by Seton, Cora
Laughing, Derek rolled them, halting when she rose over him, her thighs splayed over his hips. His hands went to the front fastening of her bra. “No regrets?” he asked, thumbing open the clasp.
She drew a swift breath when his fingers plucked her aching nipples. “Only that I took so long to figure it out.”
His eyebrows quirked in question.
She leaned over him, her hands framing his face. “You knew the truth all along. You’re my family. My home.”
One side of his mouth curled up. “Guess we know who’s the smart one.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That song you sang to me the last time we Skyped nearly broke my heart. But that picture album—that did me in. I thought I’d blown it. I thought you were closing the chapter of us.” She unbuttoned his collar and pressed wet kisses against his throat. “But, on a closer look, I realized it was all part of your master plan, wasn’t it?”
Derek moved his hands to her hips, then slid them around to cup her bottom. “I meant it as a romantic gesture. Looks like it worked.”
“I’ll say.” She settled against his chest, snuggling closer. After all, they had all night. No rush. They had all the time in the world—indeed, the rest of their lives—to deepen the connection that had been there from the very first.
Still, there was a connection she needed him to make right now. “You have on too many clothes.”
“Do I?” he said, and then kissed his way from the corner of her mouth to her jaw.
“Too many clothes and an impatient wife.”
“Are you going to be one of those nagging wives?”
“If I have to get you to move a little faster…”
“Nag, nag, nag,” he whispered, punctuating every word with a nip as he neared her collarbone.
Suddenly, she didn’t care whether he was naked or not, so long as his teeth found a tight little peak.
His mouth latched around the areola and sucked.
With a moan, she curled her toes and dragged her heels up the bed, widening her thighs around his hips, open and ready for what would come next. Teeth bit a nubbin and she sucked a breath between her teeth. “Do that again.”
Instead, he sucked harder, drawing so hard she felt the pull all the way to her core. “Derek, I need you.”
His mouth released her, and he scooted backward off the bed, moving to a chair where he laid his jacket, and then every piece of his uniform in a too-neat pile.
“You’re a tease. Marry the man, and all of a sudden, he forgets his first duty.”
“First?”
A smile eased across her mouth. “To please his wife.”
“That’s the first?”
She arched a brow. “You don’t think so?” She gave a feminine snort and then pulled the ribbons at her hips that held her panties together. Using slow teasing movements, she slid away the lace and relaxed her thighs as she trailed a lazy finger through her folds.
His gaze followed her movements. His sea-blue eyes went navy as his brows furrowed. And that wasn’t the only part of his body that reacted. His cock thickened as she played with herself, coaxing down moisture as she swirled her fingers inside herself.
He knelt at the end of the bed and rested his forearms on the mattress. “I want to watch.”
“I want you inside me.”
“One of us is going to be disappointed.”
Her chin shot upward, and she gave him a narrow glare but continued to stroke herself, forking her fingers to spread her folds, then tugging upward to expose her clit.
His gaze was laser-focused on her every movement, so she decided to give him a show. After flattening her feet on the bed, she lifted her bottom, nudging up then falling down, over and over as she pleasured herself, rubbing her nubbin, sinking long fingers inside her pussy to mimic the movement of his cock. Soon, she wasn’t just teasing him, she was in full-blown arousal, with a flush of heat covering her face and chest, her body quivering. Her arousal made even more intense by her audience’s rapt approval.
At last, he cursed under his breath and shot onto the bed, crowding between her thighs, tugging up her hands to keep her from touching herself. He turned his head left then right, licking her fingers, sucking them into his mouth. “Mine,” he said, his whisper harsh.
“Yes. Yours,” she said, pushing her breasts against his chest, lifting her hips to bump her mound against his rigid cock. She loved the primitive stage of their lovemaking, when words were more effort than either of them could manage. Actions spoke louder.
She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, then pulled him toward her, not letting go until he was poised at her entrance. “Please, Derek. Now.”
His gaze was steady, stormy. His body a study in tensed and flexed muscle as he held himself still. “I won’t ever let you go. You know that.”
She placed her hand on his cheek. “I wouldn’t want you to. I’m in this now. With you.”
His eyelids dipped, and then closed, his body lowered again, covering and claiming her. His cock slid inside and filled her.
The sweet pressure was so beautiful she shivered. “I won’t last long,” she warned him.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” he said, one side of his mouth rising in that sexy, wry way of his. And then he began to move, sliding out then in, deeply, each slow surge consuming her an inch at a time.
She let go, her body moving in opposition to his movements, greeting him at the end of each stroke then falling away. Friction built, coaxing more and more moisture to ease their union, their well-matched and practiced coupling familiar, yet new, tinged with a tenderness they both felt. This was real. This was forever.
Her thoughts scattered the higher she rose toward the peak. Images shimmering—of their life moving forward, of picnics with other SEAL families, of children playing in the yard. Of them growing older and settling in Two Mule, family and friends surrounding them. When she felt him thrust faster, she shouted, ready for it, reaching for his body to let him be her anchor, her harbor.
“It’s all right, baby, come now. I’m there, I’m there…”
Pleasure exploded and she whimpered, shaking her head left then right, then finally snuggling her face into the corner of his shoulder as his movements grew harsher, and he spilled himself inside her.
They rested together, wrapped in each other’s arms, until their hearts slowed and their breathing was a little less ragged. His next kiss was lazy, growling.
When the kiss ended, she smiled sleepily. “Thank you, Derek.”
“There you go again. Told you, it’s my pleasure,” he whispered, his hands gently roaming her body.
“I mean it. Thanks for waiting for me to be ready.”
“I had no choice.”
She met his dark gaze, letting him read the question in her eyes.
“You’re the only woman for me, Callie.” He traced a finger along her cheek. “I’ve always known that, but like I said, I’m the smart one.”
Callie sighed happily. Still no argument there. Their next kiss was deeper, and so was the next, not that she minded about knowing they would get little rest this night.
Her life was about to change, but she was ready. She had Derek, and that was really all that mattered. Their love wasn’t transitory and wouldn’t fade over time or distance. Her fairytale ending was real—solid and breathing—and lying in the circle of her arms.
The End
If you enjoyed this story and want more sexy Texas tales, write Delilah at [email protected]! And be sure to subscribe to her newsletter so you don’t miss news about contests, prizes, free reads, and snippets from new releases: Delilah’s Newsletter
Also check out her new Adventure Girls, Inc. stories:
Dangerous Liaison
A pampered travel agent, roughing it at an anti-terrorist training school, escapes through the jungle with an undercover DEA agent when a drug lord mistakes her for a rival’s daughter.
Mutiny’s Bounty
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br /> Interested only in experiencing an adrenaline-packed adventure first-hand, a travel agent finds herself swimming with sharks and an ex-Navy SEAL when the yacht she’s sailing on is taken by pirates.
It Takes a SEAL
A travel agent visiting friends in the Bahamas is stranded on a desert island with a sexy ex-SEAL after their private pleasure cruise is interrupted by men who mistake her lover for a reclusive billionaire.
About the Author
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing. In May 2014, she added Grand Central to her list of publishers when Her Only Desire released!
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Under the Radar
SEAL EXtreme Team–Book 3
Kimberley Troutte
www.kimberleytroutte.com | Sign up for newsletter
Blurb
SEAL pilot, Ty Whitehorse, is shot down in the Arctic and must escape through hostile territory. But when the mother of all blizzards attacks, he holes up in a hunter’s cabin with Holly Colton, a sexy lady musher with a deady secret. Ty isn’t the only one laying low under the radar. They’re both in enemy crosshairs. Staying together is dangerous. Separating? Impossible.
I am honored to write about courageous men and women who serve and protect the United States of America. This book is dedicated to real military heroes, the Navy SEALs. Bless you and your families for your dedication and sacrifices. Stay safe.
Chapter One
‡
SEAL helicopter pilot, Ty Whitehorse, scanned the horizon. No buildings, no movement, no hostiles. Only trees, mountains, and miles of endless snowy tundra below his slow-flying shitcan. Today’s “mission” required him to pilot a civilian’s sightseeing AS 350 airbus helicopter so a far too-green and geeky ET2—Electronic Technician Second Class—could survey the ground below. Could it get any worse? Seahawks, Blackhawks, those were his birds. Flying a helo filled with the best damned forces in the world was his kind of covert mission. Not this white moose chase. But Ty was still on the Navy’s shit list and obligated to accept crap duties like a dog jumping up and down for a pat on the head.
Some pat. Felt more like a boot to the ass.
It was a hell of a thing to be on extended leave from the Navy when he hadn’t done anything wrong. His teammates had partied with the Commanding Officer’s daughter, not Ty. Shit, he wasn’t even present when his buddies got caught in the CO’s house with their pants down. He’d never been the wild one-night stand guy. Granny Whitehorse had taught him better, or at least, she’d tried. Even though Ty wasn’t at the party, he got the slap down with the rest of the guys. The entire team was benched until the CO cooled off, which seemed as likely as crushed ice pouring out of hell’s gates. Until then, Ty and the rest of the SEAL EXtreme team had become Admiral Collin’s personal go-to men, which, truth be told, was better than nothing. They’d already seen action in Colombia and Asia.
Altimeter check. 2,000 feet.
The wind outside the helo raged. The control panel glazed up from the cold. Ty was used to rotten weather, but this was brutal. And dangerous. They were flying straight into a massive cloud formation promising to be as mean as Harvey, Ty’s black bull on the rez. If that proved true, it would kick their livers out before it was done playing with them.
“Ready to head back?”
Preston shook his head, but didn’t lift his binoculars. “Still searching, sir.”
He glanced at his passenger. The snow was falling like a sonofabitch, but the kid still had eyes on the ground below, struggling to spot…what? A polar bear? Shit, he wished someone had told him what they were doing in Alaska. Need-to-know hadn’t extended to the pilot.
“For a Yeti?”
“Huh?” Only Preston’s lips had moved.
“The Abominal Snowman? Santa? Tiny elves?”
Preston didn’t laugh. “Covert mission, sir. I can’t talk about it.”
Or anything else, apparently. The kid hadn’t strung three sentences together so far. He’d bought into the Navy’s “Loose lips sink ships” slogan with every last penny. But flying a tight-lipped passenger through a snow storm wasn’t Ty’s idea of fun. He wished the rest of the SEAL EXtreme Team was here, especially Willy, the explosions expert. That wild man knew how to talk.
Snow dumped like a snowblower stuck on high aimed at the windshield. Ty slid his gaze sideways to study his passenger.
Preston. Matt Preston. Where’d he heard that name before? The parka straight off the rack, new boots, and the tension in the young guy’s shoulders made it clear he was a surveillance newbie. It didn’t make sense. Why would the admiral send a green ET2 in a non-military aircraft through heavy cloud cover? Covert military mission? Hell, it was as if they were hiding from the U.S. military.
Warning bells vibrated through Ty’s adrenal glands. What had the admiral gotten them into? “What pooch did you screw?”
“Excuse me?” Preston’s voice cracked. Crap, how old was he, thirteen?
“Winning this fantastic trip to the Arctic in the middle of winter? You did something to tick off the brass. You can tell me that much. Come on, man, spill it.”
“I requested this mission.” Preston lowered his binoculars and poked his tongue into his cheek. Finally deciding to give Ty a bone, he said, “I found radar anomalies in this area. Admiral Collins wanted someone to check them out. All on the down low. You know, Special Ops.” He smiled, and impossibly, looked younger. Eleven, maybe.
That was it! Matt Preston was the techie the team talked about. The kid was supposed to be a real genius with computers, but he wasn’t cut out for a Special Ops, or any field operations. He should be behind his desk letting the real SEALs handle surveillance.
“What radar anomalies? My equipment’s not registering anything,” Ty growled. It pissed him off that he was flying a shitcan in what was working up to be a blizzard so some snot-nosed kid could play with blips on his screen.
Preston glanced at his computer. “Mine’s not, either.”
“What are we supposed to do, fly around all day waiting for a radar glitch? In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of a freakin’ white out!”
“Perfect. The radar goes wonky during storms. That’s why we’re here now.”
“Wonky? Is that an electronics technician term?”
“My term for bad crap coming over the comms. No chatter, then garbled chatter. A surge, then pow—a big section of the Artic falls off the grid. Total dead zone. Something’s screwing with the satellites, the military network, Internet, and intranet.”
The wind grabbed the airbus and gave it a monstrous shake. Hail pounded the shit out of the bird. They lost altitude. Ty pulled up to rein the helo in. “No, no, hell no. I’m turning around. We’re not dying for radar abnormalities.”
“But we’re not finished.”
“Yes, we are. This is asinine, Preston. A Seahawk might be able to handle this weather, not this piece of—” A lightning bolt hit the helo. Ty’s heart crowded into his throat when the instruments went dead. “Shit! Hang on!”
He scrambled to get the rotors going again, the thunder stealing his curse words.
1,000 feet. 750. They were going down fast. Damned rotors were frozen. Ty had never crashed a bird before. Shit, why’d there have to be a first for everything? 500 feet.
He yanked on the collective, his biceps burning, and pounded the throttle with everything he had. By the miracle of God, the blades started beating the air
again. He pushed the cyclic forward like it was the stick of life. The altimeter registered 2,000 feet.
“That was close,” he said softly, still amazed he’d pulled it off. But the bird was injured, barely flapping through the sky. He’d be lucky to bring her back to the civilian hangar they’d borrowed her from.
He glanced at Preston. The kid’s mouth hung open in a silent scream.
“We’re calling it a day,” Ty stated. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Preston let out a deep breath. “Wait! It’s not just the radar. CIA picked up a partial face-recognition of ex-commanding officer Milton Crow in Fairbanks.”
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me before? The EXtreme team’s been looking for that shithole for weeks. Crow and his evil SBs tried to take out the whole team in Macao.”
“I know.”
Ty reached to pull his braid over his shoulder, and he remembered he’d lost a bet with Charlie and had to cut it off. “Are you sure? What in hell is Crow doing here?”
“I’ve got a theory.”
“Related to the wonky radar?”
“Yes. It’s too much of a coincidence. Besides, what better place to hide than in the Arctic?”
Ty could think of lots of better places, like Tahiti, with an island girl or two.
Preston went on. “If I can record the radar glitches and trace where they’re coming from, we can catch the dickhead.”
A dangerous, long-shot plan, if he’d ever heard one. Especially when he could barely keep the helo flying straight. But it was Crow. Dammit, he wanted to put the hurt on the asshole.
“If we catch Crow, the admiral said it will be worth it,” Preston said. “For all of us.”
Ty shook his head. The brass always said shit like that. The old dangling carrot. Reach for it and tasty promotions could come your way. Ignore it and the carrot morphs into a bat aimed at your dangling parts. He should turn the helo around, but every cell in his body roared for revenge. Crow was a traitor to the country, traitor to the SEALs, and he’d tried to kill his buddies. The man needed to be brought to justice. Hard.