Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  I should have known better, I’ll never look at her with anything except love. And respect. And with the fucking desire of a thousand suns. Her beauty stuns me—forces me to accept how delicate I’ve become outside of the SEAL arena.

  She gazes at her hand, turning it so the stone catches the light. “Never would have imagined I’d be in your bed wearing an engagement ring today. I came here today to try to start my life. After the accident,” she says, pausing and swallowing hard. “I thought I’d lost everything. They weren’t sure I’d be able to walk without a cane, or if my body would heal the way it was supposed to.” Her eyes meet mine. “And that terrified me, because I have no clue who I am outside of the persona I created for myself. Throw in a breakup and I was floundering to understand the point of everything.”

  Clearing my throat, I slide one hand down her bare arm. “You healed fine and you don’t have to worry about that. Don’t think of it anymore. You did start a new life today,” I say. “Our life.”

  “I didn’t read the letters,” she admits, watching my hand. I stop at her elbow, and wait. “Well, I read the first one and assumed the rest would be of the same, and I couldn’t be persuaded out of feeling sorry for myself. I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m glad you waited for me.”

  As if I had any option. “I visited the hospital every single day you were there. I brought coffees to the ladies at the front desk and they gave me your updates.”

  “Doesn’t that go against some privacy law?” she says, quirking one brow. “I knew it. They never told me, and that’s probably why. They were afraid I’d get them fired.”

  “Why did you keep me away? Even if you were upset, I still can’t understand why you wouldn’t see me at least once to speak your peace,” I say. “I thought you’d written me off for life.” And it hurt more than a million Stella breakups.

  Her eyes turn down in the corner. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. After such a stupid decision. You pride yourself on perfection, and look at me. I’m such a mess.” She shrugs. “I didn’t think you cared, either. With how fast you took off.”

  I shake my head. “I make mistakes every fucking day. A mistake is what lead me here to Bronze Bay. To you,” I explain. “I get to have this perfect life that I didn’t even know existed because I got my buddy shot.” I cringe, but at least I’m able to talk about it now. “That was a mess, Caroline. Not an accident.”

  “And now I know you obviously did care. The whole time,” she replies, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “You would have known sooner had you read all the letters,” I say, smiling. She throws one naked leg over my midsection and I hold my breath and watch her cautiously. Her lithe body appearing from under the bed sheets. Those three freckles on her mid-section calling my name.

  I take a few deep breaths to control my fucking libido as her wet pussy presses against my lower abs. I have on a pair of boxer briefs and they might as well be our chastity belt, because they are the only safe guard we’re using to keep my dick out of her vagina. “If I read those letters maybe we wouldn’t be here today,” she says. Caroline leans over, and her long, wavy hair hits my shoulders and shrouds our kiss. My thumbs hold her hip bones and my pinky fingers rest on the top swell of her ass. She teases with her tongue as she circles her hips. I flex my abs, mostly because my whole body is tense, but also because she’s working her clit against me and I want her to come—to see her face as she takes her pleasure. The kiss deepens and I open my eyes to watch.

  Her face transforms, and although she keeps her mouth against mine, she’s panting. These tiny, moan inducing breaths as she presses against me harder. In response, I stop breathing and listen. Her wetness sliding against my stomach, her breathing inside my mouth, the faint sounds of the party out on the lawn. I watch her face as her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue slides across her bottom lip. She grimaces, and then she comes, her mouth opening and her features softening. The squeezing of her orgasm can be felt, and for a moment, I close my eyes and imagine what it will feel like to be inside her while she comes. That first time. And every time after.

  Caroline presses her wet lips against mine in a smile. “I’m going to like having you around all the time,” she says, breathing hard. “You’re like my playground.”

  Oh, this woman. What she does to me with mere words. I turn my head away from her and make a groan that ends in a laugh. “You know just what to say, Caroline May.”

  “You made a rhyme,” she replies. After a beat or two, she lays her head on my chest. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “So you can have the full Monty slide instead of my abs seesaw?” I tease. Taking her face in my hands, I stare into her deep blue eyes. “I can’t wait to make you my wife and keep you forever.”

  Her smile in reply is so big and beautiful that I melt a little. Caroline tucks herself back beside me and asks me a million questions about the time she spent away. We talk about the Inn and work, she asks me about the guys and future plans for missions. I tell her what I can. Then we talk about the wedding logistics and we agree, in unison, that it should be an intimate affair on the water and as soon as humanly possible.

  After that’s out of the way, we delve into the harder topics. The ones that have to be broached. She’s pulling her dress over her head. “Where will we live?” she asks, looking out of the window and then back to me.

  I swallow, and raise one brow. “Where do you want to live?”

  She paces to the window. “Here, probably.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I approach her from behind and pull her against the bulge in my shorts. “You love the hangar,” I say, nuzzling into her ear. “Why don’t you want to live there?”

  She clears her throat and answers without missing a beat. “I’m not sure I’ll fly again. I can still run the airport, though. I can help here, too. I can tend at the bar or run things downstairs. That will take up my time.”

  Avoidance. I know this tactic all too well. One of my buddies didn’t deploy for a few years after his buddy got killed on a mission. He was right beside him and there was nothing he could do to save his life. He blamed himself and spiraled for a long time. His story is told as a SEAL history lesson in the Teams now. “You have to get back up,” I tell her. I didn’t realize she hadn’t flown since the accident. “As soon as possible.” My mind starts concocting a plan—one she won’t be able to refuse.

  Caroline shakes her head. “I think that was just a part of my life, a hobby, Tahoe.” She turns to face me, her arms draped on my shoulders. “Some things you’re meant to do for a period of time and others are lifers. Maybe flying wasn’t supposed to be forever for me.” Her eyes gloss over.

  Kissing the top of her head, I pull her close. “I get it. I do. But you have to fly again. At least once, and then you can decide if you’re a lifer or not. Okay?”

  She cries a little and I know she’s thinking about the accident, her lack of control over the one thing she’s always controlled. “I can’t,” she whispers. “I’m not good at it.”

  I push her away so I can look at her face. “You aren’t good at it,” I exclaim.

  Her brows draw together and she tilts her head.

  “Because you’re amazing at it. Perfect at it, even.”

  “Stop it,” she replies. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  Shaking my head I say, “I’m not. Plus, I need you to fly us to New York for our bachelor party.”

  She smirks. “Don’t you mean bachelorette party?” Her eyes light. “Or a joint party?” Ah, I got her interest. “Like all of us together? In N.Y.C?”

  I smile back. “Only if you fly us there.”

  Her lips curl down. “I don’t know if I can risk it,” she says. “Not you.”

  “So fly yourself there and I’ll meet you?”

  She hits my chest playfully. “I’ll think about it. When?”

  “Next weekend?” I shrug. Leif won’t care. He’ll love it. He’
ll close the whole entire base for a week if it means he’ll get some time alone with Malena. His pursuit is relentless. “In an effort to get this marriage ball rolling as soon as possible. Let’s plan it.”

  “Oh, Malena will freak out if I tell her this. I’ll let her plan it all.” She pulls on her bottom lip, her gaze far away in planning land. “And she can put the wedding together.” Now she claps her hands. “I won’t have to do a thing!”

  I laugh. “You really don’t like this stuff, do you? We could elope? In New York? No one would know except us?” As much as I don’t like the idea of her not getting a proper wedding, I wasn’t lying when I said I would do anything to make her happy. My motto has transformed from “Keep It Simple,” to “Whatever It Takes.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I think we should have a wedding for sure. A small one. Do you need to get back to your party?”

  I take her by the left hand. “It’s our party now,” I coo. “Happy Engagement Party!”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh dear,” she replies.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Caroline

  I did it. I flew that stupid plane all the way to the private airport outside of Manhattan. Tahoe kept a straight face, trying to hide his phobia of flying in small planes. I was grateful if only for having one less thing to deal with. I was on alert the entire time, using more caution than I’ve used since I was a flight student. It was a smooth ride and everything went as planned. I spent all of Wednesday and Thursday tracking weather patterns and studying air traffic patterns outside of the area.

  “Wear the green one, Caroline,” Malena hollers from the other side of the suite. “I’m going to wear the lilac one. Britt is wearing the champagne colored skirt and black blouse,” she adds. I do have my own room here at this beautiful hotel, but everyone is getting ready here because there’s more space. Tahoe is one floor down and seven doors to the right. On the corner. I’ve seen New York in movies, but I never expected it to be so busy. In real life, it is so grand. There’s no grass save for squares here and there, and in Central Park. The buildings take up all the space where sky should be. The city has a way of making you feel small and insignificant, but it’s an experience I’m happy to be having. An outlook I never considered.

  Tahoe took me to breakfast and then after a make out session in his room, he took me to lunch, and now we’re in our separate quarters getting ready for the festivities tonight.

  His friends have promised debauchery and the finest strip clubs money can buy, and my friends, or rather Malena, by herself, has lined up the best restaurant, and bars. She did it all on the crazy time crunch of a week that we gave her, and she did it happily, without asking me too many questions. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion she probably pestered Tahoe with most of her concerns in an effort to keep me from freaking out and calling the whole thing off.

  I finger the green dress in my hands and shake my head. This is going to make for an interesting evening. Britt, who only came because Malena begged, has been on full on jealous mode because not only am I getting married before her, we’re in a big city celebrating my union. Not in a dirty bar sipping old, foamy beer while feeding a juke box. She didn’t cancel her wedding to Whit, but they did pause it. I’m not even sure what that means, or how it’s any different, but that’s what she’s been saying to anyone who asks.

  Shirley hangs up her cell behind me with a curt goodbye. “Caroline, it’s going to look amazing. Put the damn dress on and let’s get this party started.” I sip the champagne, my third glass since I started getting ready. Someone came to the room and did our makeup and hair, and I’ve never felt so fancy in my entire life. “I won’t even look like this on my wedding day, Shirley. Isn’t it,” I say, slurring a bit. “All too much?”

  She laughs and lays her hands on my shoulders. “All women need to feel like a princess once in their life. Put it on,” she orders. I do, and she zips me up, moving my cascade of curls to one shoulder. “You look like a blonde Princess Kate,” Shirley drawls. “He knew what he was doing.”

  “What do you mean he knew? He chose this?” I run my hands down the sleek fabric as I stare in the mirror.

  “Of course he did.” I knew he was footing the bill for this weekend, and I was hesitant to let him, but I never would imagine his duties involved selecting fashion for his bride.

  “I love it,” I say.

  “Now you love it,” Shirley says, rolling her eyes. She’s wearing a black number complimented with thick, dark eye makeup. ‘A 90’s grunge dream come to life’ she proclaimed after the makeup artist completed her look.

  I turn to view the back of the dress, eyeing the detail more thoroughly. “Of course I love it more now that I know he likes it. Take a photo and send it to mama,” I say. I pose with my hands on my hips and it feels awkward. “Wait, wait. Take another one. How should I pose?” I ask my friend.

  She tilts her head, surveying me. “Cross your ankles. One hand on your hip. Turn to the side a little. Hair over that shoulder,” she orders, as I try my best to follow along. “A little bit more twist. Yes. Like that.”

  Her cell phone camera flashes and she squints her eyes as she appraises the image. “Perfect.”

  “Let me see,” I say, teetering on my heels to stand next to her. It is a good photo. I look like a totally different person. Everything polished and preened to city shine. Shirley presses a few buttons and proclaims it’s been sent. To both my mama and to Tahoe.

  My cell phone, the new one, that has a touch screen front and more features than I know what to do with rings on the night stand. Tahoe’s text reads, “You look beautiful. I can’t wait until you’re my wife.” He ends it with a smirking smiley face.

  “So you can take the dress off?” I fire back.

  His reply is swift. “No, I’ll be taking it off tonight regardless of your marital status.”

  My stomach flutters with excitement. As hard as it’s been to stave off the sexual act that has caused so much strife in our lives, the anticipation is something that should seriously be written down in history books. We have done every non-penetrating act of foreplay you can possible do in every position that is humanly possible. He’s frustrated. I cannot wait. There is a tension that crackles in the air when we’re together. Those around us feel it, and despite our best efforts, a lot of time the elephant in the room is the topic of conversation.

  Another text pings. “I can’t stop staring at the photo.”

  I blush.

  “Oh my gosh, would you guys get it over with already? What’s it matter if you do it tonight or next weekend? It’s obvious to anyone in a seven-hundred-mile radius how mad in love you are with each other.” Shirley exclaims as I smile at my phone.

  I’ve explained the reasons a dozen times, but no one seems to understand. Sometimes, when having sex feels like the natural next step when we’re messing around and we’re both so fucking mad with lust, I think it doesn’t matter, but our definition is written in ink and we both are holding strong to that belief. We’re together in this. In the decision. “I don’t expect you to understand,” I say.

  “Why? Because I’m a whore?” she jokes.

  Sighing, I say, “No, because I’ve already tried to explain it to you still continue to ask me. It’s important to us.”

  She shakes her head, tells everyone we’re ready and we set off, a tribe of champagne drunk girls as we ride down the elevator. I refused all of the typical bachelorette party fanfare, the mere thought of a penis hat causing me actual stomach cramps. Malena rolled her eyes, Britt got offended, and Shirley changed the subject to dinner. Something we all agreed would be the best experience of our lives.

  When the elevator doors ping open in the lobby, he’s there. Standing against a column, wearing a white button up shirt, gray fitted slacks, and dress shoes. Pinching my lips together, I try not to scream like a fan girl seeing her favorite celebrity. He looks delicious in every way. His hair is done, and he’s wearing that smile, with that dimple, a
nd if I wasn’t wearing heels I would sprint at him like a cheetah. One hand is in his pocket like he doesn’t give a shit, and the other hangs by his side so he can be ready at the drop of a hat.

  When I finally reach him, he grabs at me, “Come here you.” His growl is a rough timbre, that rolls over me ending between my legs. “It’s almost a crime other men get to see you look like this when I want you all for myself.”

  I turn my head to whisper, “I am all yours. And you’re all mine. You look like a movie star.”

  “An action star I hope?” he replies, leaning his head onto mine. “One with a big cock and the stamina of Rambo?”

  I giggle. A noise that surprises even me. I feel his dick harden against my stomach even further. “Of course, Rambo. The hottest most alpha movie star in the history of Hollywood. One more week,” I remind him. He kisses my head, and steps out of my embrace.

  “These two. Ugh,” Britt whines. “You can’t do that all night long you know?”

  Malena clacks up to our group and Leif eyes her like she’s dinner. And dessert. “I asked if you guys would be into a Killing Kittens Party and everyone said no,” she says, raising her brows like we’re petulant children. “They could have shagged all night there. I bet her virginity would make for the main attraction.”

  “Killing Kittens was on the table,” Aidan barks. “How come no one told me?”

  “Killing Kittens was never on the table,” Tahoe growls. “This isn’t about that. This is about having a good night out with our friends in a beautiful city.”

  Aidan sighs. “It would have been fun.”

  “I know, right?” Malena says, folding her arms across her chest. “No one wants to listen to me. I know how to have a good time.”