SEAL the Deal (Alpha SEALs Book 1)

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SEAL the Deal (Alpha SEALs Book 1) Page 16

by Makenna Jameison


  “How do you figure?” Evan asked, his eyes not leaving the gorgeous redhead.

  “You’ve been staring at her all night, and she hasn’t glanced your way once. You’re totally fucked.”

  Evan guffawed, spitting out his beer.

  Matthew slapped him on the back and laughed. “Yep, just like I said. Totally fucked.”

  Evan bit out a curse and turned away, Matthew still chuckling in the background. As the youngest man on his SEAL team, Evan was used to the other guys ribbing him. Still, at twenty-seven, he wasn’t exactly some kid fresh out of BUD/S. He’d joined the Navy right out of high school and had proudly served his country for the past nine years. He’d seen more life and death than most guys his age, and he’d accomplished more in his short career than some men could hope to achieve in their entire lives.

  Although that earned him respect in other areas of his life, namely where civilians and women were concerned, the other men on his SEAL team still enjoyed giving him a hard time. Especially when it came to women. Those guys were like five big brothers—rough and tumble alpha males, like him, who fought hard and played harder and were fiercely protective of those they cared about. Their unbreakable bond had been tightly forged after years of training together in grueling situations on and off shore and repeated deployments to critical situations all over the world. They were ready to go at a moment’s notice and fought swiftly as one unit, gauging each other’s reactions and reading one another’s thoughts as though their ties had been those of blood brothers.

  Not that any of that mattered tonight, judging from the way the other guys were giving him shit over failing to impress a woman.

  Hell.

  Their team leader, Patrick, had invited the SEALs and their CO over for a barbeque at his place. Some mishap had prevented the CO from hosting it at his home, but Patrick didn’t seem too put out by the change in plans. He’d been manning the grill throughout the evening while Rebecca directed guests to the beers in the coolers and food spread out on the table. And his often cold-as-ice team leader had never looked happier.

  Hell, if Evan had a home of his own and a woman at his side, he’d be glad to host shit like this, too. Especially on a balmy summer evening like tonight. The air was warm with just a bit of the salty breeze from the ocean, the scent of the charcoal was mixing in with the delicious aroma of the food on the grill, and he was feeling a bit restless.

  If he had a gorgeous lady in his life, he’d be able to enjoy burgers and beers with his buddies and then haul his woman off to bed when the evening was over, ravishing her until morning. Until they were both boneless with exhaustion and thoroughly sated.

  Not gonna happen tonight.

  The one-night-stands he’d enjoyed over the past few years—hell, the ones he’d enjoyed ever since he’d joined the military—just weren’t cutting it anymore. He’d been too old for that kind of thing for a long time now. Sure, he enjoyed female company and the immediate sexual gratification that came from bedding a woman, but afterward? He’d be alone in his apartment night after night, waking up at the ass crack of dawn for PT and drills with no one to come home to at night.

  Then he’d meet another woman the following weekend and repeat the cycle again. Ad nauseam.

  The redhead his eyes had been glued on all night he’d seen before. He’d briefly met her in passing one day at Rebecca’s a month or so ago. Somehow he’d gotten roped into dropping some shit off for Patrick, and she’d been heading out the door just as he got there. Cute little shorts, another tight tank top…hair pulled back in some kind of messy twist that looked cuter than hell on her. She’d grinned up at him, those big green eyes capturing his heart, and hurried off before he’d known what had hit him.

  Damn if she wasn’t even sexier tonight. Her skirt wasn’t revealing like those shorts had been. It was sexier than hell though. Then there was the way all that strawberry blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders. It caressed her breasts as she’d walked around the backyard, enrapturing him. He wondered what all that long, silky hair would feel like whispering across his chest as she rode him. He’d twist his fingers through it, lost in her. Pump into her until she flushed and came for him.

  Hell. He’d barely even spoken to her and was already imagining night after night of her in his bed.

  He stalked toward the picnic table, which was currently overflowing with platters of food. Ribs, hot dogs, sausages, burgers—just about anything a man could want to chow down on. Patrick had obviously been in charge of the food. No doubt if Rebecca had selected the menu they’d be eating healthy grilled chicken and fish. Maybe those tiny little sandwiches women served at parties.

  He grabbed a burger and side of ribs, scooping some potato salad onto his plate and finally adding a hot dog as well for good measure. If only catching the attention of that elusive redhead—Alison—was as easy as grabbing what he wanted for dinner. When they’d been introduced earlier, he’d tried to charm her with a little flirting. She’d politely shaken his hand, flashed him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and then breezed right by him, her eyes set on another member of his SEAL team.

  It didn’t help that when the guys had introduced him they’d pointed out he was the youngest of the men. Save for Patrick, they were all single, and eager for the attention of a gorgeous woman like Alison. Her eyes had lit up at the amount of testosterone filling the backyard as she scanned the crowd, and before he could even attempt to get to know her, she’d chased after some other guy.

  She was barely a few years older than him, if that. Hell, at six-foot-two, he towered above her small frame by a foot. She was slender and petite, with a personality radiating warmth. He was tall with the build of a SEAL, of a man who spent hours doing PT and who had been hardened by war. He always treated women with respect but was used to commanding the attention of a room and getting the woman he chose.

  With their testosterone-driven group, the women had always flocked to them. When the guys went out to Anchors, a popular bar near their base in Little Creek, Virginia, they’d practically be fighting the women off. If she thought a younger man couldn’t provide for her, care for and pleasure her, she was dead wrong. He’d be more than happy to show her exactly all the ways he wished they were acquainted.

  Balancing his plate of food in one hand, he grabbed another beer. His eyes scanned over the crowd, searching. Plotting. He was determined to find a way to catch her eye, and the night was still young.

  Mission on.

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