Coming Undone

by Stephanie Tyler

  “I grew up hanging around on the beach,” she replied. “It was the thing to do.”

  A charity event her mother dragged her to. She remembered being hot and itchy in the stupid dress she’d been forced into. Aged ten, and already more trouble than her parents cared to handle. She’d wandered off after the event, which was some kind of Save Our Oceans campaign, and she’d happened upon a woman who stood by the water’s edge carrying a surfboard.

  All the surfers Carly had seen in her life up till that point had been men, and she’d been curious. The woman took off in the water, paddled out and caught a ride. It left Carly fascinated. The next day, she’d begged her dad for surfing lessons and he’d agreed.

  “And you made a career out of it,” Hunt said.

  “I did. Pretty cool to make a living doing something you love.” She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered how awesome it was.

  “So what are you going to do now that you’ve retired? It has to be something that lets you get your kicks because I can’t imagine you driving a desk.” Instead of thinking about his words, she wanted to rub her cheek against the slight rough on his face and let it tickle her. “More dessert?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his response before grabbing his plate and heading for the kitchen.

  CARLY RETURNED A FEW minutes later with what looked like half the cake. He’d stretched out on her couch again, planned on getting, and staying, comfortable, then smiled as he took the plate from her. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”“So, we were talking about what you’re planning now, career-wise.” he said.

  “Right. Well, what are you going to do when you leave the SEALs?” she asked finally, and he caught more than a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

  Yeah, it was more than a touchy subject for her.

  Her body posture changed, tensed up, almost the way it had when her parents mentioned her career. Too many people had asked her that question and she didn’t have a sure-fire answer yet. He was almost sorry he’d brought it up. But he lived by instinct and something told him there was more to her retirement than met the eye, scars or no scars. Every professional athlete had their share of those, and he wondered if they had anything to do with her bowing out early.

  “Hadn’t thought about it much, since I don’t have plans to leave the military anytime soon.”

  “I didn’t have plans, either,” she said quietly. Too quietly.

  “Sometimes plans aren’t always the answer.”

  She nodded and then seemed to realize she’d given away more than she’d wanted to. “This has been an interesting night, but—”

  “But it’s not over yet,” he said. “Let’s take a walk on the beach. It’s a perfect way to end our date.

  She hesitated long enough for him to know something wasn’t right. It had nothing to do with her wanting him out of there. She didn’t want him gone; her body was giving off all the wrong signals.

  He knew when a body turned traitor, and besides that, Carly Winters didn’t have a poker face. And she hadn’t even bitten on the date comment.

  “I’m kind of tired,” she said.

  “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  “I’ve got an early day ahead of me.”

  “More faxing?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine. A quick walk.” She slid the glass door open and they stepped out onto her portico and headed to the dunes just beyond.

  All the stars were out. A beautiful, calm evening, a sight he always looked for when he was on a mission and one he rarely got. He stopped and stared up, drew in a deep breath of sea air before continuing on.

  Carly had walked ahead of him, and he watched her outline, silhouetted in the moonlight. She moved easily, with the grace of someone who had a natural athletic ability, and he wondered if he’d get the chance to see her surf anytime soon. Or naked. With or without the surfboard.

  Now that would be a fantasy come true.

  “Are you coming?” she asked.

  He bit his tongue and caught up to her with a few easy strides. They walked in silence for several seconds, until they hit the dunes. He jumped over into the soft sand that led to the surf, where high tide had crested, but she remained behind.

  “I’m going back,” she told him.

  “We just got here. And it looks like the night for a swim.”

  “I’m not wearing my bathing suit.” She crossed her arms in front of her and looked anything but comfortable.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never skinny-dipped.”

  “I’ll leave that one to your imagination,” she said. “And now you’re staring.”

  “Not staring—imagining.”

  That got a slight smile from her and yeah, he liked that smile.

  “Have you gotten your fill yet?” she asked, even as his eyes lingered on her legs and continued upward, traveling slowly until his gaze met hers.

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “Hunt, look…”

  “I’m going in,” he called out before she could start talking about heading for the house again. He threw his T-shirt toward her and quickly shed his pants. Modesty in the military wasn’t possible, and getting naked was something he’d never been much shy about anyway. “Watch my back.”

  He broke into a swift run as he got closer to the edge of the surf, and once his feet hit the water he moved faster until he could dive into the dark waves and roll with the undertow. Night swimming had always been his favorite, even as a kid growing up along the beach. The sound of the rushing water wasn’t drowned out by a noisy, touristy beach crowd, and the thrill of doing something he wasn’t supposed to only added to the pleasure.

  Funny, he’d have bet money a surfer would feel the same way, but Carly was no closer to joining him than she was at the start. If anything, it looked as though she’d backed away from the dunes, but she was still watching him.

  Yes, there was a lot more he wanted to find out about that.

  5

  CARLY WANTED NOTHING more than to strip and run into those dark waves with him. Her muscles ached for it, but her mind wouldn’t give in. Before the accident ten months ago, she wouldn’t have given his offer a second thought, probably would’ve been the one suggesting the skinny-dip.

  She was no fun anymore.And when she lost sight of Hunt for a second after a crashing wave broke over him, she held her breath until he resurfaced.

  Damn. She hated this, hated herself for being so scared. She held on to Hunt’s T-shirt in one hand, picked up his pants with the other and shook the sand from them while he frolicked in the water. There was no underwear to be found, and she guessed the term going commando was indeed coined by the military for a reason.

  How did she get involved in all of this?

  Right, the movie thing. The I’m-dating-someone-already excuse. The Candy Valentine fantasy.

  She would have a lot more fun if she brought along Hunt. The parties she was expected to attend would be boring and stuffy and Hunt could do his magic hypnotizing act on the whole lot of them. He’d probably be a big hit, but had he actually agreed to help her?

  He ran back up the sand and stopped in front of her. Salt water dripped off his body which, even with only the moonlight to see by, looked better than anything she’d ever seen in a gym or on a surfer.

  Her hands fisted at her sides, nails biting palms again until he let a lazy half smile tug at his mouth. He was standing so close, so naked, daring her to do something, anything. She thought about the way he’d swum out, how powerful his body looked cutting through the moonlit waves.

  She wanted some of that power for her own, needed to release the tension that was making her body ache. And her fantasy was standing right there.

  She reached out, touched his shoulder, wanting to feel the water on her before it possibly brought on another panic attack. But somehow the combination of Hunt and the sea wasn’t scary, at least not with his broad shoulders blocking her view of the waves.

  Not scary at all, especially whe
n she used some positive visualization. And at that moment, she was pretty positive about what she wanted.

  She leaned into him, and his hands went around her waist, pulled her against him, and she tasted the salt water on his lips, lost herself in his mouth. Her hands tugged at his wet hair while her body molded to his. She wondered why she’d protested earlier. The kiss was warm and tender and she almost forgot to breathe.

  She didn’t plan on stopping anything, wanted him to put his hands on her, all over her, to make her forget surfing and the wedding and everything except his touch.

  As if he understood, his hands went under her tank top. He caressed her back, then drifted leisurely over the curve of her breasts as if he had all the time in the world.

  So strong and so right. Her nipple swelled against his palm.

  “I bet this is how you like it, Carly,” he whispered, running his tongue along the sensitive, outer rim of her ear, leaving a trail of salt water along her shoulder. Hunt captured her lobe in his teeth, nipping while he brushed a thumb over one nipple and then the other with just enough pressure to make her press into it. “You want more, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, knowing he’d managed to hypnotize her, too. Knowing she wanted his mouth on her breasts and anywhere else he deemed to kiss her.

  He pushed her back and put his mouth over one nipple, which was still covered in the lacy fabric of her bra. He flicked the bud with his tongue. Her breath quickened, and she longed for his tongue rasping her nipple without the barrier.

  Impatiently, she pushed him back, tugged her tank top over her head, and he was on her again, unhooking her bra and working a nipple with his tongue.

  The strength of his arm around her waist was the only thing holding her up. He was so close, and still, she wanted him closer.

  “Hunt, yes,” she moaned as he worked the bud in tandem with the hand he’d slid down her shorts. When his fingers slid inside her thong and touched her, she jumped. He chuckled against her breast, worked a finger into her center.

  She was ready, so ready for him, and moved against the beat of his hand while he used his arm to steady her. His wasn’t letting her nipple go, continued to tug it gently between his teeth, roll it and lick it until she was sure the neighbors would hear her cries above the pounding surf. The need that burned her belly began to tighten—when need met want and urgency couldn’t be contained anymore.

  “Let go, baby,” he whispered against her breast before putting his tongue back to work. She buried her face into his neck, held his shoulders for dear life as the orgasm rocked through her, pulsated against his hand.

  When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her, until he slid down on his knees in front of her.

  Just like the fantasy.

  Hunt pushed her thighs apart, then held her hips and brought his face to her belly. He ran his tongue over her skin, making her shiver. And then he looked up. With that lazy half smile he jolted her already-on-edge nerve endings. Her breath went taut.

  And then he got to his feet as disappointment washed over her from head to toe.

  “We’d better put some clothes on before your neighbors decide to take a nightly stroll of their own,” he suggested.

  What had she been thinking? This part of the beach behind her house was secluded, yes, but not private, and several other houses dotted the shoreline and shared the same patch of sand. Anyone could’ve walked by. Granted, she and Hunt had been more than hidden behind the dune and the tall sea grass, but she was half naked and he was much, much more than that.

  “What about you?” she asked, and watched as he pulled his pants on after he’d helped her with her tank top. She stuffed her bra in the pocket of her shorts.

  “I’ll live,” he said. “Besides, it wasn’t my fantasy, although it was pretty close.”

  They walked back toward Carly’s house. He caught her hand in his, leading her to the portico and the sliding glass door. She was sure he was going to invite himself in. Better yet, he’d pick her up and carry her inside, up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  Hunt’s eyes met hers and he smiled. He kissed her again before he sauntered off around the side of her house. After a minute’s pause, she heard the engine of the bike—a sound that rumbled through her the way he had, and then it shot away into the distance. No man had that kind of self control.

  Obviously, Hunt had, that and a lot more self-restraint than the average man. From what she’d seen, there was nothing about him that could be deemed average.

  She wasn’t sure if she would see him again, but at least he’d gotten her over the dunes. Literally.

  Somehow, even though he had control of the fantasy, she had a sinking feeling the ball had been left in her court. It was sink or swim time for Carly, and she couldn’t even get in the water.

  She wandered along to the kitchen, a strange combination of utter relief and pent-up energy flowing through her. She thought about calling Sam, and even as her hand reached for the receiver, she remembered that her friend was supposed to be living out her own adventure tonight.

  They’d certainly have a lot to discuss, come morning.

  6

  SAMANTHA GRAYSON WAS going to hunt Candy Valentine down and hurt her. That was the only thing she could think of at first, when Joe uttered those fateful words no woman ever wanted to hear.

  “What do you mean, how can I bring you home to my mother now?” Sam thought of a few more choice words too, said them, and understood that her last shot of meeting Joe’s mother was over. She just wanted Joe out of her apartment, and out of her life. The sooner, the better.She grabbed her robe and quickly pulled it on over the lacey bra-and-panty ensemble she’d purchased earlier that day. Her plan had been to spice up this relationship even if she died of embarrassment doing so.

  She didn’t think things could go this downhill this fast. But her boyfriend of four months stood there holding the sexy fantasy in his hand, looking between her and the paper as though both of them scared him.

  And here she thought she was the prude.

  Joe stared at the paper, and when he spoke, his voice reflected his level of disbelief. “You want to do a striptease for me? You want me to tell you how hot I get when I see you naked? I mean, Samantha, what were you thinking? This is so unlike you.”

  “I sure wasn’t thinking about your mother when I wrote it,” she shot back.

  “Where did you learn these things? I can’t believe you wrote this,” he said.

  She had written it, the whole thing, from scratch. When Carly’s fax finally came through, she’d crumpled it up, threw it away and wrote out her own fantasy. She’d never expected this would be Joe’s reaction.

  “I was trying to turn you on. I’m sorry you disapprove.” What a jerk. He had to be the only man on earth who’d still be standing there, fully clothed and horrified by sexy words. She should’ve known this was a bad idea from the start, especially since she normally didn’t date men who had blood-lines like Joe’s. His family was prim and proper, the kind of family who was friendly with Carly’s. Joe was the kind of man who shouldn’t be with someone who wasn’t a debutante. But Sam had always presented as if she belonged in that set, and when Joe set his sights on her, she’d been flattered.

  That his kisses left her cold was a fact she’d blamed on herself, until this happened. She was an idiot for forcing her love life into the wrong-shaped box. Because, at the heart of the matter, a man like Joe would never, ever get her blood pumping.

  At first, there had been something. Shared interests. A love of Shakespeare and foreign films. And he was handsome. Kind and gentle.

  That was the problem. Gentle. Didn’t need it or want it. His “I want my girlfriend to be plain vanilla and have sex in the missionary position only,” attitude wasn’t for her. And partially, it was her fault, since she had yet to allow a man to see past the good girl disguise she wore so well. She’d always imagined that the right man would see through her act, although a big part of he
r was worried about what would happen when that did happen. Her mother had been a, quote unquote, bad girl, and that hadn’t worked out for her at all.

  And Joe was still reading, when he should’ve been ripping her clothes off. “Tie me to the bed…I want to be helpless when you take me….”

  “Just stop.” She snatched the fantasy from his hands before she did shrivel up and die from humiliation.

  “I don’t understand. It’s like something out of a porno movie.” He was hanging on to the paper, but held it away from his body, as if whatever she wrote there was highly contagious.

  If only.

  “I’m surprised you’d know,” she said.

  “I do know, but it’s not something I want to associate with the woman I’m dating,” he spat. “This is something I’d expect from a woman who performs at bachelor parties or strip clubs.”

  “I thought you’d be happy. I thought it would get you going.” Somehow, she’d treaded too closely to Joe’s ego, taken away his pride when she’d taken the lead. But if he’d had any kind of mojo in the first place, she wouldn’t have had to write the fantasy.

  “I think we need to see other people. I thought you were different, and I don’t know if we’re meant to be together,” he said.

  “Breaking up’s fine with me. I’ll buy a vibrator to replace you. It’ll fulfill my fantasies better than you ever could. And maybe I’ll even send one to your mother.”

  He stormed out of her apartment, and her tears rose, more from embarrassment and anger than hurt. Though she mentally congratulated herself for being honest about what she wanted in bed. Maybe Candy Valentine was rubbing off on her and didn’t deserve to be strangled, after all. Maybe there was something to be said for letting your wild side hang out, because her blood was pumping like it never had before.

  Who are you kidding? Come morning, Sam’d be back to her old, safe life. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to throw out the written fantasy. Maybe if she slept with it under her pillow, she’d conjure up dreams of a man willing to satisfy her in whatever ways she wanted.