Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  He touched, his thumbs circling, fingers pinching. He bit, teeth working those tender nubs to a fever pitch. He pressed her back onto the bed, slipped those tiny panties from Bryanna’s slender hips and gave a deep sigh of appreciation.

  “Gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so damned gorgeous.”

  Her hair spread over the blankets in black silken coils, Bryanna gave him a long, slumberous look.

  “Do you want me?”

  His eyes traveled up those golden legs, one bent at the knee and the other wrapped around his thigh. He took in the glistening curls between her thighs, waiting and beckoning. Her waist was so slender, her torso so delicate as it opened to breasts lush enough to lose himself in forever. And that face. God, what a face. Her eyes were hooded, inviting, and her mouth wet and waiting.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you,” he confessed. Her eyes widened but he didn’t give her time to think.

  Pausing only long enough to slip a condom from his wallet—like Boy Scouts, SEALs were always prepared—Aaron ranged himself over her sweet body.

  Eyes locked on hers, Aaron sipped from her lips, sliding his hands up and down, then into her delicate folds. Testing and teasing, he took as much pleasure from the passion fogging her eyes as he did the feel of her beneath him. Finally, feeling her tense, he took a moment for the condom, then slid the hard, aching length of his cock into her wet passage.

  One slow inch at a time.

  Her hands raced over him, nails scraping gently as she tried to urge him on, tried to tempt him to go faster, to hurry them both over the edge of pleasure.

  “My pace,” he said between his teeth, holding tight to control as he watched her lose hers. “My pace, your pleasure.”

  His pace. Her pleasure.

  He chanted the words with each thrust, delighting in the heat as she gripped tight to his throbbing cock. One hand braced on the mattress beside her head, he shifted the other between their bodies, cupping her breast, squeezing. Delighting. His fingers tweaked, teased, tugged.

  Her body tightened, arched like a bow, her breath coming in gasps. She was so damned delicious to watch as she went over that first edge. Aaron reveled in her climax, even as he shifted to send her up again.

  * * *

  BRYANNA WAS PRETTY sure this was what heaven felt like. Even as the orgasm shot through her, exploding in tiny prisms of pleasure, her body went up again. He felt so good, so big and hard and, God, amazing, as he slid into her. She wrapped her ankles tight behind his back, meeting each thrust with her own.

  Suddenly she was airborne, her body flying, her stomach plummeting as he flipped positions so she rose over him, staring down at him. Her thighs straddled his hips, his hands gripped hers as he guided her down, impaling her on the hard length of his cock still nestled inside her.

  Bryanna shuddered at the power of it. She could feel him slide along every inch of her, pleasuring her a centimeter at a time. When he’d filled her, when he’d reached her very core, he paused, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  Her eyes fluttered open, her mind struggling to clear enough to focus on his face. His features were taut, pulled tight with desire. His eyes were intent on hers, narrow and hot.

  He waited.

  For what?

  Her body trembled, her chest tense with the need to scream her pleasure. To demand more.

  That was what he was waiting for, she realized.

  For her to take more.

  Bryanna moved. Bracing her knees on the mattress, she slowly rose, moaning with pleasure at the feel of him sliding along the wet depths of her channel. Gripping his shoulders, her fingers digging tight, she slid back down, crying out this time at the intensity of it all.

  His hands slid up her body, caressing her waist, teasing her skin until he reached her breasts. Fingers spread, hands cupped, his thumbs worked her aching nipples into a frenzy of pleasure.

  Bryanna went wild.

  She plunged. She gyrated. She took.

  She came. Over and over again.

  Feeling as if her chest were going to explode, the breath coming fast and furious, Bryanna tried to find a sane thought. Or, hell, even an insane one. But her mind wouldn’t work, couldn’t focus. The sensations were too strong. Too powerful.

  Like Aaron’s hands.

  Hard and demanding, he pushed her to her limits and beyond. Even when her body felt it could take no more, he showed her how wrong she was. Proved how much more pleasure there was to be had.

  “Now,” she begged, panting out the word with desperate need. “Please, now.”

  “You want me?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  She chanted the word, still chanting as he flipped their positions again, gripped her hips as he rose to his knees. He lifted her butt high to meet his body. He pressed the hard tip of his erection against her throbbing wetness.

  He plunged.

  Bryanna’s chants became keening demand, her fingers digging into the rigid hardness of his biceps, gripping tight as she met each thrust with one of her own.

  The world exploded.

  Pleasure burst in starlight, flashing shards of passion against her closed eyes. Even as she cried out, she felt Aaron’s body tighten. His body tensed. His breath caught.

  And he came on a guttural cry that sent her flying again on that trembling cloud of delight.

  Love. That one word floated through the pleasure swimming in Bryanna’s mind, filling her senses. Love.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AARON WAS IN TROUBLE.

  His head was spinning in about twenty different directions while his body did a slow loop the opposite way.

  What the hell?

  This wasn’t the usual “oh, yeah, it feels good to have sex” pleasure. This was beyond anything he’d ever felt. Anything he’d even imagined.

  Damn.

  Aaron had made enough mistakes in his life to recognize one when it was draped over him, naked flesh still damp enough to slide along his in a tempting reminder with every breath.

  His assignment was to eliminate the threat to Poseidon—in this case, the focus Bryanna wanted to spotlight on the team. Or, if that wasn’t feasible, to mitigate the damage.

  As he slowed his breath, aiming for calm reason instead of frenzied passion, he wondered if overwhelming sexual satisfaction mitigated or exacerbated. He’d thought his training covered every contingency, but maybe not. He couldn’t call this a mistake. Not when the rhythm of Bryanna’s heart beating against his chest made him feel whole in a way he’d never experienced before.

  But Aaron had taken an oath when he’d become a SEAL, he’d made a vow as a member of Poseidon. To be loyal to Team and Country, and to earn the privilege of his trident every day. Loyalty to that privilege meant his team, his mission, came first.

  Before everything.

  Even himself.

  “You’re tensing up,” Bryanna murmured, her lips testing his resolve as they caressed his chest with every word. “Isn’t it a little soon to go again?”

  Aaron’s laugh was a puff of air.

  “Yeah, I might need a few extra minutes before round two.”

  Unless round two was what it took to convince her not to write that article. Then hey, he was a SEAL. He’d get up for it.

  “So why do you feel as if you’re preparing for something?” Bryanna angled onto her elbows to give him a searching look. Her eyes were dreamy, her hair draped like a curtain on either side of her face. Her smile was hesitant, her lips swollen and inviting.

  “I guess we have a few things to talk about,” he said, carefully setting her aside. If his hands lingered to enjoy the softness of her skin, he didn’t figure that was a crime. Not when his chances of touching her after their chat we
re slim and none.

  “Talk, hmm?” Proving that she was more than a gorgeous face and a smoking-hot body, Bryanna’s eyes turned shrewd as she moved into a sitting position, wrapping herself in the sheet as she did. “Sounds serious. Are you married?”

  Even though her words were casual, he could hear the tension spiking through her tone.

  “What? No way. I wouldn’t... We wouldn’t have... That’d be...” Realizing he sounded like an idiot, Aaron took a second to swallow the outraged shock. He gave himself another to take a calming breath, then leaned back against the headboard. Finally, he figured he’d pulled it together enough to respond in a way that took control of the situation—without sounding like an idiot. “No. I’m not married. Nor am I engaged or dating. I’m not involved with anyone or anything except my career.”

  “Ahh.” She wrapped the sheet tighter, tucking one loose end between her breasts to hold the fabric in place. That, or to drive him crazy since all that did was emphasize the fact that she had excellent breasts, the shape of her nipples shadowed against the fabric. Thanks to his decision to have this conversation, he was missing out on them.

  But what choice did he have? He knew he had to settle the issue of why they’d met before he could take her again. So he’d settle it. Fast.

  His gaze dropped to those breasts again. His hardening cock throbbing in time with the pounding of his heart.

  Focus.

  His focus was almost as legendary as his stubbornness, he reminded himself.

  “I take it that it’s careers you’d like to discuss,” she guessed, pushing her hair off her face and twitching her shoulders back. And, somehow, managed to portray the same charming dignity she had when dressed in her earlier version of a power suit. “Mine, yours and ours?”

  “Sure.” He liked the sound of that. “So tell me, why PR?”

  More to the point, why Poseidon. He left that unspoken, though, figuring his path to that particular question would depend on how the rest of the conversation went. As Savino had suggested, he’d feel her out first.

  Conversationally, that was.

  He already knew exactly how she felt in his hands. Against his body. Surrounding him. God, delicious.

  Bryanna’s expression was careful as she studied his face, her eyes searching.

  “Why public relations?” Her shrug was like a shimmer of gold. “I guess it’s because I really like people. Finding ways to bring them together. And I love showing things in their best light. Sharing facts in a way that makes it clear to anyone interested just how great something is.”

  Proof positive just how good she was at it, since Aaron almost nodded before he realized that was quite a pretty spin she’d just offered.

  “For instance, the SEALs’ fifty-fifth birthday event. I believe it’s important to focus on what a difference this force makes in the world, to highlight why they’re not only the pride of the Navy, but should be the pride of the country, of the world, for that matter.” Bryanna shifted, drawing her knees and wrapping her arms around the sheet-covered flesh. Enthusiasm filled her voice, shone bright on her pretty face. “Some things deserve more attention, you know? Because that attention brings them the honor they’ve earned, it helps people appreciate how lucky they are because of forces like the SEALs.”

  “Okay. I don’t disagree with most of that.” Except the attention part.

  “Which is why I want the special sidebar on Poseidon,” she continued, ignoring his unspoken words. “To show the type of men who make up the SEALs. That intensity of dedication that doesn’t simply accept being the best, but pushes beyond.”

  God. Was it harder to push her aside realizing she understood than it’d been when he’d figured she was clueless?

  “Being a SEAL, a Special Operative, it’s a damned big deal.” Aaron tried to find a way to explain the most important part of his life. “It’s hard work. A lot of hard work to get there, to stay there. The training doesn’t end in BUD/S. It’s ongoing. Every single day, training the body, training the mind, training the spirit, even.”

  Rapt, her attention focused like a laser on his face, Bryanna nodded encouragingly. So encouragingly that Aaron found himself saying more.

  “Poseidon started with an idea, a concept of taking the best to the next level. That twelve men banding together could all graduate BUD/S was impressive in and of itself considering the average class size is two hundred with barely twenty percent earning their trident. That we all did speaks to the focus, the dedication and power, of our concept.” Lost in the past, Aaron’s gaze blurred as he focused on the pain they’d endured, the costs they’d paid. “SEAL teams are known for their cohesive nature, for their brotherhood. But Poseidon? We’re known for being one. Every action we take, it’s unified. Every career choice we make, it’s integrated into the vision of the whole.”

  He shook his head, wishing he could as easily shake loose the fervor of his belief in what Poseidon did.

  “We’ve endured, we’ve suffered and sacrificed for the team. For our purpose. Because of that, we bring power to the SEALs, to our teams. They are stronger because of us. They are better because of us. Some of them, they are pissed because of us.” He gave a hint of a laugh and shrugged.

  “This is wonderful information,” Bryanna said, her words as bright as her smile. “I wish I’d written it down, or recorded it. I want to use those exact words, the power of them, in my article. I want to bring that passion to the readers, so they understand how important this is.”

  Aaron’s head rocked back as if she’d punched him.

  It suddenly hit him with the painful impact of a belly flop. She’d got more information out of him in the past five minutes than he’d ever told anyone. More than he’d intended—or been given permission—to share.

  She’d used him.

  Sonofabitch.

  Her body was still wet from their lovemaking. He could smell himself on her, could still feel the sensation of her body surrounding him. Gripping tight, milking him dry.

  And she was conducting her interview. Gathering intel, facts and insights so she could work up a fancy promotion using him, using his team, using Poseidon.

  “You’re still writing that piece?”

  A tell-all exposé on the workings of Poseidon as a Happy Birthday to the SEALs. Damn it.

  Bryanna blinked, her eyes shaded by lush lashes for a moment before her brows drew together.

  “Did you think I wasn’t? Isn’t that why we were here?”

  No.

  They were here for sex.

  Great sex.

  Mind-blowing sex.

  The best freaking sex of their goddamn lives.

  And she’d turned it into a part of the interview.

  Furious, his mind spinning in the face of betrayal, Aaron shoved out of the bed.

  “And you thought, what?” Bryanna rose into a sitting position, one hand pressing the sheet to her breast. “That a fast pass to a wild ride on your amazing body would change my mind? You actually believe that I’d risk my career? That an orgasm would somehow tempt me to ignore my assignment?”

  Her voice rose with each word. Her body, too. By the time she spat out that last one, she was on her knees with one hand fisted on her bare hip and the other clenching the sheet. The fabric dripped off her lush nipples, skimming those golden breasts before pouring like a waterfall down her body.

  Sparks of fury flashed from narrowed eyes, color rose under burnished skin. Passion—whatever its form—intensified everything about her.

  Aaron was pissed. Seriously pissed. But not even copious amounts of righteous anger could keep him from noting how amazingly hot she was. And realizing, somewhere in the back of his head, that if things were different, he could seriously fall for her.

  He was pretty damned grateful that things weren’t dif
ferent. And because they weren’t...

  “Four.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Scowling, she shoved at the tangled curls pouring over her furiously flushed cheek.

  “That ride netted you four orgasms. Not one.”

  He told himself it was entertaining to watch her mouth open, then shut, then open again as she tried to come up with a pithy response. He used her confusion to snag his jeans and yank them on.

  “You counted?” she finally managed, making it sound like an accusation. “Do you need those numbers to add to the tally notched on your anchor?”

  Color him offended.

  “Credit me with a little class. Do I look like a green ensign on his first tour? I’m a chief petty officer in the United States Navy with a dozen years of service to my name. I’m part of the SEAL brotherhood. A member of Team Poseidon. I don’t need notches,” Aaron snapped. “I’ve proved myself a hundred times over, sweetheart.”

  With that, he yanked his zipper closed. And had to bite back a yelp. He’d almost caught his goods in the metal teeth.

  Realizing how close he was to losing his cool—among other things—Aaron took a deep breath. Maybe he couldn’t look at Bryanna’s gorgeous body and not have a reaction, but there was no point in damaging himself in the process.

  And maybe he couldn’t stop her from moving forward with her plan to write that article of hers. So he’d have to find a way to mitigate any damage.

  “Look, I know you have a job to do. But for just a second, consider how your job will impede mine. Ask yourself if fancy words, bells and whistles will help the Navy’s purpose, or if it’ll hurt the men who put their lives on the line.”

  “Oh, please, don’t be so dramatic.” Bryanna waved his words away with the flick of her hand. “The Navy isn’t going to let me use confidential intelligence or personnel secrets to promote the SEALs’ birthday. This isn’t an exposé. It’s promotion.”

  “Too much information is already out there under the guise of the public’s right to know. Plenty of details, much of it bordering on confidential, has already been spilled in the name of personal glory or individual agendas. When is enough enough?” he countered. “The SEALs aren’t a tool to be used by Public Affairs, and Poseidon isn’t a recruiting tool.”