Last Virgin In California

Then she shivered and his hormones slipped a notch. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in close to his side.

“You’re as wet and cold as I am,” she said, looking up at him even as she snuggled in, looking for warmth.

“Oh, I’m wet,” he said, then muttered, “but cold? I don’t think so.”

He led her down and out of the arena, and instinctively headed for the front gate. The sun was already sinking behind a low-lying bank of clouds on the horizon. Streaks of rose and violet burst along the edges of those clouds and spread across the sky like a spill of paint. A cold, ocean wind blew past them and Lilah pressed herself to his side, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“It’ll only take a minute to get to the car. We’ll get the heater on and thaw out.”

“Heat,” she repeated, her teeth beginning to chatter. “Good.”

His hand rubbed her upper arm, and held her tightly to him and Lilah felt the ice chips in her bloodstream beginning to melt. She ran her hand up and down his back, pretending to help keep warm, but really, she was simply enjoying the feel of his back. Hard, muscled flesh lay just beneath a soaking wet uniform blouse, and Lilah wanted more than anything, to slip her hands beneath that shirt and feel his skin against hers.

A feeling that had been building inside her for days erupted with his nearness and she gave in to it, enjoying the hum of desire pulsing within. There was just something about this man. Something strong enough to have her thinking about him at odd moments, dreaming about him at night and worrying about the dreaming during the day.

A flicker of emotion flashed inside her and Lilah wondered just what it was. More than passion. More than simple desire. This was something she’d never felt before. And rather than try to put a label on it, to try to understand it, she decided to simply nurture it.

He stopped alongside the car and reached into his pocket for the keys. The instant his arm left her shoulders, the cold slipped into her and Lilah hugged the edges of her sodden sweater across her middle.

Glancing at her, he opened the door and said, “Get in. Quick, before you freeze.”

Lilah nodded and slid onto the seat. He closed the door after her and as he walked around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, she told herself that here was her chance. With this man. At this moment. She was finally going to lose her title as the Last Virgin in California.

He climbed in, settled behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. Flipping a few dials, he had the blower going and the rush of air quickly shifting from cool, to warm, to positively toasty.

With the engine purring, she turned toward him and found him staring at her. Those green eyes of his looked stormy, dark with a desire she recognized and shared.

A muscle in his jaw clenched and released. He swallowed hard and said, “Get your seat belt on.”

“In a minute,” she said, leaning closer.

His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth and back again. He shook his head. “Don’t be starting this, Lilah. We both know it would be a mistake.” He was saying all the right things, but hunger colored his tone and boiled her blood.

“And we both want it anyway.” She tilted her head and leaned in farther, closer to him. She could almost hear his heart pounding.

He reached up, stroked her cheek with the tips of icy fingers and reaction shimmered up and down her spine. Then he speared his fingers into her hair and pulled her to him.

His mouth came down on hers and stole the last of her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, her stomach did a quick jig and when he released her, Lilah looked into his eyes and knew without a doubt that this was right.

Even if it was wrong.

Chapter Seven

Outside, the wind was cold and fierce. Trees along the highway twisted and danced in the ocean gusts, bending low, their leaves breaking free and pelting the passing cars like oversized raindrops. But inside the car, heat roared into life and had nothing to do with the blast of forced, warm air rushing from the heater.

Lilah’s heartbeat quickstepped until breathing became a near Olympic sport. Her hands fisted in her lap, she kept her gaze locked on the view through the windshield and told herself she was being foolish. None of this made sense. She wasn’t the type to fall for a Marine, for pity’s sake. Hadn’t she proved that over the years with a succession of failed attempts? Hadn’t every Marine who’d ever crossed her path eventually run for the hills?