The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  “Oh, and Morg,” I yell. “I’m pure fucking class, darlin’.” After a sly wink I shout to Alex, “Two words. One finger.” Happy sailing, non-friends.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Morganna

  “A HURRICANE? YOU can’t be serious? Did we move to Florida without my knowledge?” I’ve been in my home office all day on the phone or doling out correspondence through e-mails. I’m insanely out of the loop in the real world. The weather is the very last thing on my radar—literally. Phillipe steps into my office, my salad in his hand. “When is it supposed to hit? Does the generator still work? I need to be able to work through the wind...or whatever it is that happens during these rare occurrences. I have a million things to do before my meetings next week.”

  “As far as I know, it works. I’m not really skilled in machinery. Or better yet that type of machinery,” Phillipe says, handing me a note pad with all of my messages he’s taken while I’ve been ensconced in heaps of work. “You should call Steven back. Or phone Maverick. Or ask any of the other manly men in your life about the generator.”

  I glare at him over the edge of my laptop. “I can’t decide if you’re being cute or not.”

  Phillipe smiles, slides the notepad closer, and shrugs. “It’s one of my gifts. Skills, if you will.” Backing out of my home office, he asks, “Shall I stay over tonight, or will you have company?”

  I shake my head. I know he’s counting down until I have Alex stay the night. Or sleep with him. I haven’t taken the next step with Alex…even if I’ve wanted to something fierce. It’s just not right—yet. Maybe it won’t ever be right, but in the meantime he is a nice distraction from my other, more sinister desires. One glance at the notepad and there it is. Seven calls today. Nine calls yesterday. Steven.

  I stand, cell phone clutched in one hand, and walk to the solitary window in my office. I find it easier to work when it’s dark. The light just distracts me. Steven. The self-assured way he told me exactly how he desired me while I was on a date with another man got under my skin. So much so that I’ve avoided him altogether. By doing this I know I’m showing my hand. He knows I want him. I know he wants me. God knows how horrendous a decision that would be. For me. For him. For Stone. Tears prick my eyes, so I glance at the ceiling.

  “I don’t have plans with Alex tonight. He’s busy. With the storm coming I’m sure he doesn’t want to camp out with me on the water anyways. I’ll call…” I stutter, unsure whose name I want to say. Steven. “Cody,” I finish. “He’s the one who has the handle on electronics and the like. Can you get him on the phone for me?”

  Phillipe sways out the door and disappears, but I hear him agreeing, muttering, judging under his breath as he goes. If he weren’t the best assistant on the planet, and my friend, I’d tear into him five ways to Sunday. Instead I holler a very un-ladylike curse and return to my notepad. I scan until I get to his messages.

  Steven: 7 a.m. “Hey, you didn’t just meet me. Call me maybe?”

  9:30 a.m. “I wanna (he asked that I spell it this way) lick you all over. But I really want to talk to you first. Call a man back, Morgaliscious. Are you too busy with your STD?”

  What the hell? An STD? He’s trying to enrage me to get a call back. I know his game. And the “lick you” song is there to grab my attention. I imagine Phillipe taking down these notes and smile. He gets enough punishment on a daily basis, I think.

  12:00 p.m. “Morg. Call me back. A hurricane is headed our way and I know you’ll want electricity for all of your electronic devices. Bam! You have to call me back now.”

  Shows how intelligent he is. I dial Cody. He doesn’t answer, as I suspect he wouldn’t as it’s late afternoon. I leave a brief message. Most of the guys work into the evening during this cycle in training. They’re getting ready for a deployment, so when they are around, they train hard; each SEAL developing and perfecting the skills that make the Navy SEALs second to none. Nowhere else on the planet can you find men with this particular skill set.

  When I remember this, my attraction and draw toward this type of man makes perfect sense. I guess what I’m trying to do with my new dating life is retrain my brain. I’ve done many things with more complexity. When Alex and Steven were together that day on the water…there was no competition. Steven knows exactly how to push my buttons. Good and bad. He’s known me longer. He makes my heart pound like only one other person ever has. Is it because he reminds me of Stone? Or is it real? I’m not quite ready to analyze the latter. Nor is my heart.

  2:15 p.m. “Dance with me?”

  Smiling, I wonder if he ever works.

  The wind whips palm branches into the glass pane of my window, causing a creepy scratching noise. I glance out just in time to see a white, late model sedan pull away from the curb and vanish from view. I squint my eyes as I try to remember why that particular car seems familiar. My daddy always told me to be aware of my surroundings. I try. I do. But I’m usually too wrapped up in my own head or working to really give my full attention to any one thing...especially if it’s not a case.

  When I was in college, I was the girl who never noticed attention—from girls and boys alike. Number one, it was usually unwanted leering by frat guys with beer breath. Number two, most of my life is spent making decisions and introverted observations about the world around me and how those observations affect me. I saw a therapist after Stone died. It was so sudden, and the change so great, that I needed help overcoming such an event. She told me that number two is why I’m successful, so I don’t dwell on it so much anymore. It’s not conceit if I’m using the information gathered to make myself a better person. Right now, I’m making myself a sleuthing type of person because I know that white car was parked close to me at the grocery store, and then again behind me at a red light a few days ago. There aren’t too many sedans that old and beat up on the road these days. What to do with this information?

  Keep it to myself. If I told Steven, he’d live at my house until he was sure the white car creeper wasn’t a threat to my well-being. That’s the very last thing my twisted mind needs right now. There isn’t such a thing as being too paranoid in Virginia Beach. Spies are everywhere. I rub my arms when goose bumps prick my skin. I throw on the gray cashmere sweater and eat lunch. On the notepad next to Steven’s insane notes I write, BOLO: Old white car. Nissan? Four doors.

  Daddy didn’t raise a fool. Nor did he raise a helpless damsel. I know one thing that I can call Steven for. It won’t threaten my waning self-control either. I find his name, turn on my blue tooth, and hit “call”. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Hey. I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he says. I hear the smile through the phone. “I’m just finishing up a work out. I had my phone in the ring in case you decided to grace me with your voice.”

  I cross my ankles under my desk. “Steven. How was work?”

  His phone fumbles. He must be getting dressed. He’s almost naked. And sweaty. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “It was good—lots of meetings. I have a trip next week. I was hoping I could see you before then,” he replies, a little out of breath. “Is your generator working?” It’s like he’s a mind reader.

  “I called Cody and asked if he could swing by and test it.”

  “He’s already left for the trip. I’ll come by,” he responds as quick as lightning. Which is sort of odd timing because a rumble of thunder shakes the house. “See? The bad weather is on its way tonight.”

  I sigh. “No, no. I’ll call Maverick. Maybe he’ll bring the kids by. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them anyways. Worst case scenario, I’ll figure it out myself. It can’t be that hard. Stone figured it out and we both know how much he liked machines that weren’t guns or car engines.” Steven laughs.

  “You’re right. Though I am concerned that you just placed me after worst case scenario. What’s up? Be Morganna honest with me. It’s insulting that you think I don’t know something’s up. When you didn’t call me back yester
day or answer my call last night, I knew that you were stewing in a rage pool, or something else…” he trails off. I hear him call out to someone in the boxing gym.

  I’m aware honesty is always the best policy. Unless you have to lie for the greater good. That’s a perk attorneys get. Right now is not that time. “I need to stay away from you right now, Steven. The other day on the water was too much. You made it quite clear what you want and also that you know I feel the same way. I can’t do that. I can’t ruin our friendship for a couple reasons, and I think you know the main one.” I can hear a pin drop during the silence that follows my somewhat soul-baring truth. I bluster on, “Don’t say anything, Steven. Don’t acknowledge the tension between us again. Be my friend. Can you do that?”

  His truck door slams and a few jagged breaths later he says, “Why did you call me, M? What do you want?”

  What do I want? That’s a loaded question. He’s so coy. My call waiting alerts me to another call. I send it to Phillipe’s line for a message.

  “Can you take me to the gun range? I want to practice. It’s been a while and I could use the time there. Supposing you aren’t too pissed with me, that is.”

  He’s rolling his eyes right now. He has to be. “When?” One word. Oh, I’ve really pissed him off with my brutal honesty. “I mean are you sure that’s exactly what you want?” Burn.

  “I know exactly what I want. Don’t twist my words. Some things aren’t mine for the taking. Remember that. Sometimes no matter how much you want something, it will always be someone else’s, Steven. Always. All you can do is hold on to the things that you do have and pray like hell they always stick around.” I kick off my heels, trying to quell my emotions.

  “If you’ve learned anything about me over the years, it’s that I stick around. So much so that I’m equivalent to the gum stuck on the bottom of your red-soled shoe. Maverick already left for Arizona, too. Which means your worst case scenario is on his way over to make sure you have power through the night. You know…if you want to work?”

  I look to the ceiling and mouth a few crass words to my spinning ceiling fan.

  “No,” I say through my teeth. “The red kind of gum is my favorite, by the way.” He hangs up the phone. I look up and realize Phillipe pushed a new message in front of me while I spoke with Steven. It says I have a Skype meeting tomorrow morning and that he’s leaving to go weather proof his house. What a pile of horse crap. I toss my cell phone from one hand to the other, shaking my head. How demeaning. I could call him back and he’d probably stop by on his way home, or I can go out to the side of the house and see if I can find a switch or a primer button or something and then search the internet to figure it out. One glance out of the window shows a dismal landscape of black skies and pounding rain.

  Pounding on my front door breaks me from my plan-forming. Steven blusters in, t-shirt clinging to his body, jeans leaking water onto my marble foyer. “What side of the house is it on?” he asks, foregoing all pleasantries.

  I sling my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “You’re one of those guys who doesn’t understand what no means, then? I never would have pegged you there.”

  He arches one eyebrow and the corner of his wet mouth jerks up. “I’m unfortunately well aware what no means. I also know that you want power tomorrow. So, one more time, darlin’. What side of the house is it on?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I toss my hands out to the sides in frustration. His eyes dip to my waist and then back up to my chest before his dark gaze flicks to mine. Eyelashes matted with rainwater blink once and then again. His top teeth clamp down on the corner of his bottom lip. “Don’t call me darlin’, darlin’. I’m not sure what side of the house it’s on. Probably left. But that’s because I just want you to run around in the rain hunting it down. And…and…you can’t seriously be upset with me for telling the truth.”

  He takes one large stride toward me. His warm breath hits my face. “Your truth was horseshit…darlin’.” I close my eyes and turn away. I feel one wet finger underneath my chin, turning me back to face him. “Look at me.” I do. “Right now. Tell me I’m your friend. Tell me what you want when I’m standing right here in front of you. When I can see your face. When you can see mine. When I can call your bluff.”

  Eyes I know as well as my own blaze into mine. I don’t scare easily, if at all, but right now I’m terrified of speaking the truth. I’m terrified because this man has asserted so much control over my body and mind without my consent. He’s seeped in—he’s infiltrated the only place that has belonged to Stone. It’s been a gradual descent, sinking, falling, into an unfamiliar helplessness.

  I do the only thing I can think of to take the reins out of Steven’s hands while still obtaining what I need. “I’m going to take exactly what I want from you right now. It doesn’t change anything.” I shake my head to drive the point home. “And tomorrow will be the same as any other day before this.” He smiles with his eyes and reaches up to turn his baseball cap backwards. I’d think he was a trying to be a college-aged crony if I didn’t know what the tattered hat meant to him.

  “Your move, darlin’,” he says, folding his arms behind his back, like a child being told not to touch the glass figurines.

  Running my fingers up his slick arms, I watch my hands glide over corded muscles that are still hot from his boxing workout. When I meet his eyes, there’s an anticipation there I’ve never seen before. He waggles his brows. I laugh, but it does nothing to kill the desire coursing through my veins. I slide my fingers under his shirt and drag my nails across his rippling abs. I feel him blow out a breath and I smile, but only to myself. These muscles, this stomach and chest and arms, aren’t like Alex’s. The similarities give me pause. Laying my forehead into his thick chest, I sigh.

  “You’re him.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “But you could be.”

  “Just pretend I’m not. Play pretend.” As expected, he’s given me exactly what I need to get through this moment. I look up at him and I see…Steven. His humor that blazes through his smile. His life. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I place my lips on his and kiss that man like I’ve dreamed about for years. I feel his hands on my lower back pulling me in and up for a better angle. I open my mouth and breathe his scent in to memorize it. He tastes exactly like I imagined he would. Mint flavored gum and man. Sweat mingles with the leftover cologne on his shirt and I pull his wet body tighter against me, hoping I smell like he does when I pull away.

  He takes off his hat and drops it to the floor by his feet, and cradles my head, my face in between his hands. He kisses me with his eyes slightly open. I like it. It turns me on even more to know that he wants to see me kiss, so I keep mine open to watch him. Steven drags his fingertips down the sides of my neck and I can’t help it, a moan escapes. I feel his smile against my mouth. He’s mighty full of himself right now. His mouth slides against mine, slowly and then more frantically. It’s then that I know I need to end our fevered hunger before it goes any further.

  With a lot of effort, I break the kiss, but keep my body pressed against his, my cheek against his rain-soaked shirt, his heart pounding beneath my palm.

  “Fuck! Hot with a capital H, M. Hot. Make that sound again?” Steven exclaims, folding his arms around me. I couldn’t escape his clutches even if I wanted to. The things I want from him have compounded. His erection throbs against me. “Now can I have something I want?” he asks.

  I’m already shaking my head, but he merely shakes his head too, and pecks me on the lips while pushing me back to arms’ length, keeping his hands on my shoulders. I take several shallow breaths before I can think with a clear head. I kissed the devil out of him. He didn’t try to go further. I basically attacked him. But he definitely let me. Right? I refuse to let myself overthink it.

  “While I’d love to do exactly what I want, I did come over here for a reason.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder to a window. The rain has gone from pouring to potential
monsoon level. My moment, maybe my only moment with Steven, is ruined by a hurricane. That has to be a bad sign.

  “Fitting,” I mutter. “It’s on the right side of the house. Near the back. Do you need any help?”

  “Oh, I need help alright. Just not the kind of help you’re offering—right now.” He looks down to the large bulge in his pants and then his gaze flicks up to meet mine. He asks, “We’re back to being just friends as of now, yeah?”

  It will kill me slowly, but with a taste so lethal, there is no other way. “Yes,” I say, nodding. I swallow down the whopper of a lie and retreat to my office.

  I hear the generator making a long, loud noise and I know it’s ready to go. Touching my lips gently, I realize that my electricity is safe.

  The same can’t be said for the remnants of my heart.

  I object.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Steve

  SELF-PROTECTION. I’M the king of that shit. She said she wanted me to take her shooting for self-protection. Of course she didn’t explain why, which made me force her into the full gamut of self-protection.

  I will take her shooting. I’ll also take her to the boxing gym and show her some moves, and force Gunner into her palatial estate. If she won’t have us as a combo package, that is. I’m not holding my breath. I think I may have fucked my chances with her by the kiss that won’t be mentioned. I didn’t have an option. When that woman wants something, I can’t tell her no. Especially when I’m the beneficiary of her desires.

  Morganna’s lips aren’t exactly what I thought they’d be. They’re deadly with a side of poison. A combination one such as myself could become addicted to. When I kiss Chloe or Sasha, it makes me hard. Their mouths, lips, and tongues make me want to fuck. I know they’ll go home after, and I know that I’ll have them around for a finite amount of time. Somehow kissing Morganna, after all of this time, lives up to the hype. I want more than a kiss or a finite number of nights with her. For this reason, I’m pissed I let my dick brain think for me. She wanted more, but I knew damn well it would be a mistake to take it further. I guess I should give myself some credit for pumping the breaks on that account.