One Hot SEAL

by Anne Marsh

  Luke was a hell of a lot of man. Fully dressed, he’d made an impression on her hormones, but naked… her girl parts squealed in pure ecstasy. Or maybe that was wicked glee, because she was absolutely certain there was nothing pure about how she felt toward this man. All he wore was a pair of dog tags around his neck. From there to his waist, he was all chiseled muscles and six-pack abs so hard they should be illegal. She might have spent too much time eating and not enough time exercising these last twelve years, but Luke had clearly been honing his body into a finely tuned weapon. Her sailor was gorgeous—and primed for business.

  He braced his arms on either side of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. Yeah, he looked pretty pleased with himself. Well, that made two of them. Luke was amazing in bed—or on the riverbank—and she’d been a fool to walk away from him twelve years ago. Or maybe it was a question of practice made perfect? Which strangely wasn’t an idea she liked. Right now, right here, Luke was all hers, and sharing him was off-limits.

  “Earth to Deelie,” he said huskily. “Come back to me, baby.”

  Come. She could do that. She giggled, and he shook his head.

  “You’re hell on the ego.” He didn’t sound like he minded much though, and he brushed his thumb over her lips with something that almost seemed like tenderness. She could get used to this. Used to him.

  “Your turn,” she said, shimmying out of her panties because those other thoughts of hers needed to stop. Luke was a loaner man, and eventually he’d hit the road and she’d be left behind. Funny how the river looked exactly the same as it had twenty minutes ago, but yet she felt different. When he raised a brow, she tossed the panties over his shoulder with a grin.

  He laughed, and reached beside him. Condom. Thank God, because the last thing she needed right now was a baby. Seconds later, he pressed against her and she open up for him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  He smoothed her hair away from her face. She probably looked more drowned rat than sexy beach babe, but he didn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. Instead of hurrying to get to the good part, he rested against her, hard and slick, and pressed his mouth against her temple. Followed the trail of water down her face, over her cheek, to her neck.

  “I’m not complaining if you want to hurry up a little.” She angled herself against him, doing a little pressing of her own.

  “Shhh. I’m enjoying you,” he ordered gently. He braceleted her wrists with his fingers, pulling her arms over her head. “Have I told you how much I love your breasts?”

  “You could show me,” she said, knowing she sounded breathless. God, this man got her going. He drew his mouth down her neck, then lower, skimming over her heated skin with the lightest, naughtiest of kisses. He licked and she moaned, his mouth closing over one pouting nipple.

  “More,” she ordered, digging her heels into his mighty fine ass.

  “Demanding,” he said. “I like it.”

  She liked it too. Or maybe too much, because she needed him as crazy for her as she was for him. She slid her hand down his stomach, reveling in the tension in his body. He knew where she was headed. When she grasped him, he groaned.

  “In,” she demanded, and he gave her what she wanted, the slick length of him pushing through her grasp and into her body. There was nothing slow about him now. Instead, he drove deep inside her, not stopping until his balls smacked against her butt and she’d taken every inch of him.

  “Okay?” He lifted his head, watching her face like he’d find his answer there.

  “Do it again,” she ordered. “Give me more.”

  “Bossy.” A smile touched his mouth, and then he did exactly as she’d asked. He slid hard and fast inside her, and her brain turned off. She slammed up to meet him and he thrust. Right now, right here on this blanket, they were in agreement and she loved it. Could—almost—love him.

  Danger.

  He pulled back, drove forward, taking her over and over, pushing her closer to her orgasm with each hard stroke.

  She came before him, slower this time. As she floated down from the blissful place he’d brought her to, she hung on to his shoulders. Hung on as he pounded into her, finding his own orgasm. Plenty of blue sky peeked through the lacy canopy of the trees over their heads, and it was pretty. She had birds and waterfall sounds and shit to go with her wild monkey sex, and it was just like screwing in the middle of one of those woodland sound CDs or a postcard. And yet, as he groaned and buried himself one last time inside her, it was funny how the only thing, the only person, she really saw was Luke.

  5

  “Why’d you cut me loose before?” Luke sounded sleepy, sprawled out beneath her, his big, beautiful body temporarily hers—and he wanted to talk? She had a bad feeling about this.

  “You really want to revisit the past?” Because she was all about today and right now. Her head hadn’t been in a good place in high school, and she’d made more than her fair share of questionable decisions.

  He lifted a shoulder, opening his eyes. “I do. I thought we had something, but then you disappeared on me. You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

  “We had sex, not a relationship.”

  “I had a blow job. You got nothing. So, yeah, I agree with you there. You cut us off before we had a chance to see where we could take things.”

  She had no idea what he meant by things, but they wouldn’t have lasted. Couldn’t have.

  He reached up to cup her jaw. “I liked you then, Deelie. I still do.”

  No doubt, Luke thought he meant what he said, but things said while naked didn’t count. Plus she was no longer the girl he’d dated briefly in high school. Even outwardly—more’s the pity—she’d changed, and he needed to accept that.

  “That Deelie, the girl by the waterfall, she doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Got it,” he said, running a hand down her back to cup her butt. As the punctuation to his sentence, the move guaranteed she wasn’t doing a whole lot of listening. She turned her head and stared at the river, wishing there were easy answers there. All she heard was the steady beat of Luke’s heart beneath her cheek, and damned if that wasn’t distracting.

  “Now what?” God, she wished she smoked. Or that she had a working car, wings to fly with, or a whole different life.

  He sighed and sat up, shifting her onto the blanket beside him. “Come home with me.”

  Right. To the ranch. She bet his family would just love that. “It’s not a good idea.”

  He stood up and grabbed his jeans. Playtime must be over. “Your sleeping on couches and in your car is the bad idea.”

  Apparently, while she’d changed and moved on, he’d stayed the same in some fundamental ways. He’d always been a white knight, and now here he came, riding to her rescue.

  “Deelie.” He nudged her face around to meet his gaze, and she considered knocking his fingers away. Or nuzzling them because, God, she was conflicted, wasn’t she? “Would you really rather be sleeping on Laura Jo’s couch?”

  “We just had sex,” she said.

  He looked at her, clearly trying not to laugh. “Yeah. Is that ‘just,’ as in we recently had sex a few minutes ago, or ‘just,’ as in we had meaningless monkey sex and a smart man wouldn’t try to read anything into it?”

  If they lived together for even a few days, she’d probably kill him. “Sex by the river isn’t a relationship or a roomie tryout. How do you know you won’t regret asking me home with you?”

  He shrugged and helped her to her feet. Somehow her bikini top had ended up in a nearby bush, and her bottoms were lying in the grass. Nice.

  “All I know,” he said, “is that I’ll regret not giving us a shot. So work with me here, okay?”

  She meant to get up and go, but somehow the next word that came out of her mouth was, “Okay.”

  ~*~

  The Dawsons ran cattle on a thousand-acre ranch that was one of the oldest in the county. His family had owned the place since the eighteenth century. They had the ki
nd of roots that ran even deeper than the large collection of springs, reservoirs, and wells dotting the property. From what she remembered of her high school days, Luke had two brothers, one younger and one older.

  He also had his own place on the ranch, which was a relief. The two-bedroom redwood home was tucked away in a grove of California oaks. It had floor-to-ceiling windows for watching the nearby mountains and wood-beamed ceilings. There was a stone fireplace in the great room and a decent-sized kitchen. It was easy to imagine Luke here, raising a family.

  It was harder to imagine herself here.

  Or maybe that was because Luke, when he had a plan, was pretty much unstoppable. He’d swung by her storage unit since, as he’d pointed out, he had both a truck and a garage. Paying rent on the unit was a waste of money when she could leave her stuff at his place for now. Since the sooner she could save up the money for the deposit, the sooner she could get her own place, she’d agreed. Or maybe that was because Luke, in the sweetest, nicest possible way, was kind of oblivious to her resistance.

  After two hours of loading and unloading boxes—because, no, she wasn’t going to sit in the truck’s cab and watch Luke haul her things around like she was a princess—she was exhausted. Worse, he’d still done the bulk of the heavy lifting, because it wasn’t like she could arm wrestle him into submission. Maybe there were ropes in their future, because tying him up was about the only way she could come up with to regain some semblance of control.

  Now, standing in Luke’s living room, the only thing she could think about was finding the nearest soft surface and face-planting. Actually, even the hardwood floor didn’t look so bad. He had some kind of fuzzy, white-fur-looking rug in front of the fireplace, and she could definitely crash there.

  “Are you sure it’s okay, my being here?” She was pretty sure the room had just dipped. Or swayed. Whatever it was, the floor wasn’t entirely steady beneath her feet. “Your family isn’t going to mind?”

  She was pretty sure she’d run into Luke’s mother once or twice in the grocery store. The older woman hadn’t seemed particularly harpy-like, but Deelie hadn’t been sleeping with her son then either. Long-term sex always complicated things.

  Luke watched Deelie sway on her feet. He gave her two minutes max before she passed out standing up. While he enjoyed camping himself, he was willing to bet that sleeping in the back of a modified Caddy wasn’t particularly comfortable. Plus Deelie seemed to be perpetually short of cash, which couldn’t be helping her in the peace-of-mind department. It was nothing short of a miracle that she’d agreed to move in with him temporarily.

  “I’m all grown up,” he said agreeably, pointing her gently toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Vicious curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace, which should work for tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to pick up some more doggie supplies.

  “Yeah,” she muttered sleepily, her gaze dropping to his crotch. “I’ve noticed.”

  He grinned. His woman had no filter. Sex with him also seemed to be one of her favorite topics, which made him feel like he was a ten-foot-tall sex god. It was also kind of cute when she blurted stuff out and only then realized what she’d just said.

  “People will talk about my being here,” she warned even as her eyes drifted shut again.

  Ordinarily, he didn’t give a shit what other people thought about him. He did his job, and he lived his life by his own rules. If that wasn’t good enough for someone, that someone could take a long walk off a short pier. For someone who professed to be equally ruleless, Deelie seemed awfully concerned about what other people would think about their new relationship. And, if he was honest, his parents would have questions. He’d never so much as brought Deelie home, and now he’d brought her home. Once they saw that it was serious, however, he figured they’d get on board. At the very least, they’d keep their doubts to themselves.

  “Let them,” he said and steered her down the hallway. He’d debated offering her the guest bedroom, but he was a selfish bastard. He wanted her curled up in his bed with him. He wanted a relationship with her, which meant figuring out a way through her all prickly defenses. Still, his mother had taught him some manners.

  “You want to crash in the guest bedroom, or do you want to share with me?” Pick me.

  “You,” she mumbled, and that ten-foot-tall thing was definitely happening again. As soon as she stepped into his room, she headed straight for the bed, dropping her bag on the floor, and toed off her shoes.

  Definitely down for the count. She hit the bed hard enough to bounce, rolling onto her back. He pulled the covers back, scooting her beneath.

  She reached for the buttons on her shorts. “Give me just a minute,” she mumbled.

  Jesus. Did she think she had to put out because she was in his bed?

  “I want you here, not a sex slave.” Games were one thing, but they clearly needed to work on their relationship skills.

  “Kinky man,” she muttered, but she was still smiling when he slipped into bed beside her a few minutes later.

  6

  Male voices rumbled from the front porch of Luke’s house. Someone had stopped by. Funny how even after two weeks as his houseguest (roommate, she reminded herself, because she was trying to pull her weight and not play the pampered princess) it was very much his place. She and Vicious had added a new layer of dog hair to Luke’s furniture, but other than that, she hadn’t put her Deelie was here stamp on the place.

  She hit the kitchen first because, if the guests turned out to be either of Luke’s brothers, she needed caffeine before being social. Not because they weren’t nice but because they were so painfully polite around her. They looked at her, and she just knew that they wondered why the hell Luke had picked her to play house with.

  Frankly, she wondered the same thing at least twice or forty times a day. And then she had to kick herself, because she’d made a vow years ago to stop tearing herself down. Daddy Dearest had done that enough; now she lived for herself and for the fucking moment.

  Sometimes literally.

  She could feel the big I-just-got-laid-and-it-was-awesome grin stretching her face. She couldn’t even hide it. God, Luke just got better and better in bed, and he’d set the bar impossibly high to begin with. He was creative, adventurous, and not afraid to lock the door and drag her off to bed at a moment’s notice. Saying no to him was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had to start getting more sleep or she was going to pass out on Ma’s bar during her shift. Yeah. She could imagine the gossip storm that would cause.

  She swiped the last two inches of coffee from the pot. Debated starting another pot, but they hadn’t worked out the grocery share, and while leftovers were one thing, raiding his stuff was another. It was her mug though, with the Vegas-bound flamingoes cavorting around the edges. The handle was a big pink beak. Luke’s mugs were boring black stoneware. The man seemed to have a pathological aversion to color. He needed pink boxers, yellow socks, rainbow-colored Post-It notes. Something to break up the calm, restful, monochromatic noncolor scheme he had going on in his house.

  She listened for a moment. The porch seemed quiet, but what did she know about family relationships? She’d been an only child. Maybe brothers could commune with each other silently, or maybe they’d already killed each other. Things seemed amicable between Luke and his brothers, but you never knew.

  She padded out, pushing the door open with her hip. Luke was sprawled in an Adirondack chair, an empty coffee cup by his booted feet. He did have a guest, but it wasn’t either of his brothers. For a moment, all she felt was relieved, then she realized she had two problems, not one.

  First of all, she hadn’t bothered with getting dressed before she’d made her grand appearance on the porch. She wore a lacy pink bra, a pair of yellow-and-white striped boy shorts, and one of Luke’s old flannel shirts. Seeing as how the shirt was Luke’s, it was, naturally, black. It ended midthigh, and she’d fastened precisely one button, the one over her boobs, a
nd like bees to honey, both men lasered in on said button. Or on her bra, her boobs, or the general fantasy she was serving up. In terms of coverage, her outfit wasn’t an overachiever. On the other hand, she figured she and her boobs were Exhibit A for why having a live-in girlfriend was a good thing.

  “Hey, baby.” Since she was on the porch anyhow, with her legs and her butt hanging out of Luke’s shirt, she might as well go whole hog. She plopped down onto the arm of Luke’s chair and kissed his ear.

  He smiled and gestured to his guest. “Pick here and I were talking. He’s the Black Mountain superintendent.” It didn’t sound like a complaint, more like a statement of fact, and she told herself not to be so touchy. “Pick, do you know Deelie?”

  She looked away from Luke, pinning a social smile on her face and… oh shoot. She’d slept with Luke’s boss.

  Yeah. That wasn’t awkward at all. The moment of frozen silence only made it worse.

  “Deelie and I, we know each other,” Pick said gruffly, and then he shoved to his feet. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s training hike unless we get called out first.”

  Luke stood up. The guys did a little back slapping and a fist bump, while they both avoided looking at her. Yay her. Pick loped down the steps and over to a big black motorcycle parked in the driveway. If she’d only seen the bike, she might have been smart enough to stay inside, because Pick had given her a ride one night last year. One thing had led to another and… she wouldn’t make excuses for who she was or what she’d done.

  Luke prowled back toward the porch, looking grim. It had been nice while it lasted, but clearly she’d been right when she said things between them wouldn’t last.

  “So. You and Pick.”

  It wasn’t a question. He knew, all right.