“So when will all the models be available?”
“We have to shoot on Monday and Tuesday.”
Crap, her week with Ice just went up in smoke. She’d have to drive home in the morning.
“Fine, file the permits. I’ll meet you in the studio late tomorrow afternoon to prepare the equipment.” She watched Ice’s face as she spoke. His expression stayed the same, revealing no emotion while her stomach churned with anxiety. “I’ll text you when I get back.”
Ending the call, she dropped the phone into her pocket. Appetite gone, she picked at a salad while he devoured a massive hunk of rare steak, a loaded baked potato, grilled vegetables, salad and an entire basket of rolls. And yet, when the dessert cart rolled over, he had the look of a man who hadn’t eaten in days instead of mere minutes.
Syn blinked and glanced around at the strings of white fairy lights draped overhead, creating a romantic atmosphere. When had darkness fallen? She’d been so deep in thought she missed the sunset. The waitress set a cup of coffee along with a slice of tiramisu in front of her. She didn’t remember ordering dessert.
Ice silently sipped his coffee and watched her. When she met his laser blue gaze, he tipped his head slightly.
“Welcome back.” He shifted his chair closer. “Want to talk about it?”
Syn shook her head, attempting to shake off the oddly disjointed sensation as the present slowly settled in around her. She wasn’t sure where her mind had traveled or for how long. “Not really.”
He accepted that without complaint or pressing. Picking up a fork, he scooped up some of the decadent dessert and held it toward her.
Syn opened her mouth, closing her lips over the fork, never breaking eye contact. The flavors of velvety mocha, sweet pastry, rich coffee, and a tantalizing hint of liquor exploded across her tongue. Her toes curled, and a soft sigh passed her lips as Ice pulled the fork free.
Oh, she liked it when he got playfully seductive. Two could play, and she was definitely up for some provocative fun. Forgoing the fork, she swiped a finger through the creamy top layer and extended it. His hum of anticipation wafted across her hand as his lips parted and he drew the digit into the warmth of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip and sucking at the sweet confection. The heated moisture pulling at her finger sparked a corresponding tug in her lower belly.
Slowly drawing back, he released her finger and dipped his own into the dessert. The exchange continued, casual seduction quickly turning into urgent need. It wasn’t long before she ached for him, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid, a fine layer of sweat covering her skin, reflecting the fire burning in her blood.
“Ice,” she moaned. “I need.”
His hand shot up into the air. “Check.”
No sooner did the waitress hand him the bill than he pulled out a wad of cash, handed over several bills along with a generous tip and rushed Syn back to the boat. He had the lines untied and castoff before she’d even settled onto the padded seat.
“Long cruise, was it, sailor?”
His desire-filled gaze pinned her to the chair. “Always too long without you, babe.”
As the boat cleared the no wake zone, he went full throttle, the loud roar of the engines making conversation impossible. He didn’t go far, turning into a secluded alcove within a few minutes. She wasn’t surprised. He always had a plan.
Syn took a deep breath and allowed the quiet serenity to flow through her. With the engines off, she could hear water softly lapping at the hull and the hum of crickets from the shore carried on the tropical breeze. Moonlight glinted off sparkling water and sand of the small island surrounding them on three sides. It was very peaceful and unlikely that they’d be disturbed. Perfect.
Ice barely noticed the anchor’s descent as it broke the surface with a pop and gurgle then dropped to the ocean floor. All of his senses were tuned in to the siren a few feet away. Her head rested back, neck arched as she stargazed, long waves of dark hair cascading over the seatback shining with a silver glow from the moon.
He understood what this trip meant to her, for them. Syn intended to end things. When they made love, she would be saying goodbye.
Or so she thought.
He had other plans. Ones he’d have to speed up. To do that, he was going to have to grow some balls and fast.
For the past year, he’d intended to ask Syn to wait for him, hold on until he could retire and get married. Every time he started to broach the subject, his heart raced out of control, his palms sweated, and a huge lump filled this throat.
Fucking wuss!
Someone had asked him once what he felt when he pulled the trigger and took out a target. He just shrugged and said, “Recoil.” Taking a life, battling the most extreme conditions, putting his body through hell—it was his job. He didn’t have trouble sleeping, and his conscience didn’t trouble him. He was ice cold. Nothing fazed him.
Nothing except one beautiful, curvy woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand. With Syn around, he felt a wide array of intense, deep emotions. She melted the ice running in his veins, turning it into a lusty river of molten lava.
For ages now, looking toward the future and getting out of the Navy all revolved around her. She was everything he’d never known he wanted, needed, and so much more. The mere idea she might say no had the power to bring him to his knees when nothing else ever could. Not even the knife that had slid between his ribs and punctured his lung a few years ago managed to bring him down. Syn had the ability to disable him with one word.
The fact she’d be leaving him in the morning to go take pictures of the dumbass models chapped his ass. Wasn’t as if she needed the money. She came from a well-off family and had a freakin’ trust fund she refused to touch. He grudgingly understood wanting to prove herself and make her own way in the world, but that didn’t mean he had to like the way she went about it.
Yeah and unless he found some guts and asked her to marry him, he didn’t have a say in a damn thing she did. Not that he’d dictate how she utilized her creative talent once they were married. He didn’t operate that way. He trusted her without exception. But not the puffed up models. He didn’t trust those horn dogs not to make moves on his woman. Hell, what red-blooded man—other than his team—would resist the temptation that was Syndra Banks?
With some luck and a prayer, soon to be Syndra Westervelt. Oh, he loved the idea of that.
No more wasting time. He dropped his trunks, sat down on the bimbo pad, pulled the shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. “C’mere, Syn.”
She lifted her head and swiveled the captain chair around, her gaze skating over his bare torso before stopping at the hard length of his cock jutting out over his abdomen.
“Mmm,” she purred. “Impressive weapon. Is it loaded, Master Chief?”
“Cocked and loaded for ya, ma’am.”
“Well, now.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
As she walked toward him, she fisted her hands in the loose dress, pulled it over her head, and dropped it along the way. Stopping with their toes touching, she planted her feet and stared into his eyes while untying the strings holding flimsy triangles of material in place.
Each movement slow and deliberate, she placed a knee next to his hip, grasped his shoulders and brought the other knee up, straddling his thighs.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.”
He placed a finger over her lips. “No apologies. You’re here with me now. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
She nodded, twined her fingers in his hair, and brushed her lips over his. Holding his aggressive side in check, he allowed her to play. Syn sipped at his lips, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his in a sultry, irresistible dance. Sweet, tempered passion. He took everything she gave, savored the tender femininity and silken desire. And all for him.
He held onto her hips, a gentle grasp, anchoring him to her as she played. Slender fingers skated over his sho
ulders, traced the line of his spine and one of his scars, slid between their bodies to tangle in the sparse mat of hair on his chest. Light butterfly touches that somehow reached deep inside, rocking him down to his soul.
She rubbed all those glorious curves against him, dragged distended nipples over his chest, rocked her mound against his painful erection. Ice didn’t know what he’d done to have such an amazing woman in his life, but he would never take a single moment with Syn for granted. She was his reason for waking up each day, the force that drove him to fight in an attempt to make the world a better place. For her.
His career hadn’t started out that way. Over the years that had changed. She had changed him, made him want to be a better man. All for her.
He’d lay down his life for hers without a moment of hesitation or regret. So surely, he had the strength to give her this, allow her to take control and make love to him. He struggled to remain still.
“Ice.”
Her hand wrapped around his shaft, and she lifted her hips, fighting for the right position that would permit taking him into her body. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on her and lifted Syn over his cock. She shifted her hold, notching his crown at her entrance, green gaze meeting his.
“Take what you want, what you need, babe. I’m all yours.”
“Only…need…you!” She panted the words and started a protracted, torturous slide, engulfing him in the hot, tight clasp of her pussy a fraction of an inch at a time.
Christ, she was killing him. But he’d go with a huge smile on his face.
She shifted, and her walls spasmed, the gentle ripple of her flesh around his drawing a groan from his throat. He sought a distraction, mentally running through the various components of his rifle, the detailed process of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling the weapon that was an extension of him.
Another inch, she’d taken only one more inch. He dropped onto his back and crossed his arms over his eyes to block out the provocative vision. It didn’t work, the image of Syn’s absorption in pleasure, white teeth biting her lower lip, the slight sway of her full breasts as she ruthlessly controlled her descent was still there, burned into his brain.
He tried running through the team’s top ten wanted list, vital statistics and faces failing to take his mind from the brutally slow impalement. When he got back on base, he should talk to the commander about adopting her tactics for interrogations. After only a few minutes of such excruciating torture, the hardest revolutionary would surrender all intel, along with his mother, first born, and anything else required to end the misery and bring on blessed release.
A SEAL is in complete control at all times.
Yes, he was a SEAL. He would stay in control, remaining passive while she drove him out of his ever-loving mind.
Three-fourths in, almost there. Breathe, he demanded of his lungs.
Just as he drew in a shaky breath, Syn suddenly dropped her hips, sheathing the rest of his aching cock in one fell swoop and sucking the air right back out of his burning lungs. His hips shot upward of their own volition, lifting her with him. She squealed and made a grab at him to maintain her seat.
Pushed past the limits of endurance, Ice flipped them over and started pounding into her. He wanted to make slow, tender love to Syn, but there was nothing for it now.
“Oh, yes,” she panted. “So good. Harder. Faster. More.”
Thank fuck she was right with him because his discipline had fled under the weight of blinding hunger. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass as she moved with him at a fever pitch, matching him thrust for thrust.
He wanted further inside, to become a part of her, pound his way straight into her soul the way she’d imprinted herself on his.
A few more months. They didn’t have to wait long, although it seemed a lifetime before they could be together every day. Fuck themselves senseless, sleep tangled up together, and wake up to do it all again. Not even a single night apart, much less the endless months often required for a mission.
“You. Are. Mine.” He punctuated each word by slamming into her. “Won’t ever let you go. Mine.”
“Yes!”
Syn screamed the word as her entire body went taut, her pussy clamping down on his cock for endless seconds until she came apart around him. He didn’t know if her yes was an agreement to his claim or an exclamation of delight for the orgasm that seized her. Didn’t care. She said yes and in his book, that made Syn his.
Her pussy flexed and contracted, sucking at his cock. Ice felt the flare of lightning gather at his lower spine, building to a phenomenal level before shooting through his balls, along his shaft and into her. Giving himself over to the indescribable pleasure, he melted into Syn. He went limp, rolled to the side and tucked her in against him as sated sleep swept him away.
Chapter Five
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Syn groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Ice jumped to his feet. Locating that infernal damn pager she should have thrown overboard, he started cursing and pulling on his clothes.
She blinked against the first rays of early morning light, stretching muscles that were wonderfully sore from a long night of lovemaking.
“Jagger,” Ice barked into his SAT phone. “Grab my gear. I’ll meet you at NAS.”
Naval Air Station, Key West. Well, crap. There went her visions of spending a lazy morning making love and talking. The team was going wheels up.
“Spent the night on the cigarette boat. Coming in by water. Have a ride waiting.” He grumbled something low and menacing she didn’t catch. “Well, tell Zeus that I’ll fucking make it in time.”
He’d already pulled and stowed the anchor. Lord, this was happening too fast. They hadn’t talked yet.
Ice sent her a hard glare that required no words. The caveman wanted her dressed so no one else got a glimpse of the goods. As if her bikini covered much of anything. Whatever, she took her sweet time putting it on and got comfortable on the padded seat for what would be a high-speed ride. Team members had a limited amount of time to report in when called to duty. Ice had to race the clock or face an ass reaming from the commander.
A sense of déjà vu came over her as Ice cranked the engines and sped out of the cove. This was too much like the last time they’d been together, racing to get him to a helo with no chance to talk. There had been several times last night she’d considered telling him they were done, but the moment had never seemed right. Now, with the motors roaring and wind whipping around them, talking was impossible.
If she didn’t tell him before he took off, she’d be stuck in the same miserable situation for weeks or even months, which was unacceptable. She had to make a clean break of it so she could go after the life she wanted.
God, how she wished that life could have been with him.
She thought back on the night, making love under the stars with the boat gently rocking beneath them. Riding Ice past the edge of his restraint, then being covered by his huge body as he took command. Waking up as he drove into her from behind, her back spooned to his chest. Balancing on her knees while he fucked her, one hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, sending an erotic bite of pain through her scalp that made her even hotter. Trying to focus her attention on sucking his cock while he ate at her pussy, nipping with his teeth then soothing the sting with enthusiastic sweeps of his tongue.
Such an insatiable, inexhaustible, and creative lover.
There were brief instances when she would catch an odd gleam of emotion in his eyes. Quick flashes in time when she would have sworn he felt more for her than simple lust. Then he’d blink and his eyes would clear, leaving her uncertain if she’d seen anything at all.
She chalked it up to wishful thinking on her part. She wanted to be more to Ice than a convenient way to blow off steam during downtimes. Conceivably, he could have women all over the world he called upon during breaks, but that ship didn’t float for her. She knew of Navy men who had
a woman in every port. Not Master Chief Westervelt. He had too much integrity and preferred anonymity. He wouldn’t tolerate the lifestyle of a player.
He pulled up to the dock where a seaman awaited their arrival, tying off the lines while Ice shut down the engine. As he handed over the keys, Ice growled at the poor grunt, intimidating the hell of out of him. “No joyrides. Take it straight back to the house after you fill up the tank.”
“You got it, Master Chief.” The young man—barely out of his teen years—gave the appropriate response with a disappointed look in his eyes.
Ice lifted her off the boat, and she walked over to the seamen, placing her hand on his arm and leaning in to whisper, “Straight to the house doesn’t mean you can’t take her there at full throttle.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink.
“Ma’am.” He nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes sparkling with the idea of putting the fine vessel through her paces. His new happiness died just as quick as it appeared, and he shrunk back a little.
She turned to find Ice scowling at the poor kid. “Stand down, Westervelt.” Her implacable tone had his icy gaze locking in on her, as intended. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a rush?”
The seaman tossed a set of keys that Ice snatched out of the air without glancing away from her. “Let’s go, babe.” He put emphasis on the endearment. Yeah, as if anyone could miss the big Neanderthal’s claim on her. It went soul deep.
She was so screwed and not in a good, fun way either. Each sudden departure was harder than the last. With each absence, the aching hole in her chest expanded, along with her worry. He’d been on dozens of missions without taking major injuries like Jonesin’ had. How long could his luck possibly hold. Sooner or later, some bad guy would succeed in killing him.
Her butt barely settled on the seat before he threw the Jeep in gear and raced toward the runway. Syn closed the door on her negative thoughts. Ice was too tough to go down. Period. End of story.
The Jeep came to an abrupt stop alongside the runway with a sharp squealing of tires. The pilot had rotored up the big grey Apache already. Zeus, Coyote, Dagger, Ghost, Trip, and Jagger waited near the open cabin door, turning in unison as Ice jumped out of the vehicle and held up a finger to indicate that he needed a minute.
Melting Ice (SEALs On Fire) Page 4