by Elle Kennedy
“Got her the badge, too,” Carson said, giving Garrett a quick wink. Then, stopping only to give Shelby a quick side hug, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed for the helicopter, where the rest of the team was waiting.
“Don’t fuck this up,” Carson called without turning around, his words muffled by the rotors.
Garrett glanced back at Shelby. “So…what’s up?” Wonderful. Another stupid question to join the mix.
“I couldn’t let you leave without…”
She hesitated, and his brain quickly filled in the blanks.
Breaking up with you.
Voicing my extreme dislike of you.
Kissing you.
“Apologizing,” she finished.
“Apologizing,” he repeated.
“Yeah.” A shaky breath slipped out of her mouth. “I acted like an idiot. A jealous, insecure idiot. And you had every right to walk out on me the way you did.”
He shook his head. “I should’ve stayed.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have asked you if you planned on sleeping with someone else when you’re gone. And I definitely shouldn’t have compared you to my ex.”
“I shouldn’t have said ‘screw you’.”
She laughed. “That was kind of harsh, but I think I deserved it.” Her laughter faded quickly, and he could see the uncertainty floating in her gorgeous blue eyes. “Can you forgive me, Garrett?”
Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stood before him and asked for his forgiveness. Usually he was the one doing the asking.
“I know you’re probably still mad,” she continued, “but I really am sorry for the stuff I said, and I really do want to be with you when you get back. Whenever that is. I don’t care if it’s a day or a week or a month. I’ll wait. I promise to be here when you come home.”
Her words were so earnest that his heart expanded. His mouth went dry, and he couldn’t get any words out, which wasn’t a good thing, because Shelby’s face fell as she took his silence for rejection.
“Yeah, that was probably dumb,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “The I’ll wait for you part. A little too rom-com, huh?” Her gaze drifted to the helicopter roaring behind them. “You should go. I’ll just get out of your way and—”
He kissed her. Just kissed her, right there in front of a chopper full of SEALs, most of whom started whistling.
“It wasn’t dumb,” he murmured into her lips. “And I’m not mad, Shel. I was before, but God knows I can never stay mad at you.” A drop of rain fell directly on her freckled nose and he leaned down to kiss it away. “I’m not going to screw around on you like your asshole boyfriend did, and now that I know you’ll be waiting here for me when I get back, I’ll work my ass off to make sure I come home as fast as I can, okay?”
Shelby beamed at him. “Is that a promise?”
“It’s a guarantee.”
“Good.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his, then gently pushed him away. “You should go.”
“I really should.” Yet he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her once more. This time he slipped her a little tongue.
“Go,” she ordered, looking breathless and happy and so ridiculously hot he was almost tempted to face his CO’s wrath by being a smartass and asking if he could take the next chopper. But Shelby gave him another shove. “Go.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Good.”
He’d only taken a few steps when he stopped and turned to shoot her a devilish look. “Hey, you know that ice thing you were doing last night?” he called. “When you were rubbing it all over yourself and pretty much driving me crazy?”
Laughing, she raised a brow and waited for him to continue.
“Well, when I come home, we’re taking out the ice again. I don’t care if there’s a heat wave or not. I’m definitely rubbing a couple of ice cubes all over your very un-vanilla self, all right?”
“Is that a promise?” she called back.
“Nope.” He grinned and repeated his earlier words. “It’s a guarantee.”
The End
UP NEXT: Carson’s story! Keep reading for Heat of Passion…
HEAT OF PASSION
PROLOGUE
As far as bachelor parties went, this one fucking sucked. Normally it was the best man’s job to organize the stag, and Carson Scott had been tossing around wild and kinky ideas in his head ever since his best friend got engaged. But had any of those wild and kinky ideas seen the light of day? Nope. Because Garrett and Shelby wanted to plan it themselves—and make it a joint shindig.
Spending time with Shelby’s hot friends might’ve been fun, except they were all married, engaged or attached. All of them. And since almost every guy on Garrett’s SEAL team, including Carson, was single, the chances of hooking up with a female member of the bridal party were zero.
Fortunately, the bachelor/bachelorette party was being held at the Hot Zone, the newest nightclub in San Diego, so the chances of hooking up with a non-wedding-related chick were looking pretty good.
Carson lifted his beer to his lips and stepped closer to the second-floor railing that overlooked the crowded dance floor below. Hot Zone was one of those establishments that didn’t care much for lighting. Darkness fell over the entire club, broken only by the bright flashes of the strobe lights. A sultry salsa beat pounded out of the speaker system, the heavy bass making the floor beneath his feet vibrate, and down on the dance floor, couples grinded together to the music. One of the couples was Garrett and Shelby, only they weren’t doing much dancing. Just standing in the middle of the floor, making out as if they were the only two people in the room.
Next to Carson, fellow SEAL Ryan Evans tapped one hand on the iron railing and frowned at the display of vertical sex happening below.
“Shit, I really need to get laid,” Ryan grumbled. He took a swig of beer, then slammed the bottle back on the table they’d been standing around for the past hour. Glancing over at the long chrome bar counter behind them, he frowned again. “And if anyone fucking suggests I hop into bed with one of those old dudes by the bar, I’ll kick your ass.”
Matt O’Connor laughed. “The bald one’s kinda cute. I bet he’d do you.”
“The only person I want to do is the maid of honor,” Ryan said with a sigh. “Man, I’d give up my favorite rifle for a chance with her.”
All the guys nodded, their gazes glumly moving in the direction of the sexy woman who was chatting with her husband near the bar. Brianna Holliday, the maid of honor, was the stuff of wet dreams. Tall, blonde and stacked. Her blue dress was knee-length, with a modest neckline, yet it just screamed “Fuck Me Now”. No doubt that’s what her husband was gonna do the second he got her home tonight. If Carson had a woman like that, he’d never let her get out of bed.
He turned back to his teammates. “Isn’t it the duty of the best man to screw the maid of honor? Why am I deprived of the privilege?”
“Because you’ve already screwed the bride,” Junior Lieutenant Will Charleston pointed out, finally joining the conversation.
Carson stifled a groan. Why wasn’t he surprised that Will knew about his romp with Shelby and Garrett? He’d only told Matt, but when you spent all your time with the same five guys, secrets didn’t stay secret for long.
“I wish I screwed the bride,” Ryan said, staring longingly at Shelby.
Carson followed the other man’s gaze, and couldn’t help admiring Shelby himself. Shel was the epitome of a California girl—blonde hair, blue eyes, toned bod. And amazing in bed, too. Made him come so hard he could barely walk afterwards. Unfortunately, thinking about the threesome he’d had with Shelby and Garrett during that heat wave six months ago was a no-no. Now that the couple was getting married, it wasn’t appropriate to picture his best friend’s future wife naked.
“Quit acting like you’re starved for sex,” Matt said to Ryan. “Didn’t yo
u go home with that redhead from the bar last weekend?”
Ryan groaned. “Unfortunately. We went back to her place, and I was on the receiving end of a pretty awesome blowjob—and then her husband came home. I barely got out of there with my skin intact.”
Matt hooted, Carson chuckled, and even Will, who rarely smiled, looked like he was fighting back laughter. Ry’s story didn’t come as a surprise to anyone, though. One of these days Ryan Evans was going to find himself on the receiving end of an ass kicking. He seemed to attract the married ones like flies to a corpse.
“Your dick’s really gonna get you in trouble, you know that?” Matt said, voicing Carson’s thoughts.
“At least I’m using my dick. Unlike you monks over here.” He gestured to Will and Carson.
Carson raised a brow. “Don’t go dragging me into this. My dick’s doing fine, thank you very much.”
“Good to hear,” a throaty female voice remarked.
He swiveled his head in the direction of the voice, just in time to see a petite brunette in a yellow halter-top emerge from the shadows. The second floor of the club had a loft feel to it, a huge open space with a handful of floor-to-ceiling beams, and the brunette must have been leaning against one of those pillars, because Carson hadn’t even seen her approach. Which raised the question, just how long had she been lurking in the darkness, eavesdropping on them?
The others looked as startled as he felt to see her standing there. “So, which one of you is going to dance with me?” she asked in that husky voice.
Man, how did a tiny thing like her have such a sexy, fuck-me voice? Carson studied her, waiting for flashes from the strobe to illuminate her face so he could get a better look. Each time a streak of light lit up her face, he liked what he saw. She had one of those faces you saw in makeup ads—smooth creamy skin, a small upturned nose, and naturally red lips that were lush and sensual and ridiculously kissable. He lowered his gaze and liked what he saw there too. Perky breasts, small but in proportion to her petite frame. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet, but her sexy little body was a total turn-on.
The biggest turn-on about her was that he could see her nipples poking against her halter. Yup, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
He noticed his teammates checking her out as well, saw their appreciation, and an odd pang of possessiveness gripped his insides.
“Well?” she prompted.
Well, what? Right, the dance. Carson quickly moved his gaze away from those small, tantalizing breasts and took a step forward before any of his friends—mainly Ryan—snatched up this hot little pixie.
“Sweetheart, I would love to dance with you,” he drawled, shooting her his trademark ladies’ man grin.
Women always told him that grin was hot enough to melt a glacier, and sure enough, he saw the brunette’s cheeks redden a little. It could’ve been the shadows making her look flushed, but he preferred to think the smile had done it.
A pair of catlike green eyes focused on him. Shit, she had nice eyes. They tilted up just slightly at the corners, giving her an exotic air. “Let’s do it, then.”
Oh, he wanted to do it, all right. Although he’d never admit it to Ryan I-Need-To-Get-Laid Evans, it’d been way too long since Carson had slept with anyone. Five weeks, to be exact, and he was getting real tired of flying solo. The three-week mission in Colombia played a part in his current celibate status, but after that he had no excuse other than he simply hadn’t encountered a woman who set his body on fire.
Six months ago, he might’ve settled for the first available warm body, but ever since his best friend had fallen for Shelby, Carson found it was getting harder to justify screwing random chicks. Garrett and Shelby were so disgustingly in love, they made him feel sleazy about his casual lifestyle. Not that he was looking for true love or anything, but lately he was pickier about who he fell into bed with.
He might, however, make an exception for the woman who’d just asked him to dance.
She walked ahead of him, and Carson took the opportunity to admire the way her short black skirt hugged her firm little bottom. He usually went for curvy and leggy, but something about this woman’s fragile figure made his blood heat up.
He tore his eyes away from her delectable ass and followed her down the open spiral staircase leading to the main level. When she reached the bottom step, she cocked her head to check if he was still there, and when their gazes connected he saw a sensual smile tug on her pouty lips. Damn, those lips belonged in an X-rated video. Preferably one that featured him and the lips in question wrapped around his dick.
Amusement danced in her green eyes. “You’re staring at my mouth.”
“You’ve got a nice mouth,” he answered glibly.
“So do you.” She studied him. “In fact, you’ve got a nice everything. Are you an actor?”
“Male model,” he lied, because he didn’t feel like telling her he was a Navy SEAL.
Women had a tendency to go a little nutty when they found out what he did. They got all wide-eyed as fantasies of being swept off their feet by a real-life hero filled their pretty heads. And Carson had no desire to sweep anyone off her feet tonight, unless it involved sweeping this appealing brunette to the nearest bed.
She smiled again, but the look on her face said she didn’t quite believe him. “Interesting. Do you pose in the nude?”
“All the time.” He curled his fingers over her arm and led her toward the packed dance floor. The music was a lot louder down here, so he dipped his head to her ear and added, “I could give you a private show if you’d like.”
She laughed, the sound quickly swallowed by the reggae song that pounded out of the speakers. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his ear as she said, “First you can dance with me, then I’ll decide if I want to see you naked.”
Carson grinned and pulled her into the throng of people. She immediately pressed her body to his and started to move. Those curvy breasts teased his chest, sending sparks of heat to his cock every time her small, erect nipples pushed against him. The top of her head barely reached his chin, and her soft wavy hair tickled his neck. She smelled like flowers and honey, the aroma filling his nostrils, subtle and yet far more potent than the scent of sweat, perfume and aftershave mingling in the hot air of the club.
He rested his hands on her tucked-in waist, slipping them under the hem of her halter-top so he could feel her bare skin. As he moved his body to the rhythm, he slid his fingers over her warm flesh, enjoying the silky feel of it. She sighed, her breath tickling his collarbone and searing right through his black T-shirt.
“How am I doing so far?” he asked.
She tilted her head up to look at him, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “So far, so good.” She punctuated the words by rubbing her lower body against his pelvis.
His cock rose to attention, thickening to a long ridge that strained against the zipper of his jeans. Never missing a beat, he spun her around, then pressed his erection against her ass, running his hands up and down her bare arms.
He lowered his head to her ear again. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Jessica.”
“I’m Carson.” Then, unable to help it, he slid his tongue over the shell of her ear before sucking on the delicate lobe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jessica.”
She pushed her butt out and rubbed it over his erection before spinning back around and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their gazes locked, and the hint of sex sizzled in the air between them. Actually, scratch that. He would definitely be having sex with this green-eyed seductress tonight, no hint about it.
She obviously shared the sentiment, because the next thing he knew she was kissing him.
Her hot mouth latched onto his, her eager tongue darting out and filling his mouth.
Oh yeah.
Carson didn’t care that they were in the middle of a crowded dance floor, didn’t care that this was his best friend’s stag or that his buddies were probably
getting a kick out of watching him from the second-floor railing. All he cared about was devouring every inch of sweet Jessica’s mouth. And devour he did.
He thrust one hand into her long, wavy hair and angled her head for better access, shoving his tongue deep in her mouth. She tasted like alcohol and sex. His erection pulsed as she flicked her tongue over his, over and over again, and then she nibbled on his bottom lip and his cock damn well near exploded. Jesus. He was harder than a slab of marble, and in serious danger of coming in his pants from one—albeit very erotic—kiss.
“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered against her lips, shaping her ass with his hands and thrusting his aching groin against her belly.
“No, I want you now.” She kissed him again, long and hard, moving one hand down his chest and palming the bulge in his jeans.
He almost keeled over backwards. A groan rose in his throat and it took all his willpower to move her hand away. “We’re on the dance floor, sweetheart,” he pointed out.
She shot him a wicked smile. “So?”
Christ, this woman was going to kill him. He’d never been more turned on in his twenty-nine years, and he suddenly knew that if he didn’t fuck her—now—he really would explode in his pants.
“C’mere,” he ordered gruffly, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the mob of dancers.
He had no fucking clue where he was taking her. He just walked as fast as he could—difficult seeing as the Erection of the Year was dominating his lower body. He shoved random people out of his way, not bothering with excuse me, just pushing forward. In the darkness, he caught sight of a corridor leading toward the restrooms. Both the men’s and ladies’ rooms had a line. Goddammit.
Still gripping Jessica’s hand, he looked around, spotted a door marked Supplies and pushed at the handle with his other hand.
A dark closet welcomed them, lined with cleaning items and toilet paper and smelling of pine, lemon and rubbing alcohol.
Carson barely noticed his surroundings. He locked the door behind them, promptly shoved Jessica against the wall, and kissed her again. She instantly parted her lips and sought out his tongue, lapping at it like an impatient kitten in front of a saucer of milk. There was something desperate about her kiss, and when he pulled back and looked into her eyes, he saw a flicker of desperation there, too.