She responded by clasping her legs tighter around him and squeezing his cock with her inner muscles. And just like that, he lost control. Not that he’d been in control to begin with. Oh no, he’d said goodbye to his control the second this woman walked up to him, the second she’d latched her mouth on his and asked him to rock her world.
“Fuck me, damn it,” she moaned, pressing her lips to his shoulder and beginning to move.
There it was, that desperation again. And yet again, he didn’t care. Instead, he started to thrust, plunging his cock into her as hard as he could, as fast as he could. There was no stopping this. Whatever this was. A sexual hurricane. A moment of crazy, blind, uncontrollable lust. He fucked her against the wall, rough and wild, and she loved every minute of it.
“Yes, oh God, yes.”
Her soft cries, mingled in with dirty commands and breathy moans, drove him out of his mind. He dug his fingers into her ass, pumping in and out of that sweet, sopping-wet paradise, unable to slow down, not even for a second.
“More,” she said between moans, rocking hard against him.
He bent down and shoved his tongue in her mouth, kissing her senseless while he continued thrusting into her as deep as he could go. Her lips trembled beneath his, her fingers curled around his neck, and when he angled her body so that his cock brushed over her clit each time he withdrew, she gave a wild cry and exploded against him.
Her orgasm was too much for him. The way her pussy clamped around his cock, her sexy moans, the sheer bliss in her green eyes—he toppled right over the edge with her, coming so hard his balls burned with the agonizing force of the pleasure. His breath came out ragged, his heart pounding so hard he could hear nothing but the sound it made as it thudded against his ribcage.
They stayed there for a moment, leaning against the wall, breathing hard, their bodies joined together, until finally she slid off him without a word.
Carson swallowed, unable to comprehend what had happened. He’d just had the best sex of his life, in a supply closet of a nightclub, with a woman he’d known for all of five minutes. What the hell was up with that?
He reached down and removed the condom from his still aching erection, watching as Jessica bent to pick up her panties. She quickly put them on, smoothed out the front of her skirt and reached up to run her shaky hands through her dark hair.
“So…” he began then trailed off, unsure of what to say.
She gazed up at him with a strange little smile, her green eyes flickering with dazed pleasure and what looked like a touch of uncertainty.
“Thank you,” she finally said.
And before he could tell her she had absolutely nothing to thank him for—hell, he should be thanking her—she unlocked the door and walked right out of the supply closet.
He stared at the door, stupefied. What the hell just happened?
Chapter One
One Month Later
Although he truly hated weddings, Carson had to admit that Garrett and Shelby had done a pretty good job with theirs. The altar had been set up only a few yards from the shoreline of Coronado Beach, white roses twining around the little structure’s intricate cedar frame. The bride looked like an angel sent from heaven, her blonde hair a halo illuminated by the setting sun. The groom wore his pristine Navy dress whites, and the happy couple only had eyes for each other as the preacher spoke in an easy, jovial tone that added some liveliness to the ceremony.
Carson wondered if the preacher would still feel jovial if he knew the best man had slept with the bride. While the groom watched.
Probably not a tidbit he should mention at the reception, he decided as he smothered a grin and handed the silver wedding band to Garrett.
Garrett accepted the ring with visibly trembling fingers and Carson tried not to raise a brow. He’d never seen his best friend’s hands shake. Ever. The two men had been part of the same SEAL team for four years now, and in the life of a Navy SEAL, shaky hands usually equaled instant death. Good thing Garrett was steadier with a weapon than he was with a wedding ring.
“I, John, take you, Shelby…”
Shit, how was it possible that his best friend was getting married? Garrett had proposed to Shelby months ago, they’d been planning the wedding for ages, yet it hadn’t seemed real to Carson until just now. And the realization brought with it a wave of unease. He and Garrett had always been the ultimate bachelors. Whenever they weren’t on assignment, they’d painted the town every color known to man. Scored with numerous chicks. Engaged in some wild threesomes.
Who’d he do that with now?
And did he even want to?
Ever since that night at the Hot Zone, he’d been wondering if maybe it was time to say goodbye to the casual lifestyle. And he had the mysterious Jessica to thank for that, of course. She’d left him in that closet, harder than ever, and wondering if he’d dreamed it all—something he still wasn’t entirely sure of, seeing as he’d searched the entire nightclub for her and come up empty-handed. At first he’d been upset to discover she was really gone, but after a while he’d grown angry. At himself.
When had he become such a sleaze? It was one thing to have casual affairs with women he knew, but to fuck a complete stranger in a supply closet? When had he become that guy, the one who didn’t care about anything but sticking his dick in the first available pussy?
The encounter had forced him to take a good look at himself, and his lifestyle. And now, watching Garrett and Shelby exchange their vows with such unadulterated love in their eyes, he suspected it might really be time to retire from the random sex scene and look for something more meaningful. He was twenty-nine years old, for Christ’s sake. Wasn’t it time to grow up? Have a relationship that lasted more than five minutes in the closet of a nightclub?
“I, Shelby, take you, John, to be my lawfully wedded husband…”
Carson lifted his head, forcing himself to quit wallowing and focus on the vows being exchanged, but a second later his peripheral vision caught a flash of movement and he became distracted again. He shifted his head ever so slightly, seeking out what had snagged his attention. A short brunette stood a few yards away, next to the long buffet table that had been set up for the reception. Her back was half turned, so he only caught a glimpse of her profile, but the black skirt and white blouse she wore told him she was part of the catering staff.
Question was—why did one of the catering staff have her hand down her own shirt?
And was that fondling going on under there?
Carson studied the strange display. No, not fondling. Looked like she was fumbling with…a bra strap? Her hair fell onto her face like a curtain, further shielding her features from him, as she fiddled with the bra in determination.
He squinted. Then choked back a laugh when he realized what was happening. The girl’s bra strap had ripped—and she was attempting to tie the two ends together.
Priceless.
He couldn’t help it. A chuckle slid out of his throat.
Unfortunately, the chuckle came out at the exact moment the preacher demanded to know if anyone had a reason why the bride and groom shouldn’t be together.
Garrett and Shelby instantly swiveled their heads in his direction, shock clearly etched in their faces.
“What? No,” Carson said quickly, keeping his voice low. He turned to the preacher. “No. I’m not speaking. I’m forever holding my peace. These two belong together. Please, just go on.”
“I’m going to kick your ass for this,” Garrett muttered before turning his attention back to the ceremony.
Shelby just glared at him.
Fuck. Wonderful. Now everyone and their mother would think Carson objected to this union. Damn caterer and her broken bra.
He forced himself not to glance in that direction again, instead concentrating on the end of the ceremony and then applauding after Garrett and Shelby locked lips. The newly married couple walked down the sandy aisle, hand-in-hand, immediately swarmed by well-wishers and te
ary-eyed relatives.
Carson shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp white Navy uniform and followed the rest of the wedding party down the aisle. As they headed for the reception area, he glanced over at the buffet and sought out the bra-challenged waitress.
There she was. Talking to a curly-haired blonde and gesturing wildly.
His eyes suddenly narrowed as she turned her head. That face…green eyes…pouty lips…Jesus, he knew that face.
He took a few steps closer, bewildered, a tad angry, still focused on the familiar pixie-esque features, the long brown hair, the round little bottom…
The brunette latched her hand on the other waitress’s arm and proceeded to drag her toward the steps leading away from the beach. A second later, the two were out of sight.
But not before Carson caught another glimpse of her face, which confirmed what he already knew.
The mysterious Jessica had made another appearance.
And this time, there was no damn way he was letting her get away from him again.
“What am I going to do?” Holly Lawson wailed, waving her ripped bra around like a matador taunting an irate bull.
Zoe Shickler grinned. “You go without, that’s what you do.”
“This shirt is white, Zoe. And it’s see-through. Vanessa will freak.”
“Vanessa will be too busy bustling around and making sure the guests are enjoying themselves to notice her assistant’s tits,” Zoe answered.
“I’ll notice! And so will all those Navy SEALS. In an hour or so they’ll all be plastered and making cracks about my nipples.”
“So? If you’re lucky, maybe one of them will offer to suckle you for a bit.” Zoe’s grin widened. “Did you see the best man?” She promptly began fanning herself.
“I’ve been too busy setting up the buffet to notice the best man, Zoe. And this isn’t a joke,” Holly grumbled. “I can’t serve drinks topless.”
“You’re wearing a shirt, for God’s sake.” Zoe rolled her eyes and rose from the cab of the pickup truck she’d been sitting on. “Come on, we should head back. I shouldn’t have let you drag me here to begin with. That Vanessa will freak about.”
Holly sighed. “You go ahead. I need time to gather my courage.”
She watched as the other waitress crossed the gravel parking lot and headed for the narrow concrete staircase that led down to the beach. The lot was crammed with cars, all belonging to the sixty or so people who would soon get a very candid eyeful of Holly Lawson’s braless breasts.
God, this entire day had been a disaster from the second she’d opened her eyes. She’d woken up to the shrill ringing of her telephone, answered it to hear the shrill voice of her older sister, and proceeded to spend the morning re-dyeing Caroline’s hair after her sister had accidentally dyed it purple the night before. Apparently there had been some sort of communication breakdown between Caroline and her Korean hairdresser, but who the hell knew. Despite the fact that she was twenty-nine—five years older than Holly—Caroline always seemed to get herself in one mess after the other. Somehow Holly was the one who got stuck cleaning it.
And she didn’t even want to get started on the rest of her siblings. Twenty-five-year-old Todd was as scatterbrained as Caroline, as well as the other reason she’d had such a crappy day—he’d forgotten he had a college exam to write tomorrow morning and coerced Holly into spending the afternoon quizzing him. And after she’d left Todd’s dorm, her eldest brother Kyle called with an emergency of his own. He’d locked himself out of his car and needed her to drive over with the spare keys. Her keychain was heavier than a brick, thanks to all the spare keys she had clipped to it, all belonging to her idiot brothers and sister who couldn’t seem to do anything for themselves.
Holly was the baby of the family. She was only twenty-four, damn it! How had she been dubbed the Lawson family janitor?
Now, thanks to her siblings’ crisis, she was going to have to waitress an entire wedding without a bra. When she’d been getting dressed, she’d noticed that the bra strap was fraying a little, but she hadn’t had time to change because she’d already been running late. So she’d hightailed it out of her apartment, sped over to this wedding, and what happened twenty minutes into it? Her bra broke.
She hated her life. She really, truly did. She was sick of taking care of everyone in her family, sick of working as a waitress when what she really wanted to do was have a restaurant of her own, and sick of getting dumped.
Oh no, change brain direction now, Holly, before you think about—
Steve.
And yep, she was thinking about Steve,
She’d told herself she wasn’t allowed to anymore, but for the past month, thoughts of her ex had constantly floated into her head. It truly sucked when the person you were madly in love with broke your heart. She’d thought he was her soul mate, damn it! He worked as a sous-chef at an Italian restaurant, created his own recipes in his spare time, and rode a seriously sexy Harley. She’d envisioned the two of them working together, owning a restaurant, having sex on the back of his motorcycle, getting married, moving out of state so she didn’t have to see her family.
But instead, she’d gotten dumped. And why? Because Steve didn’t like the fact that she had other responsibilities that didn’t involve, well, fucking on the back of his Harley. In no uncertain terms, he’d told her to choose—him or everything else in her life. The selfishness of his demand still grated. How could she have been so wrong about him?
Of course, one good thing had come out of the break-up, but she wasn’t allowed to think about that either.
Nope. Because then she’d have to accept that the highlight of her sad, pathetic little life had been wild, sweaty sex in a supply closet with a complete stranger. And if that’s all a girl had to be proud of, she seriously needed a new life.
Straightening her shoulders, Holly finally forced herself to quit sulking. She glanced ruefully at the bra in her hand before stuffing it in the wide front pocket of her black apron. Then she sighed again, pushed her hair behind her ears, and headed back to the beach.
When she stepped onto the sand, she saw the reception was already in full swing. Tables had been set up on the beach, the chairs occupied by wedding guests digging into the seafood spread Holly had spent most of last night preparing. Since it was a buffet, the guests were in charge of getting their own food, but the catering staff was responsible for serving drinks, so Holly quickly headed for the bar area.
The sun was only a sliver of pink and yellow in the horizon, but it was still hot out, hot enough to make her white shirt cling to her skin. Great, she’d soon look like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest. The bride and groom would be thrilled.
“So, did you calm down?” Zoe asked, strolling up to the bar and loading her tray with glasses of champagne.
“If you mean am I happy about the fact that you can see my nipples through this shirt, then no, I haven’t calmed down,” she replied. “But I’ll deal with it, don’t worry.”
“Good.” Zoe grinned. “And you get to deal with it while bringing some beers over to the hottie table. Vanessa said I can’t serve them anymore, because apparently I spend too much time flirting.”
“Where exactly is the hottie table?”
Zoe’s blue eyes twinkled as she slanted her head to the left. Holly followed her coworker’s gaze. The hottie table indeed. Four ridiculously attractive men in Navy dress whites sat there, each one more handsome than the next. Like that blond one. Man, there was something unbelievably appealing about that chiseled, GQ face and broad shoulders and—
The color drained from her face.
“Oh my God,” she blurted out, nearly dropping the tray she’d just stacked with beer bottles.
Zoe giggled and tossed her curly hair over her shoulder. “I know, huh? It’s like an orgasmic feast over there!”
Holly’s cheeks went from white to red. Oh shit. Was it actually him or was she conjuring up the sight? Because what were the odds of
running into her one-night-stand here, at a wedding she was waitressing?
Obviously pretty good, because the guy’s head suddenly swiveled in her direction as if he sensed her presence, and then those deep blue eyes were fixed on her. All doubts drained from her mind. It was him. Her hunk from the Hot Zone. The guy she’d jumped four hours after Steve had dumped her.
“Male model, my ass,” she muttered, though a part of her wasn’t surprised to see he was in the Navy. She hadn’t quite bought his model story anyway.
Zoe gave her a blank look. “Huh?”
“The guy. The blond.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Remember I told you about the guy I hooked up with a month ago, at the club? Well, that’s him.”
Delight lit up Zoe’s eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Embarrassment heated her face as she thought about that night. She’d gone to the Hot Zone with Caroline, who’d dragged Holly out after finding her in her apartment crying over Steve. Holly hadn’t wanted to go, yet somehow her sister had convinced her they’d have a good time. But ten minutes after they walked into the club, Caroline disappeared with a tall, Latin heartthrob and Holly had found herself alone.
She’d stood in the shadows, trying not to think about Steve, trying not to cry, and that’s when she’d overheard those guys talking. About sex. About needing to get laid. Normally she thought those types of men were sleazy, but at that moment, something inside her snapped. Suddenly she’d found herself wondering, what would be so bad about sleeping with someone she didn’t know? What would be so terrible about using another man to distract herself from how much Steve had hurt her?
Never in her life had she had a one-night-stand, and if Steve hadn’t ended things so abruptly and left her so distraught, she might not have even considered it. But that night, it seemed like a good idea. So she’d walked up to the guys, asked one to dance, and before she knew it, she’d transformed into someone else. She wasn’t responsible, stressed out Holly Lawson anymore. She was Jessica. Jessica, who didn’t clean up her family’s messes or work too hard or get dumped. Jessica did whatever the hell she wanted, whoever the hell she wanted, and consequences be damned.