The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  “Come with me, baby,” I say. She bites my bottom lip and nods. The sharp pain of her bite shoots me over the edge. She grabs my ass to hold me in, as if I ever wanted to leave, and I drop my hips a few more times and explode inside her.

  Her head tips back and she moans, “Mav.” I feel her flexing around me over and over as I pump inside her, heavy and strong. I roll so she’s on top. Windsor slumps over on my chest, her head resting on my heart. No words are needed, but we still tell each other how much we love each other. She tells me how at peace she feels now that we’re married. More specifically now that our new family is officially formed.

  Our past and our future merged into one huge thing that seems tangible, but it isn’t really. It’s something inside of us, some unspoken knowledge of healing and love and forgiveness. Life is about taking what you want and giving even more. Not because you think you should. Because you want to. Love isn’t easy because life isn’t easy. You have to fight for the things you want. Sometimes you win and sometimes you wish you’d lost instead. Other times it feels like you’re already dead and gone. That’s always when the best part comes, like some avenging angel who evens all the scores no matter who you are or what you do. I won’t lie, it does help to be a little bit of a badass.

  Charles Bukowski once said, “find what you love and let it kill you.” I say, “Rise from the ashes and take it back.”

  EPILOGUE

  Windsor

  Four Years later

  “DADDY’S HANGING UPSIDE down out of the tree again. ‘Cept this time he has that tool. It makes a lot of noise,” Luke says, bounding through the front door.

  “The chainsaw,” both Morganna and I say at the same exact time. I roll my eyes and look at her. She laughs.

  “Go tell daddy, Mommy is going to go all white-trash-barefoot-and-pregnant on him if he doesn’t get in here and help me get the food ready for the party,” I demand. I know he’ll probably only relay half of that message. It’ll be pretty funny to hear what Maverick hears. Is it so wrong we like to play telephone with our three year old? Luke, who is actually another Thomas, flies out the door repeating my message to himself over and over.

  “I can’t believe you talk like that to him. He’s going to…” Morganna pauses, looking up to the roof in thought.

  I scoff. “He’s going to turn out just like his father? There’s no stopping that, Morg. I’ve embraced the fact that in a few years he’ll be swinging in trees doing whatever it is that men do outside,” I explain. “Speaking of, where’s Steve? Will he be making an appearance to the Fantastic Mr. Fox bash? Luke will be pretty upset if there aren’t enough tough guys at his party.” I air quote on the words “tough guys”, because Luke has no clue what they do. He knows they are big and have cool tattoos and everyone else thinks they’re cool, too.

  “He had some sort of huge disaster in the garage when I left. I told him to clean it up or I’d shave off his eyebrows and hide all of his money in offshore accounts if I saw a drop of grease on the floor when I got home. He said he’d show up at some point, though,” Morganna says. She’s putting Steve through the freaking ringer. Which is what anyone would expect, so I can’t feel that bad for the guy. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he asked her out on an official date a few months ago. He’s been after her for years, but Morg just wasn’t ready. I’m not sure she’s ready now. She’s trying though. And Steve? Well, he’s been trying for a long time. They will happen…eventually.

  Maverick’s shirtless, sweaty chest makes its way into my line of vision. He leans over and says, “You’re going to do what with me in a trash can? And the barefoot baby is going to join us? Don’t fucking tease me, Win baby. Give it to me straight,” he jokes, using his sexy voice that still drives me insane…with lust.

  I laugh because this game of telephone just turned into the best one yet.

  He gives me a sweaty kiss, lingering longer than he should in mixed company. “You want to come help me cut some branches? Know what I mean?”

  Morganna groans and hurls a dishtowel at his head. He catches it before it makes contact and rubs it down his chest. I watch it, jealous it gets to touch him and I don’t. Not right now, anyway.

  “She’s about to pop out your spawn and you can’t think about anything else?” she says pointing at my huge stomach. It looks like I swallowed a watermelon. I promised myself I wouldn’t have the baby today. Not on Luke’s day. It shouldn’t be his fault that his parents are obviously fertile at the same time of year.

  Maverick wipes his hands off and pulls me in for a short kiss, rubbing my stomach as he does. His eyes are big and round when he pulls away. “It’s because she has my spawn inside her that I want to be inside of her,” he tells Morganna.

  I blush. I can’t help it. This man is still so crazy about me that I’m not sure how I got so lucky. Maybe because I love him way more than he loves me? It’s a constant influx of passion and love, mixing together to coat the bad days and singe the good days. Maverick is happier now than I’ve ever seen him. The dark shadows don’t chase him here, in our home with our small little family.

  Goose trots into the kitchen. Morganna picks him up and kisses the top of his head. “I’m going to help Gretchen and Benji with the balloons. I don’t want to be standing near you when that balloon pops from the combustible heat he throws off,” Morganna says, pointing at my pregnant belly and then Maverick with a sly smile.

  “You want some heat, Morg?” Maverick calls out to her retreating back. She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “You know what they say about heat and the kitchen,” he says. I swat him on his solid, sweaty shoulder. He picks up a fox mask and secures it to his face with the elastic strap, rendering him absolutely ridiculous looking. “What? I can’t convince my own wife to go cut down branches with me—even when I look like wildlife. What am I supposed to do? Plus, no one can fluster Morganna. I’ve been trying for over a decade.”

  I can’t stand it anymore, I pull him as close as my belly allows and kiss his neck. He pretends to purr. “Foxes don’t purr, Maverick.” I look at the tattoo over his heart that now has additional coordinates: where we got married and the hospital where Luke was born. The two new, neat vertical lines reside next to the longitude and latitude where he fell in love with me. Our daughter’s place of birth will be next. I feel wistful, blissful, so in love with our life. We’ve made this together.

  “How do you know? No one knows what the fox says,” he quips. I groan at his bad joke.

  I sigh, narrowing my eyes. “Maybe I do have a few minutes to help you cut branches, if it means you’ll act like an adult. Only adults cut branches. You need a shower too.” I see his white teeth poking through the fox snout. Lifting the mask, he smashes his lips against mine and backs me up to the refrigerator. It’s still all or nothing with Mav; he’ll never change. I don’t want him to.

  Kathy enters the kitchen, takes one look at us, and leaves again saying, “I’m going to dress Luke in his costume. The cake will be delivered soon and I don’t want him to see it.” Translation: if you’re going to have sex for the second time today, you better make it quick.

  “I love you, Mav,” I breathe against him, his scent intoxicating to my pheromone-ridden body.

  “I love you, babe. You’re everything,” he replies, before kissing my nose, my cheeks, my eyelids. We hear a throat clear behind us.

  Maverick turns to look and startles a little. His parents. I grab the fox mask off his head for him. He smiles his thanks and turns back to greet his parents. I should be watching the sweet exchange between Maverick and his parents, but the moment warps into something larger. Everything comes into focus. How all of my decisions have led me to this exact moment in time when everything is seemingly perfect.

  The hurdles and bad choices all ended working in our favor. If one small thing shifted in our past we may not be right here, in our kitchen, getting ready for our son’s birthday party. I wouldn’t be pregnant with our little girl. I rub
my hand over my stomach when I feel her kick as if on cue. Maverick may not be talking to his parents. If it weren’t for Mav, my mom might not be the mom and grandma she is today. If I hadn’t had my heart broken, I wouldn’t have taken the leap with Maverick. If Stone didn’t save him, he wouldn’t have died inside and then risen wiser and stronger. Everything is connected. By time. Or by space. Be it by people merely making stupid decisions. Once in a while, right in the middle of death, love lives. Love always lives.

  Maverick interrupts my thoughts. “I have to shower. Can I have a rain check on that manual labor?” I shake my head and chuckle.

  “Anytime,” I purr.

  He cocks his head when I don’t elaborate. I hit him with one of his tricks first. “One word,” I ask. Sometimes it’s amazing how alike we think. I wonder if he’s feeling as nostalgic as I am as our well-fought-for fairytale wraps around us. Our love story isn’t ideal; in fact most people don’t have to lose everything to come together. I’m glad we did. I’m so glad we did.

  Dimples appear first and laughter is second. “What if I need more than one word to describe? I might need three,” he says. I roll my eyes. He always plays by the rules when he’s the one doing the prying. I give in to him. Because I cherish and believe every word that comes out of this man’s mouth.

  “Fine. Leniency granted. Three words,” I sigh.

  He kisses me softly once. “Happily. Ever. After.”

  NEW EXCLUSIVE BOX SET ONLY

  Epilogue

  Maverick

  10 years later

  THE WAY WINDSOR moves is downright criminal. A lithe prowl, as she circles a marble column in our new kitchen. The house is vacant but for us. Morganna and Steve have our kids at the harbor for lunch. We got the keys to the new pad twenty minutes ago and I locked the door as soon as we made it inside.

  “How much do you love it?” I growl. I know her answer can’t be quantified. It’s why we chose this house instead of what would have been my first choice. One day, we’ll build the house of my dreams. Just not quite yet. The view of the ocean and the expansive gourmet kitchen sealed our homestead fate. It’s big and ostentatious, just as I like to live. It doesn’t matter though. As long as I have my family, I’d live in a cardboard box.

  Windsor caresses the cream-colored buttress as her blue eyes lock on mine. “Do you want me to show you how much I love it? Is that what you’re asking?” One of her brows raise, tempting me.

  I grin, and watch as my smile takes effect. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips and she approaches. The fifteen-foot island is separating us. “I didn’t say that. You did. Remember that when it’s all said and done.”

  “You love to beat around the bush,” Win says, shaking her head.

  I lean forward and whisper loudly, “I get shit done, darling. I don’t have to beat around the bush.” I pause as I study her face, feeling grateful for a full life. “Didn’t you want to measure the kid’s bedrooms so you can put a furniture order in?”

  She sighs, and lets her gaze move to the glass paneled wall that leads to the patio and pool area. With a button click, the glass slides down. Windsor moves to the control panel and taps it. The warm air filters in, a caress of a perfectly temperate San Diego day. “This is my new favorite place on earth,” she whispers.

  Coming up behind her, I press my lips on the top of her head. “I’m happy you’re happy with the house, babe.”

  She spins in my embrace, chin tilting up to look me in the eyes. “Not just the house, Mav. Everything. You. Luke and Carolina, err Marley. Us. This crazy life we created together. It’s all I need. It’s my favorite.”

  My heart knocks against my chest like it always does when I start counting my blessings. Because it makes me think of my losses. Not in a sadistic way, in a life-altering way. In moments like this it’s hard to feel anything except appreciation for Stone. For giving me everything Windsor just listed. All of those things wouldn’t be possible if he didn’t sacrifice everything. For me. Clearing my throat, I lean down and kiss her pink lips once. “Don’t you ever forget it,” I tease.

  The warm breeze lifts her dark hair from her shoulder. “Did you bring a measuring tape?” she asks, fingers crawling up my biceps. Her eyes trail her movement.

  “I brought something we could use as a measuring tape. Keep touching me and it will unroll. How many inches you want?” Biting my lip, I watch the line in between her eyes crinkle when she cringes at my joke.

  “You better not teach your son those jokes.”

  I scoff. “If the kid grows up to have my sense of humor, he’ll be lucky. Face it. Ladies love laughing.”

  Windsor reaches down and lifts my shirt up and I help her pull it off. “My turn,” I say, raising one brow in question. She takes off her shirt and tosses it on the agate floor on top of mine. “Shirtless house tour,” she exclaims.

  “No.” I shake my head firmly once. “Naked house tour.”

  Windsor tips her head to one side, eyes narrowed. “We aren’t screwing in every room today. You know that, right?” She looks at her watch. “Morg will be here in forty-five minutes. We wouldn’t have time anyways.” Oh, please. She is well aware of what we can accomplish in forty-five minutes.

  “You have a filthy mind,” I counter, stepping away from her to unbutton my jeans and let them sink to the floor around my feet. I intentionally only wore jeans. I knew we would find ourselves in this exact situation. “And I love that about you. I would never suggest fucking in every room. Just the important ones.”

  She’s still staring at my cock when she says, “Fine. Let’s go measure the windowed wall in Luke’s room.” She slips her skirt off, and leaves on her red lace panties as she makes her way across the living space, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure I’m following.

  I’d follow her to the ends of the earth. To hell. To the depths of the ocean and to outer space. Right now, I know that she planned her seduction merely from the panties she’s wearing. My favorite. Despite the tepid air, chill bumps rise up my arms. She leads. I follow. Her body a siren’s call I’ll never be able to ignore. Blue Eyes has been my forever since the moment I laid eyes on her. “I’m following Mrs. Hart. You just keep leading,” I say, entering the mirrored glass corridor that has killer views from left, right and above us. The sunlight streams in and lights her hair with specks of red.

  We pass the wing that has the master bedroom and continue on down the foyer to where the children’s rooms are. Luke’s overlooks the patio and the water, just like the master. She walks in and starts tapping her chin with one finger. “I’ll take a couple of photos. Gretchen is better with this stuff than I am.” Gretchen does interior design. Her business started booming when social media took off. Her before and after hobby pictures that her friends raved about caught the eye of some big wig on HGTV and now she has her own show.

  “We could hire decorators. Designers. Whatever the hell they’re called,” I explain.

  She sighs. “I’d like to try to do the kid’s rooms myself. Or, have Gretchen help me, I mean.”

  “Fair. Come on now. Take the photos then,” I command. She peers at my face, and I smile brightly. “I’m naked and want to use my measuring stick to the best of its ability.” My explanation makes her laugh and she takes several photos from different angles and we cross over to Marley’s bedroom to do the same. A girl and a boy. The perfect dynamic to call our family complete.

  Marley announced her middle name as her new moniker when we told her we were moving. Carolina Marley, became Marley and we just smiled and nodded like parents do whenever kids announce a harmless plan. She wants her room to be pink and covered with pandas. I’m not sure how Gretchen will tackle that one, but I can’t wait to see her try. I wait in the doorway as she snaps photos, and move out of the way so my dick isn’t in the one aimed at the doorway. Win finishes up and we head back to the kitchen and living space area. She points. “Wedding photo there.”

  I nod. “Family photo over there.” I
gesture toward the living room wall.

  She agrees. The trident she wears around her neck catches the light and makes a flittering rainbow on the wall. It balances on a delicate chain in the place it’s been since the day I proposed. The reminder of what brought us together, and what oftentimes separates us. A calling. A promise to protect. To serve. To never forget. A reason to forge onward. Windsor sees my gaze. “It sucks you have to leave again,” she says. “When you get back from deployment the house will be finished, and we’ll be settled in.”

  Gulping down the lump in my throat I focus on the now. That’s what loss and my lifestyle has given me. A perspective that no one else can have. I cherish it and loathe it. “Email me pictures and I can help you pick out things.”

  She gets the far off look in her eye like she does whenever we bring up the looming deployment, and her impending faux-single parenthood. “At least the kitchen is perfect.” She drags a hand over my jaw and down my neck. “The best part of the whole house,” she says, leaving my side to walk into the large space once again. She twirls, arms out wide. “The view. Me in here. You in here.”

  Picking her up, I back her on to the counter—her legs wrapping around my middle. A giggle escapes and travels straight to my dick. “What do I have to do to get in here,” I counter, sliding the panties aside with two fingers.

  “Nothing, I suppose. You did use your trust fund to buy us this palace.” Her lips crash into mine and I groan when I feel her weight against me, her tongue languid against mine. I want to fuck her and keep her. Never be apart from her. With her forehead pressed against mine she speaks against my lips. “That sounded bad. Like you bought my pussy or something. You didn’t buy it. You earned it.” Her smile crashes into mine and the kiss continues, and then halts again. “My salary paid for the pool,” she says, jokingly. “Or maybe the paint in the dining room?”