Her knees got rubbery. He braced her by putting his palm against her tummy, holding her tight against his groin. He plowed deeper then slid his hands over her hips. He massaged her breasts as she leaned forward. “Is this the kind of naughty you had in mind, sweetheart?” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, I have other things planned. We have another bottle of champagne, and other little delights.”
He pressed against her cervix wall until she felt the dull pain of her own orgasm beginning.
“But I like how you take your time.”
“Time? We got all the time in the world, Stephanie. We’ve only just begun.” He rocked back. “You should see what I see, Steph. I got red cherry stuff all over my dick, but your white ass is a thing of beauty.” He kissed her on her right shoulder, let his tongue make a trail to her ear, and whispered,
“Come for me, sweet Stephanie.”
Chapter 16
They got word the BUD/S class was going to start up in three months, which was about half the time than they’d expected. That meant he’d have to go almost immediately to Great Lakes on the fast track Basic course for SEALs. They were waiting for that to come through, which could be any time.
Stephanie didn’t want to pressure Patrick about their future plans, and she knew her mother and sister would give her hell for that, but he was preoccupied with his training workouts and several brotherhood getaways—which meant the consumption of lots of alcohol, ammunition, and skydiving. In fact, unlike most people’s tastes, including her own, skydiving was just as good as surfing or lying on a beach on some exotic island to them.
So, even though they lived together and were affectionate and respectful, there were no lazy Saturday and Sunday mornings lingering around and getting into trouble. Their intimacy had suffered a bit. She didn’t want it to slip any more.
Patrick studied the Special Warfare commands, read biographies, and asked lots of questions from his future SEAL brothers. One of her favorite things to do had been to sit across from him while he was engrossed in a book, wearing something very small and sexy, and read one of her romance novels. It worked nearly every time, but now even that had failed to get his attention as it used to.
She began to understand what Lizzie had told her about the difficulties of being a SEAL wife. But it niggled in her brain that he’d not mentioned anything about getting married, like he had two months ago, and although she told herself he was just preoccupied, it did worry her.
Now that his training was indeed really going to happen, she was left with two feelings side-by-side. There was the sense of urgency. If they didn’t do it now, then they should not interrupt his training, which meant waiting a year and a half. The second thing that bothered her was that Ryan had asked her to marry him, and they did wait, so they could have had that fun honeymoon and the wedding for all the family.
Does a piece of paper and a ceremony mean that much? She knew he was committed. But she wanted his body every way she could, including legally. Just meant something that he’d take that step for her. But it wasn’t the ten on her list of things.
Mostly, she decided to try to remove it from her mind. They had no time to plan anything. Would a quickie Las Vegas wedding work, like she heard others do? It just didn’t seem respectful to do it that way for a piece of paper.
Watching Lizzie and Jameson together, and now more Lizzie than Jameson, didn’t help much. Her parents were involved in their new life in Florida, traveling with a group of their friends. Carla’s life was a complete mess with court appearances, attorneys, and the girls in tears frequently. It seemed selfish to try to put her needs squat in the middle of the drama and chaos that was her family.
Patrick came home from swimming in the inlet with Jameson, Cooper, Kyle and Jake’s little brother Tyson. They had also included several other married men on Kyle’s squad. None of the bachelors, especially Trevor Markham, were present. It had been an especially long and arduous workout, he told her.
He came out from the shower with the towel draped low across his hips. She had to look to see if he was loaded down below, and she wasn’t surprised that he was. It was a nearly twenty-four-seven thing with Patrick.
But this time he noticed and gave her a smirk. She pulled her book up to her face, crossed her legs on the bed, and giggled.
“Let’s go down by the water and have some chowder tonight. Wanna do that?” he asked.
She was thrilled. “Sure!”
They found their favorite table behind glass on the large deck, next to a large gas heater. The sun was beginning to set.
“Never gets old, does it?” he whispered.
She noted how handsome he was in the glow of the orange sunset, how his pink lips were full. His smooth unbroken nose and shiny light brown hair waving in the breeze made him look five years younger than he was. But his huge shoulders and long arms, now filled out and tightened, signaled he was all man. He was in the prime of his life. He was almost graceful how he moved. She wished she’d seen him live play professional football.
“No, it never gets old,” she agreed, not even glancing in the direction of the sunset.
“You want something else?”
“I’m good.”
He left money on the table without waiting for the bill, took her hand, and led her down the steps to the sand and the pounding ocean beyond. An Asian youth waved as he ran past them, and Patrick returned the wave. They continued walking until they were close to the surf without having to worry about getting wet. A red cooler with a blanket draped over it waited right where he stopped.
She felt her heart begin to pump, lumbering so loud she was sure he could hear it. He wasn’t looking at her, which was not normal. Instead, he bent over, picked up the old quilt, and spread it out, motioning for her to sit.
Of course, this had all been staged. A chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes were just ready for his steady hand and pour. He handed her the graceful stemware and tipped the rim.
“This is for you, Steph. You’re my forever gal.”
“And—” She got distracted when he pulled something from his pocket and held it in his closed hand. “What’s that?”
“Drink, sweetheart. We both need a drink, I mean to say.”
She was parched and nearly downed the bubbly in one gulp, as did Patrick. But her attention was still fixated on his right hand, resting in a fist on his right thigh.
He leaned forward, begging a kiss, and she did the same until their lips touched and slowly parted. He licked his lips. “You taste nice.”
“You taste like champagne, Patrick.” He held the bottle up with his left hand, which was not his dominant hand. She raised her glass and accepted the fill-up. “What’s in your hand?”
He slowly looked down at his palm, extending it to her, “You mean this?”
It was a gorgeous multi-karat diamond ring surrounded by little diamonds. She’d never seen anything so huge before. Joy filled her.
“I asked you to marry me, and then I didn’t execute the plan, did I?” he asked as he slipped it on her finger.
The size was perfect. She held her splayed fingers out to the deep rose horizon and remarked that it looked like it was made of light.
“Hearts On Fire, it’s called. Some special cut. I had help picking it out.”
She cradled her hand like it was a baby. “Oh, it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen!”
“Don’t I get a big kiss for that?”
“Oh. My. Gosh. Yes!” She leaned over to him, and he pulled her on top of him, climbing his hips. She placed her palms at the sides of his face and dropped to give him a proper, lingering kiss that made her so wet she wondered if he’d feel it.
He slid his long-fingered hands down her thighs, around to the backside of her jeans, then slipped them under her shirt, and found her nipples. She leaned over again and kissed his neck, moving to the front until she pulled his shirt out of his waistband. Lifting the cotton, she kissed him from his belly button
to both his nipples, biting them one by one, before tucking her head under his chin and resting against him, listening and feeling his heartbeat.
He rocked her gently, neither of them saying a word, until she balanced herself on her forearms and traced the folds of his ear. “When do you want to do this?” she whispered.
“I got my orders to report to Great Lakes on Monday. I was thinking Saturday. What do you think?”
Although thrilled, she worried. “It will be impossible to find a place. Get things arranged.”
He stretched his neck from side to side, and she heard a loud crack. “Ah. Better.” He traced her lower lip. “I was thinking about something different than that.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe a boat out there?” He pointed to the glistening dark blue water.
“Just the two of us?”
“Well, I think we’d better have a preacher, unless you’d trust a boat captain.”
“My parents?”
“Will have to wait, sweetheart.”
“No party?”
He drew a forefinger down her frontside and grinned. “Oh, there will be a party. Just not with witnesses.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with water. “I didn’t want to press.”
“But you were smart to talk to Lizzie about it. Jameson got all over my ass, so good job. The guys said if I passed and if I was still in good shape, they’d not push to have me on Team 3 unless I cleaned it up with you.”
“So that’s how it works.” She hadn’t thought she’d divulged that much. “They tell you how many kids you should have?” She was teasing and hoped he took it that way too.
“Maybe, sometimes. If the guy needs it.”
“Oh, that’s awful!” She stiffened her spine and attempted to stand, but he pulled her back down on him.
“Whoa there. Hold on a minute. They don’t do that for everyone. They fix things that need fixing. I needed fixing. They informed me I wasn’t being fair to you, and if I didn’t start paying attention, you’d tire of it.” He held her hand, examining the ring. “Baby we don’t ever want you to tire of this. I want you to be in up to your neck, like I am.”
It wasn’t tender, soft, pillow talk, but they were the sweetest words she’d ever heard.
On Saturday, Patrick borrowed a boat from one of the retired Master Chiefs on the island. They invited Jameson and Lizzie and a young youth minister from the local Presbyterian Church, who was all they could get with such short notice. The ceremony was brief, and Jameson played a guitar piece and sang a couple of stanzas from a new love song he’d been working on.
The five of them consumed two bottles of champagne and watched the ocean, but there was no food, no wedding cake and no dancing. Before he had too much to drink, Patrick brought the boat back and gave the Master Chief a wad of cash he tried to return.
They waved good-bye to Jameson and Lizzy, paid the minister handsomely in thanks, strolled hand-in-hand along the strand, bought an ice cream, and walked the six blocks to their rental.
And then the real party began.
The new Mr. and Mrs. Harrington enjoyed themselves immensely.
Chapter 17
Patrick passed all the required courses for basic medic training, and since he’d been fast-tracked by some retired Lt. Commander in Coronado, a former Team Guy, and had orders to report back to begin BUD/S after just six weeks. He had never been so glad to get back to the sunny coast of San Diego and to resume just a few days of normal life with Stephanie before the tough stuff began.
As was common with the men on Kyle Lansdowne’s squad on SEAL Team 3, before any big deployment, they held a bonfire at the beach and invited all the wives and girlfriends and kids. Not all girlfriends could come, of course. It was strictly a family affair.
Patrick stood with Kyle, Jameson, Coop, and T.J. Both Coop and T.J. were medics on the team, and he hoped to be mentored under one or both of them some day.
Most the squad was moving out next week for a short TDA back to Baja California where they’d been instrumental in rooting out a small family cartel of human sex trade traffickers. One of the complications on a recent mission was the promise that one of Kyle’s men would marry the daughter of a Mexican general who helped them escape. Part of the bribe also included the gift of a bright red Tesla, courtesy of Uncle Sam’s Treasury Department. The guys were recalling stories about seeing the general streaking across the border showing off in his aloha shirts and racking up speeding tickets they had to get expunged.
“How’d you get wrapped up in that one?” Patrick asked.
Coop was wearing shades, even though it was dark out. He raised his glasses on his forehead and leaned into his LPO. “How do we get into these things, Kyle?”
“You don’t want to know the half of it, Patrick. Stay a virgin. You’ll see enough action when you get pinned. You wouldn’t believe any of us with some of the stories we’ve got to tell,” said T.J.
“It was that damned Jake,” Kyle said, pointing his beer at a couple roasting marshmallows with a bevy of red-headed girls fluttering around them getting sticky. The dark-haired SEAL waved back, oblivious to what had been said about him.
Patrick knew it would take years to get up to speed, so he asked, “Who’s going to marry the girl?”
“I’d promised her to Ollie, but he’s not coming this time.” Kyle smiled and clinked beers with the rest of them. “Gents, I think we better figure that one out before we get down there.”
“We got a handful of single guys going. Some of the married ones might not mind, either,” said T.J. “She’s a hot little thing.”
They all laughed.
“So, Patrick, we sort of broke the rules here tonight with you, but you were tight with Ryan, and you took over his girl, and we like that in this crowd. You listened and got yourself hitched, and you managed to get out of Great Lakes without being recruited for Dental School,” Kyle began.
“Oh, they tried.”
“They always try. Always the same. The Navy has the worst dentists in the whole fuckin’ world,” said Coop. “Sometimes, they just call you in and take a perfectly healthy tooth and put a crown on it, and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”
“They redo fillings that are brand new, and then they fall out so they get to do it again. Stay away, Patrick. Trust us,” added T.J.
Patrick scratched his chin. “I got a small fortune in dental work. Most my teammates on the Spurs were missing their upper teeth. Occupational hazard.”
“Not like rugby, huh?” said Jameson.
“Well, old footballers go play rugby, if they’re built for it. Big guys that can’t stop playing and love the mud, the blood and the guts. Gotta chase the adrenaline. If they didn’t lose their teeth before, rugby will do it.”
“So finish your story, Kyle. You’re getting a little hammered, I think.” Coop punched Kyle in the arm.
Kyle delivered a wide grin. “Okay. So we never have anyone who hasn’t been through the ceremony come here. Wives of fallen guys and the kids can come of course, but I mean you’re an exception, Patrick.”
“I’m honored.”
“And we’re here to give you a little advice since we won’t be here when you have your first little cut or scrape, and we won’t be there to talk you down from quitting.” Kyle took a deep breath. “So here it is, the secret.” He looked at the other SEALs, and together, they shouted,
“Don’t quit!”
Patrick chuckled. He’d told Markham and Ryan’s mates on Team 5 the same thing. Because he got it from Ryan.
“You mean all those videos I’ve been looking at about conditioning, mental attitude, and stuff is crap?”
“Most certainly crap. You walk in there with a plan, a system, and boom, you’re the first one out,” said Coop.
“They’re going to get under your skin. They’ll call you pretty boy, ‘cause they know all about you.”
“Because of Ryan.”
“Yes, and the other little
job you had,” Kyle said.
“Don’t pull attitude with any of the instructors there. They called me the Elvis SEAL,” said Jameson. “Pissed me off.”
“They’re looking for you to be able to take it. Not get upset. Go along with the program, don’t complain, don’t brag, and just keep your head down. Don’t look at them or engage. You want to be invisible, man, or they’ll pick on you.” Cooper followed it up with a half-smile. “You’ll be fine. Are you scared yet, kid?”
Patrick said no, but his legs were shaking.
Before their class got to Phase I the dropout rate was twenty-five percent. Ryan had told him about the row of blue or green helmets he’d see every morning before they began, the ones that used to belong to his former classmates. He knew about the little rubber boats and the sharp rocks, the telephone poles they had to carry in teams, and the timed swims in the murky inlet floating with garbage and oil. But unlike Ryan, Patrick got to go home at night except for trips to the gun ranges at the Nevada desert. Before he was done, they’d been to Alaska, Mexico, Canada, Nevada, Texas and even Florida.
The instructors gave him a heads-up on what to be prepared for sometimes, which really saved him. He’d wear extra socks or thermal underwear, tended to his cuts and blisters carefully, and made sure he got as much rest as possible when he was off.
By the time Hell Week arrived, he’d already lost twenty pounds.
He came home at different times of the day or night. Sometimes, Steph had made a nice dinner or expected him to take her some place and he just didn’t show up and couldn’t call. She tried to make his favorite meals, but he didn’t want to be fussed over. Little things would bug him. Most of the time, he just remained quiet because arguments, and there were only a few, really messed him up mentally the next day.
He forgot her birthday, as well as his mom’s, which was nearly unforgiveable. He was up in Alaska running in the snow with backpacks filled with rocks during Christmas. One of the guys in the class had a baby during the training, and he was allowed to leave for one night, but came back the next day.
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