Mary Margret Daughtridge SEALed Bundle

by Mary Margret Daughtridge

  “Uh-uhn. ’M hungry.”

  In one fluid motion Jax swept the youngster up onto his shoulders. In just a couple of days Jax had learned how to read Tyler’s moods and how to encourage cooperation rather than demand obedience. “Come on, big guy. Let’s hit the showers. I need to get cleaned up, too. Maybe Pickett,” he threw a hopeful look Pickett’s way, “will fix us something to eat if we’re nice and clean.”

  Pickett followed them across the porch, where she held open the screen door for them. “Okay. What would you like?”

  “Hot dogs and ice cream,” said Tyler, riding his father’s shoulder. Jax called out duck and he jerked his head down.

  “That’s what you had for lunch.”

  “Yep. That’s what I like.”

  “There are plenty of hot dogs left over, but we’ve got to make a deal. You have to eat some vegetables before you get ice cream.” Pickett spoke to their backs as they moved into the deeper shadows of the back hall.

  Jax paused at the door to the bathroom. “Whaddya say, bud?”

  “Maybe I won’t eat ’em,” Tyler’s tone was judicious, “but maybe I’ll taste ’em.”

  In fact, Tyler hardly ate more than a taste of anything, and head in hand, eyes drooping, he just stirred the tablespoon of chocolate ice cream Pickett put into his bowl round and round. And when, after exchanging a glance with Pickett, Jax said, “Come on, Ty, let’s go read Monster Trucks,” the little boy merely lifted his arms to be carried.

  Tyler would be asleep in minutes, which didn’t give Pickett much time. She made quick work of cleaning the kitchen, then dashed to the bedroom to study the contents of her closet. The jeans she’d had on all day wouldn’t do.

  Her cheeks burned and her stomach flipped every time she thought about what she was thinking of.

  Her turquoise camisole was a little dated but it would go with the wraparound skirt of cream chiffon. In a wardrobe comprised only of the most basic and businesslike apparel, it was the most flowing thing she owned. She’d bought it, unable to resist its ultra-feminine appeal, but the filmy material lifted with the slightest breeze, exposing her thighs and as a result she’d never worn it. Flowing was called for tonight, though, and thighs … well, she stifled a nervous giggle, thighs were no longer a problem.

  She left the jeans she’d worn all day in a pile on the bathroom floor. She grabbed a two-minute shower, and hardly taking time to towel off, scrambled into clean clothes.

  Now to set the scene. Heart racing, Pickett nervously patted her hot cheeks to stimulate thought—Jax could come downstairs any moment.

  She couldn’t face the questions he would ask if he saw her cheeks glowing red as a stoplight. However, it was only logical to sit in the porch glider in the dark. Her bare feet made no sound on the smooth, painted boards of the porch, as she practically leaped for the glider.

  She tugged the silky stuff of her skirt over her knees and tried to persuade her heart to beat more regularly. She hoped she wasn’t going to lose her nerve. She was very afraid she probably would.

  In seconds she heard him calling to her.

  “I’m out here.” She tried to make her voice light, casual. “It’s amazingly warm for October, and the mosquitoes aren’t bad.”

  And then he was there. In the doorway, silhouetted against the light. He stood, barefoot as usual, feet apart, hands relaxed. She couldn’t say later what made it happen right at that moment. Broad shoulders, yes, narrow hips, sculpted arms and legs, the proud carriage of his head, all limned with gold—but she’d recognized his extraordinary masculine beauty before.

  It was just that he looked so exactly, absolutely right.

  As inevitable as a waterfall. As indisputable as a mathematical proof. She was in love with him.

  Her heart turned over in her chest.

  Some part of her noted the wrenching, twisting sensation with almost clinical detachment. She’d thought it was a metaphor. She’d had no idea such things actually happened.

  She felt like a tree that has been sawed through, yet still stands, just waiting for the nudge, the errant breeze that will topple it.

  Pickett forgot all her plans. For now all she could do was act normal while trying to assimilate the shock.

  With a calm demeanor she was far from feeling, Pickett scooted over and patted the seat next to her. “Did Tyler get to sleep okay?”

  Jax sat down, the glider creaking under his weight, and slid an arm around Pickett. “He was out like a light in two-and-a-half readings.” As always Pickett stiffened slightly, then allowed herself to sink against his chest. It was progress. At least he hadn’t needed to insist she let him hold her. He’d been afraid he’d ruined everything this morning. While her family was there, with her typical generosity she’d calmly included him and Tyler in the circle of warmth she emanated, but during supper she’d seemed nervous and distracted.

  He smoothed his hand over her bare shoulder, and fingered the tiny satin strap of the stretchy top she wore. “You changed clothes. Nice.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her soft curls, and drew her feminine scent deep into his lungs. After a moment Pickett nestled into him more fully and allowed her hand to rest on his thigh.

  The heat of her palm seemed to sink deep into his leg, then travel straight to his groin. He set the glider in motion, so that he could feel her soft fingers ride the flex of his muscles.

  This was good. A cricket near the porch chirped in counterpoint to the creak of the glider, and he idly noticed that the tide must be out, because the damp, fecund smell of the salt marsh was stronger.

  “Jax?” Pickett sounded a little shy or uncertain. But maybe like him she was just unwinding.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m really curious about the phone call from Lauren. I know it’s none of my business—”

  Jax stopped her by laying a finger over her lips, then lingered to trace the shape of her mouth. “I didn’t mean that the way you took it.”

  Pickett raised her head to look at him in the glow of light coming from the hall. “Oh?”

  Pickett could pack more doubt into one syllable than some people could in a paragraph. Jax shifted so that he was wedged in the corner of the glider and rearranged Pickett’s arms and legs so she lay against his chest.

  “I meant it then, but I don’t mean it now, okay? After talking to Lauren today I’m not sure how this business of sharing custody is going to work out.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She’s totally pissed because I didn’t return to the beach house, but stayed here instead. She wants me to return Tyler to her immediately.”

  “But you’re not going to?”

  “I’ve got fourteen days and eighteen hours left of this leave. I don’t intend to let her have Tyler one minute before I have to.”

  “So you’re planning to stay here?”

  “Sure.”

  He sounded so easy, no doubts that here he was and here he would stay. Hope that he meant what she wanted him to mean fluttered but she flattened it before it could take wing.

  Oh, it was dangerously seductive, this fantasy that they could become the family she wanted, and every day he stayed, the fantasy would feel more real and become more dangerous. She couldn’t kid herself any longer that she was happy their relationship would never mature. She’d fallen in love with Tyler almost immediately, and now she knew she’d fallen for Jax, too.

  If only he was the man he seemed to be: considerate, dependable, tender with Tyler and with her, full of lightning-quick intelligence, and earthy humor.

  Seeking comfort, she rubbed her cheek against the soft weave of his yellow golf shirt. She inhaled his comforting Jax smell, and let the breath out with a sigh.

  He was all those things, but only part-time. Where was the consideration in leaving without notice? And what did dependability mean if she couldn’t depend on him to be there when she needed him? So what if he had a lot of insight and humor if he wasn’t there to talk things over and l
augh with? He wasn’t the man she wanted him to be.

  The image of the mythical selkie popped into her mind again. The man holding her was the selkie in human form. But she must never forget that he was a selkie, and would soon become a seal again, drawn to a wild world where she could not live.

  Jax felt the deep sigh that shuddered through the soft, sweet-smelling woman in his arms. She was soft, inside and out, but, by God, she had guts. He’d never been so proud as when she’d demanded her sisters start respecting her choices. She gave whole-heartedly, and he had a feeling that now her family would start valuing the love she gave them. Which reminded him of something he needed to say.

  He squeezed her lightly. “Pickett, I want you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for Tyler and me.” She squirmed as if she meant to interrupt. “No, don’t dismiss what I’m saying. I know how generous you are, so you’re probably thinking it’s nothing special. But sometimes I feel like I drove into a magical kingdom, the day I pulled into your drive. No,” he corrected himself, “it was before that. Everything started changing the moment you walked up to us on the beach. You’re one heck of a lady.”

  It wasn’t a declaration of undying love, but the husky wonder in his voice told Pickett how much he meant it. Apparently even selkies were susceptible to magic. She stroked the silky hair on his forearm, and with the tips of her fingers traced a raised vein. She took another deep breath, this time drinking in the knowledge that some moments are worth savoring for what they are, not what they will lead to. Her dream of a wonderful, secure marriage and family might never come about, but how many women ever got to make love to a selkie?

  A buoyant sense of freedom exploded in her chest, scary and compelling and hot with life.

  Being around Jax was changing her. She never would have dreamed she would look one of her sisters in the eye and tell her to stop criticizing. The power she had felt in that moment, though her knees had been shaking, still vibrated through her. Suddenly the daring plan she’d had earlier seemed like a good idea again. When magic was in the air ordinary didn’t happen, but sometimes extraordinary things could.

  “Thank you,” she slid her fingers into the cool hair at the back of his head and touched his lips with hers, “and for whatever you think I’ve done—you’re welcome.”

  The breeze kicked up a little, ruffling Pickett’s skirt across Jax’s thighs. He wished it could always be like this between them. The stiffness he’d caused by speaking without thinking this morning was finally gone.

  He clasped his arms loosely around her while her nails traced lazy patterns down his neck. Confident that he would hold her, she leaned back against his encircling arms, a secret smile playing around her lips.

  He had no idea what she was smiling about but he felt amazingly indulgent. “What is it?”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She bit her lip prettily, then swept her eyelids down, as demure as a nun. The dimple in the corner of her mouth peeked. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was flirting with him.

  She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “I don’t have any underwear on.”

  Oh God. He almost swallowed his tongue. She had been flirting and now she looked shyly proud of herself. How could she look totally innocent and say things like that?

  Surprise, sensual anticipation, and amusement in equal measures surged through him on a wave of tenderness. She was a darling.

  “Come with me,” she whispered, and got to her feet, tugging on his hand.

  He resisted and used the tug to pull her back against him. “Where are we going?” he murmured against the bend in her neck.

  She pulled away again. “Just follow me.” She skipped quickly down the short flight of steps, and dashed around the side of the house. The breeze fluttered the filmy skirt, offering tantalizing glimpses of bare legs and feet in the pool of light cast by the kitchen window.

  “Come on!”

  He couldn’t see the point of racing around the yard when they were both ready to get it on, but the devilish light in her piquant face promised fulfillment as well as tease. Anyway, wherever she wanted to be, he wanted to be. Oh man, he was letting her lead him around and loving it.

  Quickly he followed her across the drive where she skirted the border of ancient azaleas, solid and six-feet high.

  It was darker here away from the security lights, but the pale gleam of her skirt showed her to him as she ducked under the spreading branches of the huge live oak.

  In the deeper-still darkness under the oak she was no more than a pale smudge, but as his eyes adjusted he could see her feeling around for something.

  “Here it is,” she called. “Can you see me?”

  “I can see you,” he almost growled, his voice laced with sensual threat. She was standing beside a swing hung with heavy ropes from a massive branch overhead.

  “Good. Because I can’t see you. Come over here. Oh!” He gripped her hips and pulled her to him.

  She placed her hands over his cheeks and tugged his head down, eager, endearingly awkward, seeking his lips, his tongue.

  Warm, soft hands pushed through his hair, tested the resilience of his shoulders, traveled down his back, then fumbled at his shorts button. A flick and the zipper hissed softly.

  Never taking his mouth from hers, he used the moment to gather the skirts of her dress until he could slide his fingers against her moist, warm cleft. She was aroused and ready. His cock swelled hot and urgent. A man with a little imagination could do it anywhere. One-handed, he stripped the polo shirt over his head. The ground underfoot was soft with the loamy cushion left by one hundred years of decomposing leaves, and the shirt would protect Pickett’s bare shoulders.

  Pickett groaned her approval and the heat of her hands kneading his back shot straight to his groin. But in a surprise move she pulled away.

  “Now, sit down. Here,” she bumped the wooden seat of the swing against his shins and pushed the rope into his hand. “Sit in the swing.”

  The swing seat was a wide plank, clearly planned for the adult derriere or perhaps to allow two children to swing side by side.

  “Okay,” she approved once he was seated. The moonlight that penetrated the thick foliage stripped her face of all color, but her teeth gleamed in a smile of intelligent mischief. “I’m not really sure how to do this.”

  God, he hated to interrupt this, but he had to ask. “I don’t know what you’re doing but aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Oh. Right.” Her hand dived into the pocket of the skirt and dropped a foil packet into his lap. She placed one bare foot beside his hip, and grabbing the rope, stood up on the seat, legs spread to straddle him.

  “This is good,” he said as he lifted her skirt to nuzzle the inside of her thigh now tantalizingly close to his mouth. The scent of her arousal mixed with the smell of the humid night. He pressed wet licking kisses along the satin skin.

  Her “oh!” was more of an inhalation than a word. “Yes. But this is not why we came out here.”

  He tipped his head back to look up at her face. “Oh baby, you are wrong!” he chuckled. “It’s definitely why I’m out here.”

  She swung her hips out, bending until her face was level with his. “There is more,” she assured him, “and you are going to be grateful to the goddess of love that I practice yoga.”

  Slowly, hanging onto the ropes, she lowered herself into his lap.

  She released her right hand from the rope. “Okay, balance me,” she instructed as she gently took his throbbing erection to her entrance.

  His strong hands clasped her ribcage, lifting her up slightly so that she could get her feet out from under her and let them dangle behind.

  They groaned in unison with pleasure as he lowered her to surround him and to be filled.

  “Um,” she said, after a lingering kiss, “I have always wanted to try this.”

  “What gave you the idea?” Could it possibly
be that, lodged hot and tight in a woman’s body, he was interested in her mind? God, this woman was fun.

  “I saw a Japanese woodcut once in an art history book. I never forgot it. A man and a woman swinging together, their kimonos flowing around them. It was so very beautiful and lyrical … It took me a minute to understand what they were doing.”

  The honest consternation in her tone made his belly ripple with amusement. Her gasp told him she felt the movement at the center of her body. He felt her answering chuckle massage him with the same delicious effects. “Gives a whole new dimension to the concept of ‘swinging,’ doesn’t it?”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Well, I hold on to you with my legs, and we both hold on to the ropes and you swing us.”

  Gently he pushed off with his feet, felt her slide away, then as the swing ascended through its forward arc, slide toward him.

  “Don’t you slip off my lap.” He fought the urge to grab her to him, knowing that releasing a hand on one rope would make the swing lurch. “Don’t you dare fall!” It took several passes for him to become confident that she was secure. The gentle rocking, the slow stroking, tantalized yet withstood all his efforts to be in charge of it. Gradually though, he gave in to the motion of the swing, allowing the slippery friction where they were joined to just happen, no one in control. By imperceptible degrees there crept over him an awareness, not just of mutual pleasure, but of sharing, of mingled pleasure that was unlike anything he had ever known. His heart swelled, even as his cock grew harder.

  “More,” she demanded in a breathy whisper, “higher!”

  “I’m not going to last long,” he said with genuine regret. If he could, he would never let go of this sense of being joined in this timeless moment. But even as he said it, he could feel the walls of her slick passage tightening around him. His powerful arms pumped against the ropes to carry them higher and higher, airborne in the soft, dark night. At the instant of freefall he felt the rippling squeeze of her climax, heard her cries of release. He realized he had lost all control and hooked his elbows around the ropes, forming a protective cage around her while his body pumped and shuddered.