by Anne Marsh
“Are you serious?” If her grip got any tighter on her beer bottle, she might shatter the glass. While he found her strength kind of sexy, he also found it frustrating. Her opinion of him was about as low as opinions could get. Kinda made him feel like he was the dog turd stuck to the bottom of her mental sneaker.
Whatever. Ashley kept right on yelling at him, which was also familiar territory. “You dated the girl for more than a single night. You did things that did not involve a bed, a wall, the floor, or your penis poking her. You exchanged nonpornographic words, and if pressed, you could come up with a list of at least five things you liked about her that did not involve sex acts.”
“You realize that, by that definition, we’re dating seriously, babe.”
Her forehead got the cutest little crinkle in it when she was thinking. Since his logic was solid, he tugged the beer out of her hand and stole a swallow. Beer always tasted better when it belonged to someone else.
“Arresting drug lords doesn’t count as a date,” she protested eventually. She knew he had her.
“I brought you to this gorgeous tropical island.” He waved a hand around the beach bar. “You’ve got sand, stars, and unlimited alcohol.”
Double gotcha.
She grabbed her beer back. “You don’t like anything about me.”
“That’s not true either.”
She pointed the beer bottle at him. “Prove it. If we’re dating, tell me what you like about me.”
“Might want to rephrase that, babe. Narrow your terms a little.”
Honestly, he didn’t know where Dixon had gotten the idea that he didn’t like her. She was part of his team. He had nothing but respect for her job skills. So what if they rubbed each other the wrong way and gave each other shit? That didn’t mean he didn’t like her. Liking didn’t come into it at all. The sidelong look she sent his way drove him crazy. Also made him want to misbehave, since she so clearly expected the worst from him.
“If you want an ode to your left boob, I’m happy to give it a shot,” he continued. Yeah. That did it. Ashley’s lips tightened, and her mouth flew open. She’d achieve nuclear detonation in three seconds if he didn’t start talking fast. Since coming up with haiku about her breasts on the fly actually did exceed his capabilities, he gave her the truth.
“You’ve got killer skills with hardware. That’s one. Two? You can break down and reassemble an M4 as fast as any of the guys on the team.”
“Dating isn’t a job interview,” she said dryly. “And that’s the kind of crap I put on my résumé. I’m not feeling the romance here.”
“Shut up. I’m in charge of the list. Three? You’re not afraid of anything. You got something to say? You say it. Doesn’t matter if it’s just me, or the SEAL team commander, or half of Congress. If it’s on your mind, you’ll say it.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I’m blunt. I’ll give you that.”
He hadn’t realized his list was up for discussion. “You’re happy. That’s number four. I’ve never heard you bitch about field conditions or wanting something different. Not saying you’re Suzy Sunshine, but when we’re on a job you don’t bitch just to bitch. You roll with what life hands you.”
She got a funny look on her face, but she’d started this. If she didn’t like what he had to say, that wasn’t his problem. And he actually did like her. So what if he’d never really thought it through before?
“Number five? I can hang out with you and drink a beer. Better yet, I can dare you to do stupid shit and you’ll say yes. You’ve got a secret fun side, Dixon, and I definitely like that about you.”
And conveniently, he knew just the way to do it, too.
“So how about it? You taking my dare?”
* * *
THE LOOK ON Levi’s face was pure mischief. No. Scratch that, because there was absolutely, positively nothing pure about the man. He was unashamedly filthy. Ordinarily, she kind of enjoyed that about him—not that she’d admit it—but he’d risen to the challenge and now he was proposing one of his own.
Performing a solo sex show wasn’t on the top of her to-do list, however. Of course, making a personal sex tape or sending naked selfies wasn’t on there either, so maybe she needed to loosen up. Or convince Levi to go first. There was definitely one thing they needed to get straight first.
“Wait.” She patted the suggestive cocktail menu. “Some of these drinks are a team endeavor. I’m not having sex with you—or with anyone else.”
Not that she was planning on losing the dare but, just in case, it was probably prudent to establish a few ground rules. God knew, Levi could probably have sex with an entire circus troupe, but she wasn’t watching that, participating in that, or even thinking about that. Much.
He bumped her knee with his own. It was a good knee, hard and firm. She could feel the heat of his skin through his cargo pants and the sensation promptly sent her mind into the gutter. Darn it. It had to be the island and the anything-goes sexual ambiance that actually had her picturing Levi naked.
“Got it,” he said. “Anything I pick has to be a solo act. No orgies, threesomes, or anything involving multiples.”
Was she really going to do this? It was stupid. Juvenile. There were plenty of adjectives that covered the situation, and all of them screamed stop and reassess. She hesitated, the yes stuck on her tongue.
Levi raised a brow mockingly. “Chicken?”
“Don’t be juvenile,” she sniffed. She wasn’t afraid of him. Or of losing. She’d seen the drinks menu—how bad could it be if she gave in?
Plus, who was she kidding? It was worth the risk just to watch Mr. I-can’t-keep-it-in-my-pants SEAL suffer through a week of sexual abstinence. The odds of Levi’s achieving an orgasm-free week were low.
“You’re on.” He toasted her lazily with his beer bottle. His empty beer bottle. Har. She’d won that one. “We’ve decided the rules for my part of the deal. Now let’s finalize yours.”
She concentrated on not hyperventilating while she got her thoughts together. Honestly, she had no idea how she’d gotten sucked into a sexy dare with Levi. Stuff just kind of happened around him, though, like he was a magnet for trouble. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that the man had never met a rule he didn’t want to break. If the sign read “Don’t climb,” he climbed. She’d hung the equivalent of the world’s biggest “Keep off the grass” sign on her chest with her celibacy dare, so maybe it was only natural he wanted to be all over her. Levi was perverse like that.
“I’m waiting,” he said huskily, when she stared at him, lost in those thoughts. “If you’ve got sexy conditions, you might want to lay them on me before I’m old and gray.”
It had been a while since she’d spelled out the conditions of a bet or a dare. In fact, the last time she could remember doing so was when she was all of twelve and egging her cousins on in a who-can-jump-off-the-highest-cliff contest. This wasn’t much less juvenile.
“No O-face. No orgasm, with or without a partner or partners. Accidental orgasm still counts. And no hand action. You lose and you’re voted off the island, effective immediately.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. Reaching over, she patted him on the knee, her fingertips rubbing the hard, muscled warmth of his thigh. Wow. Brandon Boy was ripped. “You got all that, big guy?”
“That might be too much for me to process,” he drawled.
“Use the big head, not the little one. You’ll be fine.”
He sighed. “Mean. I like that.”
Maybe he’d lost his mind in that last foxhole. Or been too close to some kind of major explosion. From the way he grinned at her, her face radiated her suspicions loud and clear. “You’re not supposed to like it.”
“Babe, I’m going to win this dare. Tomorrow night is going to make it all worthwhile.”
His middle name
had to be Incorrigible and his next words proved it.
“I’ve got one question, though. Since we’re laying down the ground rules. How are you going to know I haven’t cheated?” He waggled his brows when he asked. God. She bit back a snort of laugher. “Are you volunteering to check?”
“For what? No. Don’t answer that.” She threw up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.”
Levi was actually kind of funny. Sure, the man loved a good fart or dick joke, but he wasn’t mean. She hadn’t meant it like that, but he was a good sport. She almost felt bad about his upcoming week of sexual abstinence, but it was probably good for him. A vacation for his dick before the damned thing fell off from overuse. Hanging out with him while they sorted out their marriage wouldn’t be terrible.
When she stood up a half hour later to go back to the villa, he stood up, too. “At ease, sailor.”
“If you’re done, I’m done,” he said, too affably. “The front desk only gave us one key.”
Apparently he was still under the mistaken assumption that she’d happily share quarters with him. Confident, yes, but she’d straighten him out at the door if that was what it took. He didn’t say much during the quick five-minute stroll back. The stars were out, visible overhead in a way they weren’t back home. It was probably the lack of ambient light and Richmond traffic, but it was pretty. For once, Levi didn’t say anything, which meant she could just enjoy the moment.
When they reached the villa, she double-timed it up the steps and turned to look at him. Levi had always had a thing about her giving him orders—or even suggestions—on their two shared missions. And by thing she meant hated with a passion. Her current position put her a couple of inches above the top of his head, which definitely worked for her.
“Good night, big guy.” She motioned down the path. “Now that you’ve safely delivered your little woman, you can skedaddle.”
“Nuh-uh. Not so fast.” He bounded up the steps and rested a palm against the wall beside her head. He probably thought the move was sexy, and damn it, he was right. Hormones. That’s all it was. Because he effortlessly tugged the key card from her fingers and tucked it into his pants pocket.
“Did you want something?” She gave him a pointed look. “Because the sex shop is closed and you’re not sleeping with me.”
“We’re not having sex,” he corrected her. “But I am planning on sleeping with you. We are married, after all.” He flashed her a grin. Which was so. Not. Working.
Much. It wasn’t working much. He was just trying to distract her with sex. Levi had always had a problem with being ignored. The quickest way to get a rise out of him was to pay him no attention. He was hot. He knew it. Of course, tonight it might also work to her advantage, since she needed to get her key card back and she had a dare to win. Two birds. One stone. Her path to victory was perfectly clear.
Opening gambit? Get his attention. Deliberately she stared at his mouth. “Levi—”
He didn’t take his gaze off her face, but his thumb brushed over her bottom lip. Good lord, the man was dangerous. She’d need to up her game if she intended to win.
“That’s my name.”
His voice was hoarse. Another good sign. She leaned up and planted her mouth on his. The simple touch had her body heating up and her hormones going wild. Kissing Levi was like sticking her hand in the fire. No. Scratch that. It was more like jumping feetfirst into an active volcano. One of his hands found her hip, tugging her close. His other hand pulled gently on her hair as his mouth opened up for her. Her tongue swept into his mouth like the damned thing had a mind of its own and that was probably a good thing, because her brain had shut down at the first touch and someone needed to be thinking here.
Focus. She slipped her fingers into his back pocket and plucked the key card from its hiding place. And then, even though her girl parts were howling traitor at her, she ducked under his arm, opened the door...and slammed it in his face.
5
SINCE NONGENTLEMANLY BEHAVIOR had led to exile from the best mattress Levi’d ever lain down on, the logical next step was to try being a gentleman. Behaving was a new skill, but he’d survived BUD/S. In comparison, seven nights of marital bliss ought to be easy.
Levis scrubbed a hand over his face. Ought being the operative word. He’d led covert ops, spec ops, and dozens of undercover missions into hostile territory, but to be frank, this marriage business was all-new terrain for him. A smarter man would have made a few calls and gathered some intel. Two of his fellow SEALs were in long-term relationships with women they’d met on Fantasy Island. Either should have been able to give him the lowdown on being in a relationship without pissing off the female half. Possibly, his Dixon was an aberration. She certainly was unlike any of the women he’d previously dated. Of course, he’d never married any of those women, either. Hell, his former relationships had never outlasted the night on which he met, wooed, and won said women. Still, he genuinely liked women. He had plenty of female friends, and other female coworkers had refrained from killing him or issuing death threats on a regular basis. They even managed to pass out the occasional compliment. And seeing as how Dixon was very much of the female gender, her antipathy was irrational.
Wasn’t it?
He shifted his weight and considered his options. She’d kissed him like she meant it, but her kiss had been a clever decoy. Probably he should work on his people skills, figure out how to convince Ashley to see things his way. She was stubborn as a mule, though, and he wasn’t any better. The way he saw it, they were bound to clash so he might as well enjoy the sparks.
He let her disappear inside the villa, although he could have forced the door back open, could have held it open with a boot or kicked it down. But he was practicing his subtlety and Ashley definitely needed some space.
Which left him on the wrong side of the door.
He thought about that while he made a quick detour to the bar. Although he’d never admit this to her face, he actually kind of liked her. During the months they’d worked together, he hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know her, and in hindsight, a part of him wished he had. Sure, he’d teased her, pushed her buttons. Meaningful conversation, however, had been nonexistent, although they had kissed that once. Strictly for business purposes.
He kind of liked that memory.
He and Ashley had been deep undercover, posing as biker and old lady. He’d been hanging out in a not-so-scenic alley behind a sleazy Sacramento bar, listening in on a gorgeous conversation about a truckload of semi-automatic weaponry due to arrive in NorCal at oh-five-hundred hours. That kind of hot information was gold. When Ashley had learned that he was in danger of being made, she’d joined him in the alley and he’d bolstered his cover story by kissing the hell out of her. She’d gone along with the kiss, and thanks to her, he’d looked like just another biker scoring some back-alley action.
Kissing her had been no hardship. She’d been all long, bare legs from her four-inch heels to the hem of a dress that barely skimmed the top of her thighs. And even though she’d disliked him intensely—and had, in fact, given him shit at every opportunity—she’d had his back that night.
She’d walked out of the bar, not stopping her sexy, hip-swinging saunter until she’d glued her front to his. Levi grinned despite himself. The things he’d done for his country, he deserved a medal.
The top of her dress had been even better than the bottom, barely there, the fabric molding her breasts and putting them on display. He’d trailed the back of one hand down her chest and patted her cleavage.
She didn’t break cover, playing along as though she really was his old lady, but he’d figured she’d make him pay later for touching her boobs, after she’d put her plan into action. Ashley had always had a plan.
Her hands had gripped the back of his neck, as
if she could hold him in place. She might not have had the muscle to do it, but he hadn’t minded accommodating her. When she’d yanked his head down, he’d let her. Her mouth had covered his, her tongue declaring war on his lips and pressing for entry. Why the hell not? He’d opened up, and she’d swept in. Damn, but his Dixon could kiss. She’d shoved her tongue deep into his mouth, exploring him in a no-holds-barred move that sent all the blood straight to his dick. He’d gripped her ass with his free hand, pulling her higher and tighter. She’d made a strangled noise when he notched his dick against her pussy, but then she got right back into it.
The not-so-nice part of him had wondered that night how far she’d go to save his ass. She might not like him, but certain parts of him apparently got a free pass. Or maybe they were frenemies now, and she just wanted to screw with him. Anything was possible with Dixon.
And then the door to the bar had opened a second time, and he’d understood the reason for Ashley’s presence. The two bikers who’d stood there were the club’s muscle. If they thought he’d overheard something, they were the fucking erasers who’d scrub his memories with their fists. The guys crunched over, not even trying to hide their approach. Levi had lifted his head and snarled a “Fuck off,” like the only thing on his mind had been sex up against the wall.
And it had worked, too. The goons had left, certain they’d interrupted a back-alley tryst—but his cover had been intact. Ashley had made sure of that.
He’d had no idea she was such a good sport. Since he was a good sport himself, he snagged up a copy of the bar menu. He had homework to do. Their bet was kind of like being Jack—and he’d just been handed magic beans, which meant he needed to make his dares count. Or make sure no one cut down his beanstalk. Hah. She seemed to think he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep his dick in his pants, which was insulting. On the other hand, she’d handed him an easy dare to win, so he shouldn’t complain.