Water splashed around her flip-flops and squished through her toes. She should have been freezing, but she only felt numb. Why did she keep falling for physically and emotionally unreachable men? Men who were never satisfied with who she was?
She fumbled with her keys, struggling to find the one for her car through the rain and welling tears.
“He heard a rumor that you were stripping, and—“
Grace pivoted toward him, eyes narrowed. “A rumor?” That was a strange turn of phrase…or maybe she was just oversensitive. “How did he hear a rumor like that when he’s all the way across the fucking world?”
“Someone from another SEAL team was here. He recognized you in a photo from your anniversary trip to Mexico.”
She closed her eyes. “The trip from hell?”
“Couldn’t have been all bad. Beck still has fond memories of—”
“Isaac is clueless, Josh. He may be a good man and an amazing soldier, but he’s clueless in just about every other area of his life.” She turned away again, muttering, “I’m starting to wonder if that’s a prerequisite to become a SEAL.”
“Wait, Grace, we can talk this out.”
“I don’t have anything else to say.” Christ, that had come out in her borderline hysterical voice. But she couldn’t control the wild emotions as she faced him again. “You already know I’m not stripping. And even if I was, it wouldn’t give either of you the right to shove your two cents at me. And, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. So when you talk to Isaac again, you can tell him I don’t need either one of you. Which works out fine, because neither of you ever really wanted me either.”
Tears swam in her eyes. Angry tears. Hurt tears. Sick-to-death-of-this-shit tears. She jammed her key into the door lock and clicked it open. Josh pulled her around to face him again, trapping her against the car, and stared down into her face with frustration dark
ening his expression.
“I didn’t walk away because I didn’t want you, Gracie,” he said, his words so low they were almost drowned by the night sounds. Rain dripped off his straight nose and clumped his golden eyelashes. His smoky blue eyes lowered to her mouth in a languid way that told Grace the alcohol was still singing in his bloodstream. “I walked away because I did.”
Grace’s lips parted with another protective, dismissive remark, but nothing came out. Her throat tightened into a ball. Her mind teetered between believing the sincere declaration in the moment and brushing it aside.
“Sure. That’s why you moved to LA when I told you how I felt.” She drew a breath, forcing herself to put self-preservation first. “Here’s what I learned during those four long years married to Isaac—action, not words, is what separates the boys from the men. And I’ve had more than enough little boys in my life.”
His eyes narrowed, and the skin over his cheeks tightened. His lips thinned. And God, he was beautiful, his bronze skin contrasting with his crystal-blue eyes.
“I’m not Beck,” he rasped. “And I’m no kid either.”
“Kids run when they’re scared. Which is exactly what you—”
His hands tightened on her arms. His body pressed her against the car. The surprise of cold steel at her back and warm muscle at her front made her gasp and close her fists in the wet folds of his shirt. He lowered his head, pressing his body into hers. A rigid erection indented her lower belly and burned hot beneath his zipper, stealing Grace’s breath. Her body flooded with surprise, confusion…and lust.
“Damn right you scare me,” he murmured, his lips an inch from hers. “You’re the only thing that’s ever scared me, Grace.”
Her mind didn’t have time to process what that meant, because Josh’s mouth sealed over hers, cool and wet and firm. The deliberate press of his lips stunned her for long seconds, while thoughts snapped in her brain like firing synapses. She’d never believed he’d ever cross that line. There had been so many times in the past, perfect moments for their first kiss, but he’d always backed off.
Now, he groaned, the sound a combination of pleasure and frustration. He tilted his head, curved one hand around the back of her neck, and this time when he kissed her again, he meant it—lips parted, searching, suckling. His other hand slipped around her waist and dragged her up against his body.
Her brain scrambled. Let go and enjoy, or push back to safety? Swoon or rail?
She shouldn’t give in to temptation. She knew this was the alcohol taking over. Knew he’d regret kissing her the moment the lust ebbed and his buzz cleared. But then his tongue licked across her bottom lip, her muscles went limp, and her mouth opened. The first sweep of his tongue across hers made her breath catch, made heat rush between her legs. He was hungry, demanding, and far more passionate than she’d ever imagined. The man who’d gone out of his way to deliver appropriate responses, keep respectable distances, and spare her every courtesy, was now fucking her mouth with long strokes of his tongue, exploring in decadent caresses, driving the kiss with hungry urgency.
Grace’s mind spiraled. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. Couldn’t make any decisions. She just held on tight, experiencing this lightning strike. Every inch of her skin burned with desire. Every cell vibrated with the thrill of being so desperately wanted by a man she’d craved for years. And she needed more of him. So much more. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she didn’t dare ask or even suggest, sure he’d pull away. Again.
She just kissed him back, tasting the hint of whiskey, of mint. The heat, the passion. Letting herself go, letting herself feel his arms around her, soaking in the sounds of pleasure in his throat. She opened her mind to take in every rock of his hips, every squeeze of his hand, every breath lifting his chest, so she could save them in her memory banks for the future.
His mouth slid off hers, kissing a trail across her cheek, resting his forehead against her temple. “God, Grace…”
His hands slid down her sides, curved over her waist, cupped her hips. Grace shivered—a combination of his words, his touch, and the cold. She wanted to tell him how good he felt, how much she wanted him, but feared if she spoke, she’d break this fragile bubble in time. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and scraped her fingers through his wet hair. How many times had she dreamed of doing this? Hundreds? Thousands?
God, he felt good. Big. Strong. Hard. Hot. Wet.
It had been so long since she’d been wanted like this. She pulled on his shoulders and lifted herself up his body, the same way she pulled herself up the stripper pole. He gripped her waist, settling her open thighs around his hips and her ass on the car’s trunk, pressing his rigid cock to her heat with a long groan into her mouth.