“Good,” he said, his voice warm, approving as she moved past him, tugging at the hem of her oversized shirt before one of his big hands caught one of hers.

Warmth surrounded her fingers, fed into her bloodstream, and sent heat surging through her system. Adrenaline spiked the wave of warmth, fed it into her tightening nipples, her swollen clit.

“We’ll catch you on the lake later, Dawg.”

“I’ll give you a call before I head out.” Dawg nodded as they moved past him, his eyes narrowed, the brilliant green glittering behind the spiked lashes surrounding them. They held the same teasing warmth and sensual promise that Natches’s had earlier.

“Come on.”

She followed Rowdy as he moved through the main marina office, waving to her mother as he opened the door and escorted her through it. She wondered if she looked as confused as she felt.

Stilling her emotions and her equilibrium after waking up with him that morning had been hard enough. She had been nervous, her fingers shaking, her stomach clenching each time she thought of waking up beside him, feeling him surrounding her, his erection pressing into her rear. That had been the most disconcerting part. She should have been frightened. The psychologist had told her she would likely be frightened the first time she tried intimate relations after the near-rape. That the intimacy of allowing a man to touch her, to hold her, might be difficult to get through.

It hadn’t been. He had made her more aroused than frightened. And in ways, that was more frightening than the fear of his touch. Everyone had told her for months that being touched would be difficult for her, but being touched by Rowdy had been a dream come true.

“You think too much sometimes,” Rowdy announced as he collected the bags of Chinese food from the steel saddlebags mounted to the side of the motorcycle.

“I can walk and chew gum at the same time too.” She rolled her eyes at him, feeling his hand at the small of her back again.

In the past twenty-four hours he had touched her more than he had in the last ten years. Of course he hadn’t been home for the better part of those ten years, but it wasn’t as though the opportunity hadn’t been there.

“Why didn’t you go on to college?” he asked as they moved onto the docks. “I expected you to head off right after high school.”

She shrugged at the question. “I took business classes at the tech school. You might get the marina when Ray and Mom retire, but the store and fuel supply are mine,” she reminded him. “They’ll only grow as the traffic on the lake increases, and I wanted to be prepared for it.”

“You say that as though you think I might want to get rid of you.” They turned along the plank, heading for the Nauti Buoy, the fifty-foot sea green and white houseboat.

“Not get rid of me maybe.” She stepped onto the wide porch, moving back as he slid open the glass sliding doors before heading into the dim, air-conditioned comfort of the living room/kitchen.

The shades were all drawn, the lights out. As he closed the door behind them, he pulled the heavy drapes closed over it, sealing them inside the intimate, cool comfort of his home away from home.

“Then what?” he asked as he moved to the small kitchen. “Do you think I wouldn’t want you around, Kelly?”

The wheel column sat in the corner in front of the large shaded window beside the glass doors. A six-foot burgundy couch sat to her side, two matching chairs on the other side of the room, behind the wheel. The kitchen was equipped with a mini refrigerator, chest-type freezer, and narrow four-burner stove with an overhead microwave and oak cabinets. The double sink was narrow, but efficient. Across from the work area a circular table with four cushioned captain’s chairs sat beneath a stained-glass chandelier. Farther along was a small bathroom and shower, berth bed, and a walkout to the back diving area.

She loved the Nauti Buoy. They had spent the summers on it when she was younger. Upstairs was another larger, opulent bedroom, as well as a master bathroom and deck. Before Ray had given it to Rowdy, there had been two bedrooms downstairs. Now, the second one was a drying/changing area for the back deck with a small washer/dryer combo.

“I wasn’t sure,” she finally answered, staring back at him, her fingers knotting in the hem of her shirt.

“Your mother helped build the marina.” He turned to her after setting the food on the table. “I wouldn’t take it from you, no matter what happened.”

He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, watching her with those eyes. Eyes that stripped her defenses, that sent butterflies crashing to and fro in the pit of her stomach.

She licked her lips, staring back at him. The last thing on her mind now was the business. Nerves clashed as her senses became more heightened; the air in the confines of the craft became heavier, dense with the seductive, subtle scent that was unique to Rowdy.

“I know you wouldn’t, Rowdy.” She cleared her throat, forcing herself to move to the cabinet and the kitchenware there.

As she pulled plates and silverware from where they were held and set the table, Rowdy warmed the food in the microwave, setting it on the table before pulling a bottle of cheap wine from the fridge.

At some point, he had turned on a CD, lowering the volume until the soft, intimate music flowed through the cabin.

“Let’s eat.” The dark throb in his voice was so sexual that the suggestion took on a whole new meaning.

“Eat.” She breathed in slowly. “Okay. We eat.”

EIGHT

As they ate, he told her about the Marines. She knew he was glossing over the harder details, the blood and death he’d seen overseas, the friends he had lost. She knew when he was talking about those friends who were no longer alive to laugh with him. His eyes would darken, his expression becoming reflective.

He told her about the desert, made her laugh at some of the pranks he and his buddies had played on their CO or other soldiers. She saw the beauty of the sun rising over a desert landscape, or the calm tranquillity of the moon rising, with his deep voice and reverent descriptions.

But he had missed home. She heard that in every word. How beautiful the moon glistening off the sand could be, but it didn’t compare to the early morning fog that rose from the lake or the moon slicing a path of golden light across the wet surface.

How he would miss the guys he’d fought with, but he dreamed of slipping off into the mountains and making the homemade moonshine he, Natches, and Dawg often made.

The silence of the desert, the symphony of the forest. He saw the beauty of the land he’d been in, but he knew the treasures to be found in the land he’d grown up in.

“What about women?” She asked the question that plagued her most as he stacked the dishes in the tiny dishwasher and turned back to where she watched him from the table.

She propped her elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her hands as she watched him curiously.

“I wasn’t a saint, baby.” His lips quirked with that sexy little half smile that was trademark Rowdy. “But there was nothing serious. Hasn’t been anyone in a while, actually. What about you?”

He was leaning against the counter, his muscular body relaxed. Well, mostly relaxed. He was hard. She could glimpse the bulge in the front of his jeans from the lower portion of her vision and was dying for a full look.

“No one for me,” she answered with a self-mocking grimace. “I couldn’t get over you. You left and broke my young heart.”

“Better your young heart than my neck,” he grunted. “I was twenty-two-years-old, Kelly. I should have been shot for even looking at you then.” His eyelids lowered. “But it was damned hard not to look. You filled out a pair of shorts almost as good as you fill them out now.”

She felt the flush that rose over her face, her gaze flickering away from him for long moments as she breathed in deeply.

“You know, those loose clothes are going to have to go,” he sighed. “One of my favorite parts of coming home was watching you run around in those snug little shorts and tank tops. Made my dick harder than hell, but it was a sight I sure as hell miss, Kelly.”

Her gaze slammed into his. The green was darker now, his expression heavy with hunger.

“I…” She swallowed tightly. “I’m more comfortable—”

“Bullshit.” The whispered retort was delivered with a knowing smile. “You’re scared. I’m home now, Kelly. Trust me.”

He had promised her, so long ago, as long as he was around, no one would hurt her. It was the bully, she remembered. She was terrified of staying in the park after school while her mother worked, after the bullies had started picking on her. Unless Rowdy was there. He had taken care of her. And sometimes one of the others. If Rowdy couldn’t be there, Dawg or Natches had been.

“Remember when I promised I’d always take care of you?” he whispered. “You were the littlest bit of thing I had ever laid my young eyes on. Those tears on your face when those bullies stole that frippery in your hair made me madder than hell.”

“You saved my hair bows.” She restrained her teasing smile. “And saved Mom a ton of extra money. I loved my hair bows.”

“You still love your hair bows.” He grinned. “I saw them scattered all over your bathroom last night when I got up for a drink. Damned things own your sink counter.”

The style of those pretty hair trifles had changed now. Rather than actual bows there were silver barrettes, glittering little bobby pins, and stylish little doodads he had yet to identify.

She lifted her brows. “They’re pretty though.”

He pushed from the counter, moving with a predatory ease, a shift of bone, muscle, and sinew that had her breath catching in her throat as he walked to the table.

“No.” He reached out, the backs of his fingers smoothing over the side of her face. “You’re pretty. Too damned pretty for those loose clothes. Take them off for me.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t bring a change—”

“You have on a bra and panties, I presume?” His fingers wrapped around her wrist, drawing her to her feet. “I bet they cover you better than that damned bathing suit did when you were seventeen.”

The air was suddenly too thick to breathe, her sight dazed, filled with the color of Rowdy’s eyes and the desire she could see glowing in them. Her thighs tightened as she felt the tingle of response racing through her womb, rippling through her vagina.

“I’ll head the boat for the cove,” he whispered. “We could do some swimming, watch the moon rise over the lake. Would you like that, Kelly?”

“A bra and panties isn’t exactly a bathing suit.” She drew in a deep breath, moving away from him as she tugged at the large shirt.

“It’s not exactly naked, either,” he said as he moved to the wheel column. “Think about it. So do we go to the cove anyway?” He glanced back at her, lifting a black brow suggestively.

Kelly breathed in deeply.

“The cove sounds like fun.” She finally nodded firmly.

“And the clothes?” His gaze dropped over her body before coming back to her eyes.

She lifted her brow mockingly. “You haven’t done anything to deserve it yet, Rowdy,” she purred sweetly. “I guess I’ll just have to think about it.”

She was going to have to think about it?

As he maneuvered the Nauti Buoy toward the hidden cove, Rowdy found a smile tugging at his lips. He might not deserve to see those loose clothes coming over her perky little body, but he was going to. The long, thin, denim shirt fell to her thighs and draped over her slender shoulders. Even her jeans were loose, a protective shell to cover herself with.

His jaw clenched at the thought. Kelly had never had a problem wearing clothes that emphasized her slender body, until now. The attack had changed that; she was nervous now, where before she had been confident of herself as a desirable, pretty young woman.