by RC Boldt
Her eyes jerked from where she’d been gazing at his hair, not really seeing but lost in her fantasy, her imaginings. Meeting Miller’s eyes, standing there at her door, she saw the blatant hunger in them.
“You’d better get inside this house right now before we give the neighbors something to talk about.”
Hurrying through the door, she tossed her purse down on the entryway table. She heard him close and lock the door, toeing off his flip flops. As she was bent, sliding off her heels, she started to wobble. Instantly, Miller’s hand grasped her forearm, steadying her.
What I wouldn’t give to have him be there to steady me all the time, she thought to herself, giving an inner sigh. That idea was unbelievably tempting.
As soon as her heels were removed, she raised her eyes to his. What she saw in the depths of his gaze nearly took her breath away. His eyes were filled with such intense desire that it made her feel as though he was heating her up from within, fiery lust running through her veins.
His voice came out husky and low. “I can’t promise the first time will be long … or that I’ll be able to take my time.” She watched him swallow thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes swept over her. “This first time is probably going to be pretty damn quick.”
She took a step toward him, closing the distance, palms sliding up the front of his polo shirt, feeling the muscles tighten beneath her touch.
“I don’t want slow, Vaughn.” Her own voice was raspy. “I just want you.” Her right hand slid back down to where his belt buckle was fastened, fingers tapping against it. “I want you any way I can have you.” She slid her hand over the large bulge in his jeans to cup him, feeling him press into her touch as he groaned.
“Tate. Bedroom. Now.” He bit out the words.
Oooh. She had caused Miller Vaughn to resort to choppy one-word commands? Well, well, well. That pleased her to no end, seeing her effect on this tough former SEAL. Turning on her heel, she put extra sass in her walk as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom, hips swaying for his benefit.
Miller let out a growl. “Woman, you’re playing with fire.”
“Oh?” she asked with mock innocence. “Am I?” Pausing at the doorway to her bedroom, she raised her arms to brace each side of the doorway. Giving him a saucy grin, she teased, “Is the big, bad Navy SEAL going to get me?”
As he neared, he didn’t take his eyes off of her, his gaze sweeping over her while she was posed in the doorway. Coming to a stop in front of her, she was taken aback by the intense array of emotions in those dark blue eyes of his. It wasn’t until he raised his own hands to cup the sides of her face that she recognized the extent of his emotions. Because those large, strong, callused hands of his? They held the slightest tremor as they touched her face.
“Tate.” The way he said her name—with such reverence—combined with the way he held her face made her stomach flip. Her heart skipped a beat just then as if to say, It’s him. It’s always been him. When his head lowered to hers, the breath held in her throat as if to anticipate this kiss. And, what a kiss it was.
As soon as their lips met, it was like something exploded inside of each of them; it felt as though neither of them could get close enough. Like their tongues couldn’t manage to get enough of a taste. Reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, Tate felt the urge to wrap her body around him like a succubus. As her other hand grasped his belt, she gave a tug, yanking him to her.
Tearing her lips from his, her voice was raspy when she stated, “I need you. Now. In my bed.”
The corners of Miller’s lips quirked up the tiniest bit as he backed her into the room. His eyes didn’t leave hers while he walked her until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. “Really? You’re making demands?” A dark eyebrow raised.
Pursing her lips and giving a nonchalant shrug, she said, “Well, if you’re not interested …” She slid down the zipper on the side of her dress, acting casual, as if she wasn’t so turned on, nearly at the verge of begging him to take her any which way he pleased.
The dress slid down her body, falling to the floor, leaving her clad in only her teal strapless bra, matching thong, and her necklace. And, really, she never had on matching underwear but earlier, when she was getting dressed, it was like she subconsciously hoped someone would be seeing her in it. Hoped that someone would be Miller Vaughn.
Any other time she’d been in this position, she’d always felt like she didn’t quite measure up. Because whereas most men were all about the “tits and ass”, Tate was pretty lacking in both departments. She had small B-cup breasts and a small ass. Firm, mind you, but still. Not exactly lusciously voluptuous material.
Removing her necklace and placing it on her nightstand, she stood there waiting for his perusal to end, waited for his eyes to meet hers and for her to see that his ardor had deflated a bit. To see that he found her lacking.
Nothing could have prepared her to see the additional flare of heat in his eyes as they caressed over her body. She watched his nostrils flare slightly when he met her gaze.
“You are,” he paused as if having difficulty getting his words out before finishing with, “exquisite.”
And it was in that moment she felt like her own heart actually leapt from her chest. Like her heart actually wanted to join his, to claim Miller. She certainly couldn’t blame it.
Because a part of her wanted to claim him as her own, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TATE DONNELLY WAS SO GORGEOUS that it nearly took his breath away. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d been struggling to breathe all along. And now that she was standing there in that tiny bra and panties? He knew his own chest was heaving as he attempted to breathe.
But it was the moment the dress had fallen to the floor, heaped at her feet when he saw the look in her light blue eyes. He had noticed the shadows that had edged into her gaze, the shadows of doubt, and his hands had fisted with anger at whomever had put those thoughts in her head, whomever had implied that she wasn’t sexy or appealing because of her petite size. Because, the truth was, she was perfection. Utter perfection.
He reached out a hand to cup one breast, palming it through the lace, feeling her nipple pucker tight at his touch. Her eyes fell closed, arching into his hand, a tiny, delicate moan escaping from her lips. Bending his head to place his lips to her ear, his other hand slid down her back to grab her ass. God, her skin was so unbelievably soft.
“I’ve never before in my life seen such an exquisite sight as this … as you.” His voice came out in a ragged whisper, leaning back slightly to meet her eyes. Because she needed to see that his words were absolute truth.
Bringing his hand up, threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged her closer, taking her mouth again, tongue sliding inside before retreating to lightly tug on her bottom lip with his teeth. Hearing her release a keening moan, the deep, gratifying sound vibrated through him. Cupping her ass in one hand, he let his fingertips graze over the slope of the indentation where her thigh and the curve of her ass met. His hand slid around her hip, fingertips caressing her hipbones before he palmed her center.
Tate arched into him, rubbing herself against his hand. “If you don’t get naked in the next five seconds, I can’t be responsible for what happens to your clothing.” Gaze heavy-lidded, her words held a sense of urgency, her voice throaty. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling it up, untucking it, sliding the material up his chest. He released his hold on her and quickly rid himself of his shirt. But, when he reached for Tate once again, the look on her face stopped him dead in his tracks.
Because he had completely forgotten about one little detail.
In the dimly lit bedroom, the venetian blinds partially opened to allow the bright moonlight to pour into the room, there was enough light to make the tattoo on his chest visible.
When her fingertip touched his skin to trace over the tattoo which had represented much more than his pride at becom
ing a SEAL, at becoming part of a brotherhood, breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding rushed out. Because, as her finger traced the outline of the tattoo, it felt like a fire brand. And he felt unbelievably vulnerable in that moment.
Her voice sounded hoarse when she spoke, and he heard the faintest trace of amusement in her tone. “I actually wondered if you had a pet frog after the guys kept mentioning this frog in conversation.” He chanced a look down at her but found her eyes focused on the tattoo, gaze intent. “This had to have hurt.”
Although he knew she meant it in the way that there wasn’t much flesh right there, right over his breastbone, he gave an inward laugh. Because it had hurt. In more ways than one.
“Wait a minute.” She peered closer at the frog on his chest, holding the Trident. “Are those letters on his chest?”
Closing his eyes in a slight wince, his lips pressed thin. Because this was the moment of truth.
“Yeah.” The words felt like they were stuck in his throat. “They’re initials.” Shit. Here he was, a former SEAL who had been in combat numerous times and he had never experienced this extent of overwhelming, pure, unadulterated fear. The kind that felt like someone had reached inside you to squeeze your lungs tight, leaving you unable to catch your breath; as though you had become paralyzed, frozen, unable to do anything.
And, here he was, in this woman’s bedroom, experiencing a near debilitating fear because he wasn’t sure how she’d react to the truth behind his tattoo.
“Those initials are yours, Tate Elaine Donnelly.” He forced himself to open his eyes and look down at her, gauging her reaction. “I took you everywhere with me, stamped your initials over my heart.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Guess, deep down, I felt like that was where you always belonged.”
Miller watched as her lips parted and then closed, as if she were unsure of how to respond. Finally, swallowing hard, she raised her eyes to his, leaning toward him to press her lips to the tattooed frog with her initials inked on his own heart. Raising to her tiptoes, her lips grazed his jawline.
“Miller, I need you.”
Those whispered words, the urgency lacing her tone, spurred him into action, and his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra before finally succeeding. He tossed it aside and began tugging her panties down over her legs, helping her to step out of them before guiding her to lie back on the bed.
His eyes stayed locked on hers as he quickly unbuckled his belt, unfastening his jeans and shoving them down his legs along with his black boxer briefs, kicking them off. Tate’s eyes darkened with arousal as she took in his nakedness, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed to rest upon her knees.
“Miller Vaughn,” she spoke softly, her lips curving slightly upward, “you are just too much.”
He stepped closer, allowing her to run her fingers over the indentations of his abdominals, his breathing becoming more labored. When she leaned in to touch her tongue to his abs, tracing them lightly before pressing a small kiss, his eyes fell closed. Because her touch, being like this with Tate Donnelly was—and had always been—the closest thing to heaven on earth.
And then she upped the ante.
His eyes flew open at the feel of her taking his cock into her mouth. He swore he grew even harder in the hot, velvety warmth of it as her lips slid up and down his shaft, tongue caressing him before she focused on the tip. Circling her tongue around it, she lapped at him before suddenly sliding her mouth down over him, taking him as deep as she could before sucking hard.
Sucking. So. Fucking. Hard.
Hands which had been fisted at his sides, flew to Tate’s hair, combing it back so that he could better watch her face. When those pale blue eyes met his, he felt the telltale tingling at the base of his cock, knew he was close. But he didn’t want to come in her mouth. Not this time.
“Tate.” He gently tugged on her to release him. As her lips slid from him, rosy and glossy, he couldn’t withhold a groan.
Not breaking their eye contact, she scooted back on the bed to lie upon the pillows, watching him as he joined her.
“Now,” he told her with a wicked smile, “it’s my turn.”
* * *
Sweet mother of all that was holy in this world. She had never been so aroused in her life. And they hadn’t even had sex yet, for God’s sake.
She was embarrassingly wet, anticipating Miller sliding inside of her. Having her mouth on him, feeling him grow even harder while she stroked him with her tongue, had turned her on more than imaginable.
Tate watched as he settled between her legs, spreading them wider as he laid on his stomach, eyeing her as though she were a decadent dessert. When one fingertip faintly traced her slick folds, she jerked, hearing her own breath come out in a ragged gasp.
“You’re so wet for me,” he said in a harsh whisper. When he slid one long finger inside of her, only to quickly retreat, she couldn’t resist arching into his touch, her eyes falling closed.
“Tate.” She opened her eyes, looking down at him. “I want you to watch me. Watch me as I taste you.”
Tate couldn’t withhold the tiny whimper at his words.
“I want you to see how much I love tasting you.”
Oh, hell. This man was trying to kill her with his words alone. Any thought was immediately dismissed when his tongue slid inside of her, causing her brain to short circuit. Oh, God. The way he slid his tongue in and out of her, with aching slowness, as if truly savoring her taste, nearly sent her over the edge right then and there.
Watching his eyes, his gaze holding hers, she could see how turned on he was by what he was doing to her. When one of her hands found her nipple and began to toy with it, Miller’s groan vibrated through her, little jolts of pleasure shooting through her body. His eyes darkened and his lids grew even heavier with lust. Reaching one hand up, her eyes followed his movement as his thumb found her clit, beginning to rub it in slow circles.
Tate let out a loudly gasped, “Miller.” That’s all she could manage to utter because she was so close. So close to the edge. So close to coming all over this man’s tongue. All over Miller Vaughn’s tongue.
Eyes locked onto hers, his thumb began more rapid movements, increasing the slightest amount of pressure on her clit, and that was when she felt herself succumb. Her entire body arched as she rode Miller’s tongue shamelessly, waves of pleasure crashing over her. He waited until the shivers had subsided before his tongue slid from her. Tate watched him as he rose up and over her, bracing himself on his forearms.
Lips brushing against hers in a feather-like touch, the tenderness in it making her breath catch in her throat, he whispered against her lips, “You’re so fucking delicious.”
Her lips formed a lazy grin and she whispered back, “I think you might still need some of my ‘deliciousness’.” Reaching between them to grasp his cock, her smile grew at his low moan. Leaning his forehead against her own, she felt him slightly shift to press into her grasp.
“Please tell me you’ve got condoms.” Miller’s voice was gravelly.
She froze. “Uh, about that …” She trailed off with a nervous laugh.
His wary gaze held hers. “Yeah?”
She dropped her eyes, focusing on his lips instead. “Um, we might need to check the expiration on them. Because I don’t know how old they are.”
There was a long enough beat of silence—so long that it made her unbelievably antsy—and she finally raised her eyes to his and found … amusement in them?
Lips curved up at the corners, eyes lit up with a hint a humor intermixed with satisfaction, he whispered, “Haven’t brought anyone back here in a while, huh?”
Narrowing her eyes, she pursed her lips. “Not the point.”
His smile grew, showcasing those perfect, white teeth. “Oh, but I think it is.” Miller leaned in closer, about to add more before being interrupted by a loud beeping.
“What the hell?” Miller’s head whipped around to look at where his jeans were in
a heap on her bedroom floor.
Cocking an eyebrow, she asked, “Expecting a call?”
“No.” Miller’s tone was terse and he scrambled off the bed, rummaging through his pockets for the phone which was continuing to beep. Tate watched as he looked down at the screen of the phone he’d pulled from his jeans, swiping at it before promptly swearing.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn Windham.” He raised his head to meet hers, a combination of amusement and annoyance on his face. “Kane set an alarm to remind me to, and I quote, ‘Wear a glove’ and that Laney put a stash of condoms in your purse.”
Slapping a hand over her eyes, she muttered, “And these are our friends.”
“Tell me about it,” Miller huffed.
She slid her hand from her face, lifting her head from the pillow in time to see him walk from the room, presumably down the hall to where she had left her purse. Catching a glimpse of his taut, muscular ass, she fell back onto the pillow with a small groan. Because, really, it wasn’t fair that a man should have an ass like that. So firm, with no apparent fat.
So freaking perfect.
“It’s just not fair,” she mumbled under her breath, eyes falling closed. Thinking about that ass of his, of having it in her grasp, better to pull him closer to her to thrust deeper …
“Starting without me?” Miller’s words jarred her from her thoughts.
And, apparently, also brought her fingers to a halt from where they had strayed, rubbing her clit. Hell, she hadn’t even realized she had been touching herself, so lost in her thoughts.
Damn Miller Vaughn and his entrancing ass.
“Well,” she gave him a bored look, “you up and left me to go skipping down the hall.”
The crease between his brows instantly popped up, stern expression upon his face. “I don’t skip.” He stalked closer toward her, a strip of condoms—holy shit, how many did Laney stuff in her purse?—fisted in his hand.
“SEALs don’t skip.” His words came out forcefully as he ripped one condom packet from the rest, tossing the strip onto her nightstand before climbing onto the bed beside her.