Call to Redemption

by Tawny Weber

  For a man whose entire life was built on overcoming challenges, was there any sexier allure than a woman whose expression promised that she was up to meeting any challenge he tossed her way with absolute assurance and confidence?

  As he drew her toward the railing, where they could better hear the music, the distraction he’d been searching for took on a whole new light.

  “Here?” Looking self-conscious for the first time, she glanced at the other diners. There were only four tables on the balcony, but they’d be the only ones dancing.

  “Here. Under the moonlight, away from the crowd. It’s all about the fantasy,” he assured her.

  Then, because it was, he drew her into his arms. Nic had never narrowed his interest to only one type of woman, but he realized as he pulled Darby close, that he’d never gone for petite. If he’d ever thought about it, he’d have figured the foot difference in their height would make dancing awkward.

  He’d have been wrong.

  As his hands skimmed down her back, sliding over the gentle curves of her butt, he realized just how wrong.

  She was the perfect fit.

  * * *

  OH, YEAH.

  Darby’s heart stuttered a little, almost tripping over itself in the shock of feeling Dominic’s body wrapped around hers.

  Music drifted up from the beach, the band’s rendition of “Iris” wrapping around them like a soft breeze off the moonlit ocean. A lesser woman might have called it romantic, especially with the heady scent of plumeria and candle wax filling the air.

  But Darby Raye was a hard-ass. Everyone said so.

  So she knew this wasn’t about romance.

  Nope, like Dominic had said, it was all about the fantasy.

  And the fantasy was sex.

  Sex, and, she could admit only to herself, a chance to simply let go. To enjoy herself without worrying about stepping on a man’s ego. To make her own demands.

  It was a heady feeling, she thought as she let her body ease against Dominic’s and, eyes closed, rested her head on his shoulder and let herself enjoy it.

  From the breadth of his rock-hard chest to the strength of his thighs to the gentle power of the arms wrapped around her waist, the man felt amazing.

  Mmm, it’d feel so good to snuggle in, to tuck her head beneath that firm jaw and sigh her pleasure.

  Even as the thought crossed her mind, Darby slapped it right back out again. Snuggling was romantic, like cuddling. It was soft and trusting and sweet.

  She was so not the snuggling type.

  But as her dress pressed between her thighs, the fabric rustling as it brushed his legs with every easy step, she had to admit that she just might be the sex-at-first-sight type.

  She’d never met a guy before who’d made her want to strip him naked and lick caramel sauce off his body. Maybe it was time to give it a try.

  “You’ve got some sweet moves.”

  Lifting her head to stare into his dark eyes, she debated pointing out that Dominic was the one with the moves. She was only following along.

  Before she could, he lowered his head, just those few inches, and rubbed his lips over hers.

  Soft, a mere whisper.

  Her knees went to water, her body flashing hot and needy in response to the instant inferno that touch set off.

  God, was all she could think.

  Then, still swaying to the beat of the music, he did it again.

  Like grabbing for a lifeline, Darby’s hands linked behind his neck, her fingers delving into the short, thick strands of silky hair.

  She tried to swallow her soft breathy moan of pleasure. No point making him think that all it took was a simple kiss and she was his for the taking. Why fool the man into thinking anything about her was that easy?

  But, oh, baby. Darby melted. She actually felt herself melting into a puddle of lust.

  She knew she should take a step back and think this through. Consider the consequences, weigh her options and devise the most logical scenario to work this situation in her favor.

  Then his tongue swept over her lower lip, and she was done. She simply couldn’t think. And she didn’t care that her brain wouldn’t function. Not while she was reveling in her lusty puddle.

  When he lifted his head to stare into her eyes with that midnight gaze of his, she was ready. The agreement was poised on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for the question.

  “Would you like to take a walk?”

  Not her hotel room? Darby’s tongue almost tripped over itself adjusting.

  “A what?”

  “Walk.” He tilted his head toward the spiral staircase. “On the beach.”

  Was his bed on the beach? Because hers was only two floors up. Before she could point that out, he shifted away. Stepped back. Gave her space, she realized. Space and plenty of time to decide what she wanted. Something Paul had never liked, probably because what she wanted rarely coincided with what he wanted.

  But Dominic seemed perfectly content to let her decide.

  So she considered the options.

  Upstairs, where they could immediately quench the heat stirring and blowing through her. Or a walk on the beach, letting the heat build, hotter and stronger.

  She wanted him. Wanted to see if the feelings he stirred were just a tease, a fluke, or the simple result of celibacy.

  But he wanted to walk on the beach.

  Before the bitter taste of insult could overwhelm the delicious flavor of his kiss, she looked into his eyes again. And realized this wasn’t disinterest. Oh, he was plenty interested and not hesitant to let it show.

  He was simply being a gentleman.

  God, that was sweet.

  But she wanted sex, not sweetness. And the sooner they found privacy, aka her hotel room, the sooner she figured she’d get him naked.

  Then he smiled. A flash of white against dusky cheeks.

  And her heart yearned.

  “I’d like to walk,” she heard herself say.

  “Perfect.” Still holding her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles before leading her toward the spiral staircase. She saw him signal to the waiter, settling the dinner bill with a simple head tilt and nod.

  Why that should be almost as sexy as kissing her hand, she couldn’t say. But it got her even hotter.

  They silently walked hand in hand down the shell-encrusted path bisecting the sand. To the left was a row of bungalows, each one set farther away from each other than the last. To the right was the ocean, the waves dancing in time to the beat of the band’s cover of Poison’s “Something to Believe In.”

  He bypassed the as-advertised crowded lanai filled with celebratory sounds and gyrating dancers. The path he chose was well lit, with tall tiki torches spearing from the ground every ten feet and strings of twinkling fairy lights strung between. The juxtaposition of the primitive and the whimsical only added to the fantasy feel.

  About halfway down the beach, far enough that the resort crowd was shadowed specks, he stopped.

  Stepping off the path, he pulled her into his arms. His gaze held hers as he lowered his mouth, the kiss a soft whisper that filled her with a heady need even as it asked, and waited.

  Still the gentleman, she realized.

  She bit his lower lip, sucking the flesh between her teeth to lave it with her tongue.

  He gave a low growl of approval and, obviously reading her answer correctly, took the kiss from sweet to incendiary. Tongues thrusted, teeth scraped, lips melded in a hot dance of intense pleasure.

  She skimmed her hand under the hem of his T-shirt, her palm smoothing the hot planes of his abs. The rock-hard muscles were a vivid contrast against the soft fabric of his shirt as her fingers climbed higher, smoothing and circling their w
ay up to his chest.

  God.

  There had to be another exclamation that would do justice to his awesomeness. But she couldn’t think of it. Bottom line, the man had the body of a god.

  “I have to say, this fantasy is even better than I’d expected.”

  “Darling, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Dominic promised.

  That cocky assurance was almost as much a turn-on as the feel of his bare chest beneath her fingers. She shivered a little as desire grabbed hard and strong.

  He untied the straps of her dress, stepping back so the fabric fell, unimpeded, to her waist. Darby stood in the moonlight, shoulders, back and chest bare, as turned on by the look on his face as she’d ever been by anything else in her life.

  His eyes caressed, his expression admired.

  Then he touched.

  And she damn near came.

  His fingers swirled, skimmed, teased her nipples into new heights of aching pleasure. She dug her hands into his shoulders, wanting more, needing everything.

  “Privacy?”

  “That’s my bungalow,” he murmured. His mouth slid soft kisses over the aching curve of her breast.

  “Inside?”

  “I will be.”

  Darby’s laugh was a breathless puff of air.

  The logical, analytical, cautious voice in her head that was usually in charge of her every choice screamed at her to stop. This was insane. She didn’t even know the guy’s last name, had met him less than four hours ago, and was getting naked on the beach when there were perfectly private walls to get naked behind only a few feet away.

  She needed to stop.

  She gasped when his fingers skimmed inside the elastic band of her thong, sliding over the throbbing wet heat between her legs.

  Or at least slow down. Yeah, slow down long enough to eliminate one of those issues from the list. The last name. Or knowing each other longer. Or even walls.

  Walls were good.

  “Here?”

  “Now.”

  Her breath coming in pants, Darby knew very little oxygen was making it to her brain. But there was enough—just barely enough—to spur her to ask... “Sand?”

  A little rough stuff could be fun. Exciting, even. But she didn’t think sex and exfoliation should go hand in hand. Or, in this case, thigh-to-thigh.

  “Leave it to me,” he promised, the words hot and moist against her flesh as he slid nibbling kisses over her throat.

  He lowered them both to the sand, shifting so she was sitting on his lap. His hands moved faster now, racing over her bare flesh, teasing and tempting. As she tugged off his T-shirt, he sent her dress flying.

  Clothes disappeared, bodies heated. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and wet as he lifted her high over his body. His fingers delved deep into her wet heat, stirring her hotter and higher as she poised above him.

  He took care of protection in a swift, easy move before pulling her back into his arms, then positioned her over the impressive power of his erection.

  “Give yourself to me,” he demanded, his husky words melding with the sound of the surf.

  Watching his face, reveling in the appreciative pleasure she saw there, Darby slowly took him inside her. Her breath shuddered out, body quaking with the first orgasm as he filled her.

  He let her set the pace, watched her like a hawk to gauge her pleasure, taking his own as he intensified the moves that she liked best.

  Need tightened, coiling hot and hard.

  He reached between their bodies, his fingers sliding over her wet, throbbing folds.

  She exploded.

  The roar of pleasure surged through her, ripping her to pieces. The feel of his climax, the grip of his hands on her hips, only sent her flying higher.

  Holy freaking hell, was all she could think as she tried to reconnect her mind and her body.

  Darby didn’t know how long it was before she melted into his arms, the sound of the ocean’s waves playing a soft backdrop to the feel of her body slowly floating down from passion’s crest.

  Damn, she thought as she tucked her head under Dominic’s chin.

  This fantasy thing was amazing.

  * * *

  NIC WAS GOOD. Damn good.

  He’d never had to think much about it. He considered that a simple reality. And given the amount of verification he’d had over the years, he’d never had reason to doubt that reality.

  But with Darby, damn...

  He’d met his match.

  He’d figured she was hot. He wouldn’t have introduced himself to her otherwise. He’d felt a connection—he wouldn’t have hit on her otherwise. He’d figured they’d rock the sex. But he hadn’t expected her to make him pant with need, then blow his mind. For a man known for his skill in seeing probable outcomes, it was one hell of a nice surprise.

  They’d hit it on the beach, then they’d followed up with round two on his bungalow floor. He was pretty sure she’d have slipped out the minute they found their clothes again, so he’d snagged her underwear and carried her into his bed.

  He called that strategy.

  He called their third round of hot sex incredible.

  Now, his body hummed with bone-deep satisfaction, the kind that could only be had from mind-blowingly intense sex. He counted the beats of his heart, waiting for it to return to normal. But even as Darby’s breath warmed his chest, his body stirred for another round. She burrowed closer as the night air drifted over their entangled bodies, her thigh sliding over his already hardening erection. Desire shot through him like an electric current, energizing even as it demanded satisfaction.

  Figuring she needed sleep—or at least a little time to recover from that last sweaty bout of passion, Nic carefully slid out of her arms. Snagging the comforter from where they’d kicked it to the floor, he carefully draped it over her, tucking the ends to keep in the warmth.

  For a second, a long delicious second, he watched her sleep. She didn’t look any less wicked with her eyes closed, and now that he knew what her body was capable of? He’d never think of her as cute again. Nope, this woman was all heat. All power. All temptation.

  Nic turned away before he could give in to the lure.

  He crossed the bedroom, his steps silent on the sisal rug. Pushing aside one section of the wall’s sheer panels, he pulled open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. The wooden slats ran the length of the bungalow, a low railing open at one end for easy access to the beach.

  Nic ignored the deeply cushioned chairs, instead hooking one knee over the rail as he breathed in the damp, salty air.

  He stared out over the black waves, letting the power of the ocean fill him, wishing it would soothe the unrelenting pain lodged in his heart.

  But now that the sex was done, the memories that haunted him every night flooded back in.

  His team was under attack.

  He was one man down.

  And he couldn’t even see the enemy. He’d tried. He’d put his best man—himself—on it, but while he’d identified the frontline attack, whoever was masterminding the operation was still off his radar.

  Team Poseidon was good. Damn good.

  That’s why they’d formed. Because they were the best.

  Although Nic had known a few of them since his petty officer days, the twelve men had become a team in BUD/S training. It’d been over a decade, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he was right back there in the Grinder. They’d bonded over the challenge, over the pain, over the intense demands on their bodies. One minute they were competing for the best time in the thousand-meter swim, the next they were working together to cart a 150-pound log down the beach. The records they’d set still hadn’t been surpassed. They’d worked together as a team, each one pushing the other to be
the best, then better than the best.

  So impressed with the way the twelve of them had come together, had teamed up and had balanced each other in those six months, Admiral Cree had wondered just how good they could be.

  Under his auspices, Poseidon was born. In return for their promise to pursue his mandate, he’d guaranteed they’d deploy and serve together.

  In the decade since Team Poseidon was created, they had become the best. Their reputation was on par with SEAL Team Six. Except unlike SEAL Team Six, whose members switched out regularly, Team Poseidon was exclusive. Each man on the team trained in multiple ratings, each man served under a variety of officers and each one was sent on the most dangerous missions. Together and apart, they upheld the reputation of Poseidon, the god of the sea.

  Nic dropped his head back against the wall of his bungalow and stared at the sky. The stars had guided sailors for centuries. He wished like hell they’d guide him now.

  Because his team was under attack. His team, and his reputation.

  Maybe it hadn’t started as an attack against Poseidon. They’d simply become a convenient scapegoat after Operation: Hammerhead, when an attempt to sell the formula for a stolen chemical formula had gone bad. In the process of clearing his men of the fallout from that foiled operation, Nic had discovered the crime went a lot deeper. And had been going on for a lot longer than just one mission.

  If there was ever an enemy Poseidon had to beat, it was this one. But they couldn’t win until they determined the exact identity of that enemy, established his position and assessed his power.

  Nic just had to figure out how. But so far, he was failing.

  He sighed as he watched a star streak across the sky, its light a blur against the inky black backdrop.

  Maybe it was time to revisit the reason why they’d formed the team, what drove them. To do that, he had to start with himself.

  The last couple of years, he’d spent more time riding a desk than seeing any action. Sure, he still showed for daily PT, he still trained with the SEAL team. He participated in all of the training maneuvers. But he spent more time administrating than fighting.