Bound By Seduction (A Red-Hot SEALs Novella Book 2)

by McCallan, Trish

  “Sure you were. You’re a regular saint,” she said dryly.

  “I try.” He pretended to preen, and knew he’d skated past that mishap by her snort of laughter.

  “Okay, say I buy that load of crap you just tried to feed me.” She gave him a dry, you-can’t-fool-me look. “What about what happened with Brett? You got into a fist fight with him simply because you thought he took me home. If you aren’t looking for a serious relationship, why would it matter if he took me home or not?”

  He studied her face. She hadn’t believed a word he’d said about Chester, and there was no way he could spin what happened between him and Tag and make it believable. Time to stop spinning lies and give her the truth—with one crucial lie by omission.

  “Fine, you want the truth?” He paused. Where to begin? Maybe at the beginning? “Do you remember when we first met?” He asked, watching her steadily.

  “Sure.” A look of reflection pushed the suspicion from her face. “It was a couple of weeks after I met Kait at that photography class. Donnie had gone to some kind of conference in Vegas. I was at loose ends, so Kait invited me to dinner. She cooked lasagna—some prized family recipe.” She shot him a grin with a hint of nostalgia clinging to it. “You crashed the dinner party. Kait laughed, said she always made extra because it was your favorite dish and you always seemed to know when she was making it.”

  Another little perk of his gift. It was odd how the damn thing worked—how he could just suddenly know, with absolute certainty, that Kait was cooking the family specialty, or that a certain stock was going to hit the ceiling, or the long shot at the race track was going to surprise everyone and leave the rest of the track in the dust. And yet he’d not have a clue that the operator next to him, the teammate he’d gone through basic training and then BUDs with, the warrior who was as close to him as a brother—was seconds away from getting his head blown off thanks to a sniper’s bullet.

  At least Zane’s—his CO’s—premonitions were helpful. They saved lives.

  What the fuck was his gift good for? Making money? Yeah, fuck that.

  “You okay?”

  Aiden shook his head to clear the frustration and get his mind back on business. They’d been talking about how they’d first met. The day that had irrevocably changed his life.

  He caught her gaze. “You were wearing a yellow t-shirt with some kind of flower on it, faded jeans and sexy black half-boots with the longest damn heels.”

  Her hand absently went to her chest and her eyes softened. “It was an iris, the flower on the shirt.”

  He held her gaze steadily. “I took one look at you and wanted you. Right then. Right there and every day since.”

  Surprise flushed her face. “Really? I would never have guessed it. You never acted like it.”

  “You were married.” He shrugged; enough said.

  A small, tight silence hummed between them.

  “I wanted you too,” she admitted, without shame.

  He gave her a gentle smile that barely hurt at all. “I know.” The smile quickly faded and intensity took its place. “It’s been ten years, sweetheart. Ten years of craving you, and locking the hunger down. And then Donnie died, and suddenly you were free…but drowning in grief and not ready for what I needed from you. So I waited…and waited, and waited some more for a sign that you were ready to take another man to your bed.” He shook his head and grimaced. “This last rotation was pure hell. It was closing in on three years since Donnie died. I knew at some point those good old primitive urges were going to wake you up. When they did, I wanted to be the one you turned to.”

  “Oh… Her eyes rounded in understanding.

  “Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders and ran a hand over his head, choosing his next words with care. “So imagine my frustration to find that Tag had taken you home. Yeah, I admit I got a little possessive. But you were faithful to Donnie the entire time you were married to him. Let’s just say I wasn’t thrilled to find you were already involved in another relationship before I had a chance to work you out of my system.” He paused and held her gaze steadily. “You have a history of faithfulness, sweetheart.” Which he was counting on—his strategy for their future was dependent on that faithfulness. “How was I to know you were looking for a no strings fuck buddy?”

  “You’ve wanted me for ten years? That’s a long time to want someone on a purely physical basis, isn’t it?” She was frowning again, the expression in her eyes conflicted—caught between suspicion and hope.

  He shrugged. “Not really. It’s a physical reaction. It’s not like I’m obsessed with you.” He fought like hell to keep his face straight. Not obsessed with her? Sure—you keep telling yourself that buddy. “And there were plenty of other women to distract me.” Something flashed across her face, but he couldn’t read the emotion. “Truth is, I haven’t spent enough time around you to form an emotional attachment. I don’t know much of anything about you.”

  Which was pure bullshit. While they hadn’t spent significant time together, he knew enough about her. He knew the things that mattered. Like that she was loyal to a fault, had a wicked sense of humor, was completely open and unashamed of her sexuality, and was willing to compromise or even concede to those she loved. She’d confided in Kait she’d much rather live in a condo—because life was too short for lawn-mowing. Yet, Donnie had wanted the big old-fashioned house with the white picket fence and the huge front yard, so that’s what they’d been saving for.

  There was one other thing he knew, too. The most important thing. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wouldn’t be able to keep her emotions under lock and key once they took that leap into the physical. It might take a while before she admitted it, but once they became lovers, she’d transfer her heart to him.

  He was absolutely certain of that.

  “Okay, so you aren’t looking for a girlfriend. You’re looking for a sex buddy,” she said slowly, as though she were testing her conclusions in her mind even as she said them out loud.

  “That’s right.” He held her eye, and tried to radiate sincerity.

  And he wasn’t even lying—at least not completely. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He wanted a hell of a lot more than that.

  “Okay.” She sounded a bit breathless. “Sounds like we’re on the same page, then.” She lifted her chin and gave him a stern look. “No more being rude to poor Chester, though.”

  He nodded in agreement. “As long as he doesn’t turn psycho stalker. Terms are renegotiable at that point.”

  She rolled her eyes at that. “I told you, he’s harmless.” Her voice turned teasing, and her eyes started to sparkle. “So I guess the next step is for you to recover enough to get the job done.”

  Get the job done. He laughed as he stepped closer to her. The hallway was so narrow and confining; it trapped the rose scent that clung to her skin. Every movement they made stirred the perfume up, until it saturated the air. Something told him he was going to smell like roses from this day forward.

  “You have such a romantic way of expressing yourself.” He slung an arm around her shoulder and drew her to him. “Trust me. I’ll have no trouble getting the job done.”

  “Big talk from a man who can’t even kiss me.” Her eyes laughed up at him.

  His gaze narrowed. They’d see about that. Time to see if the ice pack had done its job.

  He leaned in as she lifted her mouth to his, their lips touched and—“Sonofabitch.”

  Her laughter rang through the hall as he jolted back, his hand lifting to his burning mouth. Maybe he should visit Kait. She’d be able to reduce the swelling and ramp up the healing process. If he finessed the visit right, she’d never know he was camped out one floor down at Demi’s place.

  Piece of cake.

  He just needed to slip away from Demi for an hour or so, and track Kait down.

  Chapter Seven

  Two hours later, Demi watched from the passenger seat of Aiden’s Mustang as he pulled into the p
arking lot, and eased up next to her Volkswagen Beetle. Slowly, oh so slowly, he killed the engine to his vehicle, and set the parking brake—all without taking his eyes off her car.

  Silence hummed between them.

  “What happened to your Accord?” he finally asked, a grim tinge to the question.

  What? He didn’t appreciate her baby? “I traded it in. You don’t like Maude?”

  “Maude?” He shot her a suspicious look, as though he thought she was yanking his chain. “It’s kinda pink, isn’t it?”

  Not kinda. Maude, her Volkswagen Beetle, was brilliantly pink. Iridescently pink. The kind of pink that could blind a person if they looked at it too long.

  “Of course it’s pink. It’s a ladybug.” She shoved open the passenger door and swung her feet over to the pavement before standing up.

  “A ladybug,” he repeated as he followed her out of the car. “Of course it is. You should have painted it mauve. Then you’d have Maude the mauve ladybug.”

  She strangled a grin at that piece of whimsy. “But then it wouldn’t match my hair. Besides, do you even know what color mauve is?”

  “I know it’s not pink.” He turned to look at her over the roof of his Mustang, a hungry gleam glittering in his black eyes. Even with the lopsided swelling to his mouth and the ruddy knot along his cheek, he was strikingly, exotically, handsome. His gaze lifted to her hair and lingered. “You do like pink, don’t you?”

  “A lot better than mauve,” she said, with a fond glance at her iridescent baby. She patted the roof as she hunted in her pocket for her car keys. “I’m going to paint a flirty set of eyes with twelve inch eyelashes across the backend.”

  “That will certainly up its resale value,” he said, his voice totally devoid of humor.

  Once again, Demi caught a grim, growly tone to his voice.

  “What?” she demanded, turning from the car to face him. “She’s pink. Big deal.”

  The freedom to do whatever she wanted to do, whether it was buy a bright pink Volkswagen Beetle or dye her hair a matching shade of fuchsia, was one of the benefits of being single. Donnie would have been mortified to be caught riding in such a colorful car. Nor would he have understood or accepted the artistic expression behind dying her hair such a flamboyant fluorescent shade. It looked like Aiden might be just as uncomfortable with outside-the-box life choices.

  Well, so what? She wasn’t married anymore. Nor was she going to curb her choices or style for a transient, fleeting fling. Even if the man was one of the most drool-worthy pieces of masculinity she’d ever encountered.

  “My objection has nothing to do with the color,” Aiden snapped, unleashing a scathing look on her baby. “That damn thing is so small a fender bender is gonna turn it into a tuna can. God help you if someone hits you going faster than thirty miles an hour. There’s nothing there to protect you against a serious collision.”

  She could hear the concern beneath the growling and her chest warmed. It had been so long since anyone had worried over her safety, she’d forgotten what it felt like.

  “It’s safer than it looks,” she assured him. “This model has a four out of five stars for front impact and a five out of five for side impact.”

  “From where?” he demanded, still scowling and not looking the least bit convinced.

  “From Motor Trend,” she said, smiling at him. “Trust me, I checked it out thoroughly before buying it.”

  He grunted, still assessing Maude, and Demi had no doubt that he’d be checking the safety ratings himself once he had access to a computer. That knowledge, had the strangest effect on her smile—increasing it by at least fifty percent.

  Along the sidewalk that ran between the tavern’s parking lot and the street, two college aged girls were chatting as they jogged. The girl on the right caught sight of Aiden and did a double take which sent her shoulder length brunette pony tail flying. She said something to her friend, who apparently had to look for herself.

  Demi’s smile fled as both skanks, in their way-too-short shorts that showed off their tanned, thighs and barely covered their asses, cut across the parking lot on a direct path toward Aiden. The blonde bimbo on the right actually had the gall to adjust her tank top for maximum boob spillage as she jogged toward them.

  She vaguely heard Aiden say something, followed by the scrape of his boots against the gravel as he turned to follow her gaze.

  The girls dropped to a walk as they drew closer. Demi shot them her best back-off-he’s-mine-glare, which they totally ignored.

  Skanks…

  Didn’t they know the girl code? You didn’t try to poach when the girlfriend was standing right there. Hell—for all they knew, he was married to her. They were too far away to see a ring, after all.

  Of course…she glanced at the tavern behind her. It looked rather forlorn, squatting there with its windows shuttered and the fluorescent light overhead dead. Aiden was obviously dropping her off in front of her car, which was parked in front of a tavern. Even the least discerning person would assume they’d hooked up the night before. Maybe a pickup negated the code? Or maybe they were just a pair of skanks.

  Yeah, she was going with skank.

  “Excuse me,” the blonde bimbo said, fluttering eyelashes so long they had to be fake, as she drank in Aiden’s roughed up, good looking face. “We appear to be lost, would you happen to know—”

  Aiden barely spared her a glance before interrupting, pure boredom in his voice. “I’m not from around here. Your best bet is to ask at the Subway up at the next intersection.”

  The blonde pulled back slightly, red flooding her checks, but she rallied quickly. While her brunette friend stood watching with wide eyes and building amusement, the blonde took another step forward. “I’m Barbie, and—”

  Barbie? Seriously? She was Barbie? Of course she was.

  Demi choked on a smirk, caught the wicked amusement in Aiden’s eyes as he shot a glance at her and almost collapsed into a storm of laughter. She caught the impulse at the last minute and tried to smother it beneath a fit of coughing. From the rush of crimson to the Barbie doll’s tight face, the girl wasn’t fooled.

  “Apologies.” Aiden interrupted the blonde’s dogged determination to make an impression on him. “But as you can see, my girl’s unwell. We’re pretty sure she’s no longer contagious, but we won’t know for sure until we get to quarantine.”

  Choking again, Demi helplessly released her keys to Aiden, who unlocked Maude’s driver’s door, opened it and practically shoved her inside. By the time she got her breath back the two women were clear on the other side of the street.

  “Smooth,” she said, wheezing. The smile from earlier bloomed again.

  There was just something so sexy about a man who’s eyes didn’t stray after he’d committed himself to someone. But the thought stopped her cold. They weren’t entering into a relationship that required a commitment. In fact, a commitment went against the no-strings deal they’d hammered out. So why the satisfaction that he’d showed no interest whatsoever in the banquet Barbie had so clearly offered him?

  “I’m not the one who laughed in her face,” Aiden reminded her dryly. He suddenly cocked his head and studied her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Demi took a deep breath, suddenly off-balance and a bit dizzy.

  Because of the laughter, of course. She’d lost her breath for a moment. That was all. There was no reason to feel like the earth had shifted beneath her feet.

  “You okay to drive back home?” he asked, still studying her face.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She drew another deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing as the dizziness faded.

  “I’m going to swing by the house, pick up some things,” he said, after a moment. “You going straight home?”

  “No, I need to run to the store first.” She decided, spur of the moment. “Then home.” She leveled a sharp look at him. “No more fighting with Brett. Got it?” She wasn’t sure she could survive a longer rec
overy period.

  He raised his eyes to the sky in a long-suffering expression and shook his head. “Yes, ma’am.” And then he braced his left arm along the top of Maude’s door and leaned down, his big body blocking the sun. “By the way, I’ll bring my own condoms to the party.”

  A shiver went through her. She wasn’t sure whether it was because of his comment or because of his nearness. Probably both. Not that it mattered.

  “But I bought so many…different colors…different textures… I thought we could have a fashion show.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  Instantly an image of him strutting back and forth in front of her in nothing but a condom popped into her mind. Her skin flushed as heat flooded her—muscles liquefied, tingles swept her spine, butterflies tickled her belly. No doubt about it. He needed to heal quickly!

  “Since we need to get out of here, I’m not going to ask what you’re thinking,” he told her in a sensual growl. But the gleam burning in his eyes told her he already knew.

  He pressed in to steal a light kiss. The brush of his lips against hers was feather-soft and sweet and halleluiah, he didn’t even flinch.

  Pulling back, he straightened. “See you in a couple of hours?”

  A couple of hours?

  Disappointment crashed into her. She’d expected him to spend the afternoon with her, entertaining her with his banter, tempting her with his heat and hunger.

  He pulled back, scanned her face and swore beneath his breath. Leaning in he gave her another kiss, harder this time, with a hint of tongue. “I’m going to stop by and see Kait before I ring your bell, okay? Get some hands on healing. You’re right. She’ll do me more good than an ice pack.”