SEALed With a Twist

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

  “There’s work to be done, soldier. You didn’t sacrifice your practice and your peace of mind to leave your guys swinging in the wind. Get out there and do it.”

  Had she gone too far? Skye couldn’t tell. She’d led with her heart again, trusting it to give her the right words, but now she wondered if they’d been all that right after all.

  There was so much going on behind his eyes, so many flickers of emotion, she couldn’t pin any one down. She was floundering through this stuff—she was far from a relationship expert and certainly had never dealt with anything as life and death as what Grant did on a daily basis. Now, as the silence between them stretched out, she worried she’d blundered it but bad.

  Until he finally spoke and blew her world apart.

  “I want it to be real with you, Skylark. I told you this shit so you’d know the kind of man you’re getting involved with. The kind of man you let inside you. You’ve had a lot of people dick you around, people who matter to you even if you’d wished it otherwise. I know there are a ton of logistics we’ve got to figure out, but I’m not in this for a quick fuck. I’m not trying to bang my trauma away with you. I want to see where this goes with us. I want more. But you gotta know what you’re getting into—and the kind of man you’re getting into it with.”

  “I know exactly the kind of man you are. I may not know all of how you tick or what your parents do, or what you like to have on a peanut butter sandwich, but I’m getting to know you pretty well. You’re kind and faithful. You’re brave and you have a need to care for people. To help them help themselves, even when it hurts you. You’re funny and charming when you’re not an annoying jackhole. And though I know I’m going to regret telling you this, I’m pretty sure you’re a sex god.” His bark of laughter was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

  “Sex god, huh? Should get Jasper to change my call sign.”

  “I’m sure it would strike fear into every terrorist who heard it.” She sobered and caught his head between her hands again to drive her point home. “I like all those parts of you, honey. I like them a lot. And I wouldn’t take you any other way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Grant scooped Skye up in his arms and started to push toward the steps in the shallow end.

  “Grant!” she shouted when he lifted her up. “What are you doing?!”

  “I feel like getting on my knees for some worship.”

  He set her on the edge of the pool and spread her legs. “Now I get to do what I’ve wanted since I discovered my own personal water nymph in my pool.” He stretched up and licked a drop of water from her hard nipple. “Find out if you taste as sweet as you look.”

  “Grant,” she whispered. A bright flush swept up her chest on its way to her cheeks, but her eyes were bright with desire.

  She was so beautiful, laid out before him, a feast for a starving man. He’d been hungry for her for a long time, long before he even knew it.

  “Jasper said Quinn was his absolution,” he said, holding his lust in check for this last confession. “He thought you could be that for me. But you’re no one’s redemption or reward. You, of all people, are no man’s trophy, Skye.

  “But you do make it worth it, baby. You’re right. I need to get over myself. For the first time, I want to do that, because you think I’m worth it. You make me hope that, even if I can’t be the same Twist the guys are used to, maybe I can yet be who they need.”

  “You’re still Twist. You don’t have to not be one to be the other, Grant. People are infinitely complex. You can be both charmer and wounded warrior. There’s no exclusivity there. You got so used to being a fragment of yourself, you neglected to see what the rest of you could do. Who else you could be.”

  “You’re going to see what I can do right now,” he quipped, done with the heart to heart, ready to move them the fuck out of the emotional shit and back to the fun shit. Tomorrow, they’d handle her family shit and then figure out where they went from there.

  Kneeling down on the second step, he yanked her legs up over his shoulders without warning. Off-center, Skye tilted back on her tailbone, her hands plunging into his hair for purchase as he went down on her, finding her wet and ready, loving the sounds she made as he ate her up. She came hard and fast, but he kept at her, sliding two fingers inside as he sucked and licked her clit. She keened when he curled them up and hit her spot. Seconds later, her thighs clutched his head between them as she clapped down on his digits and milked them as another orgasm took her over.

  Gasping so hard, her breasts rose and fell in rhythm, Skye lean back into a slow stretch like a satisfied cat.

  “Every pussy loves to purr,” he said, voice strangled with unrelieved lust.

  She shot him a look from under lowered lids. “Don’t be crass.”

  He pushed back onto his feet and put a hand to his chest, blinking like a girl. “Moi?”

  Skye shot up, belying her lazy pose. “My turn to worship at the altar.”

  “That may be blasphemous.”

  She scooted forward until she sat on the first step, his dick right before her mouth. Her tongue shot out to lick the tip, forcing an inhuman groan from him. “I’ll risk excommunication,” she said and then her mouth was on him and Grant lost the ability to form words or even understand English.

  Skye worked him with her hand while sucking on the tip, occasionally running her tongue around the ridge underneath, doing her very best to blow the top of his head off and succeeding all too well at it. He gathered her wet hair back from her face so he could watch her mouth on him. Feeling it and seeing it at the same time proved his undoing. Too soon, he felt that pressure at the base of his spine begin to build, drawing his balls up and back.

  “Baby,” he warned, tugging on her hair. But she shook him off and increased her pace until he gave her all of it, collapsing back into the pool when she finally freed him, nearly too weak to float, content to let the water have him finally, sure nothing was left in life worth experiencing that could top being blown by his high-class lady.

  Skye let herself back into her apartment at Hibiscus Court about an hour after daybreak. She’d left Grant passed out in his bed, but not without leaving him a note and after they’d made plans for him to pick her up later and take her into Naples. He wanted to be there when she called Brandon and arranged their time to meet with the lawyer, but Skye wanted a few hours to herself. She hadn’t been alone for most of the day and night and, if nothing else, needed the time to pull together her Thornquist look. She flipped through the offerings of her small closet, a specific outfit in mind. Somewhere along the line, she must’ve known she’d be going back home eventually. Why else would she have brought a designer suit and heels with her to Barefoot Bay, where shoes were optional?

  She slid the plastic cover off the suit and laid it and some silk underwear out on the bed before calling hot water up from the aching shower pipes. She almost hated to shower, didn’t want to lose the scent of Grant’s body, didn’t want to wash away the physical signs of his lovemaking. She wanted to wear them as trophies, even if she was the only one who knew they were there. Though she wouldn’t mind shoving Brandon’s face into one or two love bites.

  Grant would just have to do her again as soon as could be managed.

  The thought had her smiling as she climbed out of the shower, toweling off before she started her makeup and hair regimen. It felt odd to bypass her temp tattoos and hair gel, almost like she was crawling back into a self she no longer fit. Much like she’d told Grant, Skye realized she couldn’t go back and be the woman she was before coming back to Barefoot Bay. Nor could she stay the frightened rabbit who’d hidden away from her world.

  She rolled her hair in a brush and set the hair dryer on it. Maybe she’d keep the streaks. She’d grown used to the highlights now and it seemed fitting she carry some outward evidence of this new woman. No longer Skylar. Not Skye. A third act to her life.

  Skylark.

  The woman she was meant to be.r />
  And no better way to announce her than to deal with whatever legacy her grandmother had left her to sort out.

  Starting with that call to Brandon.

  But as she finished her hair and makeup and went back into her bedroom to get dressed, Skye discovered she didn’t need to call her ex-fiancé after all.

  He was sitting right there on the edge of her bed.

  Her jump of fright nearly put her head in the low ceiling. “Brandon! What are you doing in my room?!”

  “You were never stupid, Skylar. Don’t start now. I’m here for you, of course.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No. But I am determined that your bat-shit crazy grandmother and lying sister aren’t going to cheat me out of what’s mine,” he snarled as his facial features transfigured into a cruel mask. To Skye’s horror, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. “Now get dressed. You’re coming with me. It’s time you did your duty as a Thornquist.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn McQueen had a bad feeling.

  It was the same feeling she had six months ago moments before she walked down a dark hotel hallway in Atlantic City and accidentally witnessed a Russian mob murder.

  That grisly event set her on a trajectory that ended up here, in Barefoot Bay where Jasper eventually found her working behind the bar, sending them on the path back to each other.

  Now he was her husband again, so while that journey involved murder and a lot of fear, and nearly killed her in the end, all in all, Quinn couldn’t really complain.

  She looked over at the man in question, sprawled half naked next to her on the boat Twist had arranged for them for the weekend that they were finally getting to enjoy. It wasn’t like him to simply lie out in the sun and do nothing. She actually thought he’d start to twitch after five minutes. Until she’d taken off her top and laid down to sunbathe, then he’d seen the benefits of taking it easy. She’d thought he’d do an alpha man thing about not wanting her exposed to any eyes but his, but out here on the water with no one else in sight, he surprised her by not exhibiting any chest-thumping tendencies.

  She looked him over now, with the same wonder as the first time she’d seen him in a brightly lit Las Vegas casino bar. The Navy had hewn a pure specimen of masculine beauty out of Jasper McQueen and she never stopped enjoying the view.

  “Six months away from the team, shouldn’t you have developed a beer gut by now?”

  A smug smile curled his mouth. “Can’t go soft, babe. Never know when I’ll get a call out.”

  He kept up the same basic physical regimen he’d maintained with his team, and Quinn was in no way complaining about the results. Her eyes skimmed the growing bulge in his trunks. “Soft is never an issue for you. But you’re riding a desk. It’s not like you’re doing HALO jumps on the reg.”

  That got him to shift on his side and lifted the smile to a full-on grin. “HALO jumps? On the reg?”

  She squirmed, mildly uncomfortable. It cost her to reveal these little things that nonetheless managed to make her feel vulnerable. Day by day with Jasper it got easier and he was infinitely patient with her about it.

  But it cost.

  “Living with you, I needed to brush up on my spec ops lingo.”

  He reached out one long finger and traced a bead of sweat from her clavicle to the valley between her breasts before tracing around a nipple that quickly rose to his attentions. “It’s hot.”

  “Yeah?” she rasped.

  He leaned down and replaced his finger with his tongue. “Really hot.”

  She shifted closer and he rested his arm on her waist, fingers tracing circles on the small of her back as he sucked her breast into his mouth. Little shivers rippled through her belly. “Helo,” she whispered, reaching down to palm his now impressive erection. “Carbine.” She tugged his suit down until his cock sprang naked into her hand, then hitched her leg over his hip. His hand at her back pushed the bottom of her suit out of their way. Quinn eased closer and led him to her entrance, and with a push of his hips, he was inside.

  “Wet,” he grunted against her flesh before switching to her other breast. “Always so ready for me.”

  She grabbed the sides of his head to lift it from her chest and catch his eyes. “Always, Jasp.”

  He leaned up for a long, hard, wet kiss, taking her mouth as he took her body, rolling her to her back and thrusting deep to touch her core. “Always.” he vowed against her lips. “My wild woman. Come for me.”

  This was an order to which she’d happily comply over and over again. It helped that he found her clit, thumbing and circling it until little cries escaped her, punctuating every stroke. “Fuck, yeah,” he encouraged. “Love that. Love you. Ride it, babe. Give that to me.”

  The boat rocked gently beneath them as they moved into each other, chasing that blissful edge. Quinn clutched his shoulders, her hands sliding down the back of them until her forearms were halfway down his back. She loved holding him like this when they made love so she was able to feel each flex of his lateral muscles as he moved inside her. She kept hold of his eyes, seeing the color splintered as the pleasure began to take him over, his thrusts speeding up, harder, less coordinated but no less effective as Quinn felt that glory tighten and tighten and tighten until it burst through her.

  She whimpered and gave that to him, eyes open the way he liked, skin vibrating with sensation so that she had to bite his bottom lip as a release. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue sweeping in, plundering it, his thrusts going haywire until he plunged deep one last time and held there as he let go.

  Quinn stroked her husband’s back as she listened to him catch his breath, enjoying his weight for as long as she could manage. “Bet that’s a workout they don’t have on the teams,” she quipped with affection. She smiled, pleased and content, when his warm chuckle ghosted over her.

  “Definitely not in the PT guidebook.” He eased up onto his elbows and kissed her as he disengaged their bodies, settling both their suits back in place before rolling off her onto his back. Quinn followed along, nesting under his arm with her head on his shoulder.

  They lay there companionably for a while, enjoying the lull of aftermath, quietly content in each other’s presence. Quinn spied her cell phone where she’d tossed it when Jasper turned amorous (not the first time today either, bless him). “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  Jasper went rigid underneath her. “Is this an ‘You left the stove on’ bad feeling or an ‘I need to go get a weapon’ bad feeling?”

  “I left the stove on once!”

  “Quinn,” Jasper growled in a way Quinn knew he was quickly losing patience.

  “This is an ‘I just witnessed a murder’ feeling. Before you decided to show your appreciation of my military lingo skills, I got a text from Skye.”

  “Twist sure has his hands full with that one.”

  “I like her.”

  “Me too, but she’s doing a number on Twist. By the look of things last night, he’s doing the same to her, which is good, but doesn’t mean they don’t have some serious shit to figure out. What did she text you?”

  “She wants me to tell Twist she had to leave ahead of schedule, but she’d call him tonight.”

  “Why didn’t she tell Twist herself. All she had to do was roll over.”

  She swatted him on the chest. “You don’t know that they’re sleeping together.”

  “Ah, yeah, I do. Did you see how he looked at her last night? Definitely fucked her after we left.”

  Quinn silently agreed with him, but the woman code forbade her from doing so out loud. “Obviously, she’s no longer with him or she would have told him herself.” Quinn pushed up to look into his face. “Okay, look, maybe I’ve been hanging out with you too long, but I feel like she’s trying to tell me something. I have a bad feeling. I think she’s in trouble.”

  Jasper sighed. “I must’ve been crazy to ask Twist to be my best man,” he muttered, gazing out into the sea, disgruntlement harsh
on his features. “Should’ve known he’d bring a cluster with him to my wedding. You realize at this rate we’re never going to have a honeymoon, right?”

  “I dunno, babe. Pretty sure I just saw stars.”

  That wiped away the pissy look. He reached up to kiss her quick and started issuing orders. “Get up and get dressed while I bring us about. Might as well sort his shit in person.” A beat later, his cell rang. “Speak of the devil.” With a light push on his abdomen, Quinn got to her feet while Jasper put his phone on speaker. “Yeah, Twist. What’s up?”

  “Brother, I’m sorry to screw your time with Quinn, but I’m in Skye’s apartment, and she’s gone man.”

  Jasper and Quinn locked eyes. “How’d you mean ‘gone’?” he asked without breaking contact with her.

  “There’s clothes all over the place and she’s not the messy type. I checked her closet and there’s no suitcase or travel bag. No makeup or hair shit in the bathroom. Place feels empty and more than because no one is here. Queen, I’m freaking out.”

  Jasper gestured for Quinn to get moving. He strode off for the cabin as he kept talking. “You think someone took her?”

  “If they did, then I massively underestimated her douchebag ex. But yeah, that’s what I think.”

  Quinn snatched up her top, tying the ends behind her head and back as she scrambled to follow her husband.

  On the phone, Twist’s voice turned ragged. “Queen, man, I promised her she’d be safe with me.”

  Jasper turned the key to catch the engines. He gunned the motor to check their readiness, then threw the boat in gear, swinging the wheel so they came about so fast, Quinn stumbled into the side of the cabin.

  Jasper’s head whipped around to quick check her; Quinn nodded that she was okay, experienced enough with the man Jasper was to know he was on mission and didn’t need any distraction from her. Satisfied she was telling the truth, Jasper turned back to piloting the boat.