Navy Brat (Navy #3)

Navy Brat (Navy #3) Page 23

"Say something," Romano shouted. "Don’t just stand there looking like a bump on a log."

"Erin?"

Her brown eyes had never been wider. "You’re disappointed?"

"Sweet heaven, no," he groaned, reaching for her, dragging her into the shelter of his arms.

Chapter Ten

Brand blinked, unable to believe Erin was so soft against his body. Perhaps he was hallucinating. All the lonely months they’d spent apart might have dulled his senses. Was he so desperate for her that his mind had mystically forced her to materialize?

Brand didn’t know, but he was about to find out. In a heartbeat, his mouth came crashing down on hers. She was real. More real than he dared remember. Soft. Sweet. And in his arms.

Low, guttural sounds made their way up his throat as he slanted his mouth over hers. The men behind him were hooting and cheering, but Brand barely heard them above Erin’s small cry of welcome.

He felt the tears slide down her face, and he loved her so much that it was all he could do not to break down and weep himself. He kissed her again, sliding his tongue along hers, deep, deeper, into the honey-sweet depths of her mouth.

The boisterous shouts from behind him reminded Brand that, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t continue to make love to Erin. At least not in front of several dozen of his peers. Pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

"Are you surprised?" Romano teased, joining him in the front of the room and slapping him hard across the back.

Unable to speak, Brand nodded. His eyes, insatiable and greedy, locked with Erin’s. He couldn’t resist hugging her once more. Wrapping his arms around her, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of lavender and musk that was hers alone. He’d dreamed of this moment so often and now it was all coming to pass, and he couldn’t believe it was happening.

He gazed into the sea of faces watching him, unable to express the gratitude in his heart.

"Come on, Lieutenant," Catherine Fredrickson instructed, "sit down before you make a fool of yourself. Dinner’s about to be served." He and Catherine had worked together for nearly four years, and he was an admirer of hers. Their relationship was probably a little unusual, when he thought about it. Catherine was a friend, and he’d never thought of her as anything more. It worried him that Erin might feel threatened by the lieutenant commander.

"We brought out the dessert early," another friend teasingly called out to him.

Keeping Erin close to his side, Brand led the way to their table. Several friends came forward, eager to introduce themselves to Erin. Many had worked with her father at one time or another and were interested in news of the fun-loving Casey MacNamera.

No matter how many people spoke to him, or commanded his attention, Brand couldn’t take his eyes off his beautiful Irish miss for more than a few seconds. His gaze was magnetically drawn back to her again and again.

Erin’s gaze seemed equally hungry. A myriad of emotions scored Brand, many of which he couldn’t have identified. All he knew, all he wanted to know, was that Erin was sitting at his side. His heart swelled with a love so strong that it made him weak.

Men gathered around him. Friends asked him questions. Dinner was served. Brand laughed, talked, ate and did everything else that was required of him. But every now and again his eyes would slide to Erin’s, and they’d nearly drown in each other’s presence.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Not so strikingly attractive that her loveliness called attention to herself, but her rare inner quality of strength and gentleness shone through.

"How long have you known about this?" he whispered, twining their fingers.

"A month." She smiled shyly. "The longest month of my life."

"Mine, too." He braced his forehead against hers and breathed in the warm scent of her. It was in his mind, then and there, to tell her how much he loved and needed her. But emotion constricted the muscles of his throat, making speech difficult.

"Here," Romano said, slapping a set of keys on the tabletop.

Brand didn’t understand.

"Take the car," he instructed.

"Your car? But how will you get home?" Brand realized his speech was too sporadic to make sense.

"Ginger," Romano answered with a chuckle. "Now get out of here before someone gives you a reason to stay."

Brand didn’t need a second invitation. He stood, his fingers linked with Erin’s. He took a long detour around the room, shaking hands with his comrades, wanting to thank his friends for the biggest – and by far the best – surprise of his life.

When he’d finished, he walked purposefully out of the restaurant.

"Oh, Brand…" Erin whispered once they were alone together. She seemed at a loss to continue.

Brand understood. For weeks he’d been planning what he wanted to say to her. His intention was to logically, intellectually lead her to the conclusion that they should do as he’d suggested months earlier and marry. He planned to tackle each one of her objections with sound reasoning and irrefutable logic. But every word he’d prepared sailed straight into the sunset without ever reaching his lips. All that mattered to Brand in that moment was holding her, loving her.

He gently brought her into his arms and buried his face in the delicate curve of her neck. Brand felt the series of quivers that racked her shoulders and moved down her spine. He pulled her flush against him in an effort to comfort her. Her tears dampened his neck, and her warm breath fanned his throat.

Holding her this close was torment of another kind. Her soft breasts caressed his hard chest, and her stomach was flattened against his. All torture should be this incredibly sweet, he reasoned.

He laid his hand on her hair, filled his fingers with it, savoring the silky smoothness of the thick auburn tresses.

"Let’s get out of here," Brand whispered when he could endure the pleasure of holding her no longer.

"Where?"

If they went back to his place, there was no question in his mind that she’d spend the night in his bed. No doubt Romano and the others assumed that was exactly what would happen. Maybe Erin was thinking the same thing herself. He didn’t know.

His heart and body were greedy for her. But his need wasn’t so voracious that it blocked out sound judgment. He wanted Erin as his lover, but sharing a bed with her wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him. If he was looking for sexual gratification, he could find that with any number of women.

He yearned for much more from Erin. He wanted her for his wife, and he wasn’t willing to settle for anything less.

Brand helped her into the car. He noted when he started the engine that Erin’s hands were clenched together in her lap. She was nervous. A slow smile worked its way across his mouth. What the hell, he was as tense as she was. Only in his case he was too sophisticated to show it.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a voice so small he could scarcely make out the words.

"The beach."

She relaxed at that, tucking her hand under his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder as he steered the car out of the parking lot. The warm, soothing wind whipped past them as Brand drove the narrow, twisting road down the steep hillside. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, and the silver light of a full moon reflected against the crashing waves of the surf.

Walking hand in hand down the sandy embankment, Brand led the way toward the water. The night was warm and the beach empty.

Brand paused once they reached the ocean, faced her and wrapped his arms around her trim waist, holding on to her. Her eyes met his, and he read the confusion and the doubts. Now wasn’t the time for either.

"There’s so much I planned to tell you," Erin murmured, seeming to search for the right words to say to him.

"Later," he whispered before his mouth met hers. "We have all the time in the world to straighten out our problems. For now, love me."

She moaned and slipped her arms up his chest, leaning into him as she gave him her mouth. Their kiss was like spontaneous combustion, their need for each other fierce and compelling. His tongue breached the barrier of her lips and plundered deep and long. All ten of his fingers sank into her hair as their kisses, tempered with tenderness, delved deeper and deeper. Sweeter than anything Brand had ever known. Slowly he ran his hands over her shoulders and the sides of her waist to her hips, finally cupping her buttocks. He drew her up slightly until her abdomen settled naturally over the hard imprint of his growing need. For an elongated second neither of them moved. Then Erin, his sweet, innocent Erin, started to rub against him, creating a hot friction, a burning need, that all but devoured him. Each sway of her hips, each rotation, eradicated every shred of reason Brand possessed.

"Ah, Erin," he rasped. Feverishly he tore his mouth from hers, hoping the cool air would clear his head. But it did little to help.

Her mouth. Her sweet, delectable mouth tasted even better than he’d fantasized. He couldn’t seem to taste enough of her, and each kiss only quickened his appetite for more.

Even through the thick fabric of her dress he could fed her nipples harden. Her breasts felt lush and full, pressed as they were against his chest. Ripe. He remembered how they felt in his hands, how they’d filled his palms, spilled over. Unable to resist, his thumbs skirted over her nipples.

She moaned softly as his fingers fumbled with the row of buttons until the first several were free. He slipped the top partway down her shoulders and was challenged by her teddy and bra.

"Are so many clothes necessary?" he moaned, then alternated his attention from one breast to the other, his mouth closing over the material, making wet circles in the satin.

"Yes, all these clothes are necessary," she whispered, and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

He wanted her. Then. There. His need was so great that a thin film of sweat broke out over his body. Brand closed his eyes and gnashed his teeth in an effort to rein in the desire that coursed through him like liquid fire, gathering inevitably in his loins.

Erin stepped away from him and slowly, purposefully, unfastened the buttons of her dress, letting it slip to the sand.

"W-what are you doing?" Dear sweet heaven, she was going to make this impossible.

She smiled boldly up at him. "Let’s swim."

Brand was about to remind her that neither of them had a suit when she started running toward the water.

"Erin," he called after her, and at the same moment he sank to the sand and started unlacing his shoes. Five years in Hawaii and he’d never once done anything so crazy. She was out in the surf, splashing away like a dolphin, and he was struggling to remove his pants, which he sent flying into the night. Without bothering to unbutton his shirt, he slipped it over his head, balled it in his fist and impatiently hurled it down on the beach.

By the time he joined her, Erin was waist-deep in the surf, holding her arms out to him. "Come in, Lieutenant, the water’s fine."

"If you’d wanted to swim, I’d have preferred to wait until I had on a suit, and not a double-breasted one."

"I’m double-breasted," she teased, leaping up and down in the water like a porpoise to give him a tantalizing view of her breasts. Brand was certain she had no idea how much she was revealing. When wet, the white satin material of her bra was as transparent as glass. She might as well be nude for all the cover her underthings afforded her.