I Heard You, Baby

1

Letticia Morgan knew damn well she was being nothing short of a bona fide bitch, but she just couldn't seem to help herself. There was something about the usually cool, calm, and collected Sergeant Ross Woodcock that dared her to ruffle his feathers.

Woodcock, ummm, what a yummy name for such a yummy man! He was at least six-four, maybe six-five, and all solid muscle as any good Marine should be. His hair was high and tight, giving off just a little glimmer of golden highlights to his otherwise brown hair. His eyes were always so damn serious and, URGH, respectful. There was no wickedness that she could see in those hazel depths. Damn, how she wanted there to be.

That was why she was a complete bitch to him, because he was hot as hell. She wanted him with every fiber of her being, Right now she wanted nothing more than to rip off those camis he was sporting, throwing him down on her desk and riding him to glory. But never once had Sergeant Woodcock treated her with anything other than the upmost respect. Damn him to hell and back.

Of course it was entirely possible the farm bred man from Idaho just wasn't into African American women. Not that he was prejudiced or anything, but a lot of dudes who came to Camp Pendleton simply had never even considered dating outside their own races, be they white, black, or otherwise. It was interesting to see them a year or two later after California grew on them, most lost inhibitions and began to explore a world outside of the one they came from. A few became disappointingly close minded, only hanging out in cliques of others just like them. For the most part, young Marines expanded their horizons, and it was a fun thing to watch.

But Ross had been here for four years, which meant either he didn't find her attractive or he just wasn't into black women. Or maybe she overplayed the bitch part. Not likely. One thing a Marine loved was a challenge.