Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset

by Sharon Hamilton

  His arms swept around her and she gasped as his hard body abruptly was plastered against hers. “I might have a little spike,” he murmured in her ear. “You’d better check.”

  Grinning against his chest, she let her hands roam down his back to cup his tight, muscular cheeks. She’d never been much of an ass girl, but dang, he had a nice caboose. Her right hand slid inside the waistband of his athletic shorts and around to his front. She plunged her hand down his shorts and was rewarded with discovering an erection so hard and so hot it could definitely deliver the kind of sex she had in mind tonight.

  She pushed his shorts down while he turned her loose and tugged his t-shirt over his head. He stripped her with shocking efficiency. The man surely knew his way around women’s clothing. And around women’s bodies. In moments, he had her moaning in his arms as his hand slipped between her legs. Clever, clever fingers the man had. In turn, she gripped his cock tightly, running her hand up and down the iron and velvet shaft once. Twice.

  He backed her up against the wall, looping her right leg over his hip. He slammed up and into her with a groan as she shuddered in delight and arched into him. “Again,” she demanded.

  He obliged, sandwiching her between the wall at her back and his driving thrusts from the front. She wrapped one hand around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. He captured her other hand with his, lacing their fingers together and plastering the back of her hand to the wall above her head. He all but lifted her off the floor with the force of his thrusts and she opened herself to him eagerly, driving down onto him with abandon.

  “Come for me, baby,” he growled in her ear. “Scream for me.”

  That was all it took. She buried her face against his neck and cried out her pleasure as an orgasm tore through her.

  “Jesus, you’re so wet and hot. I could do this all night long,” he growled. He spun her around, dumped her on the bed and followed her down, impaling her again and pounding into her like a jackhammer.

  He drove her over the edge into bliss again, and amazement coursed through her. He did it so easily to her. A few kisses and a few strokes of his magnificent body inside hers, and she was lost.

  “More,” she panted, well aware that he had not come yet and greedy for more herself.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he ground out.

  “I want you to do whatever you want to me,” she gritted back. “Please.”

  He rose to his knees, gripped her leg, and pulled it across in front of him, neatly flipping her onto her side. He lifted her the rest of the way onto her hands and knees, and then he gently pushed the back of her head down until her cheek rested on the mattress.

  “Tell me if it’s too much,” he muttered as he positioned himself to enter her from behind. “I can’t go so deep this way. I’ll try to hold back—”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Ford made a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. And then he drove into her and all humor fled in the face of the towering pleasure abruptly building between them like a firestorm. It swept away everything in its path, leaving only the two of them, their bodies straining toward each other, and the promise of release so powerful they wouldn’t be able to stand before it.

  Faster and deeper he drove into her. Harder and higher she pushed back into him. Their bodies collided over and over, each time wringing a cry of delight from her throat. Her blood burned through her veins like molten magma seeking escape. Higher and higher the heat and pressure built until her body felt like it couldn’t contain it all any more.

  Ford grabbed her hips and slammed into her one last time as he pulled her back toward him and holy hell unleashed as her entire being exploded. He shouted and drove into her one last time as the eruption of pleasure utterly and completely consumed them both. She shivered and shook as he shuddered against her, pouring his entire being into her and taking hers in return.

  Ford collapsed onto his side, taking her with him and tucking her against his front. She was gratified to feel him breathing every bit as hard as she was. Okay, then. Sign her up for adrenaline sex any day.

  “See what I mean about the adrenaline?” he said lazily.

  “Why, yes. Yes I do,” she replied dryly.

  He laughed quietly and his arms tightened around her.

  “Think the Kimballs will be back for more tonight?” she asked.

  “Nah. Jimbo thought he was dying. He’ll want to get patched up before he comes back for more. Where’d you shoot him, anyway?”

  “Right shoulder. Round passed through cleanly from what I saw.”

  “Yup, that’ll lay him up for a few days. The other boys won’t make a move against us without him to lead the pack.”

  “Not the self-motivated types, huh?”

  Ford nibbled her ear lightly. “Not hardly.”

  She turned in his arms to face him. “So you’re saying we have all night to rest up before they try again?”

  “I am.”

  She smiled up at him. “So. How fit are you SEAL types? Is your recovery time from strenuous exercise as good as everyone says it is?”

  The corner of his mouth curved up in the soft glow of the kerosene lamp. “You looking to find out?”

  “Hey, I run triathlons for fun. I know I can recover on a dime.”

  “Is that a challenge, Zarkos?”

  “I guess it is, Lambo. Whatchya got?”

  Ford climbed toward consciousness lazily, a little disoriented at registering himself laying in a bed with a lush, soft female body draped over him. He had to say, it was a damned fine way to wake up in the morning.

  Trina moved a little, half-waking as well. Her hand stole across his chest and dipped lower, tracing the shape of his stomach muscles, which tightened under her touch. As did other portions of his anatomy. Cripes. They’d gone at it for a good portion of the night last night. He would think his body’d had enough, but apparently not. This woman was hard to get enough of.

  Trina’s leg was already thrown across his thigh, and she pressed herself upright, sliding the rest of the way across his hips to straddle him. She smiled down at him sleepily. “Morning, sailor.”

  “Mornin’ beautiful.”

  Her dark hair was wavy and tousled around her face and shoulders, her breasts peeking out from among the silky strands. She looked like a Siren smiling down on him and was as irresistible as one. It really was a minor miracle that she not only found him attractive, but was bold enough to take on a guy like him romantically and meet him halfway.

  He reached up to trace the seductive curve of her breast. Maybe when he retired he would take up painting and spend a few decades trying to capture the perfection of that shape. His body stirred, and a slow, sexy smile spread across Trina’s face. He grinned back at her. She had a hell of an effect on him. He couldn’t remember ever being this insatiably drawn to a woman before.

  She shifted her weight and slid down onto his eager erection, her body tight and warm around him. She rocked her hips lazily and a groan of pure pleasure slipped between his lips. She rode him slowly, her movements languid as her body undulated upon his. He watched her ride him, as lazy and sultry as the morning. His gaze narrowed as his cock grew harder and his balls tightened almost painfully. God, the pleasure she gave him. She knocked his world so off kilter he hardly knew which way was up.

  “I think I could do this forever,” she sighed blissfully.

  “I know I could,” he replied.

  She opened her eyes and smiled down at him. He stared back at her, his soul stripped bare. He was defenseless in the face of her sensuality. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman and more. Hell, she could shoot Eisenhower’s eye out of a dime at fifty yards and then do this, riding him into complete oblivion. She was perfect.

  The pleasure built and built, and Trina threw her head back, losing herself in the love she was making to him. This was the first time they’d made love in daylight, and he reveled in the myriad expressions flitting across
her face. She was so damned open, holding nothing back as pleasure and wonder, and maybe even awe shone in her eyes and curved her mouth into ever more delighted smiles.

  She looked like a goddess come to life. Goodness knew, she called forth sexual responses from him that he didn’t even know he was capable of. Her internal muscles tugged at him hungrily, and his hips rose to meet her. His entire body clenched in preparation to detonate. Her hips rocked forward and down as she impaled herself more deeply than ever upon him, gripping his entire length tighter and tighter.

  He thrust up into her, seeking her core with a desperation he hadn’t known he could feel. There. Oh. God. Heaven. He’d touched Heaven. Trina threw her head back and keened in pleasure as her body spasmed hard around his cock, her internal muscles shuddering and clenching, releasing and clenching again in the throes of her orgasm.

  His entire body tightened and then exploded into her with such violence he almost lost consciousness for a second. Her internal muscles pumped him until he was drained, totally emptied into her, body and soul.

  Jesus. He’d never, in his entire life, experienced a release like that. He felt shredded into a million disconnected bits. The only part of him that felt whole was buried deep inside her hot, wet sheath, still pulsing as her body continued to milk him.

  Trina planted her hands on his shoulders, panting, and her hair swung down around their faces like a sable curtain. Inside its shelter, the two of them stared at each other for a long, wordless moment. The intimacy of it was staggering. Based on the awe and disbelief shining in her bright gaze, he gathered her mind was nearly as blown as his.

  Neither of them spoke. They just stared into each others’ eyes. Hell, into each others’ souls.

  At long last, she finally murmured, “I know I’m not supposed to fall for you. But can I at least say thank you for that?”

  Stone cold fear rippled through him. It was both unexpected and unwelcome. “Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled.

  His gut clenched, this time with unpleasant awareness of a problem. A big one. She might not be falling for him, but he sure as hell was falling for her.

  Chapter Eleven

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  Trina couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. The sex with Ford had been mind-boggling. Even he seemed to have been affected by it. She’d never felt such a connection with any man before. It was scary and wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time. How on earth he didn’t feel it, she had no idea.

  Ford was quiet over breakfast. Not a bad quiet like he’d withdrawn from her. It was more of a thoughtful quiet. She would lay odds he was thinking about her, because he glanced over at her from time to time when he thought she wasn’t looking his way. She would give a million dollars to know what was going on inside his complicated head. No amount of money would induce him to share, of course. The man liked his secrets.

  Not that she didn’t have a few of her own. Like she’d actually enjoyed being in a firefight with him and the Kimballs last night…nearly as much as she enjoyed having sex. Well, maybe regular sex. What she and Ford did together was in a class all its own. Surely he felt it too.

  It was as if they had a connection to one another. What she felt, he felt, and vice versa. It was as if they were inside each other’s heads when they made love. What pleasured one, pleasured the other. It was kind of freaky. This morning, the more pleasure she’d given him, the more she’d experienced herself.

  Maybe that was the difference between sex and making love. Sex was about taking as much feel-good for herself as she could. But making love with Ford was about giving as much pleasure as she could. And in return, the pleasure she received increased tenfold. Who knew? It wasn’t as if she’d had any healthy, loved-based relationships around her growing up or in her own life to date to learn it from.

  Stop. Rewind. Love? Since when was love on the table between her and Ford? It was one thing to fall for him—as in to like him a lot and be crazy infatuated with him. Infatuation was about lust and hot sex. Tearing clothes off and sweat and naked flesh slapping together.

  But love? That was long-term stuff. Commitment and sharing life stories. No secrets. Exposing everything about herself to another human being and knowing everything about that person in return. Was she ready for that? No way would Ford go for it. Right?

  Relief calmed the panic attack clawing at the back of her throat. Nope. He would never let her inside his emotional fortress of solitude. She was just caught up in the spectacular sex. Yeah. That was it. No love here. No, sirree. She was a lone wolf.

  Except she’d liked working together with him last night in the ambush. A lot. It felt great to move as one with Ford, to coordinate with just a word here and there. To know what he was thinking without having to speak. To react to his actions and have him react to hers. She didn’t need him to tell her that they’d clicked perfectly as a team. She’d felt it.

  And then in bed…

  Was that what made last night and this morning so special? Teamwork? Connection? Sympatico? One thing she knew for sure. Whatever it was, it was freaking amazing.

  “Earth to Zee. Come in.”

  She looked up at Ford, startled.

  “My gran would say you were woolgathering. Do I want to know what you were thinking about?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  His eyes flickered, looking troubled for a moment. “The beanbag round with the tracking burr on it hit Ray. We should be able to home in on the signal and find the Kimball’s hideout, now. I figure we find it this afternoon, spend the evening planning our approach, and take it out tonight.”

  She nodded gamely. “I’ll go load up the gear.”

  “I’ve got a box of C-4 stashed under the front porch. We may need that, tonight.”

  She grinned. “Using the cottonmouths to guard it, were you?”

  “Yup. Better than a guard dog or a pet alligator. Nobody likes snakes.”

  “A pet alligator?” she echoed.

  “Oh, yeah. Drug dealers hereabouts use ’em to keep out the riff raff.”

  “By riff raff, you mean the sheriff’s department? Are you giving away a hint as to your misspent youth, Mr. Alambeaux?”

  He grinned at her. “Maybe.”

  “You and I should compare notes sometime. I’m still amazed I didn’t end up in juvie jail.”

  The smiled faded from his face as he stepped near to brush a strand of loose hair off her cheek. “Don’t regret whatever past brought you to this place. You’re who you are today because of all the shit behind you, and you’re pretty damned near perfect just as you are.”

  She stared up at him, stunned. He did know about her past with men. That first night—when he’d panicked her—had been intentional. But she’d survived it. He’d scared the hell out of her, but look at where they were now. She trusted him with her life.

  The rest of what he’d just said sunk into her consciousness. Her entire life was like her relationship with him. It had started out bad and scary, but she’d ultimately made something good out of it.

  There was no need to hate the bad that came before. No need to fight and rail against it. She could let go of all the old resentments and pent-up anger. All the badness before made the goodness now possible.

  Had her father not abandoned her and her mom, had her mother had better taste in men, had that string of asshole boyfriends not terrorized and abused her, she would never have become the strong, powerful woman she was now.

  And Ford thought she was perfect? Really? A tiny little flame of hope flickered to life deep in a hidden corner of her heart. Was it possible he might actually return at least some of her feelings for him? Was there hope for them, after all?

  She looked up at him searchingly, seeking answers in the depths of his gaze.

  Chagrin darkened his eyes all of a sudden and he spun away from her. “Pack extra ammo and det cord. I’ll go get the explosives.”

  Finding the Kimballs’ meth lab was as easy as a giant game of Hotter-Colde
r. They followed the pinging signal from the tracking device on Ray’s sweatshirt, turning their boat this way and that to determine when the sound got louder and quieter. It was a simple matter of following the increasing volume of the pings to a brush-entangled islet tucked in a huge stand of cypress swamp.

  “Bastards planted sugar cane,” Ford commented in disgust as they paddled their boat quietly toward the island.

  “Why’s that a problem?” she asked.

  “Leaves are razor sharp. Try to run through cane and you’ll get sliced to pieces.”

  “Then we won’t run.”

  He nodded absently as he searched the shoreline. “There. We can hide the boat under that stand of kudzu.” A huge, broad-leafed vine climbed all over a dead tree and spilled all around its host. They could, indeed, tuck their boat right under the fall of Kudzu vines. She used her paddle to lift the green mass as Ford paddled the vessel forward. A dark, living tent fell around them.

  Ford repeatedly poked his paddle down into the water all around the back of the boat.

  “Do I want to know what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Checking for gators. They like a shady spot like this.”

  “Cripes.” She commenced poking around the front end of the boat, as well. Her skin crawling, she also peered up into the kudzu, hunting for snakes.

  “Up for a little recon?” Ford spread green paint on his face and passed the stick of camo grease to her. She striped her face with green and plucked sprigs of kudzu to stick randomly in her clothing. She pulled the slouchy, shapeless hat that Ford had lent her down over her hair. Good camouflage was all about breaking up the silhouette of a human being into a less recognizable shape.

  Ford led the way. It took her about two seconds to see what he meant about sugar cane and razors. He was careful to hold leaves for her and not let them snap back in her face, for which she was deeply grateful. The cane was about a hundred yards deep, and gave way to a stand of tall grass and brush.