Her Marine Next Door Read online

  The party was back in full swing a short time later. Music pumped and the alcohol flowed. Women swam in either skimpy outfits or just bottoms. People were making out in his backyard, and a wide array of food cooked on the grill, sending the delicious aroma to his nose.

  As he rinsed out the blender to start a new batch of margaritas, Gibson moved up behind him. “What’s up with you and your hottie neighbor?”

  Latching the container on the base, Parker stared at his teammate in Recon. Two of the guys he served with had come home with him this time. It wasn’t uncommon; they typically came for the parties and then went on their own way. Gibson McMasters and Ioan Cooper.

  But this time, he figured it was for a different reason, as he was on a mandatory leave because of his injury. He had to get through some physical therapy and be cleared to get back to active duty. That was all on his plate for the next thirty days. Their last mission, he’d been injured and had surgery to repair his leg. And until he could pass the rigorous physical needs of Recon, he was sidelined. Benched. He’d been assigned a physical therapist to get back into shape for active duty. This was his life, and the fuck, he wasn’t going to let a shitty landing in a parachute and the subsequent bullet end his military career.

  While he wasn’t pleased with the situation, he’d come back stronger than ever and reclaim his position on his Recon team. Logically, he understood they’d be fine without him, but dammit all, they were his guys and he should be with them.

  That said, it smacked him wrong on so many levels to have Gibson ask about his neighbor.

  Parker had been indulging in fantasies about Skylar for almost a year now and had since the first day he’d seen her when he moved in. She’d just reached over the space between them and sunk her nails into him. Hadn’t let go, either. And to be honest, he wanted her nails digging into his shoulders and back as he took her hard, fast, and deep. Hearing her scream his name until she lost her voice.

  I’m a fucking pussy that I haven’t done anything about it.

  But, he wasn’t right for her.

  He was a Recon Marine, couldn’t ever guarantee he’d be coming back, had to be gone for long stints of time and without being able to tell her where he was going. Skylar wasn’t a one-night fuck kind of woman; she was the one you took home to meet the parents. She was the epitome of white picket fence, kids, and hell, even a dog. Not something he could offer her.

  Then again, maybe he could for a short time, while he was on medical leave. Unease filled him at the thought of not being in the field ever again.

  “Parker?” Gibson moved into his line of sight. “I asked you about your neighbor. Are you fucking her and if not, mind if I have a go?”

  It was by the grace of God he didn’t fly off the handle and pummel his good friend into the ground. Had they not been so close, most likely that question would have had an entirely different outcome.

  “Today was the longest I spent in her presence. We’re neighbors, that’s all.” He shrugged and ran the blender for the next round of drinks. “And as you’re married, I’m thinking you’re not really meaning that at all.” He pitched his voice to carry over the sound of the motor.

  Gibson stared at him, light blue eyes not blinking. His mouth twisted up in a wry grin. “So that’s a no, then.”

  “Not what I said.” It ripped at him that his friend could read him so well.

  Yes, he was being deliberately obtuse, but he wanted to prove to himself he could control these feelings toward his neighbor.

  Gibson’s gaze twinkled with mirth. “Okay, then.” He shoved Parker away from the blender. “Go to your party. I can do this.”

  Yeah, he was suspicious, but took the newest pitcher of margaritas out. Five minutes later, Gibson moved between the yards to Skylar’s front door, her appliance in his hand.

  I’m going to kill him.

  Each moment he couldn’t see them, the angrier he became. Ioan approached him, beer in hand. All without saying a word, Parker understood the question his friend wasn’t verbalizing.

  “I’m fine.” The words were forced past his lips.

  The man stared, blinked, then walked off, bottle to his lips. Within seconds, two women in only bikini bottoms fit against his friend, their hands on Ioan’s ass and twining around his blond ponytail.

  Parker didn’t care if Ioan fucked all the women there tonight. Personally, he wasn’t touching any of them. It would be yet another night of whacking himself off to the fantasies created by one Skylar Radford. The heart-shaped face she had, full, plump lips he wanted to do naughty things to and with, and holy Christ, her curves. She was fit but built like the pinup models from the past, nothing but dips and swells that had his hands itching to trail along the silhouette and learn them up close and personal. Seeing the blood had freaked him out. In battle it was one thing, but the gray pallor of her smooth dark skin because of blood loss made him feel useless.

  This was why couples shouldn’t be in the field together. He would have forgotten everything but her.

  Her determination to take care of it herself was admirable, no matter how foolish it had been for her to do so. Hell, she could have passed out behind the wheel. And Gibson still remained over there two hours later. Inside Skylar’s home, while the party raged on. He checked his phone, in case he’d missed the text or call from her. Nothing.

  He should check on her himself. Make sure she’s okay and had taken her medications. Besides, the doctor did say she shouldn’t be left alone, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he left her without someone there? An excuse? Sure, but he didn’t give a fucking damn.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his house and headed to hers. Reaching for the doorbell, he swore and instead tried the handle. It opened soundlessly, and he stepped into her home. He hadn’t looked around earlier and took a moment now. The layout was similar to his but flipped. Her blender, now clean, was set on the otherwise spotless gray marble countertop. A few plants sat in unique wooden containers on surfaces, adding depth and life to her place.

  “Skylar?”

  No sound. She wasn’t in the living room with the kitchen. The suspicion coursing through him expounded exponentially. This left her bedroom.

  Fist tight, he’d stepped toward the hall when he heard Gibson’s voice from back in the hallway off the kitchen. If he got the layout right, it should be to the garage. Where she watched him from a lot of the time. “Holy shit. I said it before but it’s fucking worth mentioning it again. You are fucking amazing.”

  There wasn’t any logical explanation for his possessiveness toward her, it just was. That snapped the remaining thread of his control. Parker shoved into the space, nearly flinging the partially open door into the wall behind it.

  Gibson didn’t jump; instead, a smile twitched his lips alerting Parker that his friend had known all along he was there. Hell, he’d probably heard him call out her name. Bastard always had what they called sonar ears, hence the man got his nickname Sonar.

  Skylar, on the other hand, jumped and spun toward him, eyes wide with shock, her fat, naturals curls bouncing with the move. Her color was better but more than that, he loved the way pure, raw lust replaced her shock. Nearly as fast as it arrived, the lust was masked by cool disdain.

  Her full lips were parted as she struggled to control her breathing. Skylar’s chest—piece of fucking art, in his mind—rose and fell in time with her rapid breathing. Her workout pants and sweatshirt didn’t do anything to hide her curvaceous figure. He wanted to pull the material away and indulge.

  “What are you doing here?” There was far too much animosity in her tone.

  He struggled to pull his eyes off her and focused on the slab of wood between them.

  Fuck, that’s incredible.

  Intricate carvings of wolves, trees, and more. They damn near leaped off the wood. She was making a door.
/>   “You did this?”

  She flattened her lips. “While I realize I don’t jump out of planes, do all that other by sea-air-or-land shit your motto states, I do have a job. What I’m good at.” She held up her hand. “Or used to be.”

  She made zero effort to conceal her bitterness.

  He crossed his arms to keep from touching either the wood on the sawhorses or her. “Those are the SEALs, darlin’. I’m a marine, as you well know, not a squid.”

  She didn’t bat an eye. “Basically, you’re informing me that there’s room for improvement, then, on your end.”

  Cheeky. He admired her spunk. What he didn’t think so highly of was the approval in Gibson’s gaze as he observed her.

  “Gibson, Ioan’s looking for you.” His comment was a flat-out lie, because knowing his friend, he had his dick in one of the two women he’d last been seen with, or they were both sucking him right now.

  His friend quirked a brown eyebrow. “Guess I should go then,” he drawled in a slow, unhurried way. He took his time strolling toward the door and dared to stop by Skylar.

  Parker bit back his possessive growl as Gibson dipped his head close to hers and whispered something in her ear. Her blinding smile ratcheted up his jealousy, and he purposefully slowed his breathing and tried not to envision stabbing Gibson in the throat with the chisel lying close to his hand.

  “Call me if you need me.” Gibson kissed her cheek, all the while pinning a smirking gaze on Parker. “You have my number. Don’t forget it’s the one listed right above the one tagged ‘Asshole.’ You know, Parker’s number.”

  Yep, his friend deserved to die by Parker’s hand. A slow and oh-so-painful death.

  Not moving until it was just the two of them in there, he refused to look away from her. Wanted her off her game. Wanted her to wonder what he was thinking.

  “Something you needed?”

  Okay, so her reaction wasn’t quite what he’d hoped. Most women he knew would be blushing and flirting. Not his Skylar. She obviously struggled to ignore the desire between them. He had to get her to stop that.

  “I came to check up on you.”

  Some of her anger and defiance fell away. Not the surprise, though. And again, he got it. He was the asshole of a neighbor.

  “Thank you. I’m fine.” She lowered her gaze to the door, then lifted it once more, erasing the stress that had appeared when she looked at the wood slab. “I appreciate you taking time from your party to do so.”

  He narrowed his eyes and made his way around to where she stood. His cock was iron hard, and he inhaled, his dick throbbing at the evocative scent that surrounded her. He had no idea what it was, but he wanted it all over him. And his scent all over her. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth at the slight scent of Gibson’s cologne.

  She does not need to smell like him at all.

  “What?” The edge in her tone had him grinding his jaw.

  Capturing her chin in his hand, he tipped it up. “You keep pushing yourself.” He gave a slight shake of his head and took a deep breath. “You need to rest. Doc’s orders. And either you head for bed, or I will put you there.” He passed over her with a heated rake of his gaze. “What’s your choice?”

  Please let me put you there, although I don’t think you’re ready for what I want to do to you. I fucking love your hair. He wanted to touch it, smooth it along his fingers and indulge in the silkiness he knew it would embody.

  “I’m going, I’m going. Go back to your party. I’ll take my meds and head to bed.”

  He cocked a brow. “I’ll wait. We can go back to hating each other tomorrow.”

  Returning to the party at his house was the furthest thing from his mind. There wasn’t another place for him to be than at her side, making sure she was okay and didn’t need anything.

  The fuck he was going to let her call Gibson for help. Skylar was his.

  Chapter Two

  Skylar went from dead to the world to wide-awake. As early-morning light filled her room, she ran over yesterday and remembered the dangerously deep gouge in her hand due to Parker Jax.

  She stretched, wincing over the lingering pain in her palm. No. It wasn’t his fault, no matter how much she wanted to blame him. Sure he knocked on the door, but that could have happened anytime.

  Her mouth was dry and had an off taste in it. Medication, most likely.

  Exhaling heavily, she rolled from bed and stared at the stitches in her hand. “Least I can still work, I hope. Granted, with slight modifications.” It would just be a bit slower than she would like.

  While her hand wasn’t without pain, it wasn’t her dominant one.

  After covering her hand, she showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed. Back in her room, she made sure it was pristine. Then she walked to her kitchen and started a pot of coffee. And frowned, paused, then backed up to peer into the living room.

  Was she crazy?

  Parker Jax was stretched out on her couch, her Celtic knot blanket draped over him as he lay there. One arm was over his eyes, making her focus entirely too much on his muscles and the incredible display of tattoos on his arm.

  Right here, right now, he evoked something so much deeper than the anger and frustration she typically had when around him.

  Wriggling the fingertips of her uninjured hand as she approached, she paused by his feet. She hesitated in touching him, highly aware he could react dangerously.

  Kissing him awake had potential. Perhaps he’d respond favorably, at least until he realized who it was.

  “No need to kick me, darlin’, I’m awake.”

  Skylar jumped back as though he’d hit her with a cattle prod and had been privy to her private thoughts. She flushed. “I wasn’t going to kick you.”

  His chuckle rumbled through her, centering its attention over her clit. She struggled to hide her gasp of longing and need as he sat up, watching her with an unflinching gaze.

  “It was all over your face, darlin’.” He pushed to his feet and began folding up her blanket. “How are you doing? How’s your hand? Pain level okay? Need meds?”

  Her brain scrambled to make sense of his line of questions. But dammit, it was early morning and she hadn’t yet had her coffee. Here he was, standing there in all his muscular glory, derailing her brain. And him calling her “darlin’” didn’t help. It shouldn’t matter. She’d heard him toss that around to the women at his parties. It was as natural as breathing to him. Nothing special.

  “You were here all night?” See? She could make a logical inquiry, all without sounding like a panting hussy.

  “Yep.” He finished folding, then draped the blanket over the back of the couch; even that was made to be a sexual act. “You’re not answering my questions.” Parker stood and captured her wrist.

  Maybe she was the one with the issue, and everything she thought about this man was sexual. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because the doctor said you shouldn’t be alone.” He checked her bandaging job, eyes on the work, not her. “Looks good.”

  Her mind wasn’t comprehending anything he said. His touch absorbed it all. The words slowly sank in, and she blinked.

  “It wasn’t necessary to forgo your endless stream of homecoming pussy to crash on my sofa.” She took her hand back and sighed as embarrassment smacked her.

  God, that was incredibly rude.

  Her parents would have kicked her ass for such behavior.

  He lifted an eyebrow, and she sucked in a deep breath before asking forgiveness. A knock on the door interrupted her apology. Bypassing the hunk of man in her living room, she headed for the front door.

  Could her day get any worse?

  She opened it to find her visitor to be Mrs. O’Neary from across the street. Her pink-and-blue geometric pattern dress, years out of date, completely fit the woman.

 
; “Morning, dearie.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. O’Neary. Out bright and early I see.”

  Her smile brought one out in Skylar.

  “I have to get my walk in before it gets hot. I wanted to make sure we were still on for the trip we have later today. Oh”—she blushed, then smiled again—“I didn’t mean to interrupt, I didn’t know… Good morning, Mr. Jax. Nice to see you up early this morning instead of late afternoon, as usual, after your party.”

  Skylar struggled not to cringe—their neighbor was a notorious gossip; she had no doubt this would be all over their section of the subdivision before noon.

  Parker stepped up beside Skylar, a roguish smile on his face. “I’ll admit I’m a slow learner, Mrs. O’Neary.” He slid his arm around Skylar, tugging her flush against him. “But once I figure it out, I’m on it. Looks like the two of you are making some plans for the day. What trouble are you getting into?”

  It irritated the hell out of her that he was asking Mrs. O’Neary, but Skylar understood why—she wouldn’t have told him. She wasn’t someone who shared a lot of things. Skylar did share confidences with her ex-sister-in-law and her bestie. Other than that, she held it in and kept to herself. Easier, she’d learned, to avoid more questions and sympathetic looks.

  It was probably better this way, because she probably couldn’t make any coherent sentences with him touching her. If she were to open her mouth, it would most likely be to ask him to touch her again, in places he hadn’t yet, and all without her clothes on. Or his.

  “She’s taking me to the Humane Society to pick up my cat. I’ve gone three times and he’s the one I want, so today is the day we bring him home. And then we’re heading to the pet shop for supplies.”

  Parker nodded. “Skylar is amazing, that’s for sure.” His fingers flexed against her side.

  Skylar struggled to make sense of the words, because all of her attention went to the strength of the arm around her. And the way it made her feel. Her stomach was in knots and her legs about as sturdy as a tower built out of Jell-O.