Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  “You can even invite Caroline,” Leif says. “I want her to bring her friend.”

  “Which friend?” I’m almost positive he means Shirley. That one is down to fuck, one-hundred percent.

  Leif describes her and I’m surprised he’s describing her other friend. “Malena,” I deadpan. “Why her?”

  He tilts his head and starts listing things he likes about her using one finger at a time. The list is all physical, of course, but he’s remembered features about her that I didn’t, so he’s really into her. “Sure. I’ll ask,” I offer. Caroline might not be down with the idea at all. The last time we were all together at the bar those people ate her alive in that twisted frenemy way.

  “They’re already darker, dude. I bet by tonight you’ll be a right fine monster,” Leif says, admiring my face.

  Groaning, I tell them to take me back to land. “I need to work out or something,” I say. “So she’ll look at other parts of me instead of my face.” No one ever questions their vanity until something happens to their fucking face. I went and cock-blocked myself.

  “Sound logic,” Leif replies, coughing. Once everyone is onboard he starts the engine and we head back to base. I debate going to visit Caroline at the airport office before my eyes get worse, before I’m more monster than human, but I actually have a bit of work to get done before I leave work for the day.

  And I do need to work out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Caroline

  He looks like a female wet dream as he walks toward me. He has on a pair of cut off khaki shorts, flip flops, and a black tee that shows off every rippled muscle. I didn’t see him yesterday after work because he was busy, nor earlier today because we both had a busy schedule. I expected him to pop into the diner for lunch with a friend like he would do from time to time, but he didn’t. Tahoe did text me almost every waking second all night long. When I broached, as delicately as I could, the voice message I accidentally sent, he said he had no idea what I was talking about. I was relieved, yet suspicious. He called me three times today to make sure we were still on for the party at the spot tonight. While it’s not my typical choice for spending my free time, the fact that we’ll be together changes everything. I’m pretty confident he could lead me up to the gates of hell with ease. It’s not something I’m proud of.

  Holding my door open, I lick my lips when he gets close enough to see my face. I want more of what he gives before we leave. It is part of my reasoning for having him come over so early. Tahoe is wearing a pair of dark, aviator sunglasses. That’s not something I’ve ever seen him in before, but we are in Florida where most of the inhabitants wear sunglasses 99 percent of their lives.

  He grabs me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground as he brings me in closer. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into my ear. He inhales deeply and I can actually feel the relief wash over him.

  “Don’t be so busy at work then. I missed you, too. Did you get those tickets?” He was trying to get tickets to see Wicked while we’re in N.Y.C when he called earlier today.

  Pulling away, he grins. “I did. I can’t wait to see it with you,” he says. “How was your day?” He carries me through the entrance and sets my feet down on the stairs leading up to my house.

  We walk up together as I tell him first about my boring shift at the diner, and then working on an engine when I got to the airport this afternoon. He closes the door behind us, still keeping the sunglasses on his face. When he notices me studying, he tells me about the work he’s getting done on his house, and the contact I gave him for the appliance man worked out great. He was able to snag top of the line kitchen appliances for next to nothing. He’s using distraction. “Hey, uh, you wear your sunglasses at night?” I sing, moving my shoulders.

  “It’s afternoon,” he counters. “I have something to tell you,” he explains, moving his hands by his sides. “Or show you rather.” He clenches and unclenches his fists.

  My heart starts hammering because this disposition is something I’ve never seen portrayed before. Not on him, anyways. His shoulders slump and his chin tucks into his chest. He’s sad. He has the sunglasses on because he’s been crying. That must be it. Which probably means something horrible happened. Someone died. And here I am asking about Broadway tickets like some jerk.

  “Oh, God. Just tell me now. Spit it out,” I say.

  “Sit down.”

  I follow his directions, and put my hands on top of my knees. He sits next to me, but leans his back against the arm of the sofa so he’s facing me front on. “You’re scaring me,” I tell him, voice wavering. “Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?”

  He clears his throat. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine. There’s, ah, nothing to be scared about,” he says. “I had a little bit of a diving accident when we went out on the boat. Fishing, remember?”

  I look over his body up and down, at all of the exposed skin, looking for some kind of wound.

  “I remember. And?” My voice quavers with unease.

  “And I didn’t clear my mask while diving deep. Essentially, the best way to put it is I got a hickey on my eyeballs,” he says, taking off the sunglasses, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s called a mask squeeze and it will take a long time to go away,” he explains, and then his thick lashes flutter up.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I jump back, and cover my mouth. “Have you seen a doctor?” I wail behind my hand. It’s that bad. His blue eyes are in stark contrast next to the deep maroon color that used to be the whites of his eyes. “Doctor,” I say one more time, trying to swallow down my fear. He said he was okay. Said that it would go away on its own.

  Tahoe winces. “That bad, huh?”

  “You knew it was that bad!” I reply. Leaning in, I get a better look and then wish I didn’t. He closes his eyes.

  “I’m an idiot. It happens to inexperienced divers a lot. I did see the doc, and the only tincture for my stupidity is time.”

  I nod. “Okay. Okay,” I say again. “I can get used to it.”

  “You can date a character from Dungeons and Dragons?” he asks. I make the mistake of looking at his eyes a touch longer than I should, so he shuts them.

  “You’re not my boyfriend because of the scleral sections of your eyeballs, Tyler Holiday.”

  My statement garners a laugh, but he slides his sunglasses back over his eyes. “You don’t have to wear those. Don’t be silly.” Even as I say it, I’m relieved I don’t have to look or not look. It’s awkward either way.

  “Why were you diving deep anyways? Weren’t you fishing? I didn’t realize spear fishing involves depth diving.”

  He swallows. “I was trying to see how far down I could get. Beat my best depth,” he explains, using his hands to talk.

  I quirk one brow and look off to the side. “Sometimes you’re so predictable and then other times it’s like you’re a wild card. You probably almost die on a regular basis doing your job, and then do stupid stuff like that during your off hours? Seems ludicrous.”

  Sighing, he takes my hands in his. “I’d take it back if I could. I’ll never hear the end of it. Leif and Aidan will bust my balls all night long.”

  Having all of his teammates mingling with the Bronze Bay crowd is going to be weird. They’re trying to integrate themselves into the community and it must be working on some level. I had to call Malena to ask her if she was coming to the spot tonight. Of course, like always, she is, but she also wanted to cash in the housewarming party planning chip. I nailed down a date a few months away. She whined, but I stood firm—said I was busy until then, and if she wanted to help me she would have to wait. I don’t relish having anyone in my world. Except Tahoe.

  He’s the exception. The scary-at-the-moment-exception.

  Tahoe runs his rough, calloused palm over my bare thigh, and up to the hem of my dress. A dress I chose very carefully after standing in front of my closet longer than I ever have before. In the Florida heat it’s shorts and a t
ank or a sundress. Worrying about impressing anyone else with my clothing wasn’t even on the radar. I want him to want me like I want him. The black dress is cut high on hem and low on bust, breaking one of the cardinal rules of dress wearing. Typically you can only have one. Your boobs hanging out, or your ass. Both? Dig your societal grave.

  He leans forward, intent on kissing me, but stops halfway. “I can take the sunglasses off if you want,” he says. I try to pick out his eyes behind the black lenses and can barely make them out.

  “Whatever you want.” I place my hand on his, the one on my leg, and drag it up further.

  His low, gruff chuckle floods me with desire. His fingers take over now that he knows exactly what I want, what I’ve been thinking about since the last time his fingers were on me. My skin heats, and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  “You don’t have any clue how beautiful you are, do you? Rewind. How fucking captivating you are on every level.”

  The heat from my body rises to my cheeks in what I’m sure is a full on telltale blush. I should check my reflection in his sunglasses, but I won’t. “Stop it,” I say. “You’d say anything right now.” Leaning up, I kneel in front of him on the couch, but his hand stays put, on the edge of my panties, teasing the elastic band. I’ve never hated elastic more, or wished I was brave enough to go commando. The thought didn’t cross my mind until right now. I’ll learn. I’ll be better at this seduction thing if it’s the last thing I do. Or have Shirley teach me when my phone is nowhere in my vicinity.

  His fingers pull aside the fabric. He kisses my lips, long and leisurely. Tahoe halts the kiss abruptly. “Don’t ever say I’d say anything,” he says. “I always say what I mean.”

  Raising my chin, I reply, “Say what you mean then.”

  His neck works and I can’t help but watch as it affects the muscles of his chest, too. “You are the single most perfect human being. For me. I want to fuck you. Own you. Keep you. I’m crazy about you.” He works one finger against me.

  “Anything else?” I say, moaning a little as I writhe in pleasure. Biting my lip, to stifle a cry, I circle my hips to increase the friction.

  “Yeah,” he growls. “When I fuck you I want to pull out and play connect the dots with the freckles on your lower stomach.” I raise my dress up to expose the offending marks. His head tilts down, but that’s the only tell that he’s admiring me, and his finger gliding over me, because the sunglasses hide all expression.

  “When are you going to fuck me?”

  His hand pauses for a beat, but then he moves it again in a pace he knows drives me wild. “When I can look you in the eye,” he says, sadly.

  I’m almost to orgasm—the feeling building like a volcano of pressure. My hands drop the hem of my dress, and clasp around his neck to steady my body. “Take off the sunglasses Tahoe,” I order, leaning my cheek on his shoulder and kissing his neck. My plan is to look him in the eye as I come, but it hits me fast and hard, and he probably did it intentionally because he is so good at this, like most things.

  I cling to him as I ride the waves of pleasure, feeling the pressure of his finger smoothing against me. I’m still breathing heavy when he slides his hand out from underneath my dress and puts the finger in his mouth.

  “Saying it like I mean it?” he asks, I smile. “You taste and smell so incredible I could live off you alone for months.”

  I grin. “You’d shrivel away to nothing without nourishment.”

  “And die a happy man. Don’t take that away from me,” he teases, rolling his tongue around the finger coated in my desire.

  My chest is red and my breaths are still short and wild. “Well if I’m going to say it like I mean it. I wish I could keep you in my bedside drawer. You’re so good at that it’s disturbing. I thought about asking how you got so good at playing the woman’s orgasm after you spent the night, but then realized I probably didn’t want to know the answer to that.”

  The knowing smirk on his face is beautiful. “I’m good with my hands, Caroline. That applies to everything I do in life. Sometimes it’s not a practice makes perfect thing. You can make up for lack of practice with…fury.”

  Something about the way he says that last word creates that low, burning in my lower stomach. “So you’re out of practice?”

  “Define out of practice,” he counters, good at the avoiding game.

  He folds me into his arms, and I snuggle against his chest, the side of my head bumping his aviators. “Who was the last girl?”

  He swallows and I feel it. “I don’t recall anything before two nights ago.”

  “You’re so smooth.”

  “Momma didn’t raise a fool, Sunny.”

  He must know by now. Must be intuitive enough with his sexual prowess to have ticked all of the virgin boxes, but every time I broach a conversation that could lead to my verbal confession, he shuts it down just like he’s doing right now.

  “We don’t really have to wait until your eyes get better, right?” I ask, honestly fearful that if he sticks by that resolution, I might die of anticipation. While every sexual encounter we’ve had this far has been explosive and full of depth, I crave the connection as much as I fear it.

  Tahoe shifts under me, and I can feel his hard dick through his jeans, butting up against my ass cheek. “Want to drive my truck tonight?” he asks instead.

  I go to open my mouth to ask my question again, but he’s kissing me instead, the sweet taste of his mouth making me forget anything I previously wanted to know. This is all the education I need.

  He lifts his sunglasses with a free hand and sets them on the arm of the sofa, but his eyes remain closed as our lips lock. He lays me down on the couch, positioning himself between my legs, just how I wish we were, but naked, and starts jutting his hips forward. He groans a little each time, as he rubs himself against my wet panties.

  The friction against my clit is immediate and every nerve ending focuses between my legs. He releases my lips and kisses my neck, and ear, and breathes in the scent of my hair. Wrapping my arms around his back, I find the bottom of his shirt and work it up until I get it over his shoulders. He pulls it the rest of the way off by grabbing the collar behind his neck. When I can see his skin, touch his muscles with my fingertips. It’s over. My pussy tightens in what seems like a death vice grip and then explodes, contracting around nothing, yet the sensations are full and amazing. Again.

  I’m still lightheaded and lust filled, but I know I need to take care of him. His arms are shaking and his body is coiled—ready for release. If he’ll let me. “Let me give you a blow job.” The words don’t make me gag this time. Shirley said I needed to get used to it. That it wouldn’t be so bad once I had a few dozen under my belt. Told me if I could coerce him into eating pineapple that the come would taste sweeter than normal. The thought made me dry heave, but then I checked myself. I’m an adult woman. This is part of doing business.

  “You make me dry hump you like a teenaged boy. You realize how wrapped you have me, right?” Tahoe says, his tone light. “Only if you want to. About the blow job,” he adds, licking the edge of my ear, sending goose bumps down one entire side of my body.

  Pushing him up with one hand, I wait for him to situate himself. “Of course I want to,” I say, grinning in what I hope looks like a reassuring manner. I took notes. I have this. He sits down on the couch, and I kneel between his legs, trying my best to keep my hands on any part of skin I can in the process.

  Licking my lips, I watch intently as he slides his shorts down. His erection, loud and proud, springs free.

  “I love everything about this right now. How you look. How you’re making me feel. So out of control. I have no idea what to expect next and for once, I don’t care. It’s just you and me. I’m so happy,” he says, putting a hand on the side of my face as I take him into my right hand to stroke him up and down. The skin is so smooth, like silk, and his pleasure in my touch is obvious. “I’m not, ah, saying that because you’re about to p
ut my dick in your mouth either.”

  “You’re saying it because you mean it,” I finish for him.

  He nods, his eyes still closed, a sleepy turned-on smile on his face. If I asked him to open them, I wonder if he would. Remembering Shirley’s words about tempo, mouth to hand ratio, spit, and zeal, I move in to wet it with my tongue.

  Tahoe guides me with his hands on my shoulders, the back of my neck, and with gentle words. It doesn’t take as long this time. Because I want to be legit more than anything else, I even swallow

  ****

  We would both be happy staying in. Cooking a nice dinner, having a glass of wine or three, and then heading to my bedroom to explore each other’s bodies for seven hours, but tonight Tahoe is the one urging us to go to the spot. We already discussed that I would drive his truck tonight, because his plans don’t involve staying sober. I’m okay with it, if anything, that’s what I’m used to. It’s always more fun to see everyone act like idiots with a clear focus.

  I don’t drive often, and his truck is a big, old thing that probably shouldn’t be trusted, but he coached me all the way there, telling me how third gear sticks and what I should do to unstick it.

  There’s a lot across the street where everyone parks relatively uniform, in lines spanning about ten cars deep. I make sure to back into the next spot for an easy exit. I recognize a few people parking and heading across the deserted street. “You don’t like coming here?” Tahoe says, pulling me against his side.

  I quirk up one side of my mouth. “It’s not that I don’t like coming, it’s just that everyone else does.” Sliding my arm around his back, I hold on to him tightly. I’m still floating in that orgasm induced good mood when I see Britt and Whit. Whit is holding one of those tall metal cups that keeps drinks cold for a long time and Britt is wearing RBF like she’s the one who coined the term.

  “It’s our friends,” Tahoe says, noticing them, too. He chuckles and shakes his head.

  Swallowing down the nerves, I say, “You’re going to see everyone here.” We cross the street and head onto the property owned by a distant relative of Malena. It remains open to everyone just because it always has been and no one complains. It has access to a canal, which opens to the bay, and then the river that feeds to the ocean. There are picnic tables and someone is setting up the kegs on the concrete slab that was poured for this occasion exactly. “Watch out for the mud,” I tell him, during the walk over. “I meant to ask you. Leif have a thing for Malena? She was planning on coming tonight anyways. So don’t let your friend think she’s here especially for him. She is a bit feisty.”