Hot SEAL, Best Man (SEALs in Paradise)

by Parker Kincade

  He released her breast and slid free of her shirt. He let go of her hands and eased her legs to the floor.

  “Evan?” Lust warred with the concern and confusion in her tone.

  “Turn around,” he demanded.

  Guess I should rethink that caveman thing.

  Who is this man?

  Gone was the soft, sweet guy who’d gone out of his way to make sure she felt secure. She didn’t feel secure now. She felt wicked, wanton, and so damn hot. She was a trembling mess of need that followed Evan’s growled command without hesitation, as if his words had snapped something inside her, and she was no longer in control of her own actions.

  Maybe instead of wondering about Evan, the better question to ask was who was she?

  As expected, sobriety brought with it the embarrassment of how she’d behaved last night. Presley had awoken at three in the morning, still in the chair on the porch, mortified as the memory of that phone call came back to her. She’d masturbated while on the phone with a man. And that man knew what she’d been doing, had participated with filthy words that had gotten her where she’d needed to go.

  She’d never done anything so sexually bold in her life.

  And then Evan had hung up and all of the insecurities from the past had rushed in, trampling over each other, vying for attention.

  Was history repeating itself? Why did he hang up? Why had he left her? Was she not enough? Would she ever be enough?

  She didn’t have the answers, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while her body burned from the inside out.

  Presley braced her palms against the door, her body trembling to learn what Evan would do next. She could feel the heat of him behind her. She arched her hips and rocked back against him.

  A tortured groan was her reward. She loved that sound, loved that she had that effect on him.

  His breath came hot against her ear. “Undo your shorts. Slide them down your legs. Leave your panties on.”

  Again, she followed his instructions without hesitation. Her shorts fell to her ankles.

  “No.” Evan stopped her when she lifted her leg to step out of the material. “Leave them there.”

  He trailed a finger along the edge of her panties. They were white lace and not too old. She lifted her butt, hoping to give him a glimpse of her ass cheeks peeking out from under the edge. Her work required a lot of heavy lifting, which resulted in toned legs and a tight, round backside. The latter being her best feature, or so she’d been told.

  Evan smoothed a hand over one lace-covered cheek. “So fucking pretty.” He reached around and flattened his palm against her belly, pulling her in tight against him. “Can you feel that?” He arched his hips, pressing his erection against the seam of her ass. “That’s the state you’ve had me in since last night.” He laughed. “Hell, I’ve been hard since I first saw you again. That fucking red dress.”

  Presley cried out as Evan shoved his hand down the front of her panties. His blunt fingers opened her, teased through her folds, and homed in on the bundle of nerves at the top.

  Evan cursed. “You’re so wet. So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  Presley dropped her forehead to the door, gasping for air. This man with his dirty words and talented fingers was too much. It was all too much. He’d barely touched her, and she was almost there.

  She moaned his name as he abandoned her clit. He slid his finger down, teased around her opening, then pushed inside her with first one finger, then two.

  “Is this how you touched yourself last night?”

  She shook her head. Her self-pleasure was clit-centric. Penetration didn’t do much for her, but holy mother of God. Apparently, she just hadn’t found the right tool for the job, because nothing had ever felt as good inside her as Evan’s fingers.

  His cock. His cock would feel better.

  She couldn’t wait to find out. The sooner the better.

  “No?” Evan’s fingers slid out of her and moved back to her clit. Her knees went weak as he stroked her with intense precision. “How about now?”

  “Yes. Yes. Like that. Exactly like that.”

  His lips pressed against the sensitive area behind her ear. He teased her clit, pinching and rolling until Presley’s spine tingled. Her body tightened, pulled in on itself, and then released with the force of being zinged by an electrical outlet. Hot. Fast. Shocking.

  Evan’s arm tightened around her waist. She cried out as his fingers eased back inside her. Her body gripped and pulsed around the intrusion as he muttered quiet words she couldn’t understand over the roaring in her ears.

  After the shaking stopped, Presley realized her back was cradled against Evan’s chest. He was supporting the majority of her weight with a protective arm around her waist.

  His hand was still in her panties, gently cupping her sex as if holding her there was as important as holding the rest of her.

  He kissed her temple. “You okay, sunshine?”

  He was breathing hard, Presley realized, suddenly aware that wasn’t the only thing he had going on that was hard. His substantial erection pressed against the top of her butt.

  “I’m great.” She lolled against him, looking sideways and up at the gorgeous face she’d missed so much over the years. “That was…that was excellent.”

  He chuckled. “It was better than that.”

  The quick squeeze he gave her sex made her breath hitch. Evan removed his hand from her panties. True to his word, he slid his fingers into his mouth. Presley’s face flamed. She’d never had a man taste her so blatantly. Or, at all.

  She watched with fascination as his eyes drifted closed. A low groan rumbled through his chest as if he savored what was on his tongue.

  A sudden inexplicable need to taste herself on his lips spun Presley around. She forgot about her shorts being around her ankles, tripping her up mid-spin. She reached out and balanced herself against Evan’s chest. She gripped his shirt and went up on her toes. His eyes snapped open the second she pressed her mouth to where his lips were wrapped around his fingers. Then, she licked him.

  The combination of salt and tangy, coupled with a hint of coffee and mint, made her dizzy with want. It was intimate and wicked and full of spice. This was them.

  “You’re a fucking dream,” he said against her lips. Evan pulled back and cradled her face in his hands. “But you’re killing me, Presley.”

  She went for his belt. “Then let me put you out of your misery.”

  He put his hand over hers, stopping her. “No. Not yet.” He knelt in front of her and pulled her shorts up her legs. He must have sensed her confusion because he went on. “It’ll take time for everything I want to do once I get you naked and under me, but we have other things to do today.”

  Presley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you serious?” There was no missing the bulge stressing his jeans. It looked painful.

  He checked his watch, his jaw tight as he gave her a sharp nod. “Go finish getting ready. We have to be at the first bakery in less than an hour.”

  “Cake.” She sputtered a laugh. “You’re trading a blow job for cake.”

  He gave her a little shove toward the interior of the house, punctuated by a slap on her ass. “Go.”

  Presley swore she heard him mutter before I change my mind as she walked away. As she got cleaned up and put on a bit of makeup, one question plagued her mind.

  Why was he holding back?

  10

  Evan opened the door to Bridgman’s Bar. After consuming a nauseating amount of sugar at a few different bakeries, he’d taken Presley to a place down the street for some real food. Since they were so close, he figured now was as good a time as any to check out his buddy’s place, have a drink, and regroup on the wedding to-do list. Time was running short.

  He stepped back and let Presley go inside ahead of him. He scanned the place, looking for a suitable table. With his eye on an empty high-top table near the bar, Evan settled his palm against P
resley’s lower back and led her over. He pulled out her chair and held out his arm. She hung her purse on the back, then wrapped her fingers around his forearm, using him as leverage to hoist herself up. He opted to sit in the chair next to her.

  She twisted in her seat and pulled her planner and a bunch of file folders out of her bag and set them on the table. Apparently, they were still in work mode.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced around. “Cool place. You said you’ve never been here before…?”

  The place did have the casual, low-key vibe Evan preferred when he went out, but it was early yet. From what Tuck had told him, business was booming since word got out that the groom from that reality show worked at the bar. People still came in to get their picture taken with Tuck, which Evan thought was hilarious.

  “Nope. My buddy Tuck Lawler runs the place with his fiancée Jodi, who is the Bridgman in Bridgman’s Bar. Tuck’s been bugging me to stop by.”

  A waitress came, and Evan ordered a beer for himself and a glass of wine for Presley. As their drinks were delivered Evan saw Tuck come out of the back and head behind the bar. The pretty bartender sauntered over to Tuck, leaned over the bar and kissed him. Evan hadn’t met her, but there was no way that woman was anyone other than Jodi.

  The man working behind the bar with Jodi waved her off. He lifted the end of the bar and shooed her away. Evan recognized the look on Tuck’s face. The guy was about to whisk his woman away to somewhere private.

  So, of course, Evan happily cock-blocked him.

  “Hey, Tuck,” he called out. His buddy turned, and Evan raised a hand in greeting.

  Tuck wrapped his arm around Jodi, and they headed over. Tuck’s gaze landed on Presley, and Evan prayed to God that Tuck remembered the conversation they’d had at McP’s last week.

  Evan had to come clean about his job, he knew that. Had he been sure about where he and Presley were headed, he would’ve told her by now. She’d surprised the hell out of him with that phone call last night. And then this morning…yeah. He owed Presley the truth. After making her come, he decided that he wouldn’t fuck her with the lie between them. That didn’t mean now was the time to let the cat out of the bag.

  “Hey,” Tuck greeted them, his hand extended.

  Evan didn’t like the knowing smirk on the guy’s mug, so he shot him a warning glare. Evan would kick Tuck’s motherfucking ass if the guy said one word about Evan being a SEAL.

  Evan shook Tuck’s hand. “Thought I’d come by and see this bar you told me about.” Evan turned to Tuck’s lady and shook the hand she offered. “You must be Jodi. I love the place.”

  “And you must be Presley.” Tuck reached out and took Presley’s hand.

  Presley nodded, looking confused.

  Evan cleared his throat. “I saw Tuck last week at lunch one day. Told him about the wedding you and I are planning for John and Chloe.”

  “Ah.” Presley nodded.

  “You’re wedding planners?” Jodi asked.

  Evan and Presley shook their heads at the same time.

  “No. I’m the best man. John thought it would be fun to plan his own wedding while his fiancée is out of the country.” Evan went with a simplified version of the story. “And then John got called away, which left me in charge. It’s the most convoluted story you’ll ever hear.”

  Presley glanced back and forth between him and Tuck. “How do you two know each other?”

  Tuck’s brow raised at Evan, clearly leaving him to fill in the blank.

  He swallowed. “Oh, we have mutual friends. We met years ago.”

  All of that was true. His conscious wasn’t clear, but at least he hadn’t added another lie he had to explain later.

  Tuck jutted his chin at the pile of stuff on the table. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your wedding plans.”

  “It was nice to meet you,” Jodi added.

  “You, too,” Presley responded.

  Tuck caught Evan’s gaze. “Catch up with you later.”

  “You bet,” Evan said as they walked away. He internally sighed with relief that Tuck hadn’t outed him. At the same time, his gut churned at maintaining the lie.

  He would tell her the truth. Soon. When they weren’t distracted by wedding plans, lust-driven phone masturbations, and hot-as-fuck fingerings against doors.

  Evan’s cock took interest in his current line of thought, stiffening slightly behind his fly. He reached over and tapped his finger against Presley’s planner—distraction number one. “Where are we on our list?”

  Presley spread the planner open in front of her and pulled out the pen she kept stowed inside.

  “Cake and food,” she said, more to herself than to him, Evan suspected, as she crossed off those items on the list.

  They’d gone with the first bakery they’d visited that morning. Once he’d agreed on the best sampling, Evan had tapped out, leaving the actual details to Presley. She’d assured him that they’d stuck as close to Chloe’s original cake as possible but with the time constraints, concessions would have to be made. From what he gathered, they’d ordered a plain, tiered cake that Presley would then adorn with flowers from her nursery.

  Evan didn’t care in the slightest what the cake looked like. Once John and Chloe started hacking into it to serve to the guests, no one else would care either. The cake would taste good, and no one would die because it turned to paste in their throats, so Evan called that a win.

  As a bonus, the bakery had a deli attached, and they were able to secure the light hors d’oeuvre’s John wanted for the casual reception they planned to have after the wedding.

  “Since the wedding is last minute, there wasn’t time to send new invitations. John said he wanted to keep things small anyway, to better protect the secret. He gave me a list, and I’ve notified everyone to let them know the date, time, and venue.”

  Evan frowned. “I didn’t know about that. Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

  She arched a sexy brow, and Evan had to fight the urge to kiss that smirk right off her face. “You wanted the guy jobs, remember? The tuxedos, which you handled. The cake, which we both handled.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “What was the other thing you…oh!” She snapped her fingers. “The limo. Did you call and reserve a limo?”

  Shit. Had she asked him to do that? Or had he offered? Shit. Could he even find a limo service that would accommodate them on such short notice?

  “Evan,” Presley laughed. She reached over and squeezed his forearm. “I’m kidding.” She released him and straightened back to her side of the table. “John wants to drive his own vehicle when they leave the barn. Speaking of which, how’s that going?”

  “Fine. My dad had all the equipment cleared out a few days ago.” The quiet truce that seemed to exist between him and his dad still took Evan by surprise. He was trying to go with the flow, not read snark into everything his dad said, but it was a process. Forgiveness was a process.

  “I’ve got some reinforcements coming later this week to help me knock down all the cobwebs and chase out any vermin that might be living in there.”

  “Great. I’ll call the chair rental place—”

  “There’s no need for that. We have plenty of chairs in storage for when we host equestrian events. I’ll drag them out and get them set up once the space is clean. Just sketch me a layout of how they should be set, and I’ll make sure it gets done. After the ceremony, the groomsmen will pitch in and move all the chairs and set up for the reception, while John and Chloe sneak down to my place to change.” And hopefully, not fuck like newlywed bunnies all over his house.

  “Who are you, and what did you do with the guy I met at the coffeeshop who tried to get out of this?” Presley’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s the guy who didn’t care about the details?”

  He shrugged. “My opinions about weddings haven’t changed, but I’m a task-oriented guy. Give me a job to do, and I’ll get it done.”

  “And what are your opinions
on weddings?”

  Fuck if that didn’t feel like a trap. Evan picked up his beer and took a long drink, taking a minute to formulate his answer. He didn’t want to spoil the great day they’d had so far. Didn’t matter, though. Because the minute he opened his mouth, his plan to dodge her question with a vague, safe answer went to shit.

  “Weddings constitute a moment in time. A blip on the radar. A tiny speck of sand in the desert. Effectively insignificant. A wedding serves one purpose: to legally bind two people in marriage. A couple can do that at city hall or a drive-thru chapel in Las Vegas.”

  “You don’t think weddings matter?”

  Presley’s passive expression set off warning bells in Evan’s head. As if the hole he’d dug hadn’t been deep enough, he kept shoveling. “The marriage is what matters. Not starting your lives in debt because of the ceremony, and not how many people heard you take the vows. A marriage is private. Two people, building a life together. And sure, there are extended families and kids that might come along. Those people are important. But at the end of the day, it’s the couple that makes the marriage work. Or not.”

  And now he was rambling, needing Presley to understand where he was coming from.

  “I see men and women everyday who break their vows.” It wasn’t as uncommon in the military as some might think. “Those people gave their word in front of two hundred, or whatever the fuck number of people, to love and honor their spouse, and that wasn’t enough to keep their legs closed or their dicks in their pants.”

  Evan sighed, knowing he’d said too much. “I’m just saying, I think too much importance is put on the how, and not where it should be—the why.”

  Christ, what was wrong with him? Now, all he had to do was tell her his job kept him away for months at a time, and that each time he left there was a real possibility he wouldn’t come home. Presley would throw herself at his feet, being that he was the catch of the fucking century.