SEALed With a Twist

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

  She stayed standing in front of the couch until Grant returned from walking them out. He leaned against the archway across from her and the look on his face was so carnal, her pelvis clenched.

  Okay, maybe she hadn’t quite thought this out.

  “I like them,” she blurted. That pleased him, she could tell.

  “They’re likeable.”

  “How long have they been together?”

  “Actually together? Seven months.” Crossing his arms, Grant strolled into the main room as he thought back. “Got married in Vegas about two years ago. One of those crazy love-at-first-sight deals, if you believe in that shit. Lasted six weeks give or take before Quinn bugged out while we were OUTCONUS. Out of continental United States,” he clarified so Skye figured her confusion over the acronym must’ve shown on her face. “I didn’t even know he’d been married. Kept that intel close to the chest.”

  “If Quinn gave you the rundown, then you already know that when Queen and I came here last October, he found her slinging drinks behind the bar. I’d been making cracks about the hot bartender all night. Not good when she turns out to be your CO’s ex. Guess it was never really over between them.”

  She liked that for them, liked knowing they were a couple who’d been able to get past whatever conflict had split them up the first time. Liked knowing it was possible for two people to love one another enough to make that happen even after what must have been a lot of pain and damage.

  Certainly, the passion between them hadn’t slackened. Quinn and Jasper were clearly eager for time alone together. It was their honeymoon after all. While they were never improper, the sexual tension between them had grown more palpable by the minute.

  Frankly, it was a real turn-on.

  Watching them canoodle while being tucked close to Grant, her head on his muscled shoulder, her arm between him and the couch, her palm inches from his hard back...Skye was amazed she hadn’t gone right up in flames.

  Her fingers itched to slip under Grant’s shirt and explore all that hot skin that stretched like canvas over sculpted bone and sinew. She wanted to tilt her head and press her mouth to his throat.

  She wanted so many things from him, but it’d been only 24 hours since she’d asked him for what she wanted and he’d turned her down.

  Surely things were different now.

  They’d come full circle, her and Grant, back here again at his villa with the night close around them. Tomorrow, she’d have to go back to the life where she was always something less—less important, less desired, less needed. She’d do her duty to set her family’s interests back on track and then once again become a background player in her own life.

  But that was tomorrow. And before she went back, Skye wanted one last thing that was only hers.

  She wanted Grant.

  “I understand now,” she said, getting straight to it.

  “You understand what?” he softly replied.

  “Why you turned me down last night. Why you let me remain…” A humorless smile curved her mouth. “Unfucked.”

  He chuckled, low and very male, and Skye felt her nipples tighten.

  Before him, no lover had touched her in years.

  And no one since.

  Not a kiss. Not a caress. Not the slightest sexual or romantic gesture.

  Her whole body ached for it.

  Ached for him.

  Grant studied her across the small space that separated them. Slowly, he straightened and Skye braced, unable to read his intent.

  Rather than approach her, he ambled along the room’s perimeter. Somewhere in the time they’d been apart, he’d changed back into his jeans, topping them with a tight, white t-shirt whose front he’d tucked behind his belt buckle. The shirt clung to his chest like a lover, and really, Skye couldn’t blame it.

  He waved toward her as he walked. “Enlighten me,” he invited.

  She tracked him as he moved around the curve of the room, her body flowing on a parabola as though caught by a magnet’s opposing charge, unable to get closer, unwilling to be released.

  Her pulse fluttered in her neck, a butterfly effect of being caught in the pull of those hot eyes, eyes that never left her as he waited for her to continue.

  She wrung her hands together and straightened her spine. Getting this right was crucial. This was her last chance, her only chance. She had to find the right words to let him know what he’d given her, what she needed again to be able to carry through tomorrow.

  “You think you took advantage of me six months ago.”

  “That’s because I did.”

  He didn’t sound too bothered by it now.

  Skye pressed on. “I was drunk and definitely not making smart choices, evidenced best by my ill-timed swim in a cocktail dress.” Her wry tone made him chuckle again and, holy cats, but that turned her on. “But you didn’t take advantage of me. You didn’t, Grant,” she insisted when he meant to object. “I knew exactly what I was doing and who I was doing it with. You weren’t some random choice.”

  “Babe, the state you were in, you would’ve banged just about any guy who pulled you from that pool.”

  That pissed her off. “Right, because I’m some rich, society slut who was looking to go slumming. Is that it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Near enough,” she scoffed.

  He reached the villa’s entertainment system and started fiddling with the remote. “I don’t think you’re a slut, Skye. And if I thought you were slumming, it wouldn’t say much about me.”

  “I’d been watching you all night,” she confessed. “When not wallowing in my abject misery and humiliation.”

  That surprised him. “You were?”

  “Oh yes,” she confirmed. “God, I remember wondering how anyone could laugh so easily as you. You were working, so it wasn’t like you were Mister Chuckles.” He snorted over her use of that name again. “But there was such good humor around you all the time. I saw you with Jasper; you were teasing him and he slugged your shoulder for it, but I could see it meant something to him. That you’d…eased something in him, if only for a moment.

  “I wanted that. I wanted you. When I saw it was you who got me out of the pool, when I heard you laugh in my ear… You didn’t chide or scold me for being an embarrassment. You were strong enough to carry me and good enough to care for me, and I…I wanted more.

  “When I saw you at the edge of the pool last night, it felt like fate. Who else could it be but you? Here again when I needed to lose myself, to get away from something that threatened to crush me, and so much better to do it with you and sex than the awful misery I was feeling.

  “You were right to deny me that. Because I would’ve been using you again. And you deserve more than that, you deserve better than that. Because even though you may not laugh like before, even though I see in you that same weight Jasper bore back then, you’re worth so much more than being someone else’s crutch. A tool for someone else’s—for my—emotional purge.”

  In earnest, she took half a step toward him. “I don’t want you to make me forget again,” she whispered. “I want to remember it all. I want to remember how good it feels when you kiss me, when you’re inside me. I want to feel it, so when I go back there tomorrow, the feel of you will be between my legs and the taste of you on my lips and I’ll know that someone values me for something more than my last name.”

  She struck a chord there. His eyes flared bright with emotion she couldn’t define. “Skylark,” he said, voice rough.

  And suddenly, Skye was no longer nervous and she knew exactly what words to say.

  “You made me feel treasured. Precious. Sexy. A one-night stand you had no intention of seeing again, you gave me more than anyone else in my entire life. So now I have one thing to ask, one simple request from you here. Tonight.” She took a deep, steadying breath.

  “Do it again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  God, she was so beautiful.

  Fuck. />
  She was killing him. Standing there, the muted light of the floor lamps softening the air around her. Her streaked hair and black and white outfit making her appear like some yin yang of herself.

  The two sides of Skye.

  He had to stop her from talking before she broke him.

  Survive. Evade. Resist. Extract. Though he’d never been captured, he’d been trained and conditioned to resist torture and, while every man broke eventually, to hold out as long as could be born.

  This wonder of a woman was breaking him down with only her words.

  Even though you may not laugh like before, even though I see in you that same weight that Jasper bore back then, you’re worth so much more than being someone else’s crutch. A tool for someone else’s emotional purge.

  She unmanned him.

  He’d been to battle in foreign lands, had done and seen things he’d never tell, things that would haunt him to his grave. Walked into situations with death and fear his closest companions and lived to do it again.

  Yet Skye’s strength humbled him. Neglected by the ones who should’ve most valued her, she wasn’t bitter or selfish as a result. She could’ve told her family to fuck off, but given the chance, she chose to put them above the hurt and damage done to her. Rallied in their favor when called upon. When push came to shove, the woman was single-minded in her objective. She knew how to go after what she wanted.

  For some crazy reason, that was him.

  “Grant?” she called. “Would you say something please? You’re freaking me out.”

  Can’t have that.

  Grant pressed a button on the remote in his hand.

  Music filled the room as the strings of an orchestra crafted the song’s sweeping introduction.

  Skylark, K.D. Lang’s melodious alto slid like molasses over each warbling note, thick and full of flavor.

  Skye’s mouth dropped open at the first word. Her entire body…eased as tension visibly seeped from her. Arms dropped to her sides. Her neck stretched sideways, craning into the notes, the lithe line of throat an unconscious offering.

  He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman more.

  “Oh,” she moaned. “You found my song.” Caught up, her body flowed back and forth with the song. He turned the dimmer down until the shadows of the room held sway. Faint light from the patio filtered through the French doors.

  He smiled as he stalked across the room, that same predatory smile he knew he wore when a target was in his sights, when he was completely assured of mission success.

  When he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he would get his man.

  Or, in this case, woman.

  His woman.

  Grant took his time, letting the anticipation build while enjoying the chance to imprint everything about this moment into his brain. “Do you remember what I said to you last night? Before you left the villa?”

  Frown lines creased her brow as she thought back. “Yes,” she breathed, eyes mere slits as she watched him approach.

  He got up in her space, close enough that his shirt brushed her top and he could feel her soft pants against his chin.

  But he didn’t touch her.

  Not yet.

  “You got the right night this time, baby.”

  A seductive smile curved her plump lips, lips he was moments away from tasting before he took her mouth.

  Lips he couldn’t wait to feel all over his body…and wrapped tight around his dick.

  “No,” she murmured. “I got the right man.”

  Grant touched his mouth to hers, drawing out the sweet tension building between them, twisting it higher, determined to give Skye the romance he’d neglected their first time around. “Dance with me.”

  He slipped his arms around the curve of her waist. Skye made a yearning noise in the back of her throat when he brought her flush against him. His hand splayed across the small of her back; hers wound up and around his neck. He clasped her free hand in his against the front of his shoulder and began to move, dancing slowly around the room as K.D. Lang crooned.

  Won’t you tell me where my love can be?

  She felt right in his arms. Soft where he was hard; yielding where he held fast. In her heels, she fit snugly in place against him; forehead to his cheek, breasts against his pecs, waist at his hips.

  He slid his mouth to her temple. “I haven’t slept with anyone since we were together,” he murmured there.

  She drew in a swift intake of breath.

  That meant something to her. She let him see that and it burned in his chest.

  “Never say you lacked opportunity,” she teased, trying to lighten the weight of words. “All those SEAL bunnies at your disposal.”

  He huffed an amused breath against her cheek. “Once you have class, there’s no going back.”

  “Oh yeah,” she snorted. “I was all class, swigging Patrón straight from the bottle.”

  “I knew I should’ve locked the mini bar in my room.” She giggled into his neck and it topped him off.

  “Couldn’t make it too easy for you.”

  “You sure as shit are not easy.” She smacked his chest. He pretended to wince. Rather than return to his neck, her hand sipped under his arm to clasp the back of his shoulder, bringing them even more intimately aligned.

  He liked that. He liked it a lot. Enough to give her more truth.

  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you, sweetheart,” he admitted, softly. “That simple. Didn’t want anyone else in my bed when you were the one in my head.”

  “Grant.”

  “You weren’t my first thought when I woke or my last before I slept, but you were there, hovering in the back of my mind. Like a good dream I couldn’t quite hold on to.”

  He tightened his grip on her, irrationally spooked, as if saying the words aloud would cause him to forget the dream for good and leave him only with those nightmares. “I think, when I saw you in the pool, I knew who you were from the start. I figured I was dreaming again.”

  “You daft man,” Skye scolded with affection. She lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. “I’m not a dream. I’m very real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Not until tomorrow,” he agreed.

  “Not till tomorrow,” she repeated, then leaned up on her toes till their mouths met. “But I’m here now. And I’m yours.”

  He kissed her, softly, slowly, drawing it out, making her wait, light touches that promised delicious things when she yielded to him.

  Let him in.

  She opened her mouth on the third pass with a hungry moan, and it was her tongue that speared into his mouth demanding more. Demanding everything. His eyes widened as she dived in, surprising him as she shunned his careful romance for the fast dash of passion that’d been brewing between them since she climbed naked out of the pool. She tugged her hand free, plunged it into his hair to hold him in place, and devoured.

  After the first surprised jolt, Grant slanted his head and dove in, his tongue dueling with hers, pushing back into her mouth, dominating the kiss.

  She didn’t seem to mind, now she got what she wanted. Her hand slid down his shoulder to clutch at his back and she surrendered. Grant lifted his mouth, heard her gasp in a breath, grabbed the back of her neck as he shifted to a new angle, and kissed her again.

  Nothing tasted as good as Skye. Not his first beer after a crap mission. Not his first meal after a week in the wild existing on MREs. He shifted his head from side to side, going for her moan, his groan, the sweet pain of remembered pleasure, an arrow that pierced his chest.

  Her hands moved to his waistband to yank up his shirt, plunging beneath the cloth to get skin on skin and roam all over his back, greedy and feverish.

  She’d been like this the last time they were together, but he’d chalked it up to tequila lowering her inhibitions. Now he knew it was all Skye, his classy lady who had no problem taking what she wanted, what she needed. Not here.

  Not with him.

  He pulled her
shirt up, breaking the connection of their mouths only long enough to pull it over her head and off. He tossed it aside without looking, already fixed on the black, satin bra that plumped her breasts up to the cusp.

  Her arms went flying up with the top, then immediately wrapped back around him, fingers curling into the muscles framing his spine.

  Grant tugged her head back by the tail of hair so her throat stretched out for him. He studied her and recommitted her face to memory, now he could see it clearly without her makeup disguise. “Can’t believe I didn’t recognize you right away. Seems stupid now. Change in hair and makeup doesn’t change you.”

  “It’s the prestige,” she managed dazedly and then, “Oh yes,” as his mouth hit her throat at the same spot that’d set her off on the beach.

  “The what?” he mumbled without lifting his head.

  “The prestige,” she repeated. “Like the movie. It’s the part—” he felt her swallow hard under his lips, “of the magician’s trick where the audience looks one way while the trick h-h-happens somewhere else. People get distracted by—bold hair and makeup, a few tattoos and some t-tight, punk clothes, they don’t look too closely at who’s wearing them.” He nipped at her clavicle and then kissed the notch in the base of her throat, enjoying the noises she made. “I really liked that movie,” she breathed.

  Grant smiled against her skin. “Clever girl.”

  “I have my moments. Oh.” She caught her breath when he slipped down the edge of her bra and licked her nipple. “Do that again.”

  He obliged, then treated her other breast to the same treatment, not wasting time taking the thing off, shoving the cups out of his way. She arched over the arm he stretched across her back, offering herself to him. He took her up on that, sucking her breast between his lips, tonguing her nipple until her gasps of pleasure ran together.

  She was hardly idle. Impatient, she shoved his shirt out of her way to get to his abs. Blindly, she worked on his belt buckle and the top button of his jeans, not even bothering with the zipper when she got them opened, plunging her hand inside his waistband and down until she reached treasure.