Captain O'Reilly's Woman - Ashes of Love 1 Page 5

  “Can you? Cook?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well paint me happy ‘cause I’ve died and gone to heaven. A great kisser and he can cook. Wow. What a catch.”

  Chuckling, David wove an arm around her and nuzzled her neck. “And don’t you forget it.”

  They fell into a comfortable rhythm. Samantha unpacked and broke down the boxes. David put the food away. When the counter was cleared off, he took her hand, led her back into the great room. He picked up their suitcases and walked through the living area past the edge of the massive fireplace and down a wide hallway. The ceiling at this end of the house was only one story high and the walls were standard drywall, painted a soft, gray-blue with pine wainscoting at the bottom. The paint wasn’t too badly faded. Open doors gave Samantha glimpses of a bookcase-clad office, a sunny television room, and on the lake-side of the cottage, a set of double doors opening onto the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen. It was a corner room and two of the walls were log, the other two drywall painted a soft green. One exterior wall had a big, double-hung window. The other had French doors leading onto the patio. A huge bed with massive, turned posts took up most of the wall just to the left of the door. Beyond it was a seating area with a short sofa and a wing chair. She peeked into two other rooms opening off it. One was an empty walk-in closet, bigger than her old bedroom in her parents’ house. The other a marble-tiled bathroom with a huge tub, double sinks and a shower stall large enough to hold four people. A little room off that held an ornate toilet and a bidet.

  “Very nice,” she commented happily, stepping back into the bedroom. A row of framed photographs on the wall caught her eye and she walked up to them. She touched one of them gently. “You?” she asked, turning back toward David. He’d taken the suitcases into the closet and come back out again. He looked at the photograph.

  “Yes.”

  The lanky boy in the photograph had David’s unmistakable, pale blue eyes. His dark hair was long, almost touching his shoulders and wavy. He was perhaps eight years old, sitting in a canoe with a fishing rod in his hands. Behind him, paddle in hand, was a man. He was tall and broad in the chest, with the same, remarkable eyes as David, although the cut of his chin and nose were different. His hair was light brown. Samantha looked at the other photographs. She counted four children in all, two boys and two girls in addition to the man and a woman with dark-brown hair and David’s mouth. The earliest photos showed just the two, young adults. As they aged, children started to appear in the photos. First babies then toddlers and adolescents. The pictures suddenly stopped as if the people in them had simply ceased to exist.

  Samantha looked around the room. Looking past the tasteful furnishings and the expensive, wide-planked wood floor and thick carpets, she saw that rich, full lives had been lived here before the Great War and the plagues had snuffed it all out.

  “This was your parents’ room,” she said quietly.

  David nodded and inhaled deliberately. “And now it’s ours,” he said with quiet surety. Laying his hands on her shoulders he pulled her to him. “They’ve been dead a long time. This place holds no bad memories for me anymore. It’s time it had some new ones.” He led her over to the bare mattress and sat them on the edge. “I’ve never said thank you and it’s about time I did.” He took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. “You could have picked anybody to be with. Somebody younger. Somebody not tied to the military. But you picked me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words to tell you how much I love you for that.”

  Blinking back tears that threatened to embarrass the hell out of her, Samantha leaned her head on David’s shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said quietly and smiled when she inhaled, breathing in the scent of him. Breathing him in was much better than crying all over him. Far more fulfilling, and appropriate. They sat like that for some time, until Samantha sensed it was again time to move on to more enjoyable diversions. “And thank you for saying yes.” She flopped down onto her back. “I got those stupid orders and I had no clue what to do and my head kept coming back to you and what an idiotic thing that seemed I mean how could I ever imagine taking up the squad commander’s time by asking him who did he think I should ask to deflower me. I mean come on what kind of a weak-ass come-on is that and oh damn I’m rambling.”

  Laughing in that loud, deep and lusty way of his, David dropped down on one elbow beside her and lay his warm hand on her abdomen.

  “A pretty good one. If you ask me.” He kissed her deeply but quickly then stood up suddenly with a single, powerful movement. “Get your succulent ass off that bed, Corporal. And help me with these sheets.”

  “Oh yes, sir! Now that’s an order a girl wants to hear. And the phrasing was so professional.”

  He shot her a look which she deliberately ignored.

  There was a set of neatly folded sheets on the foot of the bed along with a mattress pad, a cotton and a wool blanket and a thin quilt. The fabric in the quilt reflected the green on the walls. Samantha picked up a pillow case and unfolded it carefully, then realized it wasn’t loaded with two years worth of accumulated dust and was, in fact, freshly laundered.

  “So you arranged for someone to come in and open up the place for you?” she asked. She retrieved a pillow from a cabinet set beneath the window and slipped the case over it.

  “Hmm,” David acknowledged absently. “Bruce and Heather Miller. He took care of the place during my parents’ time. Getting the docks in and such.” He shook out the mattress pad and started to put it on the bed.

  “I’ve got to send them a note,” Samantha insisted. “They did a terrific job and I’m sure you don’t pay them to make sure there isn’t a lick of dust or a single smudge on a pane of glass.”

  “And they didn’t have to mow the lawn.”

  “Or sweep the steps.”

  They made up the bed quickly. When it was done, David reached for her, drew her into his arms with a need that was almost violent and kissed her. His tongue drove into her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair. He slid his palms down her body and cupped her ass, grinding her body into his hard cock. Swaying lightly, rubbing against her deliberately, he let her feel his hunger. How much he needed to be inside her. The violence of his embrace made David step away from her.

  “Wh...?” Samantha asked breathlessly. Her expression was confused and hurt.

  “Before we...before I...” David took a deliberate breath and lay his hands on her shoulders, holding her back. It took some effort but he summoned his discipline. “I need to know exactly what you want. How far you want this to go.” His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. He shuddered lightly when he felt Samantha’s warm fingers on his belly, touching him through his shirt. “I want so much from you. Hell I want everything from you. I want to take your clothes off and lay you down on this bed and kiss every square inch of you. I want to be fucking you. I want to feel your maidenhead tear when I push my cock into you the first time.” He was breathing harder now and couldn’t help it. Samantha’s fingers were moving faster, exploring his body with inexperienced, insistent sweeps, testing the muscles in his chest, clutching the sides of his body.

  “I want to make you come and come and then I want to come inside you. No condoms. No birth control. I want to know that every time I come inside you, I could make you pregnant. I want you. In my life. You and our children—and yes I want children. Not just a child with you. Living with me. Part of me.”

  David firmed his grip on her shoulders when Samantha shivered and tried to pull him to her.

  “But all of that doesn’t matter. What does matter is what you want. I need to know, Samantha. I need to hear from you what you’re ready for. Because if you don’t want me in your life, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. What I want to do...what I have done to you breaks every fraternization rule in the justice code. And I don’t care. Not if it means a chance to be with you.”

  Swallowing deliberately, Samantha held her tongue, waiting for David t
o talk himself out. The silence between them over the past two and a half weeks had been necessary. But it hadn’t been good. When he finally did stop talking, when he was simply standing in front of her, his mesmerizing, blue eyes watching her with an intensity that made her wet, she nodded. “Would we have to keep our relationship a secret? I really do love you, you know, and part of that means that I won’t sacrifice your career.”

  “The military will let us be together, regardless of rank. If you ask. You’re RI. They’ll give you anything you want.”

  “You’re sure? Did you check?”

  “Yes,” David admitted baldly. “To both.” Then he took hold of her wrists and lifted them gently. “My future is in these small hands, Samantha. My heart. I need to know how much of the dream I can have.”

  The corners of his firm, square mouth trembled, once, then he put his shoulders back and watched her expectantly.

  “Can I paint this room?”

  David blinked.

  “Can I paint it? Another color?” Samantha asked.

  “Yes.” His voice was low. Commanding. Absolutely certain. “You can paint it bright purple and I’ll hold the damn paint can for you.” One corner of his mouth turned up. He’d asked her just how big a role she’d let him have in her life. She was asking the same of him.

  Samantha nodded again. “All right then. We’ll start with you kissing every inch of me and just the thought of that has got me wet I don’t mind telling you. And we’ll finish up two old farts sleeping in a room with purple walls covered in pictures of children and grandchildren and if I’m lucky, of you jumping off the dock naked and—”

  But anything else she was going to say was cut off by David’s laughter. His fierce embrace. His lips on hers. He kissed her tenderly this time...with unmistakable intensity, yes, but with a patience that told her they had all the time in the world to be together.

  “Wet, hmm?” David murmured. Easing his mouth away from hers, he feathered it across her jaw, her throat. “I’m going to find out, you know. I’m going to stick my finger inside your pussy. Would you like that?” He grinned wolfishly when he felt her tremble.

  “I don’t know. Nobody’s ever stuck their finger inside me,” she admitted absently, thinking more about how good his mouth felt instead of what was coming out of it.

  David chuckled. It was a low, erotic sound. “You’ll just have to trust me then. I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about pleasuring you.” He nipped her throat then carefully drew the edge of his teeth across her skin. “And after I do what I want to do, you get to tell me what you want me to do to you. But you have to use really dirty words to describe it.”

  “Naughty, naughty Captain,” Samantha chided. Her breath broke when David nipped the cap of muscle at the base of her neck.

  He leaned back from her and held her head in his hands. “Making love is intense. Very intimate. We can take it in little steps, you know. As much as I’d like to sink my cock into you right now, we don’t have to go that far today. Promise me you’ll ask me to stop if it gets too intense for you. We’ve got three whole weeks together. We don’t have to rush into this.”

  “Okay. I promise.” Samantha nodded adamantly. “Now please just shut up and bite me again—sir.” She slid into his warmth and tipped up her head, offering her throat to him. “I’m surprised the whole town isn’t full of sex-crazed virgins with the way you people carry on around here.”

  Laughing so loud his belly hurt, David lay his head on her shoulder and hugged her delightedly. Then, obligingly, skimmed his teeth across her throat.

  Reaching behind her, he found the top button of her short, sleeveless dress and undid it. “Naked,” David breathed. “Naked is always a good place to start.”

  “Naked sounds good,” Samantha breathed, wriggling inside her clothes. “Can I take your shirt off? Or do you do it?” She shuddered lightly. “I’ve always wanted to see you with your shirt off. Especially during rifle practice. When you were my platoon captain and you used to supervise our drills. You’d kneel beside me and I could see how big your arms were. Out of the corner of my eye.”

  “Hmm,” David murmured, working the second then the third button loose. He kept going until they were all open and he could reach inside and caress her back. “Is that why you blow at marksmanship?” He shook his head wryly. “You really do, you know.”

  “And whose fault is that?” she groused then sighed at the feel of his warm, rough hands on her skin. They slid across the back of her bra, making her think about him taking it off and touching her bare breasts.

  “Mine,” David admitted without rancor. “Wanna know why I supervised all your rifle drills?” He slid one strap of her dress off her shoulder, that and the satin strap of her bra and drew his tongue across her exposed skin.

  “So you could look at my ass?”

  “So I could look at your ass.” He slid his hand further down her back then slipped his hand inside her dress to squeeze her backside. Her panties were satin, trimmed with soft, clinging lace. Cut square, like briefs. They left the bottoms of her cheeks exposed. David took his time caressing the soft crease of skin at the top of her thigh before moving his hand back up her body.

  Samantha squirmed when she felt his warm, rough touch slip away.

  “Take my shirt off,” David murmured near her ear.

  “Hmm? Wh...? Oh.” She blinked, finally comprehending what he’d said. Then, with an eagerness that made him grin, started yanking his buttons open.

  “Go slow, Corporal,” David admonished her gently. He straightened away from her and his eyes sparkled when he looked down at her. “Tease me a little.” His smile widened. “You ripping at me like you want to crawl inside my skin turns me on like crazy, but we’ve got the next three weeks for crazy. This time—this first time—be gentle with me.”

  Samantha laughed but did as he asked and enjoyed the feeling, the sight of his buttons coming loose, one by one, even more. “And all this is mine,” she murmured softly as she revealed the sharp, defined rise of David’s chest. The soft, dense furring of dark hair. The sharp delineation between chest and abdomen, marked by smooth, taut skin. The brick-like undulations of his stomach. She’d seen guys without their shirts on. Lots of them. But none of them as delicious and perfect and just plain hot as David.

  She hadn’t even got to his arms yet.

  Tugging carefully, she eased his crisp shirt free of the waistband of his jeans, pulling slowly, like he’d asked. She was enthralled by the feel of his body. His skin was warm and vital beneath her fingers. He was endlessly huge, male and hard and Samantha felt like a junkie who’d just been turned on to the best high of her life.

  When he leaned his head back and sighed quietly, she knew he liked it when she touched him. Liked the feel of her hands on him. With no clue what she was doing, Samantha simply let her instincts, her curiosity and need guide her. It seemed to be working—for both of them.

  David found his patience came easy as he gave himself up to Samantha’s exploration of his body. To him, his size and strength were simply tools and he was caught off guard by how enthralled she was by them. He’d been without a woman for so long that when he thought about sexual gratification, he thought about grabbing a dirty magazine with one hand and his cock with the other. He’d forgotten his whole body was an erogenous zone. Could be in the hands of the right partner.

  “Yes,” he murmured, “yours.” He eased his hand beneath her hair, loving the feel of the cool, heavy silk sliding between his fingers. The scent of flowers rose around him and he pulled her to him carefully, wanting to feel her mouth as well as her hands, not knowing if she’d want to. Aching for her to.

  David groaned softly when Samantha lay her head on his chest. She turned her mouth to him, kissed him. It was a bare pursing of her lips. Then, sliding his dog tags out of the way, she smoothed her cheek against him. Her hands came up as well. The heels of them followed the hard rise of his pectorals in a slow, enthralled sweep then cam
e back down. Her touch felt like electricity dancing on his skin. He groaned again when she pet him, sank her hands into the crisp curls on his chest and let them slide between her fingers.

  Smiling at his response, Samantha felt him suck in his breath when she touched the smooth skin on his belly. It was taut yet surprisingly and erotically soft. She’d never thought anything so hard and burnished could be soft. Discovering that he obviously did spend time with his shirt off, she could have kicked him for never letting her see him like that before.

  She was dying to kiss him. To touch all that hard, soft skin with her lips. Dipping her head, her mouth followed the progress of her hands, stroking every ridge, every swell of his diaphragm as he breathed, the tiny squares of muscle on the side of his body and she slid closer. She kissed each one, tasted his skin with the tip of her tongue, breathed him in, filled herself with his scent and taste and never wanted to stop.

  “Samantha.” Her name was a low entreaty, more rumble than real sound as it came from his lips. Without asking, without wheedling for compliments or declarations, she knew he loved the way she touched him. Knew she had the power to arouse and enthrall him and her own arousal ramped up another notch in response.

  “Wow,” she breathed against his skin, not even realizing she’d spoken out loud until she heard her voice. “You haven’t laid a hand on me and I think I’m ready to come just from touching you.”

  David’s body bucked in response to her words. His trapped cock twitched violently. “You keep talking dirty to me and I will come,” he gritted out.

  Samantha couldn’t help thinking that would be a terrible waste, but she also couldn’t stop touching him. Satisfying her need to know and taste and discover every inch of him, she made love to his body. She was enthralled by the scent of his skin, the way his breath caught and the feel of his big, rough hand on her neck. The other was on her bare back, resting beneath her linen dress, squeezing lightly. His fingers shifted suddenly whenever she touched a new spot, or did something he obviously liked.