HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He’d have especially grown tired of her considering how boring her life generally was. This was his life—war zones. Fighting. Surviving. Protecting. A few months of hanging around with her, discovering that what she really liked were quiet nights at home with a book and a glass of wine, sometimes a movie, would have bored him to absolute tears. A man like Remy needed more than that.

  A sound in the corridor brought her head up. She waited, her heart speeding up. When there was nothing else, she stood and crept over to the entry. There was no door. Just an opening into the room. The others were in rooms nearby, but she felt like one of them would have made more noise if they were up and walking around.

  Christina stood very still, breathing as quietly as possible. Listening.

  “Who’s there?” she finally said, her voice soft, her pulse skipping as she told herself that an enemy wouldn’t sneak into the building and silently move through it. No, an enemy would enter in a blaze of gunfire or breaching explosives.

  “Why are you still awake?” came the reply. Remy.

  Her heart soared, and her cheeks ached with the effort to hold back the smile that wanted to break out. Why would she want to smile now? In this place?

  But she did.

  “Why are you?” she asked, because she couldn’t help but be sassy with him. She’d never been sassy with a man in her life, but this one—oh, this one made her a better version of herself somehow. A braver, sassier, take-charge version that she liked and that scared her at the same time.

  What if he didn’t like that version of her? What if no one did? She’d been raised to be ladylike, demure, a debutante from head to toe. Firmness had to be cloaked in politeness, not put on display like a challenge.

  And yet she enjoyed challenging Remy. Got a charge from it.

  A second later, Remy appeared in the door, his bulk taking up the entire frame. She had an insane urge to fling herself at him and kiss him, but she didn’t let herself act on it. She knew the urge came from this place. This situation.

  And the fact a bomb had exploded earlier and he’d left her while he raced toward it.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him how glad she was that he was okay.

  But he was armed and armored, his body like a cactus of metal and leather. He wore a sidearm strapped to his thigh, and though he’d removed the rifle from across his chest, he still looked badass and untouchable.

  Not that it had stopped her earlier when someone had screamed back in the middle of the convoy. She still remembered what it had been like to press herself to him, even if she had been mostly squeezed against his rifle.

  “Because it’s my job,” he said in a low voice.

  “Surely you get to sleep sometimes,” she replied.

  “I do. And I did.”

  “That’s good… I was worried for you when you took off back there.” She didn’t say where, but she didn’t have to. He knew.

  “Again, it’s my job. I had to see what was going on. For your safety, and the safety of my team.”

  For the first time, she realized what her brother must go through. She’d had no idea how bad it could be out here. He’d always insisted his job was routine, that the bad stuff didn’t happen near where he was—but it was a lie.

  No wonder Matt had been so pissed at her for coming to Qu’rim. Well, she was pissed right back, especially now that he had two babies to care for. Did Evie know it was a lie?

  Then again, after what Evie had gone through when she’d returned to Rochambeau and her sister had been kidnapped, she had to know the truth. Because Matt had helped her through it all, and the two of them had faced criminal enforcers together in the bayou.

  Christina still remembered the shiner Matt had sported at her wedding two days afterward.

  “I’ve never heard a bomb go off before,” she said. “I’ve heard shotgun blasts, of course. But I never felt those like a kick to the whole body. It was terrifying… How do you stand it? How do you not lose your shit when it happens?”

  “Training, cher. Lots of training. My body knows what to do even before my brain figures it out. Is it foolproof? Of course not. But so far, I do what I know how to do and I’m still here at the end of the day.”

  Christina swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “You would have never told me any of this if we’d kept dating, would you?”

  “Probably not, no. What good would it have done?”

  What good would it have done? She didn’t know. Couldn’t say. But she knew if they had been together, she would have wanted to know. It seemed wrong not to understand what happened to someone if he was important to you.

  “We did everything backward, didn’t we?” She didn’t expect him to answer, but he did.

  “If you remember, you’re the one who dictated the pace.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “But I didn’t say no when I should have. Should have stuck to my guns and walked away from you instead of going along with your crazy plan to get back in the saddle.”

  “It didn’t seem crazy at the time. And it made a difference, Remy.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that? All I remember is that it made you run.”

  She clasped her hands into a knot to keep from reaching out to him. “I ran because I was scared of how intense it was with you. You made me hope, and I couldn’t afford hope. But you also made me aware of myself, and you made me realize that Ben’s problems were his and not mine.”

  “All that in only one night?”

  “You’re mocking me.” Not that she blamed him really.

  “Not trying to. I just don’t see it the same as you. What I see is that you were determined to get back at him, even if it was just in your head—and you did it. You evened the score. You were done, because if your ex had hurt you, then I might hurt you too if you stuck around long enough.”

  My God, how his words cut to the bone. Because they were accurate. Because she had been afraid to get hurt again. Convinced there was nothing between them and wouldn’t be, at least not on his part. If she took his calls, if she kept going out with him, she’d be the one who got hurt. Not him.

  She turned and went over to the window. The sky was growing lighter now, and she could make out their surroundings a little better. They were on the second floor in one of the buildings attached to the main structure, which was surrounded by a solid concrete wall—or maybe it was mud brick. In the distance, there seemed to be a clustering of buildings. A village?

  “If I’d taken your calls,” she said, not looking at him, “whatever we had going on would have ended by now. You’d have moved on.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled, and she turned to see he’d come into the room. His eyes flashed in his handsome face, his brows drawing low.

  He had a couple of days’ worth of beard, and he was still the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, even with the dirt of the desert and remnants of greasepaint streaking his face.

  “You don’t know that, Christina. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me other than what you decided for yourself without ever giving me a shot.”

  She swallowed as she watched him standing there, looking furious and sexy all at once. Her heart ached with memories of their night together, and she knew she’d imbued it with far more importance than she should have.

  This was why she had to be careful. Her stupid, lonely heart. The heart that had only ever wanted someone to love her. She’d been so lonely growing up. She wasn’t like Matt. After their mother died and their father went off the rails, she hadn’t had anyone to be close to—her father’s succession of stripper wives had been out of the question, of course. None of them had been very motherly anyway—except for Misty Lee, but she’d come along after Christina was out of the house.

  Matt had always had Evie. Christina had only had Granny, who’d been a wonderful woman but obviously not someone her own age. Not someone who understood all the things a girl went through as she grew up—or at least not all the things a girl of
Christina’s generation went through.

  When Granny was growing up, things were different. She’d tried, but her solution to loneliness was a good book and some ice cream. Both very good things for the soul, but not always the most nourishing when it was human comfort Christina had needed.

  She sucked in a breath and willed herself not to cry. But dammit, she was here in the middle of a foreign desert, and she had no idea if or when she’d make it home again. The one person she could be close to, at least for a little while, was standing right in front of her.

  And she kept screwing the whole thing up.

  “I want to ask you something,” she said.

  “All right, ask.” She heard the frustration in his voice. And the patience, even though she probably didn’t deserve any.

  She took a deep breath. “Will you hold me, Remy?”

  16

  Remy blinked. And then he squinted at her in the pale predawn glow. Was she serious? Had she really just asked him to hold her?

  But she was standing there with her hands clasped together, her pretty hair loose and flowing down her back—she’d removed the hijab—and her gaze fixed on him. She was so small. Wispy, as if she might float away on a good breeze. She’d always been thin, but it had hit him about an hour ago that the vague thing bothering him about her being in his arms earlier was just how much lighter she felt. More frail. Not that she was frail, but she felt it.

  And that made him angry, because here she was in fucking Qu’rim of all places. A place where frailty would not be rewarded, where the slightest weakness could mean the difference between surviving and dying.

  Christina was not the sort of woman to be stuck in a war zone. And she was stuck, as they all were, while they waited for intel to give them a better way out. Thankfully, Ian Black had a safe house here and they were able to use it. But it wasn’t ideal. Nothing about this situation was ideal.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said, her voice sounding tight with control. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Jesus,” he said before crossing the distance in a single stride and tugging her gently against him. She shuddered as her arms went around his body. And then she squeezed him tight.

  “You aren’t wearing the body armor. I thought you still were.”

  Fucking hell. He threaded his fingers into her hair, cupped the back of her head, and held her against his chest. “No,” he said thickly. “Took it off earlier. We’re in a safe zone, at least for a while.”

  She hugged him tighter. “I can feel you now. You instead of prickly armor and ammunition.”

  He warred with himself. Part of him wanted to push her away, put an end to this touchy-feely shit. And part of him wanted to wrap both arms around her and pull her in so close she never wanted to leave him.

  “What are you trying to do to me?” he growled, and she pushed back until she could tilt her head back and gaze up at him with those liquid eyes of hers.

  He remembered the feeling of drowning in those eyes. They were like clear pools of rainwater. Gray-green sometimes, gray-blue at others. He wanted to dive into them and stay there.

  “I’m lonely,” she said, “and scared. I thought if you held me, I might not feel so alone.”

  He pressed her head to his chest and stared sightlessly at the wall. Her fingers curled into the back of his shirt and she trembled.

  He hated that she shook. Hated it. It made him want to slay dragons for her. And yet he knew that even if she was scared, she wasn’t helpless. Not like that woman Penny. That one was terrified of her own shadow and unable to hide it.

  Christina wouldn’t let that shit show. Not if she could help it. So brave.

  Just like Roxie. He closed his eyes as his sister’s face rolled through his mind. Poor, brave Roxie, who’d thought she could fight her own battles when what she really needed was backup. The kind of backup that would have sent her motherfucking boyfriend running for cover and begging for mercy.

  “You don’t have to be scared,” Remy said, still holding her with one arm only while the other dangled at his side because he didn’t trust himself. “We’ll get you home safely.”

  “I know you will.”

  Her hands splayed on his back and then curled into his shirt again. Damn, it felt good to be touched by her. Too good. He wouldn’t get hard over such a simple touch, but if he let himself think of all the other ways she’d touched him, he definitely would.

  “You’ve certainly picked a helluva time to ask me to hold you, cher. If you’d answered my calls, I’d have held you all you wanted.”

  “I know. I… I was stupid. But you scared me. Everything about you, about the situation, scared me.”

  She took a tiny step backward, put her hands on his cheeks. He vaguely thought he should put an end to this here and now, but he kinda didn’t want to.

  Okay, he really didn’t want to. He’d told her he wasn’t hung up on her, and he wasn’t, but she’d definitely made an impact.

  “You’re pretty much the most interesting woman I’ve never dated, you know that?”

  She laughed, but it was more of a sad sound than anything. “Thanks. I think. Wow, this is weird, isn’t it?”

  Her hands slipped to his shoulders, but she made no move to step away. And he made no move to push her away either.

  “Yep, definitely weird. We had to come all the way to Qu’rim to have a conversation we could have had six months ago.”

  “If I’d picked up the phone,” she finished for him.

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m sorry, Remy. Really.” She shook her head. He could still smell the vague scent of the shampoo she’d used the last time she’d washed her hair. “My head wasn’t screwed on right, and I couldn’t handle getting involved with anyone just then. And to be fair, I did mention that.”

  “Yeah, you did.” He was the one who’d wanted more from her, and he’d been pissed that he didn’t get it. But how fair was that when she’d set the limits in the first place? He’d known what they were, but he’d thought he could change that. Intended to change it.

  But of course he hadn’t, because Christina was stronger and fiercer than she looked. She wasn’t about to be steamrolled by anyone. Even if she did tremble in his arms tonight.

  “So you threw yourself into work,” he said, trying to have a normal conversation even while the subtext ran in his head that he wanted her naked and beneath him. So pretty. So sweet. So hot when she got worked up.

  Stop.

  She let her hands slide down his arms, then slipped them around his waist again. Fucking hell, she was going to kill him before this was through. She pressed her cheek to his chest.

  “I did. I traveled a lot, made a lot of pitches, and brought in millions of dollars in new business. Job wise, it’s been good.”

  “You’ve lost weight.”

  She stilled, her breath hitching for a second before she let it out again and kept breathing normally. “A little. It’s hard to eat on a normal schedule when flying all over the place. Time zones really screw with a body.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Without thinking, he put both his arms around her. Then he wanted to drop one, but it was too late. Hell.

  So he held her in both arms, loosely, and let her drive the conversation. Partly because he was trying not to respond to her being in his arms, especially when she kept holding him so tight. Like he was a lifeline.

  “You don’t feel like you’ve lost any weight,” she said, her hands roving over his back. “I’d say you feel as solid as ever.”

  It was suddenly too much for him. He grasped her arms, gently, and unwrapped them from his body. Then he took a step back, away from her. She didn’t try to hug him again. She crossed her arms and hugged herself instead.

  And that made him feel like an asshole. Jesus.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Christina.” He stopped, swallowe
d. Because he couldn’t think of how to say it. How to tell her he didn’t mean to hurt her but that she had to stop. For both their sakes. He shook his head and barreled on. “I’m a man, not a saint. When you touch me like that, even if in your mind it’s harmless—well, it’s not. I can’t do it. Because I want more. I know how sweet you taste, so it’s not easy to stand here and pretend we’re buddies. If you want someone to hug you, I’m not the guy. I can’t be the guy. I will always want more from you. So make of that what you will. If you need to talk to someone because you’re scared, I’ll sit on the other side of the room and you can talk until you feel better. If you just need another body in the room, I can do that too—but I’ll be on the other side of it. It’s the best I can do.”

  17

  Christina’s throat was dry. Oh, she knew, didn’t she, what she’d been doing? She knew she’d been baiting the lion. Touching him because he was here and she missed him. Yes, dammit, she missed him. Stupid, crazy heart. Missing a man she barely knew just because he’d made her feel so damned special at a time when she’d desperately needed it.

  “I…” She hugged herself tighter. She’d been so alone the past few months. And she’d hated it. But what about the fear? She hadn’t been wrong to fear him. Fear what he could do to her battered heart.

  But her heart was stronger now. She was stronger. Could she handle him? Handle being with him again?

  “What?” His voice was compelling. Demanding.

  And she knew she was going to plunge. Maybe it was the situation. Maybe it was temporary insanity. Didn’t matter. She was still plunging off the cliff.

  “I want more too. More of you.”

  He was silent. Still. She’d expected him to come to her, take her in his arms. Or hold out his arms and welcome her into them.

  He did neither of those things.

  “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck.”

  Embarrassment prickled her skin. Heat rose to the surface, washing her in too much warmth. She was still wearing his shirt, the abaya, and her clothes. It was too much now.