I enjoyed her company but we weren’t carrying on meaningful conversations while we were naked. No, that was limited to swearing, insults, and demands. There was plenty of that while we were clothed, too, but it wouldn’t be any fun if there was no foreplay.
“Peanut,” I said, slapping her ass. “We’re going hiking.”
“We’rewhat?” she groaned into the pillow.
“Shower. Breakfast. Hike,” I said, punctuating each word with firm slaps.
“If you fucking spank me again, I will punch you in the nuts so hard you’ll have to swallow around them.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen your scrawny arms,” I said, folding her beneath me to prevent fists from flying. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”
“And just for that,” she said, “I’m showering alone.”
We hit the trailhead about an hour later. She didn’t say much for the first mile, and she stayed far on her side of the path.
Her skintight running pants and matching jacket were distractingly sexy. Though it made no logical sense, I assumed she jogged in baggy sweats or old t-shirts. In my head, it was easier to deal with the idea of her sweating in non-descript clothes than looking like aSports Illustratedswimsuit model all over Boston.
I kept stealing glances at her legs, and when she noticed, she shook her head at me, smiling.
“I thought you knew how to be covert,” she said.
My hand brushed against hers, a subtle invitation. I could demand many things from Shannon, but I only got them when she was willing to give.
“Can you tell me where you’ve been since I last saw you?”
For the first time in years, most of my activities weren’t highly classified. “I’ve been training new SEALs. We did an advanced cold water excursion, then some desert survival drills, and this week we were running simulated operations.”
“You’re teaching the baby SEALs?” she asked, laughing.
I frowned and shook my head. “They go through at least a year of hardcore training. They aren’t exactly delicate when I meet them.”
“I’m sticking with baby SEAL,” she said. “So you must have gone through that hardcore training.” I nodded and she continued, “What’s that like?”
I tried to think back nearly fifteen years to when I was out of college and getting my first taste of the frogman’s life.Intenseandgruelingdidn’t begin to describe BUD/S. My body morphed during that time, changing from fit and strong to powerful. My mind changed, too. I learned to be perceptive and calm, but ready to strike in an eye blink.
“There’s a lot of water,” I said, and she rolled her eyes at me. Fuck, I wanted to spank her in the middle of this trail. That fire really did it for me. “Seriously. Entire days are spent ocean training. Treading water for six hours. They park us in the sand, arms linked, and let the Pacific Ocean do its worst. Then there’s drown-proofing, where your ankles and wrists are tied. They throw you in a pool and hope for the best.”
“I must say, it’s nice that you survived,” she said.
“It is, yeah. Good to be alive,” I said. “The worst part—worse than the tear gas exposure drills, worse than being awake for one hundred and thirty-two hours straight, worse than blacking out at the bottom of a frigid pool—was the Underwater Demolition Team shorts. When you’re in BUD/S, the dress code is very strict, and it usually involved these awful shorts. They’re ugly beige and thin. Too thin. Awkwardly thin.”
“I get it, honey,” Shannon said. “And you should know: there aren’t many fabrics that can conceal the heat you’re packing.”
“I’m sorry. What was that? Did you say something complimentary about my cock?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “Now, these shorts.”
“Don’t lie: you love my cock,” I said, and Shannon snorted with laughter. “These shorts are obscenely short. They’ve been around since World War II. They’ve only ever been issued to SEALs, and I think it’s just a long-running hazing ritual. You know what’s insane? I’d always see people in San Diego who were training to get into BUD/S wearing them. Like they were getting a running start on the full SEAL experience by flashing the furry side of their balls.”
“What do you miss most about home?” she asked. She knew I’d spent the majority of recent years overseas, and about a decade before that was consumed with similarly grueling cycles of deployment.
I lifted my baseball cap from my head and ran a hand through my hair. “Many things,” I said. “My life is regularly irregular, and I’m good with that but there are times when I miss consistency. I’d like to sleep in the exact same place for a month, just to remind myself what that’s all about.” I shot her a smile. “It would be even better if you were sleeping there with me.”
“Save the horseshit for another time, commando. I’m here and I’m not leaving, so stop trying to be cute.”
“You think I’m cute?” I asked.
“Let the record reflect that I never suggested you were, in fact, cute. I claimed you were attempting tobecute,” she said. “And annoying the shit out of me while doing it.”
