“Hmm?” but his mouth is there, and he captures mine for a slow, sweet, nibbling kiss that turns my entire world upside down. No tongue, just his lips and mine, his scruffy beard tickling my chin. There are cameras—I know there are usually two or three on each plane we’ve been on. But he doesn’t seem to care as he gently licks at my lips.
His mouth lingering by mine, he says very softly, “Good night, sweetheart. Want to sleep on my shoulder?”
I look up at those green eyes so close to mine and nod gratefully.
I lean against his broad shoulder, inhaling him, and he dips his head. I think he’s smelling me, too, his lips and nose in my hair as his chest expands, and that causes a weird little flutter in my tummy that I’ve never felt before.
Romantic or not, he does have a way about him.
And I’m falling for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Luke
What were we talking about on the plane to San Diego? Hell. I don’t know. I don’t remember. Did we get along? Yeah. By now, we have a lot of the kinks ironed out in our strategy. We’ve been getting along pretty damn well.
—Luke’s Confessional, Day 11
When we step out of San Diego International Airport into warm ocean breezes, whatever sickness had been hanging over my head for the past few days leaves me completely. And I feel strong. Good. Ready to take on the world.
In the taxi line, I wrap my fingers around Penny’s small hand as she reads the clue. “We have to get to the MCRD,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Where is that?”
“Marine Corps Recruit Depot,” I whisper to her. The other teams are also in the line, and I don’t want to give them any help.
“Oh, really? How do you know?”
“I have cousins who went there.”
We get in the next cab, which has a busted air conditioner. I’ve been pining for warmth for so long, and now that we have it, it’s too much. I’m wearing a T-shirt and cargo pants, and I’m sweating my balls off. I look over at Penny, who’s still wearing her jacket, fanning her face.
“Hey. Doc,” I say as I tug on her jacket. “Take this off.”
She does, swiping her hair back off her face as she shrugs the jacket down and wraps it around her waist. She sticks out her tongue, panting. “It’s still hot. Gosh, it’s brutal. I thought San Diego was supposed to be perfect weather.”
I pull on her T-shirt. “Take this off.”
Her eyes widen. “No. I can’t.”
I wonder if she remembers anything about that night in Boston. I wonder if she remembers that she let me pull down her shirt in that alleyway and suck on her perfect pink nipples. I wonder if she knows I’d kill to do that again. “You got a bra on underneath it, though. Right?”
She nods. “But—”
“I want to know who put it in your head that you’ve got a less-than-perfect body. Was it that prick boyfriend of yours?”
“No. It’s just that . . . I’m self-conscious. I don’t like people looking at me.”
“Dammit, really? Because I love looking at your sexy body. In fact, when you were pressed up against me in that igloo, that’s all I was thinking about. Your body.”
She blushes, stiffening, turning her head to look out the window as she continues to fan her face. Then, suddenly, she reaches down, lifts her shirt, and pulls it off. “Happy?”
Hell yes, I’m happy. Because she. Is. Gorgeous.
She has the curves you wouldn’t expect on a buttoned-up, bookish girl. I’ve felt them before, but seeing them only makes me want to bare her more. She bites on her lips and balls her T-shirt in front of her tight, bare abdomen. She’s so damn lickable that my mouth is watering, my body tightening with need. The sexiest thing about her is that she doesn’t know how beautiful she is.
When she realizes I’m staring, she crosses her arms over her chest.
“You said you don’t like people looking at you,” I murmur. “But believe me, when they do, ain’t no way they can be thinking anything bad.”
She flushes straight down her chest, straight to the top of her bra. I stare at her perfect cleavage. What I wouldn’t give to see where that flush ends again, to draw her top down and take those hardened nipples into my mouth again.
We pull up to the depot and are greeted by men in military fatigues. Not greeted. More like