Heat of Passion
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Sorry, their fling. Because no matter how much fun they had together, how many times they laughed over pizza or cuddled in front of the television or had wild sex on every surface of Holly’s apartment, she still refused to call it anything other than a fling.
“So tell her how ridiculous her family is being,” Will suggested.
“I’ve tried. But she thinks they need her. The whole family was pretty upset after her mother died, and Holly ended up filling her mom’s role. Now they all expect it of her.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “Do you like this girl?”
Did he like her? Uh, yeah. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever liking another female more than he liked Holly. She was quirky and funny and unbelievably good in bed. And way too caring and generous for her own good.
“Of course I like her,” he answered.
“Then tell her. And keep telling her. Sooner or later she’ll have to see that the two of you could have more than a silly fling.”
But would she? Carson had the most unsettling feeling that it wouldn’t matter how many times he told her how great she was, or how many ways he tried to show her he was serious about her. With Holly, responsibility always came first. To her job, her family, her school.
So that meant he had to find a way around it. Because he was sick of being Holly Lawson’s boy toy. He wanted to be her boyfriend.
Now he just had to convince her to let him.
“Want a slice of pizza?” Carson asked after he’d gotten rid of the condom, leaving her in a hot, sweaty mess on the living room carpet.
Holly forced her head up to shoot him an amazed look. How was he even able to stand up? Her own legs were so shaky she knew she’d keel right over if she tried putting her weight on them. She was nowhere close to Carson’s level of recovery.
“Sex makes me hungry,” he said with an endearing shrug.
She managed to move up into a sitting position, watching as Carson flipped open the pizza box, grabbed a slice and sank down on the couch. Naked. The sight of that gloriously nude body stole the breath right out of her lungs. She’d never seen a man in such incredible shape before. Carson’s chest was solid and unyielding, defined pecs and rippled six-pack and smooth sleek sinew. A dusting of blond hair covered his chest and legs, but it was just the right amount. Not too hairy, and not pretty-boy smooth. He was masculine and beautiful and so appealing, her mouth watered like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
He cast her a grin when he noticed her staring, then gestured to the cushion next to his. “Sit and eat.”
Somehow she managed to force her legs to carry her from the floor to the couch. She grabbed a slice of pizza, but she wasn’t all that hungry, she just wanted to hold something in her hands so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab Carson. Boy, was she tempted. The aftereffects of her orgasm still pulsated through her body, tingling her ni**les, tickling her thighs. She’d never experienced anything like this. The primitive, animal lust and raw pleasure and intense flood of heat.
It had been like this for an entire week. She couldn’t keep her hands off this man, and if it weren’t for work and school, she would be content being with him from morning ’til night and doing nothing but having really amazing sex.
Knowing Carson, he’d be totally up for the idea. He’d spent every night at her place for the past week, and he didn’t seem at all bored with her yet. Which was odd, since she really wasn’t the most exciting person on the planet. When she was at her apartment—and not rescuing her siblings from themselves—she usually spent her time cooking or watching TV. Not exactly anything to write home about.
Yet Carson seemed perfectly at ease doing nothing with her. Tonight he’d even brought over a couple of DVDs, all action flicks. They’d watched one before taking a break to have sex on the living room floor, and he’d spent the entire movie scrutinizing the fake military troop and telling Holly all the reasons why they wouldn’t have been able to blow up the village using the equipment they had. His commentary had reminded her of what he did for a living, that his job was a dangerous one, but it still didn’t seem real to her, especially since he seemed to spend most of his time waiting to be paged.
“Aren’t you bored not blowing up things or traipsing through the jungle?” she found herself asking, setting her pizza slice back in the box.
Next to her, Carson chewed slowly then tossed her a thoughtful look. “Yes and no. The team hasn’t been called to duty in more than a month, and I’m definitely ready for another assignment. But I’m also enjoying spending time with you, so I’m not complaining about the lull in the SEAL world.”
“We’re not spending time together,” she reminded him. “We’re sleeping together.”
As if her reminder had stolen his appetite, he dropped his half-eaten slice. “Right,” he said, sounding a bit sarcastic.
“It’s a fling, Carson,” she said firmly.
“Not anymore it isn’t.” He raked his fingers through his blond hair. “We’ve spent a week together, Hol. We’ve cuddled and watched movies and made each other laugh. That’s more than a fling, in my opinion.”