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She’d had her way with him yesterday, but he’d handed her a second opportunity. Hooking a finger in his dog tags, she yanked him closer, feeling the silent laughter shake his chest. Laughter and Tag went together like sun and a day at the beach. He made her feel happy, made her want to smile.
He also made her hot as hell.
All good things.
His body hit hers with just a little extra oomph that had to be deliberate. And as his legs brushed hers, his front pressed right where she wanted him. He knew what he did to her. His dark eyes gleamed down at her, still laughing and right there in the moment with her.
“Bad boy,” she said throatily.
“Are you complaining?” He cradled her hips with his hands, his thumbs rubbing small circles that were part tickle, part pleasure. He hadn’t left an inch of space between them, which made it clear he shared her interest because she could feel every delicious inch of his erection. She wrapped his tags around her fingers, pulling his head down to hers. Oh, look, she had a Navy rescue swimmer on her own personal chain. How perfect was that? She slid her other arm up his and cupped the back of his neck.
His mouth hovered an inch above hers. “Is this where I kiss you to shut you up? Or to seal the deal?”
She grinned because his words sure didn’t sound like a complaint. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Choices.” She felt rather than saw his smile as his lips covered hers. He gave her a perfectly well-behaved public kiss—except for what their lower bodies were doing—but the kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted him misbehaving, so she nipped his lower lip, demanding more. He took over, his tongue parting her lips and sweeping inside her mouth. A little rough, a whole lot sexy.
Tag Johnson didn’t have a tame bone in his body as his sweet, lazy, take-charge kiss proved. Because that’s what he did—take charge of her. His mouth devoured hers, sending the hot pleasure streaking through hers. Swept off her feet, she got a stranglehold on his dog tags because letting go now was impossible, even if he made her knees go weak. He kissed her and kissed her, as hungry for the contact as she was.
His hands pinned her in place against him. Her nipples tingled as heat swirled through her. Oh, he was good. Thank God. She’d come back from Afghanistan, determined to live, to enjoy every moment she had. For the soldiers she hadn’t been able to bring back, for the women she’d met there who lived lives she couldn’t begin to comprehend. For herself. So she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. Meeting his stroke for stroke. Around him, she was out of control and she liked it.
Behind them, M.J. coughed. “I’ll just open up the house. You two come on in when you’re ready.”
So much for keeping this thing between them under wraps and their own wicked secret. He’d announced their engagement, and then they’d kissed, and if there weren’t pictures on the island’s Facebook page within the hour, she’d be shocked. And, clearly, not much shocked her these days. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kissed the daylights out of this man in front of an audience.
She pulled away from their steamy lip-lock with a sigh of regret. They really, really couldn’t have sex on the front porch, and buying the cottage was only the first hurdle to that particular fantasy. Heat and need darkened his eyes, and his breathing was every bit as ragged as hers. Still, he’d apparently rediscovered his responsible side, because he captured her wrists and gently tugged her hands down.
“Behave,” he ordered. “We can’t do this.”
She hoped that was an unspoken here she heard, because he drove her crazy, and he couldn’t kiss her like that and not make good on all his unspoken promises. Half a weekend with Tag had been nowhere near enough time.
“It takes two.” And he definitely wasn’t helping. With a husky groan, he brushed his mouth over hers one more time in a quick, hard kiss, and then he let her go.
“Let’s check out your house,” he said and headed for the door. That left her staring at his butt, so she made herself useful and plucked the leaf off his back pocket.
“Mia.” Her name came out part mutter, part laugh. And she liked it, liked knowing he had no idea what to do with her. Other than the obvious, of course. If she careened out of control around him, well, he was in the same boat.
She handed him the leaf. “You’re collecting souvenirs, sailor.”
“Shoot. If I’m wearing spiders, you’re removing those, too.”
“You’re on your own there.” Then she gave into temptation. Her hand landed on his leafless butt in a gentle smack. His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d done that. That was fun, but she had a house calling her name. It was safer if she removed her hands from Tag’s too-tempting body and confined her inspection to the rooms. She’d bet the place had a bedroom or two. If he wanted to play fiancé, she could be convinced to let him. Still, she couldn’t resist getting in the last word as she brushed past him into the cottage.
