1. Harris
1
HARRIS
I slapped my empty long-neck bottle onto the scarred wooden bar. The bartender didn’t notice, run off her feet. Between off-duty Marines, local civilians needing to forget their days, and the loud music shaking the walls, I’d be waiting until hell froze over before I caught her attention.
The noise came in bursts, harsh in my ears. A game of darts bubbled over into laughter and shouts. A tray fell—more laughter, and muffled groans. In the dive bar’s main dining area, a young woman called for a toast. Her friends broke out giggling as she raised her glass, then they all clinked and downed their shots. Some shuddered, unused to the cheap whisky burn. The rest smacked their lips and called for more shots. Four guys in a booth, in worn fatigues, watched the party with interest, gauging their moment to swoop in on the fun.
I snorted. I knew this game too well. The Marines would have no problem horning in on that particular party. These women were classic tag-chasers—women who went after military men in hopes of leading them by their dog tags straight to the altar. Why else would they choose to hold their party in this crappy dive bar, if not to tempt the Marines who traveled across the bridge from Parris Island?
Marines such as me. I stifled a groan. God, I was twenty-nine, but I felt about fifty. I slumped down on my stool and slid my empty bottle next to its equally empty buddy. Should I have another? Hell, yeah, I should. How else was I going to get mind-numbingly drunk?
I waved at the bartender, but couldn’t catch her eye. Shocker . Searching for the waitress who had served me my previous two beers, I spotted her tied up with a party taking up three of the five tables in the bar area. Shit .
My heart ached dully, a deep, distant pain, buried in layers of numbness about a mile deep. That numbness had served me well out in the shit, let me shut down my feelings and get the job done. Back in the real world, it felt strange and wrong, a thick layer of bubble wrap between me and my life. Between me and Dad’s funeral, and Shawn’s before that.
I hissed through my teeth. I’d come here to forget, not to dwell on the past. To close my eyes and see darkness, not that godawful flash—Shawn’s stupid smirk before he’d turned, and then boom . A cartoon explosion, red flames, white light. A damn IED, and my teammate was gone. My best friend blown to pieces in some Colombian hellhole. Hearing about Dad’s death on top of that had felt like a joke, a bad joke, a sick one, too cruel to be true. I’d got the news the same day I’d landed stateside. Taken the call right there on the tarmac, watching as Shawn’s casket was wheeled off the plane.
I stared at the bar top, but no tears came. No lump rose to choke off the curse in my throat. Shawn was gone, Dad was gone, and that was just…that. I’d come closest to losing it when I’d realized I’d have to choose—Dad’s funeral or Shawn’s? But in the end, it’d been no choice at all. My brothers would need me, and family came first. I’d put in for bereavement leave, got a thirty-day pass, and made arrangements to head home to Springwell, Georgia. Tomorrow, we’d all be home, me, Chance, and Lee. Back in the house where we all grew up.
I massaged my forehead. My brothers would need me to be my level-headed self, fixing the details, lending support. And I’d do that, but first, I needed tonight. One night to get drunk enough to let it all in. To feel something, feel all of it, and get it out of my system.
“Hey…” I waved for the bartender, but she didn’t turn around. Scanning for my waitress, I caught a bright flash of pink, and I swiveled toward it, jerking upright on my stool. Rachel . Was that Rachel Winchester strolling toward me? My pulse picked up, because yes. Yes, it was—five-feet-two inches of pure, sparkling sexy . Her denim-clad hips swayed in a provocative rhythm. Her pale-yellow tank top showed off perfect breasts. Colorful tattoos splashed over her bared skin—birds and flowers, fairies, bright butterflies. Her hair was purple tonight, a cool, muted shade. I’d seen it blue, pink, and orange, and even pale yellow, a silky-smooth rainbow to match all her moods.
Between her gorgeous ink, her changing hair colors, and her dainty physique, she reminded me of a fairy—a naughty fairy I couldn’t resist. Oh, the dirty things I’d imagined doing to her! The wild ways I’d pictured her! She’d been my go-to fantasy for years whenever I’d had to take care of my own needs. Ever since I’d joined my Raiders unit and got stationed at Parris Island. But it’d been a while since I’d seen her, not since?—
“Rachel!” I beckoned her closer, not stopping to think.
Rachel sashayed over and leaned on the bar. “By the look in your eye,” she said, “a girl would think you missed her.” Her voice was throaty, and my neck pricked with gooseflesh at the sound of it. I propped my elbow on the edge of the bar.
“By the way you disappeared, a guy would think you didn’t care about him at all.”
“I didn’t disappear,” she said. “I just quit bartending here. I’ve got my own place now, a B&B. Nobody told you?”
“Guess they forgot.”
Rachel’s pretty mouth puckered into a frown. She ran her fingers through her purple-dyed hair. The twinkle in her eyes dimmed as she studied my face. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
I sighed and slumped against the bar. No easy retort sprang to my lips. I didn’t have it in me to keep up the act.
“That bad?” Rachel leaned in, and I felt warm. She laid her hand on my forearm and gave me a squeeze. A shiver stole through me. I felt exposed, raw, all my layers of numbness peeled back at once. For the first time in weeks, I felt my face go hot, and I blinked back the sting of sharp, salty tears. Christ, really? Now? Yes, I’d planned to cut loose a little on this final night to myself, but the last thing I needed was to break down here in this dive bar. I especially didn’t want to lose it in front of Rachel.
“Harris?” Rachel’s whisper was gentle, her breath soft against my cheek. Another tremor rocked through me, for a completely different reason—a good tremor, this time, ripe with excitement. How messed up was that? Getting turned on with my damn eyes still leaking?
“Talk to me,” Rachel said, moving closer so her hip brushed my thigh.
I clenched my fists, torn. Did I dare share my grief with my fantasy woman, or would that ruin the flirtation we had going and slam the door on the possibility of anything more? I studied her lovely, concerned blue eyes. The warmth I saw there felt real and sincere.
Fuck it. Why not? I needed a friend and she fit the bill. “I lost my best friend on our last mission,” I managed to croak past the lump in my throat. “And I just found out my dad passed away.”
Her grip tightened on my arm. “Oh, Harris,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
My eyes traced her plump, red-lined lips, and I suddenly had no interest in sharing my pain. All I could think about was how those lips would taste. Sweet with lip gloss? Tart from beer? I’d just have to lean forward, close my eyes, and?—
“Do you trust me?”
Her question froze me in place. “What?” I asked, dazed with lust and grief.
She ran her thumb down my cheek. “I want to get you out of here. Do you trust me?”
I had about two brain cells online to process her words, but that was enough to tell me whatever she was offering would be a hell of a lot better than what I’d find at the bottom of a bottle.
“I trust you,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
I climbed the stairs behind Rachel, torn between staring at her amazing ass and admiring the rest of the old plantation-style house she’d fixed up for her bed-and-breakfast.
“How long have you been open?”
Rachel peered over her shoulder. “About a year now.” She turned back. “I don’t have any lodgers tonight, so we have the place to ourselves.”
“The place” looked enormous, from what I could see, five bedrooms at least, between upstairs and down, plus acres of land stretching down to the beach. “How’d you afford all this? Not to be rude…”
“Got lucky,” Rachel said. She turned left at the top of the stairs and opened a closed door at the end of the hall. I blinked at the homey apartment inside, small but not cramped, all bright and cozy. Two doors opened onto cute little bedrooms, and a pink-festooned bathroom sat to one side.
“I inherited it,” she said, and let the door close behind her. “Well, me and my mom, but she has nothing to do with the B&B. I sank my own money into it and applied for all the licenses myself.”
I grinned. “You’re amazing.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She pushed me against the door and wound a hand around the back of my neck, and I needed no further prompting. Grabbing her hips, I yanked her flush to my chest, dipping my head to press my lips to hers. She moaned and I shuddered. Her taste was exquisite, better than anything I’d envisioned. Needing more, I tilted my head, darting my tongue out to dance with her own.
Rachel responded with passion and fire. She pressed up against me, hooking her leg around my waist. Ran her nails down my scalp to wring a gasp from my throat. Her stomach grazed over the bulge of my dick, straining against my fatigues as she rose on tiptoe. She captured my groan and offered one of her own, and her hand found its way up the back of my shirt, her palm soft and warm, her touch light as silk.
I scooped her up and carried her to the couch. The second her back hit the cushions, she broke our kiss. She lapped at my throat and nibbled my ear while her clever fingers found my belt buckle. I went for her tank top and yanked it up, exposing the lacy black cups of her bra. Her nipples peeked through them, hard and rose-pink, and I leaned in to tease them with my tongue.
Rachel arched, her hand stilling where it was stuffed halfway down my pants. “Yes,” she breathed.
I jerked her bra down and her breasts bounced free. I worshiped her nipples as I got to work on her jeans.
Crying out, she arched even higher, then gripped me through my boxer briefs. My dick jumped and throbbed, and a ripple of ecstasy ran through me, flooding my balls to the point I worried I’d come in her hand like a teenager. Christ, it had been too long since I’d had sex. Months, a year even. Forever and a day. And now I finally had Rachel underneath me. My fantasy fairy, except she was real.
I was not fucking this up.
Twisting out of her grasp, I planted my foot on the floor and grabbed her jeans by the legs. She lifted her hips, helping me jerk them down. In that magical way women had, she had her bra flying in the air before I’d shed my boots.
All the breath left my lungs at the sight of her naked. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” I drank in every inch of her creamy flesh. Tattoos chased over her body, up her back, down her legs. I couldn’t wait to lick them, to taste her all over.
“What are you waiting for?” She sat up and tugged on my T-shirt. I took the hint and pulled it over my head. Rachel swallowed hard, and her blue eyes darkened. They tracked over my skin as I dropped the last of my clothes on the pile.
Before I could stop her—not that I would have—she lunged forward and took my cock back into her hand. She kissed the head sweetly, then bathed it with her tongue, lapping at my slit to taste my precum. I sucked in air between my teeth and dropped my head back. Her tongue caressed me from root to tip. Her purple hair swung loose and tickled my thighs, and I soaked in the glorious sight.
Better than I dreamed of. Better than anything.
My cock pulsed and I reached for her. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.” I needed to be inside her, right now, this minute.
Rachel reached into her nightstand and grabbed a condom. She ripped the foil open with her teeth. I took the rubber from her, needing to roll it on myself. If she touched me, I’d come, and I wasn’t ready yet.
“Pick your position,” I managed, through gritted teeth. Until I took the edge off, I wouldn’t have much control over myself. Offering her the choice was the best I could do until round two. Then I could take my time exploring her, every luscious inch.
Her feet hit the floor and she skipped to the couch. I almost came in my hand when she bent over the armrest, half-turning to wink at me over her shoulder. Her perfect round ass bobbed in the air, begging for me to dive in for a bite.
“You’re a fantasy,” I said. I lined my cock up with her pink slit and felt her folds twitch with lust. Mustering the last of my tattered restraint, I eased myself into her welcoming heat.
“Don’t be gentle,” she breathed, rising up, eager, to the balls of her feet. “Take me like you mean it.”
“Fuck.” I clamped onto her hips and drove in hard, not stopping until she took every inch.
She cried out and quivered, slapping her hands onto the cushions and pushing back against me to get more and more.
Ecstasy blazed through me, erasing every thought but one: walking away from Rachel Winchester after tonight would not be easy.
I pounded into her, and she met my every thrust. Throw pillows hit the ground and the couch bumped out of place, scraping across the floor with every fresh thrust. I didn’t slow down, and neither did Rachel. Her cries mingled with my grunts, and I increased my pace. My orgasm barreled over me just as Rachel’s claimed her, and I came so hard, it felt like I blew the condom apart. My vision went black, and I slumped over her, holding her close till my head cleared and I thought I could stand. Then I helped her to her feet as she turned in my arms.
“Tonight,” she whispered, between hungry kisses, “I want to help you forget. You take what you need, as much as you want.”
I strode to the trashcan in the tiny bathroom and dropped the spent condom inside. Yes, this was what I needed before I made my way home. Just this. Just Rachel, all night.
Strolling toward her, I surveyed her like a buffet. I couldn’t decide which course I wanted to feast on first. “I hope you have more condoms.”
Rachel winked up at me. “A brand-new box.”