She giggled and smoothed a thumb over a bright red smear. “We’ll have to visit the restroom to fix you.”
His eyelids dropped halfway. “What needs fixing requires a large stall.”
Her eyelids dipped. “You’re a SEAL. I’m sure you can improvise.”
His hand low on her hip, he guided her past security and into the ornate building and the buzz of multiple conversations.
“Not the first floor,” she whispered. “Too many eyes.”
They climbed a curved staircase to the second floor. At the top, she broke away from him and ran toward the first ladies room she spotted, laughing gleefully.
His footsteps didn’t hurry.
Inside, she bent and looked for feet beneath stall doors and, thankfully, found none. Then she found a wedge-shaped doorstop on a janitor’s cart. As soon as the restroom door opened, she pulled him inside and handed him the wedge to block the door.
Once they were assured privacy, she turned her back. “The zip,” she said breathlessly.
“I’d hate to make you messy.”
She smiled over her shoulder as the zipper rasped. “I’m wearing thigh-high hose—they won’t get in the way—and a tiny pair of undies. They’ll be your only casualty.”
“A guy would almost think you’d planned this,” he murmured, sliding down her dress and catching it before it met the floor.
She waited as he draped it over the top of a stall door.
“These are too pretty to rip,” he said, his voice husky as he fingered the lace.
He knelt, slowly stripped them downward, then waited as she stepped free.
Without hesitation, he leaned toward her, his tongue sliding through her folds. “You’re already wet.”
Heart racing, Cat stepped back then turned and gripped the edge of the marble counter. As she bent, her gaze met his in the mirror.
She waited as he opened his pants and slid them down to his thighs. Then, with his hands bracketing her hips, he slid his cock inside her.
Their gazes remained locked as he moved, thrusting deep, his fingers digging into her tender flesh as he held her still. And then he moved his hands, reaching up to cup her breasts through her thin bra. “I can’t wait to have you naked. See everything,” he said. “Been dreaming about this. Being inside you.”
She gasped as he changed the angle of his thrusts and hit that special spot deep inside her. “Want to sneak away? Leave tonight?”
Eyes blazing, he shook his head. “We’ll get through this. The event’s important. I’m here as support, baby. Whatever you need.”
“I need you.” Her words were a mere gasp. “Harder. Faster.”
Ever ready for a challenge, Snake gave her exactly what she wanted.
Afterward, he cleaned her up with paper towels.
She freshened her lipstick—and wiped away his. A glance in the mirror made her laugh. No one looking at them would believe cosmetics were responsible for their heightened color.
Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you ready?”
“I love you,” she said, smiling at their reflections. They would be fine. Even without this gesture, she knew he was happy letting her do her thing. Money hadn’t changed them. Wouldn’t. He’d been firm about gifts and trips. They’d share what he could afford. She’d put every cent into building her little empire into an enterprise their children could participate in. One day, in the not-too-distant future, he’d give up his dangerous job and seek a security consulting position. Maybe even open his own agency.
For now, they were happy with the way things stood. She’d found a man who didn’t want her for what she had. And she was marrying him—for love. “I’m ready.”
* * *
If you loved this story and want to see more Uncharted SEALs, let me know! And be sure to read the fun excerpt from Montana Bounty Hunters: Reaper just below!
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and sexy romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred eighty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Kindle Worlds, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
You can find Delilah all over the web:
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Or email her at: [email protected]
If you love a suspense with sexy heroes, check out more of Delilah’s UNCHARTED SEALS series:
Watch Over Me
Her Next Breath
Through Her Eyes
Dream of Me
Baby, It’s You
Before We Kiss
Between a SEAL and a Hard Place
Heart of a SEAL
Hard SEAL to Love
Big Sky SEAL
Head Over SEAL
Also, be watching for the spinoff series, Montana Bounty Hunters!
Read an excerpt from Montana Bounty Hunters: Reaper…
As a general rule, Reaper didn’t like working with a partner, especially female partners. When working a warrant, he preferred to keep his head down and follow the leads. He didn’t like the “chatter” that usually accompanied working with a woman.
However, partnering with Jamie Burke had taught him a few things. There were women who could focus on the job at hand without letting silly distractions get in the way of his concentration. Jamie was one of those rare creatures who didn’t gossip, didn’t get into his business, and could actually be useful when shit went sideways and they had to get physical. Her methods of subduing a target weren’t ones he’d ever employ, but she knew how to compensate for her smaller frame and lesser strength. Over the months since their boss, Fetch Winter, had put them together, Reaper had come to admire the woman’s grit and ingenuity.
Case in point was their present predicament.
No, this time she hadn’t tripped Mark Rebos with a Jackie Chan move, and no, she hadn’t gripped his balls and twisted them so hard he begged for mercy. This time, she’d locked a cuff on her right wrist, jumped on his back and snagged his right as well. Now, they faced each other, ankle deep in the mud, and Mark couldn’t swing without dragging her closer.
Mark looked ready to explode. His pockmarked face was red, and his eyes bugged. Although he was six inches taller than Jamie, and outweighed her by about eighty pounds, Reaper’s money was in Jamie. Rebos tried to draw back his arm, but Jamie flopped like a ragdoll, making him pull her weight around. He was tiring.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Rebos asked, his voice thick with frustration.
Still breathing hard, Jamie shrugged. “Your wrist was the only thing I could reach. And you’re fast. I had to jump on your back before you pulled too far ahead of me. I was not running the length of Main Street again.”
They were both drenched. Rain fell in sheets around them. When Reaper and Jamie had spotted Rebos leaving the tobacco store at the other end of Main, Reaper hadn’t had any other option than to halt in the middle of the street while Jamie leapt out the passenger door. Thursday night was Bingo night, and the old folks had every parking spot along the street filled. He’d driven around the corner to park, then followed Jamie, chasing Rebos in the opposite direction, yelling at the top of her lungs, “Fugitive Recovery Agent, dipshit!” Luckily, Reaver’d had time to draw a rain poncho over his head before speeding after them.
When she’d leapt on Rebos’s back, she’d taken him to the ground in the middle of a deep, muddy pit dug out by the torrent of water falling from the culvert above.
“You need any help, partner?” Reaper drawled, standing under an awning in the sidewalks abo
ve them.
Jamie bent and placed her hands on her knees, which forced Mark to bend double. Their heads bumped. She angled hers to frown at Rebos. “You gonna give me any more trouble?”
Rebos shook his head. “Just unlock these,” he said lifting their arms. He squinted at her in the deluge. “Hey, you’re that female bounty hunter, ain’t you?” he said, a slow grin stretching his mouth.
“I’m a fugitive recovery agent,” she said, disgust in her voice, and then she strained to reach her left hand across her body to root inside her pocket.
When her shoulders dipped, Reaper grinned. “Lose your key?”
“I think they’re in yesterday’s pants.”
Reaper couldn’t help chuckling, which earned him a mean scowl from Jamie. He held up his hands. “All right. I have a key.” He reached into his left pocket, dug around, then frowned. “Wrong pocket.”
“Reaper…” she said, her lips tightening.
Yeah, he was kidding. He reached into his right and pulled out a key. “Children, hold up hands.”
Rebos snorted. Jamie gave him the evil eye. Reaver was feeling pretty good about his bust. He hadn’t had to bust a nut. And Jamie had given him a nice tale to share around the office.
He unlocked the cuffs then pulled Rebos onto the sidewalk. Jamie waved away his hand and climbed up on her hands and knees before straightening her backbone and marching away.
Reaper wrapped his arm around Rebos’s shoulder and gave him a little shove forward. They had a ways to walk. “So, buddy, did I read your arrest warrant right—you stole the sheriff’s car?”
“How was I supposed to know that piece of shit Hyundai was his?”
Reaver patted his shoulder again. “Bad break, man. Hey, I’m gonna have to cuff you before I put you in the car.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He held still while Reaper snapped the cuffs around his wrists. “So, tell me. The chick, your partner…she single?”
Reaper was beginning to feel like it was Christmas. “She is.” Not a lie. Jamie’s wedding was in a month.
Rebos straightened his shoulders and thrust out his chest. “Think she’d wait for me?”
Reaver didn’t dare laugh.
Back at the office, they dropped their copy of the jail’s paperwork on Brian’s desk. Brian was still bent over in his wheelchair laughing. Every time he glanced up at Jamie, he burst out laughing again—and he still hadn’t heard about lovesick Rebos.
Reaper shook his head as he stared at the muddy mess she’d made of the floor. “Think your boyfriend Sky’s gonna let you in the house, looking like that?”
Her lips tipped upward. “I imagine he’ll make me strip on the porch.”
Reaper glared. Damn, sex on the porch sounded nasty. And fun. He didn’t need a reminder of the fact his latest place to crash had taken back her key. Something he’d mentioned to Jamie that morning, in the spirit of “sharing.” Women seemed to like that shit, but Jamie hadn’t commiserated. No, she’d raised her fist to Girl Power and told him he needed to find himself a real girlfriend. One he’d actually have to talk to. Reaper shuddered at the thought.
He turned, ready to head to the door. He had places to go—well the nearest bar. Maybe he’d find his next bed to crash in.
“Not so quick,” Brian called out.
Reaper turned and raised an eyebrow.
“Fetch has something special planned for you.”
Reaper glanced at Jamie who was busy trying to wipe mud off the side of her neck with a tissue.
“Not her. You,” Brian said, and then smiled.
Sometimes, he really couldn’t stand Brian. He was part of Team Jamie. That smile was too wide and held more than an ounce of snark. “What’s he want me to do?”
“You have a ride-along for the rest of the week, starting in the morning. An author friend of his.”
Reaper groaned. “Why me?”
Brian’s smile was angelic. “No clue. But he said you’re to behave.”
Reaper grunted. Fetch shouldn’t have said that. Didn’t he know better than to throw down a challenge like that? “Author. Huh. He better not be late or I’ll leave his ass behind with you.”
“Not a he…” Brian said, laughing again.
Reaver flashed a look of disgust at Jamie who was chuckling softly. No way in hell. Training Jamie not to get herself killed had taken every bit of his patience. He didn’t have any left for some author-ess who wanted to pick his brain and wouldn’t know how to keep the hell out of trouble. No way. No how. Reaver growled. He’d just have to make sure that one day spent in his company was long enough.
The Omega Team: SEAL Escort (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Uncharted SEALs Book 12) Page 6