It wasn’t Dean Jr on the porch at Laila’s this time, it was
the other two. Smoking and laughing while they drank beer.
More dislike swarmed him and he pressed the garage door
button. He couldn’t explain his relief at seeing Roxi’s SUV
in there. He parked next to her Tribeca and got out. Bags in
hand, he went to the door and entered the house after the
garage had been secured.
Music filled the air, alternative with a nice pulsing beat
to it. He made his way to his room—funny how easy it was to
think of it that way—and set his purchases on the bed.
Stepping back in the hall he headed for the living room and
on to the kitchen where he froze as if he’d run smack into a
Roxi was mopping. She wore another pair of those
thigh-hugging shorts, white this time, and a sweatshirt. Her
hair hung free and he itched to sink his fingers in it and
tug her head back, where all he had to do was lower his own
His cock pressed insistently against his jeans. He loved
staring at her and would have no problems continuing to do
so, however he also had no wish to freak her out.
“Roxi,” he called, loud enough to be heard over the music.
She screamed and jumped. So much for not scaring her. With a
hand on her chest she stared up at him, eyes twinkling as
much as the silver in her ears.
“Well, shit, you scared me.”
“No need to apologise. I thought I’d be done with the floor
before you got back.” She reached for a remote and turned
the music down. “I don’t normally have it set that high.”
He knew she spoke but damned if he could follow the
conversation. Her sweatshirt, medium grey, was another
Marine one with four succinct words printed on it—‘The Few.
The Proud’. His eyes drifted lower back to where the white
of her shorts ended and the mouth-watering hot cocoa hue of
her legs began. Long and toned. He knew it would be some
sort of heaven to have them wrapped around his waist as he
stroked deep into her.
The tension thickened as he watched her socked feet move
“See something you like, Marine?”
He jerked his gaze up to find her eyes, a blended mixture of
desire and amusement danced in them, watching his face. The
gentlemanly thing would be for him to apologise. Ask for her
forgiveness for his behaviour.
“Hell yeah.” His response deep and guttural.
What do you know, I’m not that much of a gentleman after