To Tempt a SEAL Page 7

  “You’ll talk to me before then,” his friend said. “And remember, the clothes stay on.”

  “’Bye, Natalie.”

  He hung up without answering her request. He refused to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. Hell, he’d try. But one glance at Lucia and he knew there was no way he’d be able to get through today without feeling her skin against his at least one more time.

  …

  Lucia surveyed the beach built in the middle of the desert. Lounge chairs lined the sand. About half were filled, but it was still early by Vegas standards. And in the distance stood a three-story building with floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the glass, she spotted bikini-clad dealers standing behind gambling tables.

  The sun shined high above the desert beach. Thirty minutes on a lounge chair in the July heat and she would be ready for a visit to the air-conditioned casino. Or maybe a swim. Assuming she found the courage to strip off her knee-length black dress and abandon the wide-brimmed hat currently shading her face on the chair.

  The hat didn’t hide her face, but it would hopefully help her avoid some of the blatant stares. Still, men and women glanced up as they walked past, some looking longer than others.

  “One-piece or two?” he murmured, leaning close to her. He’d traded his tux for navy-blue board shorts that hung low around his waist and a gray T-shirt with the words “The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday” on the back.

  “What?” Her body responded to the deep growl of his voice. Beneath her suit and cover-up, her nipples yearned for his touch.

  “Your bathing suit,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about what’s beneath your dress.”

  “One-piece.” She looked out at the water. Three women wearing small pieces of fabric masquerading as bathing suits splashed in the waves. Blonde, with slim waists and full breasts threatening to escape their suits with each movement, they looked like a scene out of Barbie’s day at the beach.

  Cade tossed a towel over a chair and spread another on a second chair for her. “Want a drink? First round is on me.”

  One of the Barbie girls was now looking in their direction. The first one had caught her friends’ attention and was now pointing at them.

  “Ignore them,” he said.

  But she studied the woman’s face, her pouty lips parting as if she might start drooling. “They’re not looking at me.”

  “Good,” he said, spreading his towel over the chair.

  “No.” She settled onto the lounge chair. “I bet they’re debating who should come over first. Or maybe they’re planning to ambush the sexy sailor on the shore.”

  He glanced over the bikini trio and then behind them, as if seeking another target. “I don’t have ‘SEAL’ tattooed on my forehead.”

  “It’s your muscles. They’re like a homing device. I bet this happens all the time.”

  “Yeah, I walk into war zones and the bad guys are drawn to me and my biceps,” he said, offering a taste of dry wit that combined so perfectly with his deep voice.

  “Joke all you want, but they’re heading this way.”

  The trio walked out of the ocean as if auditioning for a swimsuit commercial.

  I bet they bypassed the biscuits on the breakfast buffet.

  He spared them a glance before returning his attention to her. The laser-like focus in his green eyes formed a lethal combination with his devilish smile. As soon as he opened his mouth, she would melt into a puddle of simmering, burning need.

  “I have a plan to distract and redirect the enemy,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “If the Navy sends you out to defend our freedoms against girls in bikinis, I’m beginning to see why guys are willing to suffer through BUD/S training.”

  “Guys join because they want to be the best,” he said. “So, are you in?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the trio moving closer. “I’m in.”

  “Take off your dress and lie down on your stomach,” he ordered.

  She hesitated. The suit showed so much of her. Maybe not as much as the ambushing Barbies, but she had more to hide.

  “Don’t second-guess yourself, gorgeous.” The timbre of his voice dropped so low, she felt the rumble from head to toe.

  In one swift motion, she pulled off the cover-up, revealing her plain black suit, and rolled over. She laid her hat and her dress by the chair and turned her damaged cheek to the towel.

  “Are they distracted yet?” she murmured.

  “Not yet. We’re just getting started.”

  He stood and slipped out of her view. A second later, she felt his leg brush the outside of her thigh, and his knee pressed into the chair. He swung his other leg over until his body hovered over the tops of her thighs. He leaned forward and rested his hands on either side of her torso, palms pressing into the towel, close enough to brush the sides of her breasts.

  “Did you bring sunscreen?” he asked.

  “I put it on before we left.” Her low back arched into him, and his hard length pressed against her. He flexed his hips, and the pressure offered a taste of the hard, deep thrusts from last night. Only this time, they were still dressed on a public beach.

  I’ve never hated bathing suits this much. All that fabric…

  “We’ll have to pretend,” he murmured, sitting up and stealing away the delicious pressure.

  She moaned in protest and lifted her head, straining to look back at her hard-bodied torturer. “Is this part of the redirect?”

  “No. This is the part where I show every person on this damn beach that the only pleasure I care about is yours.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed small circles over her bare skin. “Pretend I have suntan lotion.”

  He lowered his hips and rocked against her once, twice…then he rose up.

  “This is the redirect.” He swept his hands down her back, his fingers dipping beneath the sides of her swimsuit, brushing her breasts. Her back arched, hovering over the chair, asking for more because this was Vegas, the capital of wild and wanton. He granted her silent request by cupping her breasts.

  “Oh…” she whispered.

  “No one in her right mind would think I’d be interested in anyone but you,” he said as he returned his hands to her back.

  His words were the sweet cherry on top of the decadent and downright naughty thrust of his hips against her backside.

  “The women in the water,” she gasped. “Their lips were shot full of some kind of plumper. I’m not sure they’re in their right minds.”

  He ran his palms over her shoulders and planted them beside her face. His body hovered over hers, and his lips touched her ear. “Are you saying I need to work harder?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes, blocking out everything but him. “Oh, God, yes.”

  “We can’t take this too far,” he murmured. “Out here.”

  “You started it.”

  His hips ground into her. Ten more seconds and she would be on her hands and knees demanding that he take her right now.

  Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two—

  “We need to stop.” His firm voice dashed her hopes of reaching one. He shifted off her midthrust and reclaimed his chair. “But if you look out there, you’ll see our plan worked.”

  Oh, no, he didn’t get to leave her one second away from begging for sex on a lounge chair, feeling satisfied with the fact he’d driven the women away.

  She lifted her head and stole a peek at the beach. He was right. The women had vanished. And she desperately wanted them back. Maybe once they realized the hard-bodied Navy SEAL had reclaimed his own chair they’d try again. He would be forced to return to the plan, taking it one step farther. His mouth on her neck, his hand disappearing beneath her suit, teasing her…

  “You want them to come back, don’t you?” he said with a low laugh.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  Because I want more of you, hovering over me, touching me.

  He laced his fingers behin
d his head, putting his biceps on display. Those muscles were like catnip. She glanced out at the beach and spotted a heavyset man probably pushing seventy wading into the water. Where were the Barbie doll look-alikes when you needed them?

  “Some things are off-limits,” he said, his tone taking a turn toward serious as his gaze focused on the water.

  “Like sex on the beach?” She sat up, scooping her sunhat off the ground and placing it on her head.

  “Yes.” He swung his legs over the edge of the chair. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

  She angled the brim to cover her face and stared at the man who’d taken her senses by storm. He’d turned her world upside down by offering acceptance coupled with a sexual desire so potent that his name was linked to one word in her mind—orgasm.

  “Don’t worry, gorgeous,” he called as he headed for the bar. “I haven’t forgotten about the umbrella.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cade stood close to the bar, cursing the fact that his board shorts didn’t hide a damn thing. But it was nearly impossible to hide the aftereffects of his plan. And his mind refused to forget the feel of Lucia’s ass pressed against his dick. Thanks to their little show, the need to have all of her, taking her every way she’d allow, rose up like the waves crashing onto the mock beach.

  But this wasn’t about him. Glancing over his shoulder, he searched the sea of chairs lining the beach. The space was filling up quickly now that it was approaching noon. He spotted Lucia stretched, wearing the dress that looked like it belonged at a funeral. Every muscle in his body primed for action, ready to march over to her chair and banish her self-doubt to the ends of the freaking earth. When he looked at her, he saw the woman who had arched into his touch, not giving a damn if anyone saw. And he wanted her to feel that way again.

  He turned back to the bar, unable to shake the sensation of being trapped in a hot zone without an extraction plan. He’d already betrayed his best friend’s trust once. He should honor Natalie’s request and keep his clothes on and his hands to himself.

  But Natalie wasn’t here. If she had been, maybe she would understand why he couldn’t keep his hands off Lucia. It wasn’t just about his own lust, though she’d inspired plenty of that. He wanted Lucia to feel gorgeous inside and out, free to be herself without hiding behind a mask.

  Shit. I sound like the freaking Mother Teresa of insecure women.

  If the guys heard him trying to justify his altruistic reasons for taking Natalie’s little sister to bed again, they’d send him to the team shrink, convinced he’d lost it after their last mission.

  And yeah, sliding his dick against her perfect ass had nothing to do with helping her find her inner beauty. He fucking wanted her. She’d offered one more night. And he planned to take it. He’d deal with the fallout later. Minimize the damage come Monday.

  There was always the chance Natalie wouldn’t find out. And if he ran a little recon in advance, he’d be better prepared for the consequences.

  “Here you go,” the bartender said. “One frozen strawberry daiquiri and one beer.” He set the drinks on the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Yes.” He smiled at the twenty-something woman behind the bar. “I need an umbrella for the daiquiri, a pad of Post-it notes, and a pen.”

  “Of course,” the bartender said with a smile that assured him she’d heard far stranger requests. “I’ll be right back.”

  Minutes later, he returned to their chairs and held out a daiquiri outfitted with two little umbrellas. Lucia sat up and reached for the glass, but he lifted it higher. “First, lose the dress. I want to see you. You’re too beautiful to hide behind that black bag.”

  “It’s not a bag.” Her gaze shifted between him and the drink. “It’s just not one of those skintight designer creations.”

  “Please,” he said. “Let me see you.”

  He waited until the dress hit the sand before handing over her drink. She leaned back against the propped-up chair, wrapped her lips around the straw, and sucked.

  Her mouth is a work of art.

  Before he gave in to temptation and replaced the straw with his lips, he pulled out the pad of Post-its he’d stuck in his pocket.

  “Post-its?” She held the straw close to her lips.

  “I’m writing my list.” He set the paper on his thigh and got to work illustrating his hopes and dreams for today, tonight, and every hour until she headed for the airport.

  “You told me your fantasies last night,” she said, eyes widening.

  He tore off the top Post-it and placed it on the towel-lined chair. “Gorgeous, I have a lot more than four.”

  “Oh.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips capture the straw and suck. He focused on the paper. The sound of the waves splashing against the shore filled the quiet.

  “You said you had a sister in Coronado,” he said, looking up from the paper. “Ever thought about coming to visit? We have drinks with umbrellas down there, too.”

  “We do better living our own lives.” She swirled the straw through her drink. “After the incident, I buried myself in art. I think she struggled with how to help me. Natalie likes to be the one in control, the one who finds the solution and makes it happen. And she couldn’t do that for me.”

  He nodded. Her description fit the tough-as-nails woman who served a room full of sailors and soldiers night after night, always determined to call the shots.

  “We did a girls’ weekend in San Francisco last year. And we talked about getting together for the holidays. But Natalie couldn’t get away from work.”

  “Maybe next year?” he asked, removing the second Post-it and placing it beneath the first.

  “Maybe. Right now we keep in touch over text and email. And she’s my go-to person to contact in case of an emergency. But I’m not sure we’re ready for another trip together. She has her ideas about how to move on with life, and I have mine.” She took a long drink from her daiquiri. “Why the sudden interest in my sister? Is that one of your wildest fantasies? Two sisters?”

  “No.” His grip tightened on the pen. The thought of Lucia and…oh, hell no. He stifled a chuckle and ripped off the third Post-it.

  “That’s a long list for one night,” she said.

  He looked up from the fourth note. “What time is your flight?”

  “Three in the afternoon.”

  “We have this afternoon, tonight, and the morning. You’re mine until you set foot on that plane. Agreed?”

  “Yes.” She bit down on the straw.

  He scribbled as fast as he could. Notes four, five, and six joined the train of yellow sticky notes.

  “But I might not survive tonight,” she added.

  He laughed as he put the finishing touches on the last item on his list. After making sure the pieces of paper were attached, he offered her the long line of fantasies.

  “I’m going for a swim,” he said, pulling off his shirt. “Take your time reading through the Post-its. We’ll start with your favorite.”

  She nodded, her eyes roaming over his chest. He tossed his shirt onto the chair.

  “And Lucia,” he said.

  “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze glued to the place where his board shorts met bare skin.

  “Be honest.”

  He turned and headed for the water. Most days he’d rather take a dip in the ocean than a Vegas wave pool. The Pacific was bigger and better. But here, she would be waiting for him when he got out.

  He waded out to the deep end and dove under, swimming fast and furious. He focused on the strokes, trying not to think about the fact that right now having her nearly trumped everything else.

  Lucia looked down at the Post-its and burst into laughter. Stick figures stared up at her from the yellow paper trail. He’d illustrated every one of his fantasies.

  Still giggling, she studied number one. The female stick figure—as least she assumed that was long hair sticking out from her circular head—was on her back, and the male figure had his
cock nestled between her breasts.

  In the second one, the stick drawing with long hair knelt on all fours with the male behind her.

  Stick figures do doggie style.

  And he’d printed the words “with you” in block letters next to the drawing. She glanced down the Post-it trail and realized he’d repeated those words beside each stick figure couple, confirming that every fantasy on his list revolved around her.

  She lowered the graphic Post-it trail to the chair then drained the rest of her drink. She’d written out her fantasies picturing a blank face, running through wicked daydreams one after the other. The idea of people nearby had excited her. The thought of a man bound to her bed, all hers for one bliss-filled night—she’d wanted that.

  And he’d granted her every wish last night. Her fantasies now had a face and a voice. But when he’d offered his list, she hadn’t expected humor running hand in hand with her deepest desire: a man who was in this for her.

  If she was reading his stick figures correctly, he wished to take her in every possible position. Missionary, doggie style, tied up, hands loose to explore, licking her, thrusting into her mouth, and sixty-nine. Plus, he’d granted her the right to choose her favorite.

  She glanced over the top of the Post-its and spotted him diving into the waves. He was at home in the water. And her home was in the landlocked state of Tennessee, a long, long way from the California coast.

  She scanned the list again. The decision came with a heady sense of power. Where did she wish to start? And what did she want to save for last?

  The question pulled at her as she felt the weight of that word—last. This time tomorrow, she would be packing her bags and heading for the airport. Her sexy SEAL and his buffet of sexual fantasies would be a memory.

  Cade dove deep, then surfaced a few seconds later and drifted on his back. He floated with the current, and his perfect abs glistened in the sunlight.

  Thoughts about tomorrow and the day after that faded into the background. Right now, she had the chance to make his stick-figure fantasies come true. She set aside her empty drink and stood. She covered the slips of paper with her hat and walked to the water.