The damn woman had been testing his limits for the past forty-eight hours. Parading around the apartment in next to nothing. Brushing up against him in the kitchen. Talking about sex nonstop. Christ, she’d even managed to make updating her resume look hot—leaning close to her laptop in a way that emphasized the sexy curve of her spine, biting her plush bottom lip as she studied the screen.
He’d been sporting an unceasing boner for two days now. Couldn’t even remember what it was like to not be hard as a rock. His daily workout hadn’t helped take the edge off. Neither had his daily—fine, twice daily—jack-off session in the shower. If anything, he was even more hard up, especially since Jen had taken to taunting him whenever he stepped out of the bathroom, innocently inquiring whether he’d enjoyed himself.
Any day now, he might actually kill her.
Or fuck her.
Discipline.
“Screw discipline,” he mumbled to himself.
“What was that?” Ryan asked as he steered across the Coronado Bay Bridge.
“Nothing,” Cash said. “Just thinking out loud.”
Ryan gave him a strange look. “O-kay. Anyway, Jane wanted to know if you got her email.”
“The one about Becker-approved baby gifts for Sadie?”
“That’s the one,” Ryan said dryly. “And before you ask, yes, I wholeheartedly agree—Beck was abducted by aliens and replaced with a crazy pod version of himself.”
“Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to say it, since I don’t know him as well as you guys do. I thought maybe he’s always like this and I just started picking up on it now.”
“He’s not always like this. Personally, I think Jane should divorce him.”
Cash wouldn’t go as far as to agree with that, but nobody could deny Lieutenant Commander Becker was overprotective when it came to his daughter. Not to mention obsessed. Cash had spent the entire trip back from Kabul listening to the CO drone on and on about Miss Sadie; what an advanced child she was, how she smiled at Beck more times than she smiled at Beck’s wife Jane, how she preferred mashed carrots to applesauce. Cash knew a scary amount about that baby, far more than he wanted to, actually.
Since Miss Sadie was turning the big “1” next weekend, the presence of everyone on the team had been requested for the kid’s party. Cash had been worrying about what kind of present to buy, but fortunately the CO had come up with a list of suggestions—all of which had been thoroughly researched and undoubtedly tested for safety purposes. He’d even compiled a second list entitled “DON’T BUY”. Right. Like Cash would ever give a one-year-old lead paint.
“Lead paint was actually on the DON’T BUY list,” Ryan blurted out in disbelief. “Why would any of us buy that?”
He laughed. “I was just remembering that one. Hey, do you want to chip in and get the Baby Animal Planet DVD thing? I checked online and the box set is like a hundred bucks. I refuse to spend more than fifty dollars on a baby so if you want to go halfsies…”
“Done,” Ryan said. He pulled into a parking space on the street running parallel to the beach. “I’ll tell Annabelle she can fend for herself.”
They hopped out of the Jeep and headed for the concrete steps leading down to the sand. They’d both worn swim trunks and cross-trainers, and the second their sneakers hit the sand, Cash peeled off his ratty Cardinals T-shirt and tucked the edge under the waistband of his shorts. Normally they trained closer to the base, but Dylan had insisted they go to the northern end of the island today, claiming that a little eye candy made him more productive.
When Cash spotted Dylan and Seth doing push-ups on a stretch where the sand was more compact, it was clear that the men were the ones providing the eye candy; ten yards away, four bikini-clad tourists were stretched out on fluffy beach towels, tongues hanging out as they ogled the two SEALs, whose bare backs glistened with sweat.
Those hungry eyes shifted to Cash and Ryan, both of whom winked at the ladies as they walked past.
“So things are going good with Jen?” Ryan asked, shrugging out of his T-shirt.
Trying to stay nonchalant, he slid his Aviators onto the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean?”
“Any problems from that stalker guy?”
“Oh. No. He sent her an email yesterday but she deleted it.”
“Why doesn’t she remove his address from her contact list?”
“She did, but he keeps creating those free accounts so she doesn’t know what to look for anymore. The spam folder usually catches them, but sometimes they wind up in her inbox.”
“This guy doesn’t give up, huh?” Ryan popped on his own shades, then rolled up his shirt and draped it around his neck.
As they strode across the sand toward the guys, Cash tried to maintain the casual front, but inside he was annoyed as hell. It bugged him that Jen wasn’t as troubled by the email as he was. Yeah, it had been more whiny than threatening, but he still didn’t like it. Brendan’s obsession with Jen didn’t seem to be waning, only increasing, and the more Cash got to know her, the more determined he was to keep her safe.
When she wasn’t trying to seduce him with skimpy outfits and sexual innuendo, she was actually pretty incredible. Smart, funny, entertaining. She’d even cooked him dinner last night—and then, once they’d decided that her burnt lasagna might give them food poisoning, she’d bought him dinner, which had been nice. Not that he was the kind of man who liked mooching off women, but once in a while it felt nice not to be the one pulling out his wallet.
The thought of Psycho McGee coming after Jen made his gut burn. A part of him almost wished Brendan would make a move, just so Cash could have the pleasure of kicking the creep’s ass.
They reached Dylan and Seth, who hopped to their feet to exchange some heys and knuckle taps with the new arrivals. Jackson had yet to show, but that was no surprise. The Texan lived by his own clock and took his sweet-ass time in everything. Except on the field. There, Jackson epitomized efficiency; as the team medic, he got the job done with lightning speed and had saved all their asses countless times.
“FYI,” Dylan told them as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, “I bought the CO’s kid those educational building blocks that were on the list, so don’t double purchase.”
“What the fuck are educational building blocks?” Ryan asked.
“Wooden blocks with words on them.”
Ryan looked mystified. “What kind of words?”
Dylan shrugged. “You know, like mom, dad, dog, bunny.” He rolled his eyes. “That way Miss Sadie can increase her vocabulary while she’s playing.”
“Pod person,” Ryan muttered under his breath.
Cash’s laugh died in his throat when he noticed Seth eyeing him. “What?” he demanded.
“I hear you have a hot new roomie,” Seth mocked.
“Yeah. It’s your mom,” he answered sweetly. “I can’t wait to fuck her.”
Ryan grinned.
Dylan chuckled.
“Screw you,” Seth retorted.
But the SEAL didn’t seem put off by the jab. Seth Masterson was used to the mom jokes constantly being lobbed his way. Hell, he had to expect it, seeing as his mother, Missy, was a bona fide Las Vegas showgirl. Seth, the lucky bastard, had pretty much been raised in a dressing room filled to the gills with half-dressed women. The dude had lost his virginity at the age of twelve, for fuck’s sake.
“How hot is the LT’s sister, exactly?” Seth inquired, running his hand over the dark stubble coating his jaw.
Cash didn’t think he’d ever seen the guy clean-shaven, but he’d witnessed firsthand just how much the ladies liked Seth’s scruffy badass-ness. Seth was definitely the bad boy of the crew, a total asshole when he wanted to be, but he was also lethal as hell and someone you wanted watching your six on a mission.
“Hot,” Cash replied, albeit grudgingly.
“Very hot,” Ryan confirmed before fixing a frown on Seth. “But Carson’s got this thing about keeping
his teammates away from his sister, so don’t get any bright ideas, Masterson.”
“Me?” Seth donned an innocent face. “I think you should be dishing out that advice to McCoy. According to Dylan, he’s already very acquainted with—”
“Sorry I’m late,” Jackson’s voice came from behind.
Saved by the Texan.
Cash glared at Seth as Ryan turned to greet Jackson, who’d shown up in sweatpants and a white T-shirt with the words “Don’t Mess with Texas” blazing across the front.
“Not a word,” Cash muttered.
Seth’s gray eyes gleamed, lips twitching. “Fine. But I want details later.”
Jackson strode up and slapped Cash’s shoulder. “I heard you’re shackin’ up with the LT’s little sister.”
He suppressed a groan. Why did everyone feel the need to give him heat about this? “Yes. I am. Now how about we quit gossiping like a bunch of preteens and get a move on?”
Fortunately, nobody argued, and a few minutes later, the only heat Cash got was the sun’s rays beating down on his head and shoulders. He zoned out as his sneakers slapped the wet sand, drawing in the scent of salt and sweat on each inhale.
They ran their usual four miles. The only sounds breaching the comfortable silence were the thud of sneakers on sand and the squawking of gulls overhead. Sweat rose on Cash’s bare chest, dripping down his forehead and sliding between his pecs. Jeez, it was hot out. Only nine thirty in the morning, but he’d bet the temperature was somewhere in the eighties already, and climbing steadily. But it beat the desert climate of Phoenix, where the summers could be unbearable. Plus, Coronado had the ocean factor going for it—nothing he loved more than the salty spray of the Pacific misting his face as his feet whipped across the sand.
When they neared the beach’s northernmost point, they turned around and slowed their pace, making their way back to the main stretch. Ryan and Jackson paired off, jogging up ahead, while Cash found himself flanked by Dylan and Seth, both of whom were grinning like a pair of idiots.
“How’s the hands-off plan going?” Dylan asked with barely restrained amusement.
“Terribly,” Cash admitted. “That woman is determined to seduce me.”
Seth hooted. “Poor baby. A hot chick wants to screw you. Whatever will you do?”
He clenched his jaw. “Not her. I promised Carson I’d behave.”
“What Carson doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Seth said in a singsong voice.
Cash snorted. “Right, because it’s so easy to keep secrets in this group. I can recite all the women every single one of you has slept with. If I sleep with his sister, Carson will find out.”
“Not from us,” Dylan said.
Now Seth snorted. “No, you’re right,” he told Cash. “If Dylan knows, everyone will know.”
“Bull. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“Not after a few shots of Jägermeister, you don’t.”
Dylan shrugged. “Good point.” He glanced at Cash. “How about I become your sponsor? You know, like AA-type shit. I’ll help keep you in line.”
“So you’ll strap on the chastity belt for him?” Seth cracked.
“Whenever you’re tempted to unzip your pants, just call me and I’ll talk you out of it. I’ll even check in with you every few hours and give you gruesome facts about what it’s like to drown, as an incentive not to piss off the LT.”
Cash had to laugh. “You’re a good friend.”
“You know it.”
They caught up with Ryan and Jackson at the water’s edge, kicked off their sneakers and waded into the water. Cash welcomed the initial rush of cool relief as he submerged himself, but it wasn’t long before he was sweating again. The two-mile swim was one he could do in his sleep with one arm tied behind his back, but damn, it was sweltering hot out today.
A throb had built in his temples by the time they staggered back to shore, but he felt more relaxed than he had in days. He loved hanging out with his boys. The camaraderie they’d formed during BUD/S training had only grown stronger over the years, which was kinda funny considering how different they all were. Dylan, the California boy with his preppy clothes and natural charisma. Tough guy, chain-smoking, chip-on-his-shoulder Seth. Jackson, with his sweet-talkin’ ways and good ol’ boy charm. Ryan and the others were great too, but those friendships didn’t come close to rivaling the tight-knit bond he’d formed with his three fellow rookies.
“Don’t forget,” Dylan murmured before they parted ways in the parking lot ten minutes later. “Your sponsor is only a phone call away.”
Grabbing a towel from the back of Ryan’s Jeep, Cash dried his dripping wet chest and said, “That’s actually kinda reassuring.”
Dylan grinned. “She’s really gotten under your skin, huh?”
He let out a heavy breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”
* * *
Jen was curled up in a recliner clicking through online job ads on her laptop when Cash lumbered into the apartment. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of all that hotness. The sweaty T-shirt pasted to his chest emphasized every hard ridge and ripple of his broad torso, and since he hadn’t shaved before leaving this morning, dark stubble covered his strong jaw, lending him a feral air.
When she noticed the flush on his cheeks and the weary set of his mouth, she narrowed her eyes. “You okay?” she asked, closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table.
“I think I overdid it,” he muttered. “I might have heatstroke.”
She grinned. “The big, tough Navy SEAL let the sun get to him?”
He ignored her and strode toward the corridor. “I’m taking a shower.”
After he disappeared, Jen leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Her grin faded, muscles knotting with frustration. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that Cash possessed a disgusting amount of willpower. She’d brought her A-game to the table the past couple of days, yet the infuriating man continued to resist her advances. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or impressed.
Enough was enough. She wanted Cash McCoy so badly she couldn’t think straight. Everything about him turned her on—his drool-worthy body, his intense blue eyes, the heady scent of his aftershave.
That old saying about wanting what you can’t have had become her life’s theme song. She craved Cash on a whole new level now, and the more he resisted, the more attracted to him she was. Sad, really.
“You hungry?” Cash asked when he reappeared ten minutes later.
“Not really. I’m still full from breakfast.”
“Good, because I’m too beat to deal with food right now.” With his hair damp from the shower, he crossed the room and collapsed on the couch, stretching out on his back. A groan slipped out as he closed his eyes. “My head is killing me.”
A spark of worry lit her belly. “Maybe you do have heatstroke.” She hopped off the chair and approached the couch.
Cash’s eyes flew open when she touched his cheeks. “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
She frowned. “Your skin’s hot to the touch. Did you replenish your fluids?”
His eyelids fluttered closed again. “Chugged half a bottle of water when we finished up,” he mumbled.
“How strenuous of a workout?”
“Ran four miles. Swam a couple miles. Push-ups, crunches, some other stuff.”
Jen shot him an incredulous look, even though he couldn’t see it. “You did all that, in the sun, in ninety-two-degree weather, and you only drank half a bottle of water?”
“I was distracted.”
She grumbled in frustration and flew toward the kitchen, where she grabbed two Evians from the fridge. Returning to the couch, she uncapped one bottle and thrust it at Cash. “Drink,” she ordered.
He slid up, took the bottle, and drained it. “Can I take a nap now?” he asked wearily.
“Only if you don’t complain when I wake you up to drink this seco
nd bottle.”
“I won’t complain,” he said obediently.
“How’s your head?”
“Throbbing.”
Jen shoved her hands underneath his wide shoulders. “Scoot up.”
His gaze darkened with suspicion. “Why?”
“I can help.”
After a moment of visible reluctance, he raised himself up. Jen wedged her body on the couch, settled into a cross-legged position and pulled Cash’s damp head into her lap. That he didn’t protest at the close contact told her that his headache must be worse than he was letting on.
“Close your eyes,” she murmured.
He did, and his features relaxed as she lowered her thumbs to his temples. Drawing her brows together in concentration, she massaged his temples in a circular motion, keeping the pressure steady.
Cash groaned huskily. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I got a lot of headaches when I was younger. My mom’s a nurse, so she knows all sorts of tricks to get rid of the pain. She gives the best temple massages,” Jen confessed. “She taught me how to do them.”
When she used her fingertips to stroke the area between his eyebrows and hairline, slowly rubbing his hot skin, he groaned again. “She taught you well. That feels fantastic.”
She made small circles between his brows, gently pressing down, then massaged from his temples to the strong line of his jawbone. With his eyes closed, she was able to admire every inch of his gorgeous face. The sharp jut of his cheekbones. His surprisingly long eyelashes. The tiny scar nicking the corner of his jaw.
She knew he’d fallen asleep when his breathing steadied and his bottom lip dropped out in a sexy pout. She kept massaging, watched the rise and fall of his spectacular chest. His skin felt cooler to the touch, but she only allowed him a twenty-minute catnap before reluctantly waking him up.
“Drink,” she said after she’d coaxed his eyes open.
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 54