Stranded with the Navy SEAL

by Susan Cliff

  She collected a bunch of rags and brought hot water. Blood trickled from the punctures, dripping down his forearm. Her mouth pursed with anger. It was pretty adorable. He liked how she tilted her head to one side when she was mad, and didn’t hold back her opinions. And he knew, in that moment, that he would never feel this way about another woman.

  She sponged his arm with hot water. He sucked in a sharp breath. “What kind of shark did this?”

  “A tiger shark.”

  “You said those don’t come near the reef.”

  “Apparently this one does.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “I climbed on the raft and it went away.”

  She continued working on him. She wasn’t squeamish. She cleaned the wounds with a thoroughness that was borderline sadistic. Then she mashed up some cooked taro leaves. She claimed it was a natural pain reliever that promoted healing. After applying the paste carefully, she bandaged his arm with a dry strip of towel.

  He curled his hand into a fist and bent his elbow to test the bandage. It felt good. Not too loose, not too tight. “Thank you.”

  “What if it gets infected?”

  “You can cut it off.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He could see that, but he was reluctant to argue about hypotheticals. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  She stood abruptly. “I don’t want you to say anything! I want you to be more careful.”

  “I understand that,” he said in a clipped voice. “But I wasn’t being reckless. The shark came out of nowhere.”

  “The same shark that almost attacked us three days ago?”

  “I think so.”

  “So you took the raft out—the same raft that shark already followed—and you didn’t even worry about it. That’s your story?”

  “It sounds stupid, the way you tell it.”

  “This isn’t funny, Logan.”

  “I wanted a lobster. That’s what I was worried about.”

  “You could’ve died.”

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth, sighing. He wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. He was busting his ass to provide for them. She wouldn’t have complained if he’d brought back a lobster. No, she’d have made a delicious meal and danced on the beach while he fantasized about her doing the splits on his lap.

  “What do you expect me to do?” he asked. “Not fish?”

  “You won’t be able to until that wound heals.”

  He couldn’t argue there. With a muttered curse, he lumbered to his feet. “I left my pants at the reef.”

  “I’ll get them.”

  “I can walk.”

  She followed him anyway. He lengthened his stride just to annoy her. When they reached his pile of clothes, she stood there like a hall monitor, waiting for him to get dressed. He didn’t like putting his pants on over damp shorts, especially this late in the day.

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “Do I mind what?”

  “I’m going to take off my shorts first.”

  Her eyes dropped to his crotch. His boxer shorts were riding low on his hips. The wet fabric was torn in places and faded in others. The button that held the flap together had fallen off. He figured they’d be useless within a week.

  She turned around to give him privacy. Not that she hadn’t already seen everything, of course. His gut clenched at the memory of the day he’d caught her behind the rock on the beach, flushed and breathless.

  Don’t think about it.

  He dropped his shorts and stepped into his pants, wincing as he extended his left arm. He wouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting in the near future, which meant his raft project was on hold. Damn it all to hell.

  “Do you need help?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Yeah, right. He needed her hands on his fly like he needed a hole in the head. “I’m good.”

  While he fumbled with the buttons, she gathered his shirt and snorkel from the sand. The bamboo raft was lying nearby, a chunk missing from its side. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the damage. He had to admit, it looked sinister. His arm had been sandwiched between the bamboo and the paddle, and he’d still sustained a nasty bite.

  “You could’ve died,” she repeated.

  Here we go again.

  “That shark is going to come back and kill you.”

  “He’ll have to get in line behind the sea kraits and stonefish.”

  Her mouth twisted with displeasure. “Now you’re mocking me. You’re mocking my fear.”

  He started walking back to camp, hoping she’d drop the subject.

  No such luck. She hurried to follow him. “What is your problem? You’ve been acting like a jerk all week.”

  “You’re my problem.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You.” He gestured from her head to toes, indicating the entirety of her person. “Everything you wear, everything you say and everything you do.”

  “Oh? Am I bothering you?”

  “Yes,” he ground out. “When you rub coconut oil and sunscreen on me, I’m bothered. When you wear a see-through top, I’m bothered. When you do the upside-down splits in a skirt, I’m bothered.”

  “You think I’m trying to tease you?”

  “I know you are.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “What?”

  “Your boxer shorts leave nothing to the imagination. You don’t even hide your morning erections anymore. Your pants ride so low I can see your pubic hair. And speaking of hair, who are you shaving for? It’s like an invitation to climb aboard.”

  He stopped in his tracks, stunned. He knew she felt desire, of course. But he’d been under the impression that women weren’t as visual, and had classier sexual fantasies than men. “You want to climb aboard...my face?”

  “Forget it,” she said, seeming flustered.

  He’d never forget it. Never.

  “I’ll try not to touch you,” she said. “But I can’t help you with the rest. If looking at me bothers you, look away.”

  He didn’t think he could. He was Logan Nathaniel Starke. He didn’t quit. He didn’t lose. He’d handled every challenge the world had thrown at him. He’d taken on the deadliest overseas assignments. He’d just survived a shark attack. But he could not look away from Cadence Crenshaw to save his life.

  Denying himself the pleasure of having her now, after everything they’d been through, would be like putting a storm back in a bottle. This thing between them had already been unleashed. It was a juggernaut, hurtling toward completion.

  Survival wasn’t just about following a routine and working hard and staying alert. Sometimes it was about letting go.

  “I can’t,” he said, cupping her chin. “I can’t fight this anymore.”

  “Then don’t,” she said simply, and lifted her lips to his.

  Chapter 16

  She couldn’t believe she’d told him that she wanted to climb on his face.

  It was true, of course.

  It had been true before he’d shaved. But still, she shouldn’t have said that. He hadn’t shaved to dazzle her, any more than she’d danced to mesmerize him. The chemistry between them was just there. They were both caught up in an electric current of desire and emotion. She understood why he couldn’t look away, because she couldn’t look away, either. The instant she’d caught a glimpse of his smooth jaw, she’d been lost. She wanted to feel his mouth, his skin and his hands on her body.

  Her lips parted in invitation, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He swept his thumb over her mouth, marking the territory he was about to claim. She sucked the tip of his thumb and watched his eyes go dark. She liked the effect she had on him. She liked his pained expression
.

  He removed his thumb from her mouth and replaced it with his tongue, devouring her. She kissed him back with an eager moan. She couldn’t get enough of him. Their mouths were hot and hungry, hands roving. She clung to his neck and pressed her body against his. He was already aroused. So was she. Not surprising, as the past three weeks had been a long, tortuous session of foreplay. She made a whimpering sound, low in her throat.

  He didn’t stop kissing her, despite the urgency between them. She’d have let him take her right here on the sand, but he didn’t tear off her clothes. He didn’t rush into second base. He just held her face and feasted on her mouth.

  She wanted more. Her nipples hardened into taut peaks against the hard wall of his chest. His erection prodded her stomach. She thrust her fingers in his hair. She could feel the soft sand beneath her bare feet and the ocean breeze on her flushed skin.

  His hand left her face, finally, and landed at his favorite place: her ass. Every time she turned around, his eyes were on it. Now his hands were on it. Both of them, lifting her against his throbbing erection. He let her slide down in a delicious drag.

  Sparks of sensation rocketed through her. She ached for another dose of that good friction, up and down. She’d never been this turned on before. The encounter in the hallway paled in comparison, and it had been her sexual high point. Now that they were about to take it to the next level, she was...well, she was melting. That was the best way to describe it. She was melting from the inside out.

  He squeezed her bottom and grinded against her, still kissing. Her panties got damp and her nipples hurt. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. When he finally broke the kiss, she blinked drowsily, drunk on lust.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  The only thing to lie on was the shark-bitten raft, which should have been a turnoff. But she was so far gone that a bucket of ice water wouldn’t have been a turnoff. If he’d dumped one on her, she’d have shivered and said yes please.

  She sat down on the bamboo and reached behind her neck to untie her top. It fell to her waist, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were dusky points. His gaze caressed them as he stretched out beside her on the sand.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.

  She wasn’t self-conscious about her body. She appreciated the advantage of a streamlined physique for dancing. She valued strength and athleticism. But she also knew what men typically liked, and small breasts weren’t it. Even so, Logan didn’t seem to find her lacking. He stared at her chest the same way he stared at her ass, with bold appreciation. He cupped one breast, then the other. She bit her lower lip as he trapped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her sex pulsed, and her skin tingled with awareness.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else?”

  She didn’t want to say it. She just wanted to do it.

  He untied her sarong, his knuckles brushing her flat belly. Her black lace panties barely covered her. The fabric was damp, clinging to her swollen flesh. His nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed with hunger.

  He looked, but he didn’t touch. His mouth lowered to her breasts. She cried out as he suckled her hard nipples, one after the other. He went back and forth at least a dozen times, making her spine arch and her skin burn. She gripped his broad shoulders, unsure if she wanted his mouth to move up or down.

  He lifted his head. “Are you tapping me out?”

  She half laughed, half choked. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “I feel like I’m going to come before you even...get there.”

  “That would be hot.”

  She groaned, clenching her hands into fists. He took pity on her and pulled her panties down her legs.

  “Damn,” he said, his breath catching.

  She was too aroused to feel embarrassed about his perusal, even though it had been a month since she’d waxed. He didn’t seem to care. He stared at her slick center and moistened his lips, as if she looked delicious. His erection jutted at the front of his pants, drawing her attention. She wasn’t content to lie back and let him do all the work, so she reached out, molding her palm over him. He felt rock-hard and nicely thick.

  “Hello,” she said, fluttering her lashes. “What do we have here?”

  “He’s friendly. You can pet him.”

  She undid the buttons on his fly with a breathy laugh. Then she stopped laughing. Because wow. His erection bobbed up against his belly, blunt-tipped and impressive. She encircled his hot flesh in her fist and stroked. “Good boy.”

  He grunted his pleasure, shuddering a little. Then, after a minute, he stilled her hand. “Sorry, he gets too excited. He’s going to make a mess.”

  She squeezed his shaft. “I don’t mind.”

  He peeled her eager fingers away, nonetheless. Then he moved lower, settling between her legs. Glancing up, he kissed her inner thigh. “Now pet the kitty.”

  Her eyes widened at the order. For a clean-cut mama’s boy, he was a dirty talker. After a short pause, she slid her hand down her belly. He’d already caught her in the act, so why play coy? She knew how to pet the kitty. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to do it, but she was willing to indulge him. He watched intently as she touched herself. She dipped one finger inside, where she was hot and wet. Then she circled the tight bead above her opening.

  “Nice kitty,” he said, kissing her inner thigh again.

  Her stomach quivered with anticipation. She was acutely aware of her body, of his mouth and that handsome face, so close to her pulsing heart. She’d never done this in front of anyone before. She’d never been this excited before, either. Most of the time she felt too self-conscious to enjoy oral sex.

  He kissed her slippery fingers. She paused, panting with arousal. He sucked her fingers, tasting her. Then he settled his mouth over her already-stimulated flesh and blew her mind. She couldn’t believe how good it was. Her breath came in short pants as he licked and stroked her. Maybe he’d cheated a little by letting her do the warm-up, but she wasn’t complaining. She was writhing in ecstasy. He flicked his tongue over her, and she went off like fireworks, screaming his name to the tops of the palm trees.

  When it was over, she collapsed on the bamboo raft, her legs splayed out like a rag doll. He straightened to a kneeling position again. His erection jutted from his open fly, in desperate need of attention.

  “I’m close, just from looking at you,” he said in a guttural voice.

  She moistened her lips, ready to return the favor. “Let me.”

  He grasped her hand and wrapped it around his shaft. He wasn’t shy about showing her the right grip and rhythm. While she stroked him, his gaze moved from her mouth to her jiggling breasts to the still-tender flesh between her thighs.

  Then he came with a strangled groan, splashing her breasts and belly.

  She didn’t rush to rinse off. He didn’t rush to button up. He just studied her with that awed look, as if they’d done something special and lovely, and he was committing every detail to memory. And she felt beautiful, even with her legs spread and his fluid on her skin. She felt cherished, not sullied. She sat forward, touching his face.

  He covered her hand with his. “I want to watch you dance tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now I can actually enjoy it.”

  She smiled, happy to oblige. He helped her to her feet and waited while she knelt in the surf to wash her belly. His eyes traveled down her wet, naked body, alight with pleasure. At sunset, the water seemed to sparkle on her dark skin. When she rose, he took her by the hand and kissed her knuckles.

  “Don’t get dressed,” he said. “Stay like this.”

  She indulged him easily, gathering her small bundle of clothes. They walked down the beach together, hand in hand. It
felt strange and wonderful to be completely nude on their own private beach. He was still wearing his pants, but no shirt. There was something erotic about the picture they made. She was an island nymph with her castaway lover.

  As soon as they reached the shelter, he brought out the grass mat she’d made and placed it on the flat sand near the edge of the surf, where she liked to practice. He sat down to watch her from the closer vantage point.

  “You want me to dance...naked.”

  He nodded, his throat working in anticipation.

  Although she wasn’t that kind of dancer, she couldn’t deny him. He was so handsome, with his newly shaved face and bandaged arm. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but he was good at hiding that. The way he looked at her, as if she was the sexiest woman alive, made his request irresistible.

  She started with a basic stretch, bending at the waist and flattening her palms on the sand. She was aware that he could see everything, but that was kind of the point. There was no way to stretch naked in a modest fashion. She straightened, lifting her leg high in a standing split. It was easier to do now, after several days of practice. Her muscles felt warm and strong. She tried a few tumbles and a side split leap.

  His sharp intake of breath told her he was impressed. Or aroused. Probably both.

  She was aroused by the performance, as well. She sank into another side split with her back to him, her thighs splayed wide and her hips tilted forward. The damp sand tickled her private parts. She would rinse off again when she was finished. Her goal now was to drive him crazy with desire. A glance over her shoulder indicated that she was getting there. His eyes were dark, fly distended.

  She transitioned into a pancake, her belly flat on the sand. It abraded her nipples nicely. She moved out of the splits and rolled over into an elbow stand. She held it for as long as she could, her heart pounding. Then she rose to her feet and lost herself in a short series of free-form moves, whirling and leaping.

  He caught her and pulled her into his arms. She’d done some partner dancing, so she knew instinctively that he could learn how. Not tonight, but someday. He had the upper body strength to hold her in a number of different poses.