The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  Chloe flops down, her perfume jolting my crotch like a hit of Viagra. “What’s the countdown? I know you have that number on the tip of your tongue,” she says. I look at her sideways and smile. I know breakups suck as a general rule, but I’m pretty sure this one is going to blow exponentially. Mainly because she has no idea it’s coming and partly because what we do is not considered dating.

  She scoops my hand in hers while petting Gunner with her other. “I’ll keep myself busy during the deployment, don’t worry about me,” she whispers, lips opening slightly as she pauses. “Because it looks like someone took your lollipop, baby. Are you nervous about leaving?” I take in a deep breath and watch her watch me, silenced words poised on her lips.

  I squeeze her hand once. “I’m going to give it a shot with Morganna if she’ll let me.” Chloe will know exactly what that means without expounding. She’s been with me for years. She’s met my parents, in an effort to convince them I had a regular life outside of my work. She played the part flawlessly, I might add. Almost too well. I needed a breather from her after that trip. Chloe smiles, but it’s forced—fake, like a woman in a pageant. I know she’s going to make this easy for me.

  “I’m happy for you, Steve. That’s great news. Fantastic news, actually. No more pretending then? This is your shot at real.” Her tears belie the smile on her face. Something happens to my stomach. It sinks. A feeling I get when, on rare occasion, I’ve made a mistake. The time I miscalculated by less than five seconds and fucked up a meet-up while on a mission. Or perhaps the time I picked the world’s grossest flavor of ice cream when trying something new.

  Swallowing hard, I pull her into a hug and nod against the top of her head. “It could be, yeah. Or it could be a giant wash. I need to find out before it’s too late.” I care about Chloe. I do. The wretched place that I keep locked, cracks at feeling the loss…of this relationship. Because I know it is a relationship in an odd form. “I’ll miss you. And I think we both know how far out on that proverbial limb I’m going, because you,” I say, tilting her face up to mine, “are probably the only thing that has kept me sane all this time.” Greedily I want to know that she’ll miss me. More, that I’m worth missing.

  She grins, full lips spreading across her gorgeous face. “You mean my tits and ass?” I laugh. Chloe pulled a Steve one-liner.

  “Well those are pretty perfect, but no. We’ve been through a lot. You were the first person that made me realize there are other extracurricular activities besides guns, boats, and beer that are worth my time.” Gunner noses his way underneath one of her hands again. I cringe.

  She pets him for a few more seconds. “It’s better this way anyways. I probably need to find someone to settle down with. It’s about that time. Have the two point five kids, fake orgasms, and wallow in a stagnant career.”

  “You deserve that. I think. You make it sound awful, but you’ll make any man happy, Chloe.” Truly, she will. For a millisecond I reconsider keeping her as mine a little longer. I know I can’t, though. My lies need to end. She kisses me and I kiss her back knowing this is the last time. I wait to feel something akin to remorse, but it doesn’t come. I’m doing the right thing. For once in my personal life I may be headed in the right direction.

  It confirms my decision. It’s a choice my subconscious made long before I did. I’ll miss Chloe and her lips and the way she always says what I need to hear, but I yearn for Morganna.

  For her truths.

  For her lies.

  For all of her.

  _______________

  “Don’t tell me how to shoot the dang thing. I know exactly what I’m doing,” Morganna scoffs, holding the gun entirely too loosely. I ignore her and proceed to tell her how to fix her grip so the recoil isn’t so strong. She mutters under her breath for a few more seconds until she corrects her form…to the way that I showed her. Stubborn.

  Angling my body behind her, I get as close as I dare to try to scope the target she’s aiming at. We’re at a shooting range outside of my work because it would be too difficult to her get her access to mine on short notice. Morg pitched a fit about that as well. “Steady,” I say, gently placing a few fingers on her elbow. The 40 cal in her right hand, extended in front of her, doesn’t shake. I feel her hold her breath and a half second later she pulls the trigger. She misses the target, but by less this time.

  I sigh. “Well, maybe you would scare off a home intruder with a shot like that. Don’t hold your breath.” Her entire body goes rigid. Placing the gun on the table in front of her, she turns, eyes narrowed, and pulls off her ear protection. “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, taking out my own foam earplugs.

  Morganna clears her throat. “The new cameras are working fine. The broken doorknob just scared me a little. That’s all.” I’m not sure, but I think she’s lying. “Alex checks on me. No need to worry yourself with it. Just give me some more tips without bossing me around. Maybe something that will lead to me actually nailing the target?” Of course it’s my fault she isn’t shooting well. I’m more concerned with everything else she’s said. Her hands automatically fall to her lush hips and I have to control my gaze.

  Morganna grew up in a place where guns were everywhere. Back when it was still legal to shoot someone if they were on your property. Now you have to wait until they’re in your house threatening your life. Fucked up laws, that’s for sure. I know her daddy gave her lessons, and I know she’s comfortable with guns. She’s never had a reason to protect herself though. She’s had Stone. That’s better than any weapon. The man was a weapon. Like I am. Perhaps she is just spooked living by herself with the doorknob incident. She’s really given no other reason to suspect otherwise.

  “He’s spending the night now?” I throw her off with a question about Alex.

  “No, merely stopping by on his way home.” I get a nightly phone call and Alex is getting a nightly booty call. She leans away from me, putting her palms on the counter behind her. “Not that it’s any of your business anyways.” Her eyes shift sideways. We’re alone at the range. I called ahead and asked for a favor. I knew she’d shoot better if rednecks weren’t in the booth next to her hollering and shooting from the hip. I shrug. Actually, that may make her feel more at home.

  “What are you shrugging at? Stop having conversations with yourself in your own mind.” Morganna gestures to my head with one hand. Her tight sweater hugs tighter to her waist and I can’t help but stare.

  I take a step toward her. She flinches. I brush by her curvy waist with my hand as I pick up her gun lying on the table behind her. “I figured I might make his presence my business after all. Simple concept, really,” I say, gaze locked on her knowing eyes. The dark eyeliner rimming her eyes is doing nothing to conceal the lusty glint there.

  Morg shakes her head. “Our kiss doesn’t change anything.” She air quotes on the word kiss. “Friends, remember?”

  I chew the corner of my lip. “It changed everything for me.” I take another step forward, forcing her behind me. With an exasperated headshake she puts the headphones back on. I look at the target, bring up the gun, and pull the trigger back in a quick succession. It hits my mark—the center. I smirk. When I turn around, her arms are folded under her huge tits…like an eagle on a perch. My smirk widens at her irritation. Dropping the gun, I hold my other hand out and gesture in a you understand? manner. My perfect shooting tactics aren’t what she’s focused on. She’s still dwelling on my confession.

  “How did it change everything?”

  I swallow hard. “I broke up with them.”

  Her usually narrowed eyes widen. Score. “What do you mean you broke up with them? All three of them?”

  I nod, matching her stance with my bulky arms crossed across my own chest.

  “Why?” Her voice is shrill. I’ve shocked the shit out of Morganna. That should earn me some points in her book. “I mean, what were you thinking? I’m with Alex now.”

  “You don’t want to be,” I counter. I k
now she doesn’t want to be with him. I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes in my words—tries to understand exactly what I mean to convey. I broke up with Sasha in a café after I left Chloe. I had a full weekend of angst. I cringe when I think of next weekend when I’ll be all alone. I need to work Morganna fast.

  She throws her arms down by her sides. “You can’t do this to me, Steven. It’s not fair. I was going to have sex with him tonight. Did you know that? I had it all planned out. Now you go and tell me you broke up with your girlfriends. What am I to make of that? Tell me exactly what to make of that.”

  I sigh. Thank God she hasn’t fucked him. I thought for sure she had. I can deal with this because now I can thwart it with all my damn might. Ol’ Stevey isn’t out of the game quite yet. “It can mean everything or nothing. Ball’s in your court, M. Sex with the STD, though?” I chuckle, an asshole move, I know, but cocky Steven needs to take control of this situation without her realizing it. “You can’t plan sex.” She tilts her head, urging me to continue.

  Nonchalantly, looking over her shoulder at the target, I brush a few strands of hair out of her face. My fingers graze her cheek lightly and I leave my hand there, my thumb resting on her chin. Her gray eyes close a touch when they meet mine.

  With her rapt, I say, “Sex is primal. Its mouths, hands, sweat, and skin. It’s uncontrollable reactions. It’s tongues, asses, delicious wetness, unbearable connection…it’s absolute and irrefutable fire.” She wets her lips. Shaking my head, I say, “You don’t plan sex. Not you. Definitely not me.” I let my hand fall away, stroking her neck before I pull away. She leans into my hand, craving connection.

  Ignoring my advance, she says, “Why are you doing this now?” Her normally clear voice falters. “It’s not fair. I of all people know fair when I see it. You…” She waves her hand at my body and face, and then perches it on her hip. “Are not fair. You’re not playing by the rules. You come at me with your sex appeal wafting like a Yankee candle and confuse me to no end. I don’t get confused, Steven. You are my friend. Friend.” Her accent punctuates every word she speaks.

  I motion to her body, mirroring her. “I have no need to play by the rules anymore. I did for far too long. There is nothing confusing about what I’m proposing. I’m only wafting the vibes because it’s you.” I smile.

  Morganna throws her hands up in the air, defeated. “Great. Now you’re proposing things. I need to get out of here. I need some air, I need to breathe. I’ll return a few phone calls.” I see her eyes darting for the exit.

  I’m losing my grasp. “Only sex,” I growl.

  “What?” Her head whips to face me, her black hair swinging around one shoulder.

  “I get it, M. Stone. I get it. We’re similar and you’re trying to push me away because of it. It’s best to stick with the brand of crazy you’re accustomed to. If you weren’t so busy repelling that notion, you’d understand how perfect we’d be together. But if you can’t then please, at the very least, have insanely amazing sex with me. Don’t have sex with that guy just because you planned to—because you think it will be different. I broke up with Chloe and Sasha as a peace offering…as a way to show you that I want to give us a legitimate try. As fucked up as that would sound to a stranger, I know you get it. You’ll be the only one. I swear. How long have you known me? You know I’m serious.” I thump my fist over my heart. “No one has to know about what we do except you and I and whatever surface we mutually decide we want to fuck on.”

  My dick hardens at the word fuck and also because fucking Morganna on every surface in my house forces its way to the forefront of my mind. In my backwards logic, I know I can get her to fall for me if we’re intimate. I’m confident in my skills in the sack, but even more confident in her feelings for me—or at least her desire to be with a real man. Male and female friends are always only just-the-tip away from being more.

  Her neck works as she swallows. Her smoldering gaze is still all mine, wandering over my face looking for any trace of humor. She’s considering my offer, balancing the sexual gratification with the emotions that she knows will come. “Trust me. It’s worth it,” I say, helping her decision.

  “I’ll consider it. If I do say yes, I’m not breaking up with Alex. You’d be a hypocrite if you asked me to. If he’s agreeable to our arrangement, then I see no problem with what you’re offering.” Her gaze shifts to the ceiling and then falls back to my face. My heart is pounding. Half out of blistering anger and the other half beats of excitement, for the thrill of the chase. “I may be a classy southern lady, but I’m smarter than to put all my eggs in one basket again. I want my options.” Admirable. I’ll give her that. She’s obviously a woman after my own heart. I imagine her daddy, Earl, hearing these words and have to hold back a cringe.

  I bite my lip. I should have known better. This would never be cut and dry. I look at her glistening mouth and can’t help but smile. “Touché,” I say, pulling her in. I plant a dry kiss on her forehead, letting my lips linger longer than I usually would.

  Morganna turns around, places her ear protection back on, and aims the small, black handgun at the target downrange. Her small frame freezes as she says, “I know exactly what I’m doing.” She pulls the trigger.

  Fuck me if that bullet doesn’t land square in the chest of the target.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Morganna

  “I’M GOING TO take a small break from cases for a little while. To catch up on everything I have on my plate at the moment.” I’ve done well for myself. I can do whatever I want and not worry about finances. It’s a luxury I’ve worked hard for. Every once in a while I try to pull back on my workload to stabilize my mental health. Now, reflecting back on my conversation with Steven about his sexual offer, I realize I may need some immediate mental health time to myself.

  I’m not sure what I was thinking even telling him that I would consider his offer. I can’t. It goes against everything I stand for as a good southern, professional woman. Steven and his otherworldly charm and… let’s be honest, his muscles, lured me into his trap. He baited it perfectly. He knows me too well.

  Phillipe lingers in my office, on the phone with a client relaying my message. He ends the call and gracefully sways into the chair next to mine. “Did the gardener finish cleaning up all the branches and debris from the storm?” I ask, trying to throw him off his assistant game.

  “Yes. You haven’t taken a break since Stone died. What’s up?” Phillipe asks. I continue scrolling through my inbox, flagging messages in order of importance. A pang pierces my chest at the mention of his name. I miss that name and that man something fierce. My stolen forever. All of the issues I’m currently dealing with would be moot if he were still alive, loving me like no one else is capable. He’s not. I blow out a long breath.

  I click an e-mail from a private investigator and speed-read. “My personal life is exploding and I don’t want it to affect my work.”

  “I didn’t think your personal life could implode ever again after what you’ve already dealt with.”

  He’s right. It was the hardest part of my life. Everything that comes after Stone’s death won’t seem so horrible. That’s a good thing, I guess. I let my eyes scan the e-mail during a lull and then click an e-vite from my girlfriend, Lainey. It’s a dinner party. I do what everyone does when they get an e-vite: I look at the guest list and see who has already responded.

  I glance at Phillipe, his almond brown eyes matching perfectly with his coifed hair. “I just want a break for a little while. It’s been too long since I focused my energy on anything except work. Personal time in the sense that I get a break, Philippe. You’ll get a break too, obviously. Don’t question it. I was thinking about heading back south for the holidays. It’d be nice to see my family.”

  I want to slap the small part of my brain that whispers that Steven will have the same time off for the holidays. If a SEAL is home and not deployed, they get Christmas off. Christmas is the sacred time of year whe
re any and all concrete plans are safely made. Stone and I would go on a winter vacation every year at the end of December because it’s something we could actually plan and it wouldn’t fall through. Now, years have passed since I’ve taken time off. Time equals thinking about things. Things that evolve into crying fits and missing my old life. Missing Stone. I think I’m finally ready to face the holidays without my work.

  “A paid vacation? I’m in.” Phillipe starts crooning some Christmas song in the lowest voice I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. I laugh while reading another e-mail.

  “Of course paid. I just need you to do me a favor and keep my schedule under wraps. Confirm me for Lainey’s dinner party please.”

  Quickly jotting a note down, he says, “Who don’t you want to know you’re taking time off?” Holding a finger in the air, he figures it out. “Steven. You don’t want the big, studly, wildly funny beast to know you’ll be off. Alex can know, then?”

  Alex. My stomach sours when I think about him. I haven’t given him a fair shot and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to. I can’t let him go for fear of slipping under with Steven. I’d drown in whatever poison he specializes in. Our cell phones ring at the same time. My line is tied to my assistant’s.

  “Speak of the devil.” He sneers prettily, holding up his cell with a blinking photo of Steven. My heart flutters a little, but I remind that scoundrel it has no reason to get excited. Steven is a player. Possibly even the definition of the word. Though I know for a fact he would never play me. I’m not sure I believe him when he says he wants to give our relationship a legitimate chance. It’s so out of character, but is it really? I’ve suspected that he’s wanted more than friendship for a long time. I’ve wanted more than friendship. Now, just to admit that to him and the sane part of my brain.