HOT SEAL Bride

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HOT SEAL Bride Page 13

by Lynn Raye Harris


  Cash didn’t know how much time went by while he got sucked into the pages before he heard Ella stir. He glanced up, watched her search for the book.

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  She looked up. “You stole my book.”

  “You were about to drop it.”

  She stretched. “Well, then. I suppose you’ve done me a service.”

  “Why did you choose this one? Of everything on the shelf?”

  “Have you been reading it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know why. It’s fascinating.”

  It was indeed.

  “You read many things like this?”

  “I read a lot, yes. My aunt and uncle have a library filled with books. Fortunately, they never censored my reading. My access to the internet, yes. But not my reading.”

  “I thought you liked to read romance novels.”

  “I do. But I like to read a lot of different things, Cash. Greek mythology, science, economics, biographies. I especially love biographies. People live such fascinating lives.”

  And she hadn’t. That was the implication. He heard it as clear as a bell. It angered him on her behalf. He closed the book and set it on the table.

  “You want it back right now?”

  She shook her head. “I’m hungry. Can we order something?”

  “Yeah, we can order up.”

  He went and got the room service menu and took it to her. She studied it carefully, then chose the least expensive thing on it. He knew because he’d looked at it earlier.

  “Get what you want, Ella.”

  “I want that sandwich.”

  “You don’t. You want the steak. Or maybe the pasta with lobster in it. You don’t want a boring sandwich.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “How do you know what I want?”

  “I don’t. Not really. But I’m pretty sure you’re running a calculator in your head that’s adding everything up and wondering how you’re going to pay anyone back.”

  She dropped her gaze. “Is that so wrong?”

  “No. But it’s also unnecessary. Nobody here is keeping tabs on what you eat—or what you wear. That was your aunt and uncle. Not us.”

  She bowed her head. “All right. I want the pasta with the lobster. How did you know?”

  “Because of the way you ate the pasta Alfredo I made.”

  She grinned. “You’re a very good cook.”

  “I pay attention to what I’m doing. That’s all it is really.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to cook. So I appreciate it very much.”

  “I guess this means you won’t have dinner waiting when I get home from work?” he joked.

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Am I already a failure as a wife?”

  He liked that she could banter with him. That meant she wasn’t taking this too seriously after all. He went over and picked up the hotel phone. “It’s okay, Ella. I don’t think either one of us knows how to do this whole married thing.”

  “I know one thing we’re supposed to be doing,” she said. “But apparently that is not something you are willing to teach me.”

  He pretended not to hear her.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. Ella dove in, uncaring that she was once more eating fattening pasta. The sauce was creamy, buttery, and the lobster chunks were fat and juicy. It was heaven on a plate.

  They were sitting at the table in the suite, a waiter having laid out all the food before retreating. Cash had ordered a steak. Ella closed her eyes and moaned.

  “Jesus, Ella. You have to stop that shit.”

  Her eyes popped open to find Cash regarding her intensely. “What?”

  “Making those noises.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She twirled the fork in the pasta, her cheeks heating as she considered his words.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up, hot embarrassment swirling in her belly.

  “Forget I said that, okay?”

  “No, you are right. It’s rude to make noises while eating. Aunt Flavia would be horrified.”

  “Fuck Aunt Flavia.”

  Ella gaped for a moment—and then she burst out laughing. Oh, how many times had she wanted to say that but never had?

  “Yes, fuck Aunt Flavia. Fuck her good.”

  It felt so awesome to get that out. To say such rude words. To mean them.

  “Uh, Ella… Princess, you shouldn’t talk like that.”

  Ella blinked. “Talk like what? Fuck? You said it.”

  “Yeah, I did. But you shouldn’t.” He closed his eyes and put a hand over them for a second. “Fucking hell,” he muttered.

  Or at least that’s what she thought he said.

  “It’s not proper for a lady in your, uh, position,” he continued.

  “In my position? You mean exiled, broke, and running from an arranged marriage with a sheikh? That position?”

  “No, honey,” he said, and her heart kind of squeezed at the way he said honey. As if he really meant that she was his honey. “I mean that you’re royal. And while I don’t care what the hell you say, you might need to be careful for the next time you’re in public. You know?”

  “I would never say such things in public,” she said, scandalized. “I’m not a fool.”

  “No, I don’t think you are.”

  “Then don’t tell me what to say. You said it. I can too. Fuck Aunt Flavia. And Fuck Uncle Gaetano too.”

  “You’re killing me, Princess.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re so wholesome and unworldly. And then you say shit like that. So matter-of-factly. As if you talk like a sailor all the time.”

  “They are just words, Cash. It’s not a big deal.”

  He sliced off a piece of steak. “Not supposed to be.”

  “Then why do you get so worked up?”

  His eyes glittered hot for a second. “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  Ella took another bite of her pasta. She didn’t moan this time, but she wanted to. So good. So rich and forbidden. Aunt Flavia had told her that men wanted their women thin. That a plump woman was unattractive. Ella had watched enough television to know that was probably true. She took one more bite and carefully set the plate away. She hadn’t had the discipline when he’d cooked for her the other night, but she did now.

  Cash frowned. “Is there a problem with the food?”

  “Of course not. I’m finished.”

  “But there’s three-quarters of it left. You’ve barely eaten any.”

  “It’s okay. I need to be careful anyway.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t want to get fat.”

  His expression was thunderous. “Is that you talking or your aunt?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Bullshit. It’s your aunt and her notions about how thin you need to be.”

  “Do you like fat women, Cash?”

  “Sometimes. It depends.”

  Well, that wasn’t the answer she’d expected. “Sometimes?”

  “If she’s comfortable in her own skin and loves who she is, yeah, sexy as fuck.” He shrugged. “I pretty much love women in general. And while I won’t lie and say it doesn’t matter to me what a woman looks like, I’ve found that what I consider sexy isn’t limited to a specific set of physical qualities.”

  She thought about that. And then, because she was still hungry, she reached for the pasta.

  Cash’s expression softened. “Don’t let those people control what you do anymore, okay? It’s your life, not theirs.”

  “Old habits are hard to break,” she replied, twirling the fork in the noodles. “But I’m trying.”

  “That’s good.”

  She took a bite. “What about you, Cash? Have you considered that maybe some of your rules need to be rewritten?”

  He lifted one eyebrow. Then he laughed. “Touché, Princess. And no, some rules are good ones.”

 
“Even when they are silly and outdated?”

  “To you, maybe. They aren’t silly to me.”

  Ella sighed. She’d never really thought she’d so desperately want a man to initiate her into sex, but here she was. Wanting. Aching. Desiring him to hurt her so she could get that part over with and get to the good stuff.

  “If I promise not to get emotionally attached to you, will you consider it?”

  He blinked. “You can’t promise that.”

  “Can’t I? It’s about as realistic as your certainty that I’m going to fall for you if we have sex. I imagine there’s a fifty-fifty chance one of us is right.”

  He dropped his fork and shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “Nor I you. Here I thought virginity was a prize for men. You’ve certainly proven that I’ve been misinformed.”

  Before he could answer, a loud thud sounded from the corridor outside the suite. Ella jerked her head in that direction. Cash was on his feet in a second, weapon drawn from somewhere on his body and pointed in the direction of the sound.

  He glanced back at her, his expression so deadly serious that her heart plummeted into her stomach. “Get in the bathroom and lock the door. If I don’t come for you in five minutes, don’t open the door.” He tossed her his cell phone. “Call Hawk and tell him what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know how to use it. I’ve never had a phone—”

  “You can use a computer, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can use a phone. Find Hawk’s name in the address book. Follow the prompts to call him. Now go.”

  Chapter 19

  Cash strained his ears toward the sound as he rushed to the door. A quick check of the peephole revealed a man in a hotel uniform shoved against the opposite wall. The man holding him was one of Hawk’s.

  Cash didn’t holster his Glock as he yanked the door open. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  “This is a reporter,” Hawk’s man said. “Caught him trying to slide a microphone under the door.”

  Cash glanced down at the snakelike apparatus lying across the carpet. It was small, thin. He yanked it off the ground and studied it. Sure enough, on the end of the snake was a small receiver.

  The man against the wall didn’t look apologetic at all. Though he did look measurably concerned that he was being held against his will by a man with a weapon.

  “What the hell do you want?” Cash demanded.

  “A story,” the reporter said.

  “So you’d listen in on private conversations between a man and his wife?”

  “It’s nothing personal. It’s news.”

  “What outlet are you with?”

  “Star TV.”

  Star-fucking-TV. Nothing but a gossip rag in television form. The kind of network that gossiped about everything from which star was being dumped to who’d gained weight and who was paying off God and everyone not to give away a secret. Vile shit, mostly, and little of it true.

  If Star TV had found their room, well, it was probably time to move on.

  Hawk came striding down the hall, looking pissed as hell. Gina wasn’t with him, which was a good thing considering who this scummy bastard represented. Guess Ella had figured out the phone after all. Smart girl, his princess.

  His princess?

  Cash shook that thought away. Nope, not his princess. Just a smart, sexy, bookish princess. Don’t forget the porn, a little voice whispered.

  God, he was trying really, really hard—jeez, don’t say hard—to forget the porn. The fact that she’d watched it and she was both worldly and virginal at the same time. How the hell did that happen in this society?

  Hawk grilled the man while Cash dragged his mind back to the problem at hand.

  “Get him out of here,” Hawk growled when he was satisfied.

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Hey, what about my equipment?” the man wailed as the security guard frog-marched him down the hall.

  “Trespassing, buddy. We’re keeping it.”

  “I’ll sue!”

  The guard didn’t even slow down. “Do you really want to get into a pissing contest over this shit? I’m not thinking the casino will take this kind of thing lightly, you know? Spying on guests, invading their privacy…”

  The grumbling and arguing continued as the two men disappeared down the hall. Hawk turned to Cash.

  “Is Ella okay?”

  “She’s probably a little scared, but otherwise she’s fine. I made her lock herself in the bathroom and call you.” He drew in a breath. “I think I need to get her out of here. Back to DC and a somewhat normal existence.”

  “I don’t disagree. You won’t be as visible there. HOT will make sure she’s protected until the attention dies down. And if you need me, I’ll be there too.”

  “I appreciate that. You and Gina have done so much already. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Hawk shrugged. “We’re family. Once HOT, always HOT. I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine. It’s what we do.”

  Yeah, it’s what they did. It was always true of a SEAL team and even truer of the brothers and sisters he’d found in HOT.

  “You ever need me, I’m there,” Cash said.

  “Thanks, man.” Hawk nodded his head toward the closed door. “Better go tell your wife the trouble has passed. I’ll let you know what time I can get you out of here. We’re staying for now. Gina has a show in the next couple of days.”

  “Yeah, sorry we’ll miss that.” He meant it too, because Ella had been more than a little starstruck over Gina at first. She was a fan and she would have enjoyed the concert. But there’d be more concerts.

  Would there?

  Not with him, there wouldn’t. Once they got back to DC, Cash didn’t think they’d spend too much time together before they went their separate ways. Even if she was still a virgin, the damage had been done in the eyes of the world. Antonella Rossi was no longer as pure as new snow. Her value as a commodity her relatives could sell had been eroded overnight.

  “Next time,” Hawk said.

  “Sounds good.”

  They parted ways, and Cash went back inside, locking the door behind him. He was thinking about how he and Ella would live in his apartment for the next week or so—thank God there was a spare bedroom now his roommate had gotten married—when something came flying at his head. He barely saw it in time to duck, but he managed to drop to the floor as the object sailed over and smacked the wall.

  A second object—a human object—barreled into him as he pushed upright, knocking him flat again. She was small and fierce, and he rolled her until she was beneath him. He caught both her wrists in one hand and locked them tight to prevent her from breaking away.

  “What the fuck, Ella?” he demanded.

  She was twisting like a tiger, but she stilled when he spoke. “Cash?”

  Her hair covered her face, blinding her as she lay on the floor beneath him. Her chest heaved, her breasts rising and falling with her exertions. The buttons of her shirt strained from the wrestling they’d done, gaping in a couple of places. His dick began to harden.

  He pushed her hair aside, revealing a flushed face and flashing eyes. Before he could get a word out, she attacked.

  “You didn’t announce yourself,” she accused. “You could have been anyone!”

  Cash frowned. Yeah, he’d walked inside and locked the door behind him—but he hadn’t announced himself. Hadn’t told her to come out, that it was safe.

  Which meant, dammit, that she’d opened the bathroom door anyway. That she’d thought she could stop whomever broke in and tried to attack her. With a fucking book.

  “What the hell were you doing anyway?” he demanded. “You weren’t supposed to come out until Hawk or I told you to.”

  Anger seethed in his veins, boiling furiously, scouring his insides. She’d risked her safety. She’d disobeyed.

  “I called Hawk. I knew he was coming. What if someone got
you, Cash? I was trying to help. I was here to distract him until Hawk arrived.”

  He didn’t know what to say. Just didn’t. Fury, frustration—and a healthy dose of lust—rolled through him.

  Take her. She’s yours. She wants you.

  The voice didn’t stop, and his dick swelled. Any second and she’d know it too.

  He dragged his thoughts back to the anger. Propped it in front of his mind’s eye and focused on it. Anger. Danger. Fury. Yes, that’s it. Be pissed. Don’t think about fucking. Don’t think about being balls deep in her tight wetness—

  Oh, hell.

  He was losing this battle. Losing it so spectacularly that at any minute he was going to start peeling off her clothes and drowning in her gorgeous body.

  Fight it, Cash. You’re a damn SEAL!

  Yes, he was a SEAL. He could face hardship, deprivation, danger. He could conquer anything he set his mind to. Including the temptation to devirginize a princess. He could most certainly conquer that impulse. He’d been tempted a couple of times to ring the bell during SEAL training, to give up and let the instructors know he was done. That he’d never be good enough.

  Only the memory of what waited for him at home if he failed had kept him going. But he had kept going, and he’d conquered his impulses. Surely he could do that now. He could annihilate this one small impulse to thoroughly corrupt Ella body and soul.

  She shifted beneath him then, moving her hips, pressing her center against his aching cock.

  “Ella, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Move. Don’t move.”

  But she didn’t obey. Of course she didn’t. She arched upward, the contact between them setting off sparks behind his eyelids.

  “I can’t help it,” she whispered. “It feels—it feels amazing, Cash.”

  He rocked against her, hard as stone. Pressing his cock against that sensitive spot she was trying to gratify. She whimpered and grasped his biceps. Squeezed her fingertips into his muscles so hard he was pretty sure she would leave a mark. If not a physical mark, then a psychological mark he would feel for a long time to come.

 

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