood supply was in his groin area at the moment, it was no wonder he was
confused. He stepped back, looking down at the front of his jeans. “Uh…right
now, I’d say it’s pretty big.” He gasped as she pressed close to him. Her
throaty chuckle broke through the fog of his sex-obsessed brain.

“I’d have to agree with you, but I meant
your bed.”

“What?” He struggled to concentrate.

“What size is your bed? You’re not
sleeping on a military cot or anything are you?”

“No! It’s a bed…regular size…I mean not
king, but not one of those small bunk bed sizes, either.”

“Good,” she purred before grabbing his
hand. “Let’s go.”

****

Five minutes later, he pulled his truck
into his driveway with Meagan hot on his tail. He’d been so consumed with
thoughts of her, he didn’t realize until he stepped into the cool October air
how badly his head ached. 

A second later she was on him again, all
aggressive hands and tongue, teeth and nails. His hand shook as he struggled
with the lock and key, finally succeeded in pushing it open. She hurried in,
pulling him behind her as she homed in on his bedroom—easy enough since there
was only one bed in the house.  

She squealed at the sight of the bed. “A
queen size…that’ll do nicely,” she purred, before attacking him in earnest. His
shirt was off before he could form a thought, and she’d pushed him back on the
bed to pull off his boots. One boot flew off, then another, and soon he was
laying there in his boxer briefs watching, in amazement, as she peeled off her
own clothes.

The sight of her reaching for the front closure
on her bra spurred him to spring to a sitting position.

“Wait! I want to do that.” He reached
out and she came to him, settling her hands on each of his shoulders. “I’ve
wanted to do that for so long.”

He curved his hands around her waist and
explored the smooth landscape of creamy skin, tracing her ribs and splaying his
fingers across her belly.  He reached around to her shapely butt, slid his
fingers under the waistband of her bikini panties and pushed them down until
they fell to the floor, exposing her lovely hips and pelvis to his hot, hungry
gaze. But, as beautiful a sight as it was, that’s not what he ached to see or
touch.

He pulled her close, fitting her between
his legs and cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs lightly over nipples covered
by a sheath of delicate lace. Even as he felt her tremble, his head pounded,
and pain sliced through him. But he was a Marine, dammit. He’d pushed through
many a confrontation with the enemy, dealing with one kind of pain or another.
Damned if he’d let a headache ruin this night for him.

Slowly, he unclasped the front closure
of her bra, releasing the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen in his life.

“Good God, Megs. You are so damn
beautiful.” He reached out to
cup
the twin
globes—just the right weight in his palms. He passed his thumbs, oh so gently,
over the areolas, enlarged from having carried a child. He traced a barely
visible stretch mark that ran on the side of one breast.
I bet you
breast-fed Buck
.

“Yes, I did.”

He looked up, realizing he must have
spoken the question aloud. “I would have liked to see that.” He suddenly felt
weak, as though he couldn’t support his head a moment longer. Strange how his
need for this girl somehow sapped him of every ounce of strength he possessed.
Pulling her close, he kissed the bottom curve of each plump breast then laid
one side of his face on the soft, cool expanse of her abdomen and closed his
eyes.

****

Meagan gasped at the heat radiating from
Mitchell’s face. She pulled back, and he nearly fell forward off the bed.
Supporting him with one arm, she placed one hand over his forehead. “Oh shit,
Mitch, you’re burning up.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he said, reaching for
her but coming up short. He winced and brought his hand to his forehead. “But
my head is killing me.”

She pulled back the covers and pushed
him flat against the mattress. “You need to get in bed and stay there.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, as
long as you’re here with me.”

“I need to make a call first.
Niki
said something today about a bad-ass-virus that comes
on suddenly.” She threw her shirt back on to ward off the room’s chill and
grabbed her cell phone.

“Meagan?”

“Just hang on, Mitch.” She punched in
Niki’s
number.

Her friend answered, sounding sleepy and
slightly perturbed.
“This better be important, girlfriend. I was dreaming
that Liam
Hemsworth
and Chris Pine were fighting over
who was going to take me to senior prom. Kate Middleton had leant me her
wedding dress to wear and I looked damned good.”

“Sorry
Nik
,
but Mitch is seriously sick. Didn’t you say there was a bad virus going
around?”