“I don’t want you to kill it. Just put it outside. But fine. I’ll do it myself.”
She pulled away and took a few steps back toward the bed. But a gray blur shot past her feet like a torpedo, and with another ear-piercing scream, she was right back in his arms.
He savored the sensations for a minute before breaking the news. “Annie?” She looked up and he felt something in his chest thump. Damn, she was pretty. Especially in this position. Glued to his chest and tilting her head up to his. Looking at him as if she needed him—as if he were the only man in the world. He could get used to it—maybe a little too easily. “I hate to tell you, but your Remy is a Mickey. And he was about three inches long.”
“What difference does it make? It was terrifying.” She scowled at him, probably to encourage him to not start laughing again. “And how do you know Disney movies?” Something seemed to occur to her. She pulled away in horror. “Ohmy God. You’re married with kids. I’m sorry. What a fool you must think—”
He didn’t let her finish and pulled her back in his arms. “I’m not married. No kids. But I have friends who do. I never would have kissed you if I was married.”
Most SEALs were married by his age, but the men picked for Team Nine had been chosen specifically because they weren’t married and didn’t have connections—or close ones at least. It made it easier for them to operate without anyone around to ask questions. It also made it easier for them to disappear on highly covert, clandestine deployments. There wasn’t anyone to look for them.
But it wasn’t foolproof. One of his fallen comrades’ estranged sister sure as hell was stirring up trouble with her articles on the “Lost Platoon of SEAL Team Nine.” Brittany Blake—the reporter—had been Brandon’s sister.
Annie appeared marginally relieved. But the kiss comment had obviously thrown her. “Why did you...?”
Her voice fell off. She didn’t need to finish the question. If the heat in his eyes wasn’t an explanation, the way his body was reacting to her closeness sure as hell was.
It was way too easy to remember how good she’d felt riding up against him in the boat. How her body had melted into his. How she’d arched her back to press harder against him. How she’d driven him so wild he forgot himself and kissed her.
But nothing more could happen. Annie wasn’t fool-around material. Smart, confident women like her always wanted more. He’d wager she’d never had a one-night stand in her life. He’d had more than he’d like to remember, but the deal had always been understood. Sex, but don’t look for anything more. The only happy ending would be of the orgasmic type. Even before he had to go dark and play dead, he hadn’t wanted anything more.
Machines, Annie had called them. The idea of the heartless, unthinking killer following orders pissed him off, but in some respects she was right. SEALs were a different breed. Most of his fellow SEALs might have married by his age, but they were also likely to be divorced by the time they wereforty. SEALs didn’t make good husbands—or boyfriends for that matter. He’d tried before Team Nine, but inevitably—go figure—women wanted to know where he went, what he was doing, and when he would be back. Being gone for months at a time with little communication didn’t make for long relationships. Short hookups he did fine. But that was all he had to offer.
Now, with what was on the line, he didn’t even have that. Until he could find out what had happened out there, he had to be dead.
He had to let her go. But damn, she felt good. Just one more minute...
Too late.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one remembering the boat. Her hands had been braced against his shoulders, but slowly she rose on her toes to loop them around his neck and leaned into him. She pressed that soft pink tastes-like-cherries mouth on his, and all the pent-up lust that had been building up on the boat came back in a violent rush.
The rest, as they say, was history. His big head checked his honorable intentions at the door, leaving the little head to do the thinking.
Which never ended well.
Thirteen
Dean didn’t hold back. The dam had burst open, and he met the tentative press of her lips with a fierce growl. A primitive call of possessiveness. A signal of what was to come. She’d unleashed the desire that he’d been fighting hard to contain. Now that it was loosed, there was no reining it in. And there sure as hell wasn’t anything tentative about it.
He dug his hand through the damp strands of her hair to cradle the back of her head and draw her in close, tilting her head at the perfect angle to allow him to taste her deeply.
He found her tongue with his and showed her what he wanted. He wanted to fuck her hard and fast, and then he wanted to do it again slower. Exploring every inch of her body the same way he was her mouth.
But if she kept moaning and swirling her tongue against his like that, it might take a couple of times before he could manage slow.
Dean was in a haze. He hadn’t felt like this in too damned long. She was so sweet and responsive; her body was incredible, and the way she moved against him was driving him wild. He’d known that she’d be good—that they’d be good. But notthisgood.
Mind. Fucking. Blown.
His other hand had slid down her back to cup her ass andlift her to him. That was where he wanted to be. Oh, shit. Right there. Circling. Sliding. Thrusting. Hard and deep.
She was meeting him at every bump and grind. At every thrust of his tongue. Her hands were on his back. On his arms. Squeezing. Pleading.
He’d had a lot of wild sex. He’d had frantic sex. But nothing like this. It was as if someone had lit a match and the whole room had gone up in flames. Zero to sixty in a heartbeat.
His mouth was on her throat. His hand was cupping a breast that was every bit as incredible as he’d imagined. He couldn’t get enough of her. He was so ready for this; he could fucking explode.
He nearly did when she touched him. Rubbing her hand up and down the long, rigid length of his shaft. Squeezing through the damp denim. He felt like a thirteen-year-old in his first make-out session. He forgot to keep kissing her for a moment. He literally had to grit his teeth against the urge to surge deep in her hand and give in to the pounding at the base of his spine.
