Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

He was about to burst. His chest swelled, and he opened and clenched his hands, which wanted to reach for her, to minister to her, but he remained still, studying this china doll who was so delicate and careful with him.

  Could he trust her? Would she turn him down again, even though it seemed like something had shifted?

  And did it matter, after all? Because if he didn’t try, he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. And, in a way, that was far worse than getting shot down. Taking the chance was always the right choice. Always.

  He safely put his right hand on her forearm, gently squeezing it, rubbing the softness of her perfect skin. “Mia, I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you are. I’ve always wanted the best for you, like Armani.”

  She gave him a gracious smile as she removed her hand from his cheek and entwined her fingers with his. Her other hand she placed safely in her lap. “But not like my brother, Fredo. Never like my brother, Fredo. Surely you don’t mean that.”

  She’d left the comment out there on the table, like she was testing him.

  This was it. He’d either be man enough to say more, or he would show her his fear. Hell, yes, he was afraid he’d blow it, but he was compelled, by some golden tether he allowed to deliciously encircle them both, to move toward her. Her crossed knee brushed against the top of his thigh as he leaned in and whispered to her ear, “No. Like someone who cherishes the ground you walk on.”

  He leaned back, but their bodies still touched, and she didn’t shrink away from him.

  “Then kiss me, Fredo. Here. In front of all these people. Kiss me.”

  He could hardly wait, but he let the moment drag out, savoring it. The slow bending, approach to her moist skin, the scent from between her breasts flooding his nostrils, the ragged hitch in her breath sending signals to his body that she was fully available to him, unlike ever before.

  And then their lips met. He was going to leave it a closed-mouth, gentle kiss on her red lips, but she parted him with her tongue, suckling him, changing positions and exploring all of his mouth. He heard her inhale him.

  God, could this be? Could this really be happening? To him? Fredo?

  His right hand wanted to touch her, but didn’t think it proper. Struggling with himself, he brought his hand up to settle on her left hip. Without him asking, she moved closer, as if his fingers had pressed into the softness at the top of her butt, and then he realized he had pulled her to him, had splayed his fingers out and pressed the small of her back so that she was against his groin.

  He knew she was used to men grabbing and claiming what they wanted. He waited, but found it stirred him the more he waited, the more tentative he was with her. His reward was to feel her flower, unfolding to him, asking for his hand to direct her, gentle her. She was asking for exactly what he could deliver.

  One of her hands smoothed up his spine, over his polo shirt. He wished he’d worn a crisp dress shirt, something smooth and silky to match the softness of her palm. Her kisses moved up and under his ear, along his neck, the tip of her tongue tasting him. The hair on top of her head tickled the side of his face as she reached his ear and whispered, “I want you, Fredo.”

  His first instinct was to jump in with both feet. Grab her hand and lead her off to his room, her room, and any quiet, dark place they could find on the ship. But the years of rejection weighed heavily on him, in spite of how alive and virile he was feeling.

  “Mia, are you sure?”

  She stopped her little kisses to look into his eyes. “You think I am making bad choices? Have I not found someone who will protect me?”

  “Absolutely, I will.”

  “Then show me, Fredo. Show me how you can do this. Show me your way, since mine has landed me in trouble so many times. Teach me, Fredo.”

  Teach me? Had she actually said that?

  She unwrapped herself from his embrace and led him across the floor. He wasn’t hesitant, but he allowed her to pull him, because he wanted to be sure. Needed the confidence, maybe. Loved that she was begging him instead of the other way around. He stole a quick look at Kyle and Nick, now joined by Armando and Mark and got four thumbs-ups, and a wink from Armando.

  He didn’t want to watch the way her hips swayed in front of him, but damn, he couldn’t help it. Was she maybe exaggerating it a little for his benefit? She kept looking back at him, probably at the frightened expression he was trying so hard to suppress. Whatever it was he was showing her didn’t seem to dampen her spirits any. Her flashing smile and knowing looks told him, God, it screamed at him, they’d be naked together in just a matter of minutes.

  He had just the trace of a little doubt that perhaps she was toying with his heart, but again, he had to convince himself it didn’t really matter. She’d asked him. He didn’t initiate it. And he’d let her lead the way all she wanted, until she trusted him enough to lead her, when she wanted to be led. God, he’d give her anything she wanted, and it didn’t matter if it hurt afterwards.

  She slipped her card into her room door and they entered one identical room to what he shared with Jones. He could hear the blue ocean outside foaming in the ship’s wake, since the sliding glass door had been left open.

  She dropped her card on the Formica desk and crossed the room to stand in the doorway, lifting her face to the breeze of the warm afternoon. Her perfume wafted to him…and she was a vision, standing there. His hands trembled, and all he could do was watch her for a few stolen seconds together in this, her room, this room that was where she slept, where she showered, where she looked in the mirror. Her inner sanctum.

  He’d been focusing on her hair and how it blew towards him when he realized she’d dropped her dress to stand naked, her back still to him. His eyes traveled hungrily over her perfect, heart-shaped ass and firm thighs, her impossibly tiny waist that led to broad shoulders. He was speechless that she offered herself to him this way.

  Fredo stepped up behind her, his palms daring to touch the soft undersides of her ample breasts, feel her nipples knot under his touch. He found a bare spot on her neck and placed a soft kiss there, felt her moan in his chest. Stepping still closer, he rubbed against her butt.

  He paused, checking, making sure she really meant what it looked like she meant, and was rewarded with her hands reaching back to clutch his ass, and pull him into her. Her torso arched up as her breasts filled his hands, as she angled her head so he could fully kiss his way from her delicious shoulder up that long neck he’d dreamed about for years. Gently pressing his groin into her backside, he allowed himself to show her his need. Her slight push back into him told him everything he needed to know.

  His hands skimmed down her flat tummy to the arch of her slender hips. His fingers followed the crease of the triangle of the apex of her thighs. Slowly he glided, until he heard another delicious moan. He answered it with a low growl as his fingers discovered the slit already wet with her own desire. Slowly he ran a forefinger up and down her as she bent her knees, arched backward into him, and allowed him full access.

  He one-handedly fumbled with the button and zipper of his cargo pants, keeping two fingers embedded in her silky, wet insides. His cock bounced to life, and immediately rooted at her beautiful ass, tracing the slim crease between her cheeks.

  He slipped his shoes off and stepped out of the pile his pants made. He had an eight-inch scar on his chest, curved like the knife that got him there, so he left his shirt on. With both hands free, he rubbed down the length of her velvety thighs, loving the way her head rolled onto his shoulder.

  Then she righted herself, raising her arms above her head, holding herself up on the sliding glass doorjamb. She pressed her butt into him and leaned forward so he could enter her from behind.

  He had a fleeting thought that maybe she would be visualizing someone else pleasuring her, perhaps one of her other lovers with a more handsome face, someone she wanted like he wanted and fantasized about her. She might think of someone else just like he did when he had sex with an
yone else. He knew that one well. He wouldn’t blame her. And he wouldn’t know the difference until it was all over. If she wouldn’t look at him, then he would know what she’d done.

  He figured it would be worth it. Maybe. Just maybe.

  He wanted to say something to her, but held it inside. He bent his knees and felt her warm folds with the head of his cock. He had to watch as he slid into her. One hand lay against the small of her back, the other one at her upper thigh, bracing himself as his gentle in and out brought out her gasps and moans of pleasure. He felt the same way, but kept silent.

  Pretty lady, you have no idea how much I love you, have always loved you.

  The look of his member disappearing into her made it nearly impossible to maintain his composure. He adjusted his stance, picked her up with his thrusting, her feet gently leaving the ground as she accepted him deep.

  She was early to come, shuddering, the tanned cheeks of her ass melting over his thighs as her body pitched. He slowed down, wanting to prolong her pleasure. She was gripping the metal doorframe, forcing her forehead against her forearms, moving from side to side.

  As her fluttering ended, she reached around and grabbed his ass with both hands, grinding into him. “God, Fredo, Oh, my god.”

  At first he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The sound of his name on her lips elicited a growl from deep in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the back of her neck, needing to have the scent of her hair all around him, urgently needing her deep, needing the lifeline her fine young body gave him.

  Save me, Mia.

  He wanted it to last longer, but he shot inside her. He didn’t want time to slip away. He wished he could fill her forever.

  “Yes, baby,” he heard her breathe as she arched again, reaching her arm back over her, running her fingers through his hair as he thrust one last time, lifting her again off the ground.

  He didn’t want to set her feet back on the ground. He held her securely, his arm draped over her breasts as she undulated against him until he was completely spent.

  She wiggled free, which at first worried him. Sliding off his cock, her tweaked nipples smashed into him as she turned and drew her thighs up over his hips, planting a big kiss on his mouth. She sucked his tongue into hers. He was emboldened that she would look into his face and not find the flaw of his features. She was as needy for him as he had been—was—for her.

  At last he chanced a word. “Mia,” he whispered, between her tongue and her lips.

  “Oh baby, please, can we go some more?”

  Like, more sex? Hell, yes!

  He cupped her behind, smoothing over her satin skin, digging his fingers into her soft, all-female padding. She had crossed her arms behind his head, pulling his face into hers, running fingertips through the hair at his temples, and easing the scar on his chest with the warm movement of her wonderful breasts.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, looking up at her. Her warm brown eyes consumed him. She adjusted him, running her index finger and thumb in a ring up and down his wet shaft.

  “I want you inside me again,” she whispered.

  “Yes.” It was all he could think to say, as she continued to stimulate him, making him even harder than before.

  “Why was I so stupid, Fredo?” She found that hollow between his shoulder and the base of his neck and kissed him there. Her left hand massaged down his chest until she found the crescent scar. She ran her fingers up his buttons, and then slowly, carefully undid each one, and eased his shirt off, letting her eyes memorize what her fingers had felt. Then she leaned down, kissing him there, running her tongue over the place where he’d been given the life-saving cut that would forever mark him.

  He was overcome with her delicate treatment of his wound.

  “Love me, Fredo,” she whispered as she snuggled onto his lap and guided him to her opening.

  She closed her eyes and he watched her savor the feel of him sliding into her. Her mouth in that perfect “O”. He’d never thought he could make her feel this way, and he wasn’t an anonymous lover catching her from behind, perhaps enabling her to dream of someone else while he came inside her. She was seeing him, all of him. Feeling him inside her, because he was the one she wanted.

  Cruisin’ for a Seal: Chapter Eight

  The road to Marrakesh was a long one, through red earth and clusters of light, olive green patches in between the rocky soil and vast expanses of nothing. Mark saw how hard the farmers worked on their little plots of land, sometimes communally, and didn’t wonder for a second why some opted for the city, even choosing a life of begging over the impossible odds of farming with oxen and cart in such a desolate land.

  He’d taken on Sanouk as his personal responsibility, something Kyle and the others were too busy to do. All of them were on the same bus.

  Mark could see remnants of the Berber culture that felt somewhat similar to the lands and peoples of Afghanistan, especially the minarets and the call to prayers. Part of the tension he felt during deployment crept back. But he was sitting on a groaning bus, along with his buds, men who’d seen battle the same as he had, but they also had Christy, Gina, Mia and Jasmine, Libby and Devon, too. And that was maybe what helped the tension mess with his mind this morning.

  He wondered what it would take before he could just visit these places and not have to feel afraid for his life, or for the lives of those around him. He wondered if he could ever have a serious interest in the Middle East without feeling resentment for the loss of those he held in his arms while they died. What the world would feel like if people didn’t want to kill each other.

  He almost never allowed himself such thoughts. It was his job to just do and not question. Unlike the Crusaders, he was on a mission to stop the killing, the overrunning of an innocent population by thugs and gangsters who used their religion to control them. He wasn’t going to convert them, just make them stop killing everyone who disagreed, or die trying.

  The Berber driver was speaking in that rapid-fire English with a healthy dose of syrupy sweetness that always raised the hackles on the back of his neck.

  “You understand him much?” Sanouk asked.

  “About every other word,” Mark answered as he watched the bus pass a small cart pulled by a skinny donkey, and piled high with something wrapped in black and blue tarps. The man sat sideways on his cargo, smacking the donkey’s rear with a reed. The little animal was skipping down the dusty road parallel to the bus, looking malnourished and scared to death.

  They drove by a square with a large school and mosque. Mark didn’t have the desire to go inside, and he knew his buds probably felt the same, but they weren’t about to be difficult or draw attention to themselves. They poured out onto the hot, dusty street and immediately were assaulted with the same familiar sounds of traffic, minaret callers, radios blaring the calls, several dialects he recognized, and several he didn’t. Young, crippled boys hobbled on one foot with plastic water bottles cut in half asking for coin. All of the SEALs opened their wallets and layered small one-dollar bills there, creating a small crowd of followers the tour guide sharply shooed away.

  “American? You are US?” the guide asked.

  Kyle shrugged and nodded.

  “We love Americans,” he said as he tried to open his arms and give Kyle a hug. Kyle stepped back and the guide laughed at the rebuff, but Mark could see an underlying resentment there. “You will see, we love Americans in this country. Morocco isn’t like the rest of Africa.”

  The rest of the bus unloaded until they were standing amidst heavyset older tourists.

  “In my country,” the guide continued, “we have a very good King. He love Obama. He and Obama are good friends,” he held up two forefingers side by side, the universal sign for togetherness. The Berber guide wasn’t giving up, “You will see, my friends.”

  As they walked into the large market square they were assaulted by bright-colored clothing, and spices that made Mark want to sneeze. A couple
of small boys were holding snakes, asking for money for a picture. Necklaces made out of nuts and shells, plastic gems and knots of colored leather started to look alike. Some had baseball caps with “I heart Marrakesh” logos on them, and silk shawls of every color.

  Christy wandered into a stall and was surrounded by a bevy of dark-skinned men draping silks over her body as she laughed, her beautiful long, blonde hair and hoop earrings flashing in the sunlight. Kyle went on instant alert and pulled her away from the quicksand of commerce, earning some disapproving looks from the vendors.

  “You don’t just do that, Christy,” Mark heard him tell his wife.

  “Oh stop it, Kyle.” Christy wiggled away from his grip and turned her back to him, looking for another stall to explore.

  “This isn’t Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” he said to her back.

  She lifted her sunglasses and gave him a sultry smile, but a challenge. “I’m on vacation. I want to experience this place, just a little. Besides, with all of you right here, on duty, we’re safe.” She joined Libby and they walked ahead of the rest of the Team.

  Fredo rolled his eyes as Mia pulled him into another stall to do some haggling.

  The tour guide abruptly interrupted any viable commerce. Mark realized the guy had his own ideas about who should benefit from the group’s dollars.

  Mark saw a beautiful turquoise necklace dotted with amber beads and stopped to inquire. The guide stood in front of him, waving his arms, the sleeves of his kaftan flapping like butterfly wings. The shopkeeper slunk to the background.

  “Hold it there, Tonto. I’m interested in that necklace,” Mark said.

  “Not good quality. I have a place you will find much better quality at a better price. Trust me. Your lady will be very, very pleased.”

  The guide’s defiant brown grin ticked Mark off a bit. He picked the man up by the forearms and placed him three feet from where he originally stood. Mark motioned for the owner to come forward. The black-skinned man’s eyes darted from side to side as he bowed and came forward.