Mason thought back to when he was very young. His throat felt tight. “She was making dad his favorite cake. We ran out of something. I don’t know what. She was just ‘zipping out,’ as she’d say. She’d be back soon.” Mason brought the sake to his lips, but instead of taking a sip, he shot it all back, closing his eyes briefly. “She never made it back. Car accident. I was five.”
It wasn’t telling the story that made his throat feel scratchy, but the look in Avery’s eyes. Those beautiful wolf-blue eyes had changed during the day. From ice cold to a warm blue. He’d seen the metamorphosis. He’d watched it. It was incredible how quickly they changed, sometimes flipping back and forth, but overall trending in the same direction. It was what drove him forward.
She put her hand under the table and slid it onto his knee. It was warm. It was sensual. He felt a new rawness in her. As attracted as he’d been since the moment he saw her, he felt a new and intense wave of desire to pin her down and slip his tongue in her mouth… and somewhere else. It was in that moment that he knew that he wasn’t wrong about her. She had been dropped into his life to make him feel again, and he was feeling a fucking lot at the moment.
The numbness that had taken hold in the Sahel cracked open. The vision of bloodstained, detained young men—lined up in a row, their arms tied behind their back—became foggy. He stopped seeing the body bags. He stopped seeing the executions over the crumbling cityscape. He stopped seeing his fucking senior chief screaming at him to pull the trigger.
All he saw were the warmest blue eyes thawing the chill in his own.
“My dad died as a soldier. Fighting for what he believed in. Fighting for what he believed was right.” Avery broke into his thoughts, entrenching him deeper in the moment. “And I keep that with me always, in my heart.”
That was exactly what he’d always believed. There was a time when he’d been proud to tell his dad that he was a SEAL. He was fighting the good fight. He was saving lives. Killing bad guys. Putting his country before himself. He was righteous. He had ethics. Morals. And he fought for them.
Mason shook his head. Where was that old version of himself? He’d seen what Blackshot did. He hadn’t said anything. He was never going to say anything.
For a moment, Avery was silent. She just held his gaze and held his leg. Her eyes spoke a language of empathy and understanding, things Mason hadn’t received in a long time. She suddenly became awash with color, like she’d stepped out of a painting and become three-dimensional.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, at first just squeezing it, but then he pulled her around the table toward him, launched her into his lap, and pressed his lips to hers. He had to have her.
She gave herself to him completely. No hesitation. He wanted her so bad.
She pulled back briefly, eyeing something behind him. Mason snapped back to reality and realized the server had returned. Fucking bad timing.
“Another round?” the server asked with trepidation.
Mason looked at Avery, searching, and she beamed. “Yes!” she answered. “Keep them coming.”
Her enthusiasm teased a laugh out of him, changing the tempo. He found himself regaining that same silly smile he’d worn since he’d first met Avery on the beach. There was something so exhilarating about being with her. Like the world around them was friendlier, brighter. He hadn’t felt that way for a long time.
He could barely get a coffee at a shop anymore without feeling like everyone in the room was plotting to kill him. In one fell swoop, in one day, she’d managed to remove so many layers of his rust. He clung tightly to her hip and vowed never to let go.
The sake kept coming, and they kept sharing. Schools. Friends. Dreams. He got the sense that Avery, too, hadn’t opened up in a long time, and that she was going against her better judgment by enjoying the moment with him.
He seemed to offer her the one thing she needed: friendship.
It was so good, he almost slipped up and told her he was in the Navy. But he held his tongue, knowing the recourse, as hard as it was to deny those understanding eyes.
Throughout the evening, Mason got to know Avery and all they had in common. Many things they didn’t as well. He stole kisses from her whenever he could justify it and kept her fine ass planted in his lap.
Sometime later, Avery suggested they find somewhere on the resort to dance. They both loved electronic music and shared a passion for fresh-cut tracks. Mason, not normally one to hit up a club, agreed if it meant he got to watch his date dance. That ass… shaking. It was too much. It sounded more than erotic. And he was getting too aroused to keep his hands off her.
So the pair found themselves wobbling across the sand, inebriated in the best possible way. As Mason walked toward the main hotel area, Avery halted.
“Oh. I forgot.” She looked up at Mason. He didn’t miss the mischief in her eyes. The seductress was back. “I just need to grab something from my room,” she cooed, massaging his shoulders and chest. It felt great, releasing the knots of tension in his thick muscle.
“And what would that be?” he asked, pulling his head back up and raising an eyebrow.
She shrugged and gave him a coy look. To his dismay, the rawness from before had disappeared. She was again the seductive, polished, and flirty Avery he’d first met.
The facade.
He’d seen enough of the real Avery to know the difference. It was so very subtle. But Mason knew what he was looking for. It took a trained operator to spot it. He didn’t doubt she was good at her game—but he was just a little bit better.
Mason couldn’t resist an invitation to her place, but the old voice of caution in his mind busted through the barriers he’d put up.
Who was she?
What did she want from him?
Way too many red flags were waving. He couldn’t ignore them anymore. Something was off. Mason vowed to find out what. He vowed to find out who she really was. He owed it to himself, and to her.
He should have just walked away. That’s what the code would have told him to do. Move away from the threat. But she was hot and cool and fun. And they’d connected. And something about her was the only real thing he’d felt in a long time. And he was just a man. A lonely man on his birthday.
By that point, he could justify anything. So he laughed easily and said, “All right, woman of mystery. A quick stop. Lead the way.”
6
As Avery pounded the wooden boards, pulling Mason by the hand toward her side of the resort, she wondered why he’d stipulated a quick stop only. Their footsteps echoed on the boardwalk over the ocean as they found their way to an isolated array of villas perched over the water.
Avery knew he was turned on—she didn’t miss how his body had reacted to her all day and night. He wanted her. But she sensed his hesitation, his caution. That meant she wasn’t doing her job right.
She needed to pivot again.
Back at her villa, everything had been set up for this moment. The lights were soft and the bar fridge was stocked. Her patio hot tub was bubbling hot, the perfect place to direct the party.
Standing inside the entryway, he crossed his arms. “Now what is it, mystery woman, that you needed to come back here for?”
Avery kicked off her stilettos, which were killing her anyway, and grabbed two tumblers from the granite countertop.
“The best whisky you’ll ever have.” She quickly reached for a bottle of Japanese whisky that she had brought with her and poured him two fingers. When in doubt on an op, more alcohol was always the answer. “Rocks?” she asked.
He laughed and waved his hand no.
She took a sip of hers first before passing his over. Then she tipped her whisky-drenched mouth upwards and stepped into his space.
Looking down at her, she saw the twinkling in his eye again. They connected. She felt it.
“Birthday boy,” she breathed with a sexy grin.
Smouldering, he dropped his gaze and his mouth lower, but just before his lips met h
ers, he brought his cup to his mouth, taking it all back in one mouthful. The sinking disappointment that settled in her chest when he didn’t kiss her was enough to open her eyes.
This was becoming personal.
“Delicious.” He winked, waiting for her next move.
She stirred, and felt a growl rise in her throat. It was business time. “So are we seriously just doing a quick stop?” Avery eyed her patio and its first class-view of the ocean. There was no way he would deny her. She wouldn’t let him.
Still frustrated that he’d left her standing without kissing her lips, she slugged her whisky back too. Liquid courage burned down her esophagus.
“Depends,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.
The word annoyed her. Avery squared herself, staring him down. She was bad. She was a rebel. She didn’t take no for an answer. God damn it, she was a badass bitch. Boss bitch. And she wasn’t going to let some fucking SEAL have her number. She tore up fuckers for breakfast.
Slamming the cup on the counter beside her, she reached up and aggressively pulled him down to her level, pressing their lips together. He immediately responded, and seemed more than enthusiastic. Apparently she just had to make the first move.
Between kisses and tongues, she pulled back and whispered, “Delicious.” Because he really was, in every goddamn way, the most delicious man she’d ever seen, touched, tasted…
His hands fell to her ass, squeezing it hard. She liked it, wishing he’d be even rougher. Wishing he’d help her feel.
She was left wondering how far she would go with him. Sure, she’d flirted, seduced, and lied to targets—but that was all. Her trainer had told her that she would regret getting sexual. That she shouldn’t ever give her body up for the job. It was never worth it to cross that line. So she never did.
Because once the teasing stopped, and they got what they wanted, she’d be empty, hollow, and her game would be up. Like a good con, the trick was to keep them going for as long as she could, bleeding them dry for information. But as Mason’s tongue plunged into her mouth, ethics and morals went out the window.
Mason was different. The scene was different.
He made her feel like… there was something between them. Something real. She couldn’t be imagining it. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too. She moaned as the hunger and thirst rose within her, building her lust into a fantasy that she never knew she had. It involved a hot SEAL with a jacked bod treating her like a fucking queen.
She felt his long, hard ridge throbbing in his denim as she purred up and down his body. As she pulled back, pressing her hand to his chest, the corner of her lip curled up in amusement. He seemed very responsive, but cautious, hesitant.
If only she were a regular woman who had just met this hunk on vacation. Everything would be so easy. It would be real. Maybe she could just pretend.
“Would you like another drink?” she asked, taking a break from the intensity.
When she did, guilt crashed over her. She couldn’t fuck him and then fuck him over. She couldn’t. It wasn’t right. She’d done bad things as an agent, but she’d never do anything like that to someone like Mason. He didn’t deserve it.
“I’d love one. It’s my birthday. Why the hell not?” He grinned at her and leaned back. “You are one persuasive woman.”
Grinning, Avery re-poured the whisky into the tumblers. As she worked, he stayed behind her, close but not touching. He smelled so damn good. Like leather… beach… lemon? She didn’t quite know, but it filled her nose with something so inviting, she couldn’t stay away.
She tried to remember her trainer’s advice. The best agent got close but not too close… Damn, if she could pull away now… She tried to imagine a reality where this would work out. But she couldn’t think.
He moved her long dark hair over her shoulder and pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing her up and down. It sent tingles up her throat and down her spine, curling deep inside her.
She moaned, and missed the cup as she poured. “Damn. You are making this hard.”
“What’s hard?” he asked playfully.
Not having sex with you. The thought rang through her mind. Doing my job, and doing it without regrets.
“You, evidently,” she teased, opting for a light tone.
He groaned and cornered her against the counter from behind. He pressed his ridge into her ass and used his other hand to scope out her hourglass figure. It was clearly go time. She was in too far to walk away.
“Maybe you’re just drunk,” he suggested.
“I think you are,” Avery replied, knowing she was as well.
“So what if I am? It’s my birthday.” He kissed her shoulder. “Need I remind you?”
“Not for long. It’s almost midnight.” She laughed. “Then you’ll have to give it a rest…”
If things kept going like this, she was screwed. In both ways. It had been a long time since she’d done anything for herself. And he seemed to be a more than attentive lover.
Somewhere along the line, she didn’t know quite when, Avery had stopped trying to be the immaculate professional she’d always been. She’d let herself slip, choosing to drop her guise—and it only encouraged her, because whoever she was deep down inside seemed to draw Mason in further.
Spinning around, she placed her hands on his shoulders and cocked her head.
“What?” He grinned, his wide smile coaxing her back into his orbit.
She eyed him up and down. Assessing her prize, she saw him in a new light. He wasn’t just a hulking bad-boy SEAL—he was a soft heart, a soft animal, just looking for the same thing she was.
“What?” he asked again with a bigger grin.
She shook her head. “Nothing. You are just… perfect.”
And she meant it.
7
It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, Mason thought as his dick throbbed incessantly. Furiously. He was developing deep pain in his balls from prolonged arousal without release.
And Avery wasn’t helping. Well, she was, and she wasn’t.
Her big blue eyes stared back at him, and she gave him her most heartfelt grin to date. It was real, it was warm, and it made him feel human again. The robot that had flown in from the Sahel had melted away, and he was more awake than he’d ever been, despite the fog of booze.
“I’m not perfect, babe.” He bent down and kissed her again. “But I appreciate it.”
She sighed like he’d never believe her. Her admiration seemed genuine, and it touched him. Could she really think that he was all that?
Cupping his hands on her round bottom, he lifted her onto the cool granite countertop. Their lips met again. And again. Her tongue was tinged with that sweet whisky taste. The amber lights in the room created flattering shadows on their bodies as they pressed together.
Face to face, he breathed, “Is that a hot tub on the patio?”
“Damn right,” she whispered back, slipping off the counter. She pushed him a few inches away from her and pushed the straps of her slinky black dress down her shoulders.
As he stood watching, she slipped the dress down her chest, revealing two beautiful, bouncing mounds decorated with pert, rose-tinted nipples that matched her aroused lips, and were just as lush and inviting.
Jesus. A real, live nude woman. Mason could barely contain himself.
He was rock hard and ready as he watched her slip the dress off her hips and down her legs. He took another step back, instinctively, and enjoyed the sight of a beautiful woman ass-naked. Just for him.
His birthday present.
The sight of Avery nude confirmed the mental argument he’d wrestled with during dinner. How likely was it that a perfect ten had just found him and thrown herself at him? He nearly laughed at the question because, at that point, he didn’t care if she turned out to be a Sith Lord. She was clearly something else.
Before his second head took control of all rational thought, he reminded himself to be cautious. Her p
urpose had not yet been revealed.
She picked up her glass and shimmied out to the patio, flipping her hair back over her shoulders and smiling at him. She was too fucking tempting, and she knew it.
“Joining in?” she asked.
He looked down at his fully clothed person and back at her.
“It’s your birthday. It’s time to be in your birthday suit!” She laughed and slipped toward the hot tub.
Damn right, he thought, and ripped off his shirt, throwing caution to the wind.
Outside, the dark sky showed off all of the stars. The quiet ocean view bristled with wind blowing through the palms. Salty warm air bathed his chest, second only to the warmth of her skin soon to be pressed against his.
She sat on the edge of the tub, tumbler in hand.
His cock threatened to explode then and there, so he kept it inside his pants. He needed the buffer. Mason was coming off a long dry spell. He didn’t fuck on tour. He didn’t play those games. Most of the dudes were like him—clean and solid overseas. But his boss, the reptile Senior Chief Blackshot… he was a different story.
He shook the thought from his head.
“What’s wrong?” Avery asked, noticing his shudder.
“Nothing.”
She ran her hand down her leg seductively. “Not thinking about anything else, are you?”
He cocked his head and gave her a sarcastic look. “Like I could right now.” It was a white lie.
She laughed, but Mason noted her tone, and it gave him pause.
“Not thinking about work, are you?” she asked lightly.
A little too lightly.
Mason knew his nonchalant game was better than hers. He didn’t know what he had done to her, but she was too passionate around him to pull off truly casual. He had her number, and he loved it.
He grinned. “Now why would you think that?”
“I know it stresses you out.” She sighed and motioned to the tub. “Come sit with me. Tell me all about your troubles.”
She gave him a do-not-deny-me wink from eyes that turned icy and despondent again. Did she not realize it? Something about her had changed in that short moment. It’s like she’d shelved the Avery he’d spent the day with and turned into a bot running on script. It took a trained operator like himself to see it, but she was pivoting. She was looking for something. He couldn’t deny it.
Eyes On Page 6