LITMIR.BIZ

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about Michelle was rounded…and soft…

      “Zach Prince! Don’t you ever knock?”…except her demeanor.

      He winced. He hated it when she said his name as if it were a curse. “I already had this conversation with your roommate.”

      “Then maybe you should listen. For a change.”

      His wandering gaze traversed the slope of her dripping backside. Almost.

      “Give me that.” She snatched the shower curtain from him and used it for cover.

      He’d long since etched every nuance of her body into his heart. “All you need, sweetheart, is that JP-5 you’re wearing.” JP-5—jet fuel—mingled with wash water on board. Sailors and aviators alike never really got rid of the smell during a cruise. They just got used to it.

      On Michelle it was like the finest French perfume to his fighter pilot’s soul. He breathed in its addictive scent.

      “Get out.” She tossed her head, whipping wet hair across the swell of her breasts.

      Zach ignored the seriousness in her tone and reached out to finger a burnished-brunette strand. Just touching her ignited his desire…or looking at her…or thinking of her. “Is there room in there for two?” He knew from experience the stall barely held one. But he liked to imagine the possibilities.

      “You know you’re not supposed to be here, Zach. I could have you put on report.”

      “So why don’t you?” he dared, knowing an empty threat when he heard one.

      She heaved a frustrated sigh, finally admitting it to herself. “You’re going to get us both in trouble. You know that, don’t you?”

      “Only if we get caught.”

      “My point exactly. It’s only a matter of time. The Navy’s cracking down on fraternization. You read the new policy, or knowing you maybe you haven’t. But if you think I’m going to throw away my career just to be another hash mark on the helmet of some hotshot jet jock, you’re sadly mistaken, mister.”

      Zach didn’t deny the statement. Like many other fliers, he had kills stenciled on his helmet and painted on his plane. He had four, one for every enemy fighter he’d shot down. Five would make him an ace.

      Some guys put stickers on their helmets to mark their conquests with women. Hash marks on Zach’s helmet represented every time she’d shot him down, figuratively, not literally.

      So far he’d suffered seventeen hits to his ego.

      But this time would be different.

      She was softening. He stared at her mouth as the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her full lips.

      “You’re not even listening to me, are you.” Her brown eyes blazed from behind spiked lashes. “I absolutely hate that about you.”

      “I love it when you’re riled.” He’d listen when she said something he wanted to hear. He leaned in, felt the contours of her body through the vinyl and pressed closer. “Besides, I earned the bragging rights to every one of those hash marks.”

      She shoved her hand in his face. “Zach, your arrogance is astounding.”

      “I know,” he said with a grin.

      Maybe she hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but he equated arrogance with self-confidence, and that wasn’t exactly a fault in his estimation. “You know you love me.” He crowded her by leaning a forearm above his head and against the bulkhead connected to the stall.

      She drew the shower curtain tighter, but stood her ground. “Ha!”

      “Admit it.”

      “Not on your life.”

      He cocked an eyebrow. “What about yours? I’m desperate enough to take a deathbed confession.”

      She snorted, obviously trying to hold back her laughter. There was nothing delicate about the deep throaty sound.

      But he liked it.

      “A woman’s entitled to her secrets. And I’m definitely taking this one to the grave.” Her tone teased him.

      Zach relished the torment.

      He pressed his advantage while he still had one. “Why not save us both the heartache, sweetheart? Admit it,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes where he could see what she wouldn’t confess. She loved him. “We’ve known each other forever. There are no secrets between us.”

      Her smile cooled. Her eyes frosted over.

      Zach felt a blast of freezer burn.

      The Ice Princess was back.

      He’d said the wrong thing. Their history went back to the womb. And he had pictures of their pregnant mothers standing side by side to prove it. Their lives were so intertwined he didn’t even know where to begin to separate them. Through the years he’d learned to read her like a book. But lately she’d become a mystery, a woman of secrets.

      And he’d began to wonder if he really knew her at all.

      Lack of persistence was not one of his shortcomings, however. “One of these days you’ll realize you can’t live without me.”

      He’d wear her down eventually. Like the minute he popped the question.

      He hoped.

      “Don’t hold your breath.”

      Why did she have to play so damn hard to get?

      Zach leaned in again. “When you figure it out,” he whispered close to her ear, “just say where and when and I’ll be there with wings on.” He backed off, running a hand through his precision military cut and making it stand on end.

      All the while her eyes never strayed from his. Their liquid depths held a yearning that equaled his own.

      He’d ask. And she’d answer yes.

      Feeling reassured, Zach turned to leave, but stopped short with a snap of his fingers. “Almost forgot. We have a preflight briefing in half an hour.”

      “Why didn’t you just say so?”

      He made a big show of looking her up and down as if he could see right through the shower curtain. “I had other things on my mind.”

      It didn’t pay a guy to be honest. A bar of soap shot past his ear. It would have hit him square in the jaw if he hadn’t ducked when he saw it coming. With a hearty chuckle, Zach closed the door behind him. He’d have to put in for an increase in hazardous-duty pay once they were married.

      And a new assignment.

      According to current Navy policy, Michelle couldn’t be both his wife and his wingman.

      MICHELLE TURNED the cold water all the way up, though it didn’t make much difference. There was no such thing as a hot shower with a crew of more than five thousand on board. Still, she wasn’t as indifferent to Zach Prince as she pretended. And she needed the cold spray to counter his effect on her libido.

      Wouldn’t he have been shocked to realize just how much she’d wanted to forget the rules for once? How much she’d wanted to drag him into that tiny shower stall, strip him down to bare rippling muscles, run her hands through jet-black hair and lose herself in sky-blue eyes for two minutes of hot, unbridled sex?

      Two minutes, hell. If she had her way, he wouldn’t be walking until next Sunday.

      She heaved a frustrated sigh. The only reason he professed to want her at all was that he couldn’t have her. As soon as the challenge was gone, he would be, too.

      He’d done it to others.

      And he’d done it to her…

      Zach was a dreamer with an innate inability to commit.

      Michelle

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