A SEAL's Pledge (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 3)

by Cora Seton

  “When you saw me…?” she prompted, hardly able to comprehend what she was hearing. She’d assumed Curtis had begged Harris to take his place.

  “I decided I wanted you for myself.”

  “So you just…” She didn’t even know how to sum up the situation.

  “Stole you.” He looked away, but he was smiling a little.

  She should have been outraged.

  Instead, she was incredibly… turned on.

  Harris wanted her. Badly enough to break all the rules.

  “What will Curtis say about that?” she made herself ask. She was proud of how steady her voice sounded, given the circumstances.

  “He’ll be pissed.” He glanced up. “But I’m not sorry. Hope you’re not, either.”

  What could she say to that?

  The truth, she decided. “I’m not. Besides, it’s too late. We’re married now, and that’s forever.”

  Harris stilled. “You really believe that?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Lots of people don’t these days.”

  Sam sighed and withdrew her touch. “Some people don’t even get married in the first place.” When he raised a questioning eyebrow, she went on. “My parents didn’t. They barely stayed together long enough for me and my sister to be born. They weren’t exactly role models for the settled life.”

  “Did you divide your time between them?”

  Sam laughed. “I didn’t have to. We all lived together for the most part on a tour bus, with eight other people, sometimes more, sometimes less. My parents are both in a band. So is my sister now. I drove the bus.”

  Harris grinned. “You drove the bus?”

  “I did. I’m not musical to save my life, unfortunately.”

  “I’m glad. If you were, you wouldn’t be here now. Would you?”

  “Probably not. I wouldn’t be searching to figure out where I belong.” She cut off, afraid she’d said too much.

  “Base Camp is a good place to belong.” But he seemed to run out of words, too, and gazed out at the landscape in front of them as if he’d like to retract that last sentence.

  “Tell me about Base Camp. Why did you join up?”

  Harris thought a moment, his gaze still distant. “I wanted a wife,” he said bluntly.

  Sam, who’d just lifted her glass to take a sip, nearly choked. “You joined Base Camp to get a wife?”

  “I suck at this. All of it. Meeting women, talking to them. Getting anywhere with it.”

  “You suck at this?” Sam didn’t know what to say next. If he sucked at it, she must be a colossal failure. “I’d have thought you’d be thronged with women wanting to date you.”

  Harris snorted. “Yeah. Thronged.”

  “Come on. A man like you?”

  “Like what?” He took a swig of his champagne. “What’s a man like me?”

  She nearly joshed him about fishing for compliments, but she had a feeling Harris was serious; that he didn’t know what an intriguing, intimidating man he was.

  “A man who isn’t afraid of commitment. A man who relishes hard work. A man who’s faced danger and lived to tell about it. A very handsome man.”

  He made another noise. “I think that’s about all I can stand to hear right now.”

  “You realize if you put yourself down, you’re putting me down, too. I chose to marry you, after all.” She finished her champagne and held out her glass for more. Harris put his down and refilled hers, then poured more for himself.

  “Never thought about it like that,” he admitted.

  “You were raised not to brag.”

  “I was raised—I mostly raised myself,” he finished. “Not sure how I turned out.”

  “Seems to me you turned out pretty good.”

  Harris drew out the meal, knowing that soon enough he’d have to face the music back at Base Camp. He felt an ease out on this hillside with Samantha and Daisy he hadn’t felt in far too long, and he didn’t look forward to reality bursting the fragile bubble of peace this day had brought him.

  “How about you? You must have left some man behind,” he made himself say. She was right; he didn’t want to drag her down by thinking the worst of himself, but what he’d said was true; dating had never been his strong suit and he hated to think he might mess up.

  She shook her head. “Not a one. I always had a hard time competing.”

  “With who?”

  “My mom. My sister. All the groupies.”

  “Your mom?”

  Samantha sighed and pulled her cell phone out of her bag. She turned it on, punched in her code and chuckled. “Oh, they’re pissed. Listen to this text my mom sent: ‘Who’s going to drive the bus?’ Really? Her daughter goes missing and that’s what concerns her?” Another sigh as she scanned a few more. A moment later she handed him the phone. “That’s my family.”

  Harris took the phone and examined the image. A man in his late fifties, bald with a crescent of gray hair, stood between two beautiful women. The one on the left was also in her fifties, the fine lines on her face only making her beauty more interesting. She had long hair and a knowing expression, and wore a deep purple tunic over black, flowing pants. The one on the right was in her twenties. She, too, had long dark hair, but her face was unlined, her cheekbones like a model’s. Still, she had the same knowing look, like she’d seen a bit too much for her years.

  “See what I mean?” Samantha asked.

  “You have a nice looking family.” They were familiar, too, although Harris couldn’t say why.

  “Nice. That’s an understatement. No one looks at me when Mom and Melissa are around.”

  “Sure they do.”

  She looked surprised, and Harris went on.

  “They look at you and realize you’re a keeper. You’re a woman a man has to work for. You come with expectations, the kind of woman a man settles down with, not the kind of woman a man screws for the hell of it.”

  Her lips parted, and Harris pressed on. He’d probably offended her, but he was only speaking the truth. “Those men—the ones who see your mom and sister but not you. Are they the settling down kind?”

  She shrugged. “My mom’s had proposals. So has my sister.”

  “From men they just met.”

  She nodded.

  “Those aren’t proposals. Those are propositions. There’s a difference.”

  “We just met and we got married.”

  Hell, she had him there. “But both of us are the settling down kind. We make promises we mean. Don’t feel bad about those men passing over you for someone easier. And I don’t mean to sound harsh toward your mom or sister, either. I’m sure they make the choices that are right for them.” Was he putting his foot in it? He had a feeling he needed to backtrack.

  But before he could, Samantha said, “You’re right. I don’t want to judge how they are, but it’s not for me, and the men who come around—they’re not for me, either.”

  “Good, because you’re taken.” He meant it, too—even if he did sound like a Neanderthal.

  Samantha smiled. “I’m glad.”

  Time to kiss her again. Harris might not have a way with words, but he didn’t need to explain what he wanted. He just needed to touch her. He set his drink aside and began to pack away the food and trash. Samantha joined in, and when they were done, and the blanket between them was clear, Harris moved closer, lifted her into his lap and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Samantha eagerly kissed him back. Her skirt spilled over their legs and when she leaned into him, her bodice barely contained her breasts. Harris had been looking at those breasts all morning, wondering what they’d feel like in his hands, but the time wasn’t right for that yet.

  First they needed to get to know each other. He brushed his mouth over hers, tasting her sweetness and the tang of champagne. He wasn’t satisfied with such chaste kisses, though, so he slid his hand up her back to cup her neck, pulled her closer and deepened the encounter. She braced her hands on his shoulde
rs and met his ardor with her own, wordlessly encouraging him when she tightened her fingers over his muscles and pressed her breasts against his chest.

  When he’d drunk her fill of her mouth, he moved to kiss her neck, down under her ear to her shoulder and then slid lower across her collarbone and dipped down into the soft valley between her breasts.

  Samantha sighed and leaned closer. Did she want more?

  He did.

  He replaced his mouth with one hand and slid his knuckles up and along the edge of her bodice, dipping his fingers gently underneath it to brush her breast. Her intake of breath brought her nipple within reach and he allowed a finger to trail across its tight bud.

  Samantha arched back and Harris understood what she wanted. He wanted it, too, but they needed to go slow. Today was only the beginning of their time together and while his body was ready for anything, he knew that moving too fast could backfire.

  He gently laid her down on the blanket, slid a hand underneath her bodice and lifted her breast free. As he bent down to take her nipple into his mouth, Samantha moaned, and the sound stirred the desire that was already threatening to overwhelm him.

  It was hard to remember they needed to take it slowly when she arched back farther to press her breast into his mouth. Harris decided to follow his instincts and he soon lost himself in the texture of her tight nipple and soft breast. When he’d lavished enough attention on one, he switched to the other side. With every moan and movement, Samantha was turning him on even more. He ached to be able to feel every part of her, but he knew he had to get himself under control.

  Samantha opened her eyes as if she’d heard the debate he was having in his head. She reached up to trail a finger over his jaw. Harris had grown lax about shaving over the last few weeks and he wondered if she minded. Not if her expression was anything to go by. She looked as if she wanted to touch him as much as he wanted to touch her. Harris had to shift to make himself more comfortable.

  “I…” Samantha trailed off.

  “What?” He ducked down and kissed her pert nipple. He couldn’t help himself.

  “I want you. Is that bad? It’s crazy, right?”

  “No, it’s not bad. Or crazy.” Harris lifted her hands over her head and linked his fingers with hers, the wool blanket rough against them. “I want you, too. But I don’t want to blow this, so let’s take it one step at a time.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, but the way she shifted underneath him told him she wanted more.

  He did, too. That didn’t change their circumstances, though.

  “We’ll get there. Soon. But you have to be sure of me first. Maybe you’re swept up in the romance of what we just did.”

  “Harris, look at me.”

  He already was. He liked the way she used his given name instead of Hawk. Hawk felt too contrived. Too obvious, given he was a sniper. Harris was who he was when he wasn’t playing hero.

  “I married you,” Samantha said. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  With a groan, Harris bent to kiss her, all his desire flooding through him like a warm wave. He wanted to make love to her so badly he ached with it, but like he’d said, he didn’t want to ruin what they had. His body tried to overrule his mind, but Harris hadn’t spent a lifetime watching the horizon, anticipating trouble, narrowing in on a target not to see all the potential pitfalls in making love to Samantha right now.

  “There’s nothing I want more than to bury myself deep inside you,” he told her. “If I didn’t think you’d regret it later, I would.”

  “I won’t regret it.”

  “Samantha.” He brushed a strand of her hair from her eyes. “You’ve known me only for a morning.” When her expression fell, he swooped down and stole another kiss. “I swear, the next time you ask me I’ll say yes, no matter what. When you’re ready—really ready—I’ll be there.” He chuckled. “Any time.”

  That got a small smile from her. “Okay.”

  “Meanwhile, there are other things we can do.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Like…?”

  He eased backward and began to fold her skirt up, exposing her legs. Silky white stockings were held up by garters and Harris nearly lost his resolve to take things slow. When he exposed the slip of fabric that formed her panties, he decided he’d played it safe enough for both of them. Time to show her how much he wanted her.

  He snapped the thin satin bands of her panties in two, drew them off her and tossed them aside. He pushed her legs apart and bent to kiss one smooth, sexy thigh.

  Samantha gasped, and twisted her hands into the fabric of his shirt as he slid his mouth over her skin to her hot, wet core. She was slick with need and as he teased and tasted her, her restless movements and small sounds let him know how much she liked what he was doing.

  He slid his hands under her thighs and lifted her for better access. He knew it wasn’t the same as making love, but he couldn’t think of a more intimate experience to share. She opened to him willingly and her trust in him only bound his heart more tightly to hers. He’d been given a gift he’d never looked for—something he’d wanted for as long as he could remember, but always seemed out of reach. He’d do anything for Samantha, he decided. He’d wait as long as she wanted—or he’d take her now, today, if that’s what she asked of him. He’d do more than that. He’d get to know her every wish and desire and build a life with her that fulfilled them.

  When Samantha came, she lifted her hips, dug her hands into his shoulders and cried out. Harris rode the wave with her, hanging on to his self-control… barely. He told himself he’d jump into Pittance Creek when they got home if that’s what it took to calm his libido.

  But when Samantha had shuddered to a stop, and caught her breath, she tugged on his shoulders to bring him closer to her. Pressing him down beside her, she turned to fumble with his belt. “My turn.”

  “Sam—”

  “Listen, Mr. Navy SEAL, you don’t get to call all the shots in this marriage.”

  Surprised, he let her push him over on his back. “I don’t?”

  “No.” She knelt above him and got to work on his belt buckle again. When it came free, she slipped her fingers under his waistband and undid the button of his jeans. When she undid his zipper, he let her tug down his jeans and boxer briefs, all the while wondering if this was right.

  It felt right.

  “Samantha—”

  She gave a sigh of exasperation, slid him free, bent down and took him in her mouth.

  Harris made a strangled noise and gave up. Her mouth was so warm and wet, her tongue sliding over his skin made every nerve in his body jump with want and need. He clutched the blanket and twisted it in his hands, needing every bit of his self-restraint to hold back.

  It was a lost cause.

  Cradling him in her hands, caressing him with her tongue and lips, Samantha soon brought him to the edge of a precipice he couldn’t make it back from.

  He tried to warn her. Tried to shift away, unsure how far she wanted to take this, but Samantha took him deep in her mouth and there was no way he could stop himself from letting go.

  He’d never experienced anything as erotic as giving in to her. Trusting her to make up her mind for herself what she did and didn’t want to do. In that moment, he wondered if he’d kept them from something special by not making love to her when she asked him to. Should he have taken her at her word instead?

  This was no time for deep thoughts, though. When he came, shudders wracked his body until he collapsed back and stared at the deep blue sky far above him. “Samantha,” was all he could say. She released him after a final caress or two, lay down beside him and snuggled up under his arm. Harris held her, still staring up at that unknowable sky. How could he feel so comfortable with a woman he’d just met? How could his life have changed so inexorably in so few hours?

  Is this where I’m supposed to be? He wasn’t sure who his question was aimed at—or who could answer it.

  Sti
ll, the answer came loud and clear in his mind.

  Yes.

  He turned to Samantha. She was smiling at him, examining him with as much interest as he’d been examining the sky moments before.

  “I like you,” she said.

  Something eased a little in his heart. Something that had been tight and hard for far too long.

  “I like you, too.”

  “How do I look?” Sam asked an hour later when Harris turned the truck onto the rutted dirt lane leading into the ranch. With her gown smoothed back into place and a new pair of panties fetched from her bags—she’d stashed the ones he’d ripped deep in her suitcase—she felt more or less presentable, although she was sure anyone who looked closely could tell from her flushed face what she and Harris had been doing. She’d been reluctant to leave their peaceful sanctuary, and had a feeling she’d count those first few hours alone with Harris as some of the happiest of her life, but it was time for them to return to Base Camp and face the music—and the cameras.

  Harris had told her a little about what life was like being filmed twenty-four/seven. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she felt she could handle the attention, although she dreaded to think what her family would say when they first saw her on-screen.

  She was far more concerned with how she’d fit in with the other members of Base Camp. As she’d said to Harris, it was like meeting a bunch of movie stars—movie stars with a shared past she hadn’t been part of. She wasn’t sure she’d fit in.

  And then there was Curtis. She told herself the man hadn’t bothered to get up and fetch her from the airport. He probably wouldn’t care that she’d married Harris—and if he did, it was his own fault.

  But as they drove, Harris’s silence unnerved her and she had a feeling he was thinking of the other man. Samantha hoped he was blowing this out of proportion. After all, Curtis had been relieved not to have to marry right away. Now he had time to find his own wife.