Hot SEAL, Dirty Martini

by Cat Johnson

  At other times they were so exhausted, falling asleep was never an issue. But here and now, he didn’t know what to tell her to get her to stop texting him—tempting him.

  Tasha. PLEASE. Just try.

  He was begging now. Begging her not to have sex with him. In all caps, no less. What had this woman done to him?

  Turned his damn life upside down, that’s what.

  He remembered the signal jammer in his truck and a bad idea that sounded way too good hit him.

  It would take just minutes to set it up and have all the privacy he wanted right there in his bedroom. Or in hers.

  Dammit, that was tempting. He didn’t want to be tempted.

  Freaking Carson and his bright ideas and Asher and his new guy—it was obviously their fault he was even considering doing this.

  Before she even replied to his last text, he typed in another one and hit send before he regained his sanity.

  Give me a few minutes.

  She replied fast.

  K

  It was just a single letter, but it changed everything. Like it or not, they were going to do it again. Have sex. Probably more than once, if his lack of self control tonight was any indication.

  Shit.

  He cussed himself and Asher one more time as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and slid them into his flip-flops. Grabbing his keys on the way out, he navigated to his truck by moonlight.

  With the device hidden in his gym bag, Clay tried to look casual as he smuggled it inside in the middle of the night. He made a beeline for the bathroom—the one room where he could set up the device without being seen on camera.

  As predicted, the jammer took no time to set up. Then he was standing in the bathroom staring at the No Signal alert on the cell phone in his hand, proving he’d effectively blocked all signals, their cell phones as well as the camera feed.

  Good thing it was the middle of the night. With the houses set so closely together in this neighborhood, the neighbors bordering his property were within the device’s fifty-meter range and would suffer its effects too.

  He’d knocked out everything in the area just so he could have sex with Tasha. He obviously had a problem, but apparently that knowledge wasn’t going to deter him.

  All he had to do was walk to her door and knock. Then, no doubt, they’d fall into bed together.

  Was that what he wanted? Fuck, yeah.

  Was it smart? Hell, no.

  Did he care? At the moment, no. He didn’t care all that much.

  He had a raging hard-on, the residual effects of a few martinis in his system and the intimate knowledge from Randy’s sacrifice that life was too damn short to not live it to the fullest while he had the chance.

  Drawing in a breath, Clay reached for the doorknob but then turned back, opening the medicine cabinet instead. He grabbed one of the sponsor’s condoms—then thought better of it and grabbed a second.

  Hell, if he was going to make a bad decision, he might as well really enjoy it.

  Steeling himself against the common sense that still nagged him, he was out the door, across the hall and knocking on Tasha’s door before he could change his mind.

  She pulled it open seconds later.

  “Hi.” Her eyes locked on his when she saw him standing in her doorway.

  “Hi.” He took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back.

  She glanced up at the camera mounted in the corner of her room and then back to him, the question clear in her expression. He could see her trying to reason out why he was there in her room while the cameras were running.

  “Is this about the paint color?” she asked.

  “No, it’s not about the freaking color.” He scowled. Why would he choose midnight to come to her bedroom to argue about the damn paint? “And the camera is off, so you can stop looking at it.”

  “What do you mean the camera is off?” she asked.

  He lifted one shoulder. “I took care of them all.”

  “How did you take care of them?” she parroted his words once again.

  Clay lifted a brow. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say, or are we going to take advantage of a night without Big Brother watching us?”

  She glanced at the camera one more time, and then back at him, as if not believing it.

  If she needed proof, he had proof. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and turned it to face her, showing her the display.

  Eyes wide, she glanced down at her own cell and then back up at him. “What did you do?”

  “Not much.” He shrugged. “Just jammed the signal.”

  With a piece of borrowed high-tech military equipment that probably cost the Navy an arm and a leg.

  “So the cameras . . .”

  “Will show as off-line,” he completed her sentence. “Maria will never know. The production company will think the signal was out for a couple of hours. By morning, when anyone checks, the cameras will be back up and running.”

  She laughed. “Oh my God. You’re like some sort of evil genius.”

  “That might be the first compliment you’ve ever given me.” He folded his arms and leaned back against the doorframe, enjoying her praise since it might never happen again.

  “But how did you do it?” she continued to question when there were so many better things they could be doing in their limited window of privacy.

  “I know how to do these kind of things.” He shrugged.

  “Is that what you did during your time in the Navy?” she asked. “Were you some sort of communications expert?”

  “I did a lot of things.” He sidestepped one more question, but this back-and-forth was getting old. Time to move on. “So, what are we going to do with our new found freedom?”

  Her gaze zeroed in on the hand where he still palmed the two condoms. “What’s that?”

  “Um . . . nothing?” For the first time tonight, Clay started to doubt his assumption about her intentions when she’d decided to text him from her bed in the middle of the night.

  He’d expected to have a hand full of hot willing woman the moment he’d stepped into her room. Instead, this long-ass conversation had thrown him. Made him doubt himself. Her. Everything.

  He must have misread Tasha. She could have texted him because she really couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk about paint or something else equally ridiculous.

  Shit. Had he somehow entered the friend zone by sharing just a small part of his life with her at the bar tonight? And here he stood, like a hopeful teenager with a fist full of condoms, about to get shot down.

  She grabbed his hand in both of hers and pried his fingers open to reveal the protection he had thought was a good idea to bring with him.

  A smile bowed her lips when she saw what he held, before she fisted his tank top and pulled him down toward her.

  All righty, then. So he hadn’t misinterpreted her signals. Good to know. And about damn time too. He’d had enough of this dancing around what she wanted.

  Now that he knew for sure, he wasn’t going to waste any more time. He hauled her against him and crashed his mouth over hers.

  It seemed he couldn’t take things slow or gentle when it came to this woman. It didn’t matter if they were fighting or fucking, with her everything was hard and fast. He went all out and all in. And right now, he needed to be in her.

  As she backed toward the bed and pulled him with her, he figured she was on board with that plan.

  He ran his hands over the curve of her hips and around to the globes of her incredible ass.

  The fabric covering her was smooth beneath his fingers. He broke the kiss and glanced down to get a look at the silky shorts covering her lower body.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “So you do have other clothes to sleep in.”

  And these were even sexier than the last. Good thing he’d given up on resisting the temptation, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, when the mistake he was about to make was illuminated by the glaring li
ght of day, he’d reevaluate the situation.

  “Mmm, hmm. I snuck home and grabbed some things after I left McP’s.”

  He feigned shock. “What? Without a camera crew with you? That’s against Maria’s rules.”

  “Yup. I told them I was going to bed early so I’d be out of the painting crew’s way, and then I snuck out. I learned that little trick from you.”

  He was somehow managing to carry on a conversation while his cock strained the fabric of his shorts. “Glad I could teach you something. Get ready for another lesson.”

  Clay lifted her and tossed her onto the mattress. The bed frame creaked from his weight as he followed her down.

  Her satiny little shorts were nice, but it was time they came off. He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic waist and yanked them down the legs he’d enjoy wrapped around him shortly—around his head first and then his waist later.

  Perfect plan.

  Intending to take advantage of the fact they were in a bed this time and not up against the bathroom sink, Clay slid down, spreading her thighs as he went. She watched him from beneath hooded lids as her breath came fast and shallow.

  This woman fought hard, about everything to do with this house and the show, but he knew that when it involved sex, she also came hard. That was enough to make him do now what he knew he’d regret tomorrow morning.

  Even as he leaned low and pressed a kiss to the inside of her warm thigh, his brain shouted that this was a bad idea.

  All of it.

  Indulging in a woman who should have been a one-night stand and instead had become a two-week one, so far.

  Getting physically involved with someone he had nothing in common with, no future with, and who was also the person he worked with daily and should be maintaining a professional relationship with. Someone he fought with more than any other person in his life. Who made him so angry he could feel his blood pressure rise, yet who made him abandon all self-control and common sense when it came to her body.

  Mixing business with pleasure was bad enough, but the most dangerous of all was that they were co-workers in one of the most public venues he could imagine.

  He shouldn’t be touching her at all, never mind have his head buried between her legs while he envisioned being ball’s deep inside her in a few minutes, all while the house was full of cameras and the crew would be back in just hours.

  Bad decisions, all of them—but damn it was good feeling her start to shake beneath him as he worked her with hand and mouth. He not only felt, but also heard the results as her orgasm broke and she came hard and loud.

  Thank God for the signal jammer because every camera in the house definitely would have picked up the uncontrolled sound of her pleasure had they been hiding in the bathroom for this.

  Screw the cameras. Screw the show. Bad decision or not, he’d started this thing and he intended to enjoy it and her.

  With a groan of anticipation in his throat and the taste of her still on his tongue, Clay pulled himself up her body.

  He rolled to the side long enough to kick his own shorts off his legs and onto the floor, then he felt for the condom packets he’d dropped on the bed sometime during this encounter.

  His hand struck on one and he sat up on his knees between her spread legs as he sheathed himself.

  She was still breathing heavily as he lifted her legs, lined himself up and plunged inside as she gasped.

  His eyes slammed shut when her tight heat surrounded him. He cursed out loud as he feared the sensation would unman him and have him coming faster than a teenager.

  Shaking with the effort, he tried to control the speed of his thrusts all while concentrating on not coming too soon.

  It was hard, particularly with Tasha making all of those tiny—and some not so tiny—sounds that cut straight through him.

  Her nails digging into his ass didn’t help his concentration either. And then when she started to come, and bit his chest as she did, he was a goner.

  He shot into her like a fifty caliber machine gun. Fast, powerful and he didn’t stop until he was empty.

  Trying and failing to support himself after the climax that drained him, he collapsed on top of her.

  Not even a minute had passed, during which he spent his time trying to regain his breath while attempting to not completely crush her beneath him, when Tasha said, “So you never told me. Do you like the color of your room?”

  Tasha’s question was muffled, muted by his body on top of hers.

  Clay let out a breathless laugh. “You want to talk about paint color now?” He was still semi-hard inside this woman and she was worrying about the renovation?

  “Yes. I’ve been dying to know what you think. I’ve been waiting to ask you all night.”

  Clay shook his head, hating that she’d been thinking about paint while he’d been having what he considered some pretty great sex with her.

  He hated what he was about to say even more than that, but he saw no way around it. “It’s okay. I guess I can live with the color. But what the fuck are those pink things in my yard?”

  “The flamingos were a joke, but don’t try to change the subject. I knew you’d like the blue once you saw it in the room.” She looked too pleased with herself as she continued, “Wait until you see the pictures I printed out. And I also put together a Pinterest board of ideas. I can show you in the morning.”

  “Mmm, hmm.”

  “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  No, he wasn’t listening. He was too occupied with how freaking amazing it felt to still be inside her.

  “The question isn’t why aren’t I listening. It should be why are you talking?” He rocked his hips, thrusting with small slow movements as he grew hard again while inside her body.

  She wasn’t unaffected. Her lids drifted shut. With her mouth closed, she sucked in a ragged breath through her nose.

  Much better.

  He hooked a hand beneath the crook of her knee and lifted her leg, changing the angle of his stroke and causing her to gasp as he hit her G-spot.

  The angle was doing some nice things for him too. “Damn, it’s nice to do this in a bed.”

  “You’re right. The bathroom last time . . . and I guess we did it on the sofa at my place that first night.”

  Uh, oh. Crap. He’d been lucky that so far the subject of that first night hadn’t come up. And now he’d gone and inadvertently raised it himself and at the worst possible time.

  But he couldn’t lie to her now. Not while they were in the middle of doing what they were doing.

  Pausing on the down stroke, Clay blew out a breath and said, “About that first time. We, uh, never actually did anything that night.”

  “What?” If the palms she slapped against his chest hadn’t told him she was unhappy with that revelation, the volume of her single word would have.

  “What are you mad at me for? You’re the one who passed out. Would you rather I have fucked you after you were out cold? I know you don’t think much of me most days, but having sex with unconscious women is not an option for me.”

  “I passed out?” She frowned.

  “Yes. Passed out. Fell asleep. I don’t know which but one minute my hand was up your skirt and you sounded like you liked what I was doing, and the next you’re limp and totally out of it.”

  “So what did you do?” she asked.

  “I left.”

  The frown furrowing her brow deepened. “But wait. Then why when I saw you the next day at McP’s you let me believe we’d had sex?” The anger was back in her voice mixed with a good bit of shock.

  “Because you were siding with those house stealers and I was mad at you.”

  “Oh my God.” Her eyes widened as she delivered another stinging slap to his bare chest. “You’re horrible for letting me think—”

  Clay crushed her mouth beneath his to shut her up.

  He’d already been through the humiliation of having this woman fa
ll asleep on him while he was pleasuring her. He wasn’t about to sit quietly while she yelled at him now. Besides, they were in the middle of something he’d like to finish.

  She continued to try to talk through the kiss. He tilted his head and added his tongue, filling her mouth, then slid one hand between them and found her clit, adding the pressure of his finger while he pressed his length deep inside her.

  Finally, she stopped talking.

  It seemed he’d found a pretty good solution to keep her from arguing with him. Something they could both enjoy.

  The only sound from Tasha now was a small moan of pleasure from deep in her throat. It produced an image of what else he would enjoy deep in her throat as he silenced her bitching with his cock in her mouth.

  Oh yeah. There it was. That tingle he got from knowing that even with as much as she disliked him sometimes and wanted to fight, she still couldn’t resist him.

  It was like a testosterone and adrenaline cocktail shot straight into his bloodstream.

  He thrust harder as he tried to ignore the knowledge that there was no doubt in his mind now that—bad idea or not—they were definitely going to do this again.

  Tonight. Tomorrow. The night after that . . .

  TWENTY-SIX

  The problem with really good sex was that once Tasha had it, she wanted to have it again. And even though she could still feel the twinge of soreness from last night, she was more than ready for more tonight.

  Frustrated, she glanced at the time on her cell phone. Nearly eleven. That she was still awake at that hour wasn’t as frustrating as the fact she had full signal bars on her cell.

  That meant one thing—Clay hadn’t performed whatever magic he did that turned off the cameras, which meant she wasn’t going to get what she wanted tonight.

  To hell with that. She was a modern woman. She could ask for what she wanted.

  Tasha typed in a text.

  My cell phone is still working.

  She sent it, hoping he’d pick up on her clever hint.

  His reply came back fast.

  I can see that.

  Hmm. That wasn’t what she wanted to see. Clay was going to need another nudge apparently. He wasn’t making this easy.