Night Maneuvers

by Tawny Weber

  Damn.

  Aaron had made enough mistakes in his life to recognize one when it was draped over him, naked flesh still damp enough to slide along his in a tempting reminder with every breath.

  His assignment was to eliminate the threat to Poseidon—in this case, the focus Bryanna wanted to spotlight on the team. Or, if that wasn’t feasible, to mitigate the damage.

  As he slowed his breath, aiming for calm reason instead of frenzied passion, he wondered if overwhelming sexual satisfaction mitigated or exacerbated. He’d thought his training covered every contingency, but maybe not. He couldn’t call this a mistake. Not when the rhythm of Bryanna’s heart beating against his chest made him feel whole in a way he’d never experienced before.

  But Aaron had taken an oath when he’d become a SEAL, he’d made a vow as a member of Poseidon. To be loyal to Team and Country, and to earn the privilege of his trident every day. Loyalty to that privilege meant his team, his mission, came first.

  Before everything.

  Even himself.

  “You’re tensing up,” Bryanna murmured, her lips testing his resolve as they caressed his chest with every word. “Isn’t it a little soon to go again?”

  Aaron’s laugh was a puff of air.

  “Yeah, I might need a few extra minutes before round two.”

  Unless round two was what it took to convince her not to write that article. Then hey, he was a SEAL. He’d get up for it.

  “So why do you feel as if you’re preparing for something?” Bryanna angled onto her elbows to give him a searching look. Her eyes were dreamy, her hair draped like a curtain on either side of her face. Her smile was hesitant, her lips swollen and inviting.

  “I guess we have a few things to talk about,” he said, carefully setting her aside. If his hands lingered to enjoy the softness of her skin, he didn’t figure that was a crime. Not when his chances of touching her after their chat were slim and none.

  “Talk, hmm?” Proving that she was more than a gorgeous face and a smoking-hot body, Bryanna’s eyes turned shrewd as she moved into a sitting position, wrapping herself in the sheet as she did. “Sounds serious. Are you married?”

  Even though her words were casual, he could hear the tension spiking through her tone.

  “What? No way. I wouldn’t... We wouldn’t have... That’d be...” Realizing he sounded like an idiot, Aaron took a second to swallow the outraged shock. He gave himself another to take a calming breath, then leaned back against the headboard. Finally, he figured he’d pulled it together enough to respond in a way that took control of the situation—without sounding like an idiot. “No. I’m not married. Nor am I engaged or dating. I’m not involved with anyone or anything except my career.”

  “Ahh.” She wrapped the sheet tighter, tucking one loose end between her breasts to hold the fabric in place. That, or to drive him crazy since all that did was emphasize the fact that she had excellent breasts, the shape of her nipples shadowed against the fabric. Thanks to his decision to have this conversation, he was missing out on them.

  But what choice did he have? He knew he had to settle the issue of why they’d met before he could take her again. So he’d settle it. Fast.

  His gaze dropped to those breasts again. His hardening cock throbbing in time with the pounding of his heart.

  Focus.

  His focus was almost as legendary as his stubbornness, he reminded himself.

  “I take it that it’s careers you’d like to discuss,” she guessed, pushing her hair off her face and twitching her shoulders back. And, somehow, managed to portray the same charming dignity she had when dressed in her earlier version of a power suit. “Mine, yours and ours?”

  “Sure.” He liked the sound of that. “So tell me, why PR?”

  More to the point, why Poseidon. He left that unspoken, though, figuring his path to that particular question would depend on how the rest of the conversation went. As Savino had suggested, he’d feel her out first.

  Conversationally, that was.

  He already knew exactly how she felt in his hands. Against his body. Surrounding him. God, delicious.

  Bryanna’s expression was careful as she studied his face, her eyes searching.

  “Why Public Relations?” Her shrug was like a shimmer of gold. “I guess it’s because I really like people. Finding ways to bring them together. And I love showing things in their best light. Sharing facts in a way that makes it clear to anyone interested just how great something is.”

  Proof positive just how good she was at it, since Aaron almost nodded before he realized that was quite a pretty spin she’d just offered.

  “For instance, the SEALs’ fifty-fifth birthday event. I believe it’s important to focus on what a difference this force makes in the world, to highlight why they’re not only the pride of the Navy, but should be the pride of the country, of the world, for that matter.” Bryanna shifted, drawing her knees and wrapping her arms around the sheet-covered flesh. Enthusiasm filled her voice, shone bright on her pretty face. “Some things deserve more attention, you know? Because that attention brings them the honor they’ve earned, it helps people appreciate how lucky they are because of forces like the SEALs.”

  “Okay. I don’t disagree with most of that.” Except the attention part.

  “Which is why I want the special sidebar on Poseidon,” she continued, ignoring his unspoken words. “To show the type of men who make up the SEALs. That intensity of dedication that doesn’t simply accept being the best, but pushes beyond.”

  God. Was it harder to push her aside realizing she understood than it’d been when he’d figured she was clueless?

  “Being a SEAL, a Special Operative, it’s a damned big deal.” Aaron tried to find a way to explain the most important part of his life. “It’s hard work. A lot of hard work to get there, to stay there. The training doesn’t end in BUD/S. It’s ongoing. Every single day, training the body, training the mind, training the spirit, even.”

  Rapt, her attention focused like a laser on his face, Bryanna nodded encouragingly. So encouragingly that Aaron found himself saying more.

  “Poseidon started with an idea, a concept of taking the best to the next level. That twelve men banding together could all graduate BUD/S was impressive in and of itself considering the average class size is two hundred with barely twenty percent earning their trident. That we all did speaks to the focus, the dedication and power, of our concept.” Lost in the past, Aaron’s gaze blurred as he focused on the pain they’d endured, the costs they’d paid. “SEAL teams are known for their cohesive nature, for their brotherhood. But Poseidon? We’re known for being one. Every action we take, it’s unified. Every career choice we make, it’s integrated into the vision of the whole.”

  He shook his head, wishing he could as easily shake loose the fervor of his belief in what Poseidon did.

  “We’ve endured, we’ve suffered and sacrificed for the team. For our purpose. Because of that, we bring power to the SEALs, to our teams. They are stronger because of us. They are better because of us. Some of them, they are pissed because of us.” He gave a hint of a laugh and shrugged.

  “This is wonderful information,” Bryanna said, her words as bright as her smile. “I wish I’d written it down, or recorded it. I want to use those exact words, the power of them, in my article. I want to bring that passion to the readers, so they understand how important this is.”

  Aaron’s head rocked back as if she’d punched him.

  It suddenly hit him with the painful impact of a belly flop. She’d got more information out of him in the past five minutes than he’d ever told anyone. More than he’d intended—or been given permission—to share.

  She’d used him.

  Sonofabitch.

  Her body was still wet from their lovemaking. He could smell himself on
her, could still feel the sensation of her body surrounding him. Gripping tight, milking him dry.

  And she was conducting her interview. Gathering intel, facts and insights so she could work up a fancy promotion using him, using his team, using Poseidon.

  “You’re still writing that piece?”

  A tell-all exposé on the workings of Poseidon as a Happy Birthday to the SEALs. Damn it.

  Bryanna blinked, her eyes shaded by lush lashes for a moment before her brows drew together.

  “Did you think I wasn’t? Isn’t that why we were here?”

  No.

  They were here for sex.

  Great sex.

  Mind-blowing sex.

  The best freaking sex of their goddamn lives.

  And she’d turned it into a part of the interview.

  Furious, his mind spinning in the face of betrayal, Aaron shoved out of the bed.

  “And you thought, what?” Bryanna rose into a sitting position, one hand pressing the sheet to her breast. “That a fast pass to a wild ride on your amazing body would change my mind? You actually believe that I’d risk my career? That an orgasm would somehow tempt me to ignore my assignment?”

  Her voice rose with each word. Her body, too. By the time she spat out that last one, she was on her knees with one hand fisted on her bare hip and the other clenching the sheet. The fabric dripped off her lush nipples, skimming those golden breasts before pouring like a waterfall down her body.

  Sparks of fury flashed from narrowed eyes, color rose under burnished skin. Passion—whatever its form—intensified everything about her.

  Aaron was pissed. Seriously pissed. But not even copious amounts of righteous anger could keep him from noting how amazingly hot she was. And realizing, somewhere in the back of his head, that if things were different, he could seriously fall for her.

  He was pretty damned grateful that things weren’t different. And because they weren’t...

  “Four.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Scowling, she shoved at the tangled curls pouring over her furiously flushed cheek.

  “That ride netted you four orgasms. Not one.”

  He told himself it was entertaining to watch her mouth open, then shut, then open again as she tried to come up with a pithy response. He used her confusion to snag his jeans and yank them on.

  “You counted?” she finally managed, making it sound like an accusation. “Do you need those numbers to add to the tally notched on your anchor?”

  Color him offended.

  “Credit me with a little class. Do I look like a green ensign on his first tour? I’m a chief petty officer in the United States Navy with a dozen years of service to my name. I’m part of the SEAL brotherhood. A member of Team Poseidon. I don’t need notches,” Aaron snapped. “I’ve proved myself a hundred times over, sweetheart.”

  With that, he yanked his zipper closed. And had to bite back a yelp. He’d almost caught his goods in the metal teeth.

  Realizing how close he was to losing his cool—among other things—Aaron took a deep breath. Maybe he couldn’t look at Bryanna’s gorgeous body and not have a reaction, but there was no point in damaging himself in the process.

  And maybe he couldn’t stop her from moving forward with her plan to write that article of hers. So he’d have to find a way to mitigate any damage.

  “Look, I know you have a job to do. But for just a second, consider how your job will impede mine. Ask yourself if fancy words, bells and whistles will help the Navy’s purpose, or if it’ll hurt the men who put their lives on the line.”

  “Oh, please, don’t be so dramatic.” Bryanna waved his words away with the flick of her hand. “The Navy isn’t going to let me use confidential intelligence or personnel secrets to promote the SEALs’ birthday. This isn’t an exposé. It’s promotion.”

  “Too much information is already out there under the guise of the public’s right to know. Plenty of details, much of it bordering on confidential, has already been spilled in the name of personal glory or individual agendas. When is enough enough?” he countered. “The SEALs aren’t a tool to be used by Public Affairs, and Poseidon isn’t a recruiting tool.”

  “You should trust me to do my job.”

  Ignoring the hurt in her voice, Aaron shook his head.

  “Impossible when the world’s trust depends on me doing mine.”

  “I take it our evening of fun and games is over.” Wrapping the sheet around that lush body, Bryanna climbed out of bed. She snagged Aaron’s T-shirt from the blankets tangled at her feet and threw it at his head. She looked as if she were going to scream when the fabric fluttered to the floor halfway there.

  He shouldn’t want to laugh.

  But he did.

  Not sure what that said about him, the situation or Bryanna, Aaron simply hooked the shirt in one finger and pulled it over his head. His anger seemed to be gone, but he wasn’t crazy about the feeling of loss left in its place.

  “You want to go another round, try for five in one ride, you give me a call,” Aaron suggested as he walked out the door. He had to close it behind him, had to get the hell out, before he did something he’d hate himself for. Before he begged.

  * * *

  BRYANNA STARED AT the closed door for an entire minute before she could get her mind to accept what had happened.

  She’d gone from the best night of her career to the best sex of her life to... What?

  Sitting naked in a messy hotel bed. Feeling as if her heart was breaking.

  Ridiculous, she told herself, trying to comb her fingers through her tangled mess of hair. She’d have to be in love for her heart to break, and that wasn’t possible.

  She’d only met Aaron six hours ago. Nobody fell in love in less than six hours.

  They’d barely talked. She didn’t know anything about his past, didn’t even know his favorite color or if he liked pineapple. She had no clue if they had an inch of common ground, if there was a single thing between them to build a future on.

  She didn’t even know if he wanted a future.

  For all she knew, Aaron Ward was a dog. A man who saw sex like most saw water. Something that quenched a thirst, one glass the same as another. But she remembered the way he’d waited, how he’d given her a graceful option out when they’d first come into the hotel room. How he’d put her needs first. And the way he’d spoken of his career, how he’d sounded when he explained what Poseidon meant to him.

  Aaron Ward was a good man. A noble man.

  She wanted him for her man.

  It wasn’t until she found herself wrapped around the pillow, its soft cushion hugged to her chest, that she realized she was crying. It wasn’t as if she’d never thought love had a cost. She’d always believed that good things, important things, had to be earned. But love at the expense of her career? One dream for another?

  Bryanna knuckled away a tear, then sighed and let her head fall back onto the pillow. Aaron’s scent enveloped her. She turned her face into the pillow and breathed deep.

  This was why. Because it felt good. What was between her and Aaron, it felt right. And if she didn’t believe her heart when it told her those things, what good was believing in anything?

  It was pointless to just lie there pouting like a three-year-old on time-out, Bryanna decided. So she forced herself to sit up and, heaving a deep sigh, slid to her feet. She tidied the sheets, scooped the comforter off the floor to drape over the foot of the bed and gathered the pillows. Wrinkling her nose at what she’d squished into an unrecognizable shape, she plumped the pillow back into a rectangle and, after breathing in Aaron’s scent once again, added it to the others.

  There. One thing set to rights. Now for the rest.

  She started with a hot shower and a strong talking-to.

 
By the time she’d dried off and slid into the cozy comfort of her favorite flannel sleep pants and tank, she’d found a hint of her customary optimism.

  She wasn’t going to pretend the night away, nor was she going to give up on climbing an important rung in her career ladder. And while it would be smarter to accept that she and Aaron weren’t meant to be and to chalk tonight up to just one of those things—one that included the most amazing sex of her life—Bryanna wasn’t ready to do that, either.

  So, as she always did when she wanted something, she decided to find a way to make it happen.

  One way or the other, dammit.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WASN’T UNTIL Aaron stormed into the parking lot that he realized he didn’t have transport. His bike was still at Olive Oyl’s. They’d driven from the bar to the hotel in Bryanna’s rental car.

  His cell phone weighed heavy in his pocket. He knew he could call any of his teammates for a ride. He debated for all of five seconds, then started walking south. He gauged it at maybe a mile to the base. Practically a stroll in the moonlight.

  He could use the time to review the situation, to consider his options and to figure out how the hell to complete his mission.

  His orders were to cooperate with Bryanna’s little journalism project. The unspoken mission was to curtail her tell-all venture. The team was counting on him.

  Picking it up to a fast march, Aaron sucked in a disgusted breath through clenched teeth.

  He’d never failed a mission before—spoken or unspoken. He’d never let his teammates down. In the ten years they’d served together, he’d never performed in a less than exemplary manner. He had the goddamn assessment reports to prove it.

  But now?

  With the team’s anonymity, their purpose on the line?

  He’d blown it.

  Totally.

  Completely.

  And for what?

  A woman.

  An amazing woman.

  One with a smile that lit his heart and eyes that, when she looked at him, made him feel like a hero. A woman with a body that sent him straight into hormonal heaven and a laugh that made him grin. And that brain. When he set aside her plan to write about Poseidon, he could really dig that brain. The woman could talk about anything, seemed to know a little something about everything.