Beyond the Limit

by Cindy Dees

“It scares the hell out of me, too. But it should scare you to think of yourself getting caught in a mess like that.”

  He shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  “Why are you allowed to take that attitude about life and death, but I’m not allowed to feel the same way?”

  “You’re beautiful. Smart. Talented. You can do anything you want. The world is at your feet. Go do something awesome with your life. But don’t come crawling into the mud and filth that I live in. Being a SEAL is dirty, hard work. You should do something glamorous with your life.”

  “I think being a female SEAL is plenty glamorous. And besides, I’ve had all the glamour I can stand for one lifetime. I want something of substance to hang onto in my life. Someone—” She broke off.

  So. She wanted someone to come home to someday, too, did she? Good to know.

  She continued, “When I’m old and worn out, looking back on my life, I want to know I’ve done something important.”

  “Then raise money for starving kids in Africa. Save the whales, for crying out loud.”

  Sherri put down her glass and leaned forward, staring hard at him. “Why are you so dead set on me not being a SEAL? You’ve seen enough of me in training to know that I can hack it. I meet all the physical standards. I’m good at shooting and stealth. I have nerves of steel. What else do you want from me?”

  He ground out, “I want you to live.”

  She ground back, “Then train me to be the very best SEAL you can. Teach me the skills I’ll need to stay alive.” She calmly filled their glasses with scotch.

  They both grabbed their glasses and tossed back the contents. Without comment, she refilled them again. Not with water.

  They were at an impasse. He’d just realized he had feelings for her strong enough to panic at the idea of her getting killed in combat. No way could he survive watching her die in real time on a helmet cam. It would kill him. Problem was she’d finally seen what SEALs really did…and she still wanted in on it. Damn, damn, damn.

  She poured another round, and he tossed his back in frustration. The scotch was starting to hit him, and his head felt light.

  She asked, “So what’s the plan, Sparky? Are we going to agree to disagree? Then maybe sit here watching the waves and get wasted?”

  This was too important for him to give up on and merely agree to disagree. “What’s it going to take to convince you to give up on this insanity and live a normal life?”

  “I don’t know. Are you willing to walk away from the teams just because I’m worried about your safety?” she retorted.

  Damn it!

  His frustration spilled over, and he blurted out, “Marry me. Stay home. Make a life for yourself. Be there when I come home from downrange. I’ll give you whatever you want. The white picket fence and a porch swing. Or a mansion if you’d like. Hell, kids.”

  Horror tore through him. What in the ever-loving hell had he just done? He realized a part of him meant the proposal, and that horrified him even more.

  Sherri smiled gently. “Thanks. Really. That’s a sweet offer. I understand it’s the whiskey talking. But how about you stay home and raise the kids while I go downrange?”

  He slammed his glass down on the table, and heads turned at the sharp noise. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “You’ll die if you go out there.”

  Sherri leaned back, smiling. “Hey, we’ve made progress. At least you now acknowledge that I could actually make it out into the field as a SEAL.”

  He stared at her. Her face swam slightly, and he squinted to make the two images of her come back into one.

  She’d changed since she’d come to training. She was more confident now. Moved with a hint of cool swagger. He and the boys were succeeding at turning the women into no-kidding SEAL material. She was more stubborn than she’d been a few months ago, too. He knew in his gut that nothing he said was going to talk her out of this crazy determination of hers to be one of the big boys.

  He grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle and stood up abruptly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “And go where? Neither one of us is safe to drive. And no matter how messed up you are by Sam’s death, I’m not passing out on a beach with you in the middle of winter.”

  He snorted. “Have a little faith in me, grasshopper.”

  He concentrated on walking straight, without any hint of a wobble, back into the hotel. Made his careful way to the front counter. “I need a room for the night, please.” Hah. Not even the slightest slur.

  He plunked down a credit card on the counter as Sherri caught up with him. She’d taken care of the bar tab. Oops. He’d forgotten about that. Must be drunker than he’d realized.

  A key card was handed to him, and he escorted Sherri across the elegant lobby to the elevators. Somewhere along the way, she’d kicked off her sandals, and they dangled in her left hand. Barefoot, a little drunk, with her hair tousled by the night breeze, she was turning every head in the lobby.

  Look all you want, gentlemen. She was going upstairs with him. He joined her at the brass elevator doors and looped a possessive arm over her shoulders. His pulse leaped as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He would never get tired of holding this woman close.

  The hotel room was nicer than any place he’d stayed in a very long time. He’d lived in plywood hooches and slept on the ground for so long he’d almost forgotten places like this existed. It even smelled good in here, like some fancy air freshener.

  Sherri flopped across the high, king-size bed piled with pillows and bolsters. “I do believe I’m a bit drunk,” she announced.

  “I should hope so. You’ve had nearly as much scotch as me, and I’m definitely drunk.” He added, “And I’ve got eighty pounds on you. Get up so I can pull the covers down. Then you can crawl into bed and pass out.”

  Except when she stood up, Sherri started shedding clothes. The tank top came over her head, exposing a white lace bra that was sexy as hell against her tanned skin. She dropped her pants next.

  Holy centerfold model! That thong ought to be registered as a lethal weapon. Griffin gulped. Apparently, he wasn’t so drunk that his body didn’t leap to instant, painfully hard attention at the sight of her.

  She glanced up at him, and her mouth curved into one of those infinitely mysterious female smiles that Mona Lisa had perfected. Sherri reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. The skimpy lace fell away from the globes of her breasts, and Griffin stopped breathing.

  “Like what you see?” she murmured.

  “Uh-huh,” he managed to choke out. He cleared his throat. “I’m mesmerized by you.”

  She slipped into bed and pulled the snowy-white sheet up to her waist, leaving her magnificent chest and those rosy peaks uncovered, tempting him to lose his mind in her.

  “Why don’t you get naked and bring your mesmerized self on over here, sailor?” she said in a husky tone that tightened his groin even harder.

  He fumbled at his belt. Yanked his T-shirt over his head. Dropped his pants.

  Sherri leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The quiet, rhythmic crash and swish of waves was faintly audible outside. Better.

  He padded across the thick plush carpet and slipped under the covers and into Sherri’s arms.

  She was warm and sleek and welcoming. Damned if she didn’t feel like coming home. Maybe that marriage proposal hadn’t been so crazy after all—

  Whoa. Hard stop.

  He was not a marrying kind of man. Not while he was still an active operator. And not when he could pull a Sam and die at any time.

  “Why did you leave your trunks on?” Sherri muttered into his ear.

  “Because I don’t do drunk sex with women. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story behind that,” she commented.

 
He snorted. “Leo Lipinski. He hooked up with Janine and was too drunk to remember to use a freaking condom. Now she’s pregnant, and he’s married. And mark my words, she’s gonna be no picnic to live with.”

  Humor laced Sherri’s voice as she responded, “Why do you say that?”

  “She doesn’t know squat about the SEALs or what it takes to be married to one. Hell, I don’t think she could even hack being a regular Navy wife.”

  Sherri shrugged in his arms. “It takes a special spouse to handle the long absences of their partner at sea.”

  “Well, Janine ain’t it. And now Leo’s saddled with her.”

  He felt Sherri’s silent chuckle. “Who knew you guys think so deeply about these things?”

  He pulled back to stare down at her. “Don’t women think about it?”

  “About making bad life choices under the influence of alcohol? All the time. Of course, we tend to be worried about roofies in our alcohol more than guys.”

  He drew her into a hug. Man, he felt comfortable with her like this. “Are you telling me you roofied my scotch? Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

  “You’re the one who left your undies on. I got the message loud and clear.”

  Silence fell between them, and he listened lazily to the surf.

  “Thanks for tonight,” he said quietly.

  “You’re welcome. It’s what friends are for.”

  But what if he wanted more than friendship with her? Where did that leave them? Hell. What if his half-drunken proposal hadn’t entirely been the alcohol talking?

  Chapter 12

  Sherri woke up lazily to rosy light streaming through white gauze curtains. She was cocooned in down comfort. The ocean crashed and retreated nearby, and warm, muscular flesh was cozy under her ear.

  She opened one eye. A stubble-covered jaw filled her field of vision. A hard, lean jaw. Griffin.

  Right. Sam’s death. Griffin’s grief. A bottle of scotch and the beach.

  She rolled onto her back, enjoying the elegant appointments in this upscale room. Her movement woke up Griffin. One second he was relaxed and quiet beside her, and the next his formidable presence filled the room.

  “Good morning,” she murmured.

  “Good morning to you.” His voice was sandpaper rough.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Better than I have a right to, given how much scotch I drank. You?”

  She took inventory. “I’m good. But then, high-quality liquor doesn’t leave as much of a hangover as the cheap stuff.”

  Strong arms gathered her close and he rolled over, looming above her. “Dammit, Tate. You’re even more gorgeous first thing in the morning all sleepy and messy.”

  She grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

  “Toothbrush,” he declared. “My mouth tastes like a sewer.”

  Laughing, she followed him to the bathroom and they used the complimentary toothbrushes and toothpaste together. She threw the balcony door wide open and relished the chill on her bare skin. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, a strip of liquid fire streaking across the surface of the ocean.

  She felt Griffin move to stand behind her. His arms came around her waist, and his chin came to rest on her shoulder. They watched the sunrise together. It was a quiet, intimate moment between them. Something more than casual friendship was definitely happening here.

  “Don’t ever take a sunrise for granted,” he surprised her by murmuring.

  It made sense. In his line of work—in their line of work—each day was a precious gift. Goodness knew, losing Sam had only reinforced that fact.

  Griffin’s lips touched the column of her neck. His mouth was warm and felt good as he kissed his way across her shoulder. His tongue swirled in her ear, and a jolt of desire ripped through her. Who knew her ear was such an erogenous zone?

  She turned in Griffin’s arms, and his mouth closed on hers. She surged into the kiss, pressing her body hungrily against his.

  She sensed that his need for this morning was as great as hers. After last night’s devastating loss, she wanted—no, needed—the affirmation that she and Griffin were alive and well. She needed his vital energy. Craved the raw desire between them.

  His hands gripped her head gently, and he pulled her even closer, his tongue plunging wildly into her mouth. She sucked on it hard, pulling him to her desperately.

  He backed up toward the bed, and she followed eagerly. He fell backward across the bed, pulling her down with him.

  She practically purred in her eagerness to get him inside her. She threw her leg across his hips and pushed up to straddle him. He stared up at her, his eyes black with desire.

  She reached between their bodies, gripping his erection in her fist. His hips bucked. His hot flesh felt like velvet over steel, and she passed her hand up his shaft and back down, relishing his power and hunger. She loved that she did this to him.

  Taking her time, she guided him inside, loving every single hot, hard inch of him filling her. Griffin watched her like a hawk, his gaze never leaving her face.

  It was erotic as heck being in control of their lovemaking like this. She had no doubt he could seize control any time he wanted, but he seemed to enjoy letting her take the lead this morning. When he was buried to the hilt, she rocked her hips a little.

  “Mmm. Nice,” she murmured.

  “Uh-huh,” he agreed.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, the big bad SEAL sounded a little breathless. She did that to him? Sweet.

  She moved again. A little more forcefully. Oh. That was very nice, indeed. She lifted herself half off his shaft and then plunged down. Her body shuddered as waves of pleasure smashed through her. Ooh. She had to do that again!

  She matched the rhythm of the waves outside. Up. Pause. Down. Shudder. Her internal muscles gripped Griffin’s flesh convulsively, pulling him even deeper inside her. It was possibly the most erotic experience she’d ever had.

  Again and again she repeated the maneuver, and each time the pleasure ripping through her was almost too much.

  She slammed down again, but this time she couldn’t contain the pleasure any longer. It exploded into an orgasm, tearing her apart from head to toe and fingertip to fingertip. She cried out and fell forward, bracing her palms on Griffin’s solid chest.

  His arms swept around her and he rolled quickly, reversing their positions. His forearms landed on either side of her head, and he stared down at her, his eyes glazed with desire.

  “Hang on, baby.”

  She wrapped her arms around his broad chest, and her legs around his narrow hips. She stared up at him, drinking in the sight of his facial muscles contorted with the intensity of the pleasure pounding through him. His eyes were black, the deep blue of his irises completely subsumed by the lust raging between them.

  He withdrew a little way and then slammed home.

  “Oh God. Yes,” she groaned. “Again.”

  He obliged and started to withdraw again, but she was having none of that and her hips surged up against his as she gripped him more tightly with her legs.

  Griffin laughed a little. “I’m not going anywhere. Trust me. I’m right where I want to be.”

  “Show me,” she demanded.

  His grin widened. It was his turn to pick up the rhythm of the ocean outside and slam home again and again. He was so strong that he inched her across the big bed, but she loved it. She let go of all control, matching his thrusts with thrusts of her own hips. Their bodies slapped together, sweaty and slick, over and over until she couldn’t think. Heck. She could barely see.

  His body was big. Hard. Muscular, flexing against hers. He smelled like mint toothpaste and clean, male musk. Like the forests he ran around in.

  She relished how safe and protected he made her feel. He was her bulwark against the world. Nothing co
uld hurt her if he was here with her like this. One with her.

  She cried out, arching up off the mattress, hanging on to Griffin’s broad shoulders for all she was worth as pleasure ripped through her.

  With a shout, Griffin surged one last time inside her, and the last of his control was torn away.

  Where she ended and Griffin began, she had no idea. He completely drained her at the same time he completely filled her soul.

  Gradually, by slow degrees, she regained awareness of her fingers and toes. She wiggled them experimentally. Yep. Still there.

  She registered the way his chest pressed against hers. The way his breath stirred strands of her hair against her cheek. The way her body cushioned his.

  They fit.

  Not just physically, although they were a crazy perfect match for each other in that way.

  It felt right to be here with him like this. It felt like…home.

  Griffin swore quietly and rolled off her, dragging her with him to sprawl half across his chest. “Sorry. I was too, umm, lost in enjoyment to realize I was crushing you. You should have said something,” he muttered.

  “It was nice.”

  “You’re too polite.”

  “I’m not being polite. It was nice.”

  He dropped a lazy kiss on the top of her head. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I might have been a little too…enthusiastic…there at the end.”

  “Do you hear me complaining? That was amazing, and I feel fantastic.”

  “Well, okay then. I guess I won’t wallow in any more performance anxiety.”

  She laughed a little. “Trust me. You’ve got nothing to worry about in that department.”

  “Man, you’re good for my ego.”

  She punched his arm lightly, and he chuckled.

  Silence fell between them. She was shocked at how comfortable it was just to lie here with him like this. No words were necessary. It was enough to be lazy together in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  She might have dozed a little, even. It was the best rest she’d had in ages. For the first time in months, she was completely relaxed. She’d had no idea how badly she needed this. Honestly, she felt like a new person.