Night Maneuvers. Jillian Burns
backing away, with Hughes still in his arms.
Mitch clenched his teeth, but smiled back at Sanders. Let the guy gloat. He wasn’t worth a formal reprimand, even if Mitch did long to kick his lily-white butt.
“EXCUSE ME, YOU MISSED THE SHOT, it’s my turn.” Alex couldn’t tolerate Sanders’s hands on her another second. She twisted out of his hold, stumbled in the heels again, and maneuvered herself across the table from Mitch. She tried to strike a sexy pose like Jordan had taught her. Shoulders back, chest out, one hand on her hip…
“You got back problems, Alexandria?” Mitch glanced up from retrieving his cue stick.
She opened her mouth to give a biting reply, but Sanders’s buddy returned with her drink. “Thanks.” She snatched it from his hand and downed the double shot in one swallow.
The guys had followed her around, and Sanders stepped close and put his hand just below the small of her back where her thong strap was. She jerked and barely refrained from grabbing his thumb and twisting it from its socket. She wanted to make Mitch jealous, but if Sanders didn’t keep his hands to himself, she was going to elbow him in the gut.
Mitch moved around the table, rubbing his bristled jaw. His facial hair was only slightly darker than the sun-bleached hair on his head. Just like the hair on his chest and arms, and…down there, too? “Excuse me, Alexandria.” He stood beside her, gesturing to the table. “Are you going to play or not?”
Appalled at her straying thoughts, she snatched up her cue stick, lined up her shot, and sunk the ball.
“Jeez, McCabe, you must have lost your balls in that bet to let a woman beat you,” Sanders taunted.
“As a matter of fact—” Mitch drawled.
“Why don’t you shut the hell up?” Alex straightened and spun to face Sanders.
Sanders barked out a laugh. Ignoring her, he still addressed Mitch. “You such a wuss you let a woman fight your battles now, too?”
Fury churning in her gut, she stomped her stiletto on Sanders’s instep.
He hollered like a kid and bent over to grab his foot. “What the f—”
“Maybe next time you’ll keep your wiseass comments and your hands to yourself.”
“Hughes!” Mitch grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her away. “Sorry, Sanders, you know what a temper Hughes has.” Alex could hear the smile in his voice.
“Hughes?” Sanders glared at her while he held his foot. “This woman is Captain Hughes? I thought Hughes was—”
“Thought I was what?” She tried to launch herself at him again, but Mitch wrapped his arms around her chest and squeezed her to him. “Let me go.” She struggled to be released.
“Calm down and I will,” he said between grunts as he dragged her out of the club into the hot, dry desert air. “He isn’t worth a demotion.”
“Let him report me!” She quit struggling once they made it to her Mustang, but Mitch still held her tight, his muscled arms like a band of titanium around her rib cage.
“Come on, Hughes. You think he’ll want to explain that injury to his C.O.?” Mitch’s Tennessee drawl sent an ache straight to her core. Her chest rose and fell in deep gulping breaths, adrenaline still rushing through her veins. She became aware of Mitch’s forearms just under her breasts, and she could feel his breath along her temple. Every inch of his hard body pressed against her back, enveloping her.
She looked down to study the masculine hands that had featured in more than one erotic dream these last dozen years. They were rough worker’s hands, with veins that stood out when he had them clenched, like now. Slowly, she ran one finger along a vein, then took his hand and moved it up to cup her breast.
A deep moan escaped him and he leaned his head against hers. “Hughes, why are you doin’ this?” There was an edge of desperation in his voice as his other hand moved to cup the other breast and he pushed his thick erection against her butt.
Desire and a deep sense of satisfaction spiraled through her. After tonight he’d never again think of her as just one of the guys. She closed her eyes and pressed back against him, covering his hands with hers. “You still think I’m not a real woman?”
“What?”
“At the wedding you said I wasn’t a real woman.”
“Aw, Hughes.” Breathing harshly, he kneaded her breast over her dress and rubbed his fingers over one tight nipple. “I meant that in a good way.” She harrumphed, but his warm lips traveled down from her temple to the side of her neck, placing succulent kisses along the way. All else was forgotten.
Alex tilted her head to give him access to that spot behind her ear. But why stop there? Why not do what she’d wanted to do for so long? She spun in his arms, fastened her hands behind his neck and covered his mouth with hers.
At first he didn’t respond, tried to pull away, but within a second or two he half growled, half groaned and took control of the kiss, sweeping his lips over hers, plunging his tongue in to lap inside.
At last. This was what she’d wanted for so long. His mouth moving over hers, his body pressed to hers. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, holding him like she’d never let him go. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t. And he felt it, too. Whatever this was between them was strong. She’d known it for a long time. Oh, Mitch. Yes.
He yanked away, breathing fast, and wiped his hand over his mouth.
She stared into his baby blues, so full of passion. Yes. That’s what she’d wanted. To make him notice her as a woman. To make him want her the way she—
“Hughes, I can’t. Not now.” He let out a long breath. “I gave my word. I still have three weeks.”
As if the spell had been broken, she blinked, dropped her arms from his shoulders, and stepped back. With a strange sense of detachment, she noticed his fancy watch glint in the moonlight. The haze of lust dissipated and a chill settled over her. What had she done? How could she have let herself go there? She’d almost believed he could have feelings for her.
Of course he wanted to do her now. That’d been her goal with this prank, hadn’t it? She shook her head, acknowledging in her heart what her mind had known all along. He was only interested because now he saw her as just another female to warm his bed.
She clenched her jaw and made herself snort. “I’m not going to sleep with you, McCabe.” She folded her arms. Twelve years of frustration welled up inside her. “Not now. Not in three weeks. Not ever.”
4
United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs,
CO, September 1999
ON CADET FIRST Class Alexandria Hughes’s first day at the Academy, her main goal was to make sure she didn’t walk inside the halls with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She couldn’t believe she’d actually been accepted. To a small-town girl from the Texas Panhandle, attending the Academy was amazing, a dream come true and scary as hell. But she would rather have had all her nails pulled out one by one than show it.
After the swearing-in ceremony she stood on the field and watched all the other cadets saying goodbye to their parents up in the stands. Her parents couldn’t afford the plane tickets or the time away from the ranch, so she headed inside. She understood why they didn’t come, but it still gave her a pang to watch everyone else.
As she turned in to an empty hallway, she was grabbed from behind, one hand clamped over her mouth while another guy pulled her hands behind her back and duct-taped them, then took her feet and carried her farther away, down another empty corridor.
She fought them, struggling against them, kicking, bucking, trying to bite the hand over her mouth. Her hat fell off, and her neatly pinned bun came undone.