by Selena Blake
At Her SEAL’s Command
Selena Blake
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Thank You
Toying With Her SEAL
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Also by Selena Blake
About Selena Blake
Copyright
1
Bleary eyed and running on too little sleep, Dylan Harper pulled back the shower curtain and reached for the hot water knob. A kaleidoscope of bright colors swam before his eyes and as he focused, he groaned.
Three bras hung from the showerhead. The red one was so sheer it’d leave nothing to the imagination. He rather liked using his imagination but nevertheless, the garment sparked an instant need in him. He knew exactly where that bra had been, what it’d been cupping.
Next to the red one hung a lacy, frilly black number. The combination of sweet femininity and racy temptress did crazy things to his mind and libido. Mostly he wanted to know where Reya had worn it, underneath what and would she model it for him.
Damn it all, he couldn't be thinking like that. He shouldn't want her with every fiber, tendon, and cell in his body.
But he did.
He'd wanted her for as long as he could remember and thanks to his best friend Teo, her brother, she’d be his house guest until she found an apartment.
He started to turn away but took a lingering look at the third scrap of fabric. This one was a sunny yellow with white polka dots and some sort of light blue trim that made him think of lemonade, daisies and summer sky. It was cute and sweet and different from the other two.
Who was Reya? The sugary soft girl next door or the racy vixen? It didn't matter. He wouldn't be finding out, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Reya,” he called, hooking his hands over his hips.
He’d smelled coffee on his way into the bathroom and since he hadn’t put a pot on to brew, he knew she had to be awake. His stomach growled and rolled as he waited for her to appear. Thank goodness he'd had the foresight to take that aspirin and a large glass of water before bed. No more tequila shots with her for as long as he lived.
That woman could drink him under the table.
The fiery little Latina bombshell burst into the small bathroom like a ray of sunshine...dark, glossy sunshine with equally dark but warm eyes that glittered as she swept her gaze up, then down him. She was almost as undressed as he was. A pair of boxer shorts hung low on her hips and a tank top clung to her curves, the thin straps barely held in her cleavage.
“Dylan,” she said with a grin that brought him from half-mast to full staff.
“Your things—” he said and waved toward the skimpy undergarments. How was it possible that such transparent brasseries held up those… Don’t go there, Harper.
“Oh.” She stepped forward, bringing her heat and lush curves closer. Too close.
He backed up a step but the bathroom wall stopped him. Way too close.
“Sorry. I always hand wash my lingerie. Makes it last longer,” she said, retrieving the skimpy bits.
Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his mind from mentally stripping her naked. He’d been without a woman for too long and Reya had been the one keeping him company in his mind for over a decade. To have her so close right now, an arm’s length away.
He held his breath and waited for her to exit. It’d be a cold shower for him this morning. And another hand job to get himself under control.
“Are you okay?” she asked, stopping in front of him.
Still too close.
She stared up at him, her warm brown eyes curious.
Why wasn’t she leaving?
“Fine,” he ground out because she expected a reply.
“Been a while huh?”
“Huh?” A while since what? He frowned.
She glanced down.
Ahh…hell. Now she’d done it.
“Reya…” He practically growled her name. She didn’t heed his warning, simply kept staring at him, studying every inch of him.
Smirking, she took a step back, the bra straps dangling from her index finger. “I'll let you take a shower.”
“That'd be nice.” He reached for the cold water knob and gave it a hard twist.
He heard her giggle from down the hall and damn if that didn't just make him harder. He slammed the door behind her, harder than he meant to but he needed to get control of himself again and fast.
This wasn't him, he thought, studying himself in the mirror. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face and then shucked his boxers.
He was Mister Self Control. He prided himself on it. His legendary cool had kept his Team alive on plenty of occasions and his head on straight.
Add one five-foot-five beauty to the mix and his calm was shot? No way. This would never do. And yet, what was he supposed to do? Ignore her?
That was impossible on so many levels.
He stepped into the chilly spray and bit back another growl of displeasure. The shock didn't even phase his stupid cock. For the first time in a long time, it'd seen something it wanted.
“Too damn bad.”
He grabbed the bar of soap and ran it all over, purposely avoiding the misbehaving member jutting between his legs.
“She's Teo's sister.” Practically Dylan's sister, except he had never, ever felt brotherly where she was concerned.
Hot and bothered, yes.
Protective? Check.
Horny as a toad? Hell yes.
You don't even know what you're doing with your life, he thought but that reasoning didn't matter to his libido either. Nothing seemed to matter.
He had to finish fixing up this house and get rid of it. He needed to help Reya find a new apartment and he needed to do both on the double. He'd worry about what would come next now that his career as a SEAL was over after he got some distance from the raven haired beauty.
Trouble was, for the first time in his adult life, he had no one and nothing to answer to. No Team, no boss, not even a dog. As timing went, now would be the perfect time for him to accomplish one of his long time goals: settling down.
Several of his buddies had wives and kids. Hell, they'd started families a decade ago. Somewhere deep down, he’d envied them.
Turning around so he could wash his hair, the ache in his knee reminded him that he'd never run through a jungle loaded down with gear again. He would never storm into a building or train with his Team. And while a part of him despaired over the loss, it'd always been in the back of Dylan's mind to find a good woman to share his life with.
Only one woman came to mind.
2
Reya grinned as she heard the door slam. First step in Operation Make Dylan See Me as a Woman was a complete success if the trembling door frame was to be believed. She’d never been able to make Dylan squirm before.
Leaving her lingerie in the shower had been a stroke of genius and she made a mental note to thank Becky for that idea later.
In Mabel's bedroom, she tucked the now-clean bras into her suitcase and pulled out a change of clothes. Atlanta in June was pretty unrelenting. At least she didn't have to worry about how the humidity would affect her hair.
Dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a red tank top, she gathered her computer and headed back to the kitchen table and her
coffee. She sipped the rich brew and watched a bird at the feeder as she waited for her MacBook to boot.
Her morning meeting was scheduled for ten and she had plenty of emails to check and send before then. She was already two hours behind thanks to the tequila. But the mild headache and delay to her morning routine had been worth it to see Dylan loosen up.
Smiling to herself, she opened the private document she'd created and typed in the password. HotBuns might not be the most inventive password ever created and it'd undoubtedly be easy as pie to crack, but it made her happy and it was perfect for the plan that the file contained.
She highlighted the first item in the numbered list and hit the 'strike through' button. Setting her mug aside, she leaned forward and studied the next item on her to do list.
Feed him. The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach and no one can resist paella.
Nodding at the words she'd typed three nights ago, she saved and closed the file.
Not a moment too soon, either. Dylan stalked into the room with the easy masculine grace she’d associated with him for fifteen years. Half her life. She’d known him, wanted him, for half her life. Watching him do something as simple as pour coffee into a mug turned her on.
She was pathetic.
Given what he’d done for a living and how long he’d known her he was probably all wrong for her. But something made it impossible for her to ignore him. Perhaps it was the grace or maybe the jaw. Could be the hair…
He glanced over at her, pegging her with blue eyes that gave the summer sky a run for its money. His gaze seemed to encompass everything, take her in all at once.
It was definitely his eyes: want, desire, curiosity. Was a glimpse at her lingerie enough to finally make him see her? Hope blossomed in her belly.
Wordlessly, he chugged the coffee, put the cup in the sink and then disappeared out the back door.
“Great talk,” she muttered, hopes dashed.
But that was just a momentary blip, she told herself. She’d thrown down the gauntlet. Last night, he’d been introduced to the new and improved Reya Canales. This morning, he’d gotten an eyeful of her lingerie and if everything went to plan, he’d be thinking about satin and lace (and her) for the rest of the day.
After checking her email, she went into the kitchen and prepared the ingredients for the paella. She'd have to see if Dylan was going to be around for lunch, and make sure he knew what time she would make dinner.
The knock at the door came fifteen minutes before her morning meeting and she hustled across the living room, dodging the antique table that had caught her toe once a day for the last five. A tall, dark haired man stood on the stoop. He looked a little surprised to find her and glanced to the old mailbox beside the door for confirmation.
“Hi. I’m Greg Fairchild. Is Dylan around?”
She scanned her memory, knowing she’d heard that name recently. “Oh, right. You’re going to get me a sink in the bathroom, right?”
She gave him her most welcoming smile and waved him inside. Dylan had been working on fixing up the old house that had been neglected as Mabel’s health had deteriorated. Renters followed by a period of sitting empty hadn’t helped. The old cast iron sink evidently had problems so Dylan’d removed it.
“That’s the plan.”
“I’m Reya, by the way.”
She continued through to the kitchen and opened the back door.
“Dylan, Greg’s here.” She was scared to go past the door frame, especially without shoes. Poor Mabel had let the yard go so completely it looked more like a jungle than a suburban backyard. Then time and Mother Nature had taken their toll.
“He’s out there somewhere,” she said. He smiled and strode out, his work boots looking right at home.
She shut the door behind him and glanced down at the floor to make sure nothing creepy or crawly had scurried inside. Shivering at the thought, she went back to her computer and settled in for a day of geek management.
By late afternoon, Reya’s frustration level was at an eight (out of ten.) Between her bosses dragging their feet and Dylan avoiding her most of the day, she was ready for a glass of wine.
She’d just stepped into the kitchen to start dinner when her phone rang. Expecting a call from her brother, she answered on the second ring.
Relief and excitement stormed through her in equal measure. “How's my big brother?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Tired. How's my little sister?”
“Frustrated. But I'd rather hear about you.”
It was so good to hear his voice, to know that he was safe, at least for the moment. She'd fought anxiety from the moment he'd said he was joining the SEALs.
But he did sound tired and she hated to keep him awake when he so obviously needed rest. She didn't ask where he was; a long time ago it had stopped mattering. Unless he was safe at home, he was likely in danger. Even his training sounded dangerous. SEALs trained with real ammunition, not blanks, paint balls, or nerf guns.
“Same old story, different mission,” he said, his accent a combination of southern drawl and Spanish lilt.
“Staying safe I hope.”
“Always.”
This was their routine and she liked that some things didn’t change.
“How are things in Atlanta?” he asked, that familiar brotherly concern coming through the line. “Dylan’s taking good care of you?”
If only…She needed to relieve some tension in the worst way.
“Hot, humid, the usual. And yes, Dylan always takes good care of me.”
“I know. But I’m the big brother. It’s my duty to ask.”
“Even if the answer is always the same?”
“Of course.”
“You know I can take care of myself, right?”
“You’re not thirteen anymore, I know.”
Their little argument was like clockwork. From there, they discussed the Braves because baseball was a favorite past time they’d shared as kids. He asked about her work and her upcoming projects.
“Dating anyone special?” he asked. Though he tried to sound casual, he failed. After her breakup with Control Freak, she knew that Teo was worried about her but lately it seemed as if he was concerned she’d never get back on the horse.
He had a point. She hadn’t been “on the horse” in over a year.
“I’ve only been back a week.” She smiled as she remembered the look on Dylan’s face when she’d pulled up to the curb in front of his late grandmother’s house. He’d been carrying an old cast iron sink down the front steps and he’d almost lost his grip on the toe-crusher when she’d rounded the hood of the car.
“There’s no time like the present.”
“Indeed, dear brother. When are you going to settle down with a nice girl and make me an auntie?”
Dylan stepped through the back door and must have caught the last of her sentence because he grinned.
“You know I’m not settling down till I’m outta the Team. Besides, I’m ready to be an uncle. When are you going to get started on that?”
Eyes locked with Dylan’s, a full body flush melted her. She wanted kids one day, sure, but first she’d need a man. And while she had no intention of settling down any time soon, the specimen standing a few strides away was as virile as they came.
Practice made perfect, right?
“Yeah, um…I’ll get on that.” Good Lord, she’d almost said she’d get on him.
Of course, she was nothing if not honest. First chance she got, she was going to scratch an itch, dispel some tension and finally see if Dylan was as fantastic in real life as he was in her imagination.
“Is Dylan around?”
“Yeah, he just came inside.” Did that sound as naughty as it did in her head?
If the smirk on Dylan’s lips was any indication…
It’s Teo, she mouthed as she handed over her cell phone. Their fingers grazed and a tendril of heated desire snaked up her arm before flooding thr
ough her nervous system. He was a drug: addictive, seductive, fast acting.
“Thanks,” he murmured before lifting the device to his ear.
She watched him for just a moment, just long enough to make a memory. Dylan had always been the epitome of man to her: rugged, deadly, but gentle. And as he greeted her brother, he smiled.
That smile did her in every time.
She needed to escape his orbit. Hanging on his every word, staring at him like he was a photograph wasn't healthy. Okay, maybe it wasn't unhealthy, but it certainly wasn't going to get dinner ready.
He moved to the living room and she cleared her stuff from the small antique table. Putting the biggest, flattest skillet she could find on the stove, she started by cooking the chicken. Once she had the rice, tomatoes and chicken stock added, she rooted through the cabinets for plates, forks and napkins.
Humming to herself, she stirred the pot and inhaled the heavenly aroma. Once the shrimp and mussels were in the mix, she set the timer for another ten minutes. Until now, she and Dylan had shared a few sandwiches, some quickly cooked meals and stopped by the new coffee shop out in Roseville for lunch. Their chicken salad was divine and she understood why Dylan raved about the place.
But today was the first day where she felt domestic and settled. Maybe it was her seduction plan that made her blood fizz with heat and happiness or perhaps it was that she loved cooking the recipes she’d learned in Spain, but whatever the reason, she felt at home.
Maybe the jetlag had finally let up.
She filled a glass with ice and water, needing a cool down after the sweat inducing sight also known as Dylan, shirtless.
Then she fixed him a glass, because he had to be hot and he needed to stay hydrated. That's what she told herself, but the truth was, she wanted to sneak another peek.
She shook her head at herself. “Weak, Reya. Weak.”
But how was she supposed to resist the finest hunk of man flesh that had ever crossed her path? But resist him she should. Playing hard to get wasn't necessarily a bad thing, especially with a tough guy like him. Though she'd never known him to date, he couldn't possibly want a wallflower, right?