A Sexy SEAL Novella Anthology (7 page)

“Bry’s twenty-three. She’s smart. She knows
her own mind. And she knows how to punch a guy in those googoo eyes
if she doesn’t want them aimed her way.” Before Sam could relax
into the idea that he might not be getting a big-brother-inspired
ass kicking, Eli continued. “What she might not know, though, is
that you’ll be ending things with her soon.”

Sam scowled. Why the hell would he do
that?

“You want to be a SEAL, you commit to the
team. Exclusively. Remember your pledge.”

Sam wanted to point out that he’d only been
sixteen when he’d vowed never to let his focus on the goal waver,
never to let it split. That pledge had included something about not
owning property and doing a thousand pushups a day, but he didn’t
figure asking Eli if he’d done his exercises or ditched his truck
was smart. But, still, Sam wasn’t sure if the guy was protecting
his little sister or protecting his vision of what it meant to be a
SEAL.

“I’m not going to lecture you on the meaning
of a pledge, the impact of backing out of it. You already know
those things.” Eli grimaced, for the first time looking
uncomfortable. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You don’t have to
report tomorrow so I’m gonna buy you another beer. Then we’re going
to ditch this fern-infested place and hit Olive Oyl’s. There, I’ll
buy you tequila.”

“Going for drunk?” Sam said tonelessly, his
eyes locked on the brown bottle he was twisting between his
hands.

“You are. Me, I’m just here to remind you of
your motivation and help you stay focused. And, I suppose, to play
designated driver.”

Sam raised his troubled gaze to look at the
man who’d first made him believe he could be a SEAL.

“Why?”

“Like I said. You need to clarify your
motivation. If it isn’t strong enough, you can’t do what you need
to do.” For the first time since Sam had walked into the bar, Eli’s
stoic mask cracked. Beneath it was a mix of sympathy and pride. “If
your reasons for wanting to be a SEAL are strong enough, then I’m
here for support. Because giving things up, sometimes it
sucks.”

“Giving people up, you mean.”

“Sucks,” Eli agreed with a nod. “Finish your
beer. It’ll be easier once you’re drunk. Still sucks, though.”

Bryanna paced her living room, her bare feet
making no noise as she stomped from one end to the other and back
again. The sassy Lucite heels she’d started out in three hours ago
lay, forgotten, in the corner where she’d kicked them a few hours
ago.

As she paced past her pretty little gateleg
table, the scent of gutted candles and overcooked meat overpowered
her new perfume. She didn’t bother looking toward the kitchen. The
sight of all that wasted food would probably make her scream.

Again.

Instead, she glanced at her watch. She
glared at the front door. She debated going to bed, but there was
too much energy—furious, irritated, frustrated, angry
energy—pounding through her. So she paced.

Again.

Her favorite chenille robe flapped around
her bare legs, the thick fabric a ratty contrast to the tiny strips
of blue satin she wore beneath. Blue satin and baby oil, since
she’d figured it was better to cover all her bases.

She considered it a point in her favor that
she hadn’t changed into her sweatpants at hour two. She’d wanted
to, right about the time she’d had to toss the rubbery Chicken
Piccata down the garbage disposal. But unlike the ruined dinner,
she wasn’t willing to give up on her plan to convince Sam that they
were meant to be together.

For freaking ever, dammit.

So she’d kept her sexy nighty on, she’d kept
her sultry makeup on and when Sam got here, she’d keep a tight grip
on her temper.

She loved Sam. She wanted to spend her life
with him. She had a little more than a week to show him all the
reasons that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. To
prove to him that she’d make his life wonderful. Interesting and
fun and sexy and complete. Enough that he wouldn’t regret turning
away from the training, from the dream of being a SEAL.

And jumping all over him with accusations
and ugly temper wouldn’t help her accomplish any of that.

So when he got here, she’d play nice. She’d
behave.

If he got here.

She growled, grabbing her cellphone off the
coffee table on her next pass. It only took two flicks of her thumb
to bring up the message again.

Don’t. Wait. Up.

What kind of goddamn message was that?

And it wasn’t even from Sam.

Nope, he hadn’t bothered to let her know
he’d be late for their romantic dinner. He’d had Eli do it.

Eli.

The man with probably the biggest influence
of anyone on Sam. The jerk that’d demanded from his friends a vow
based on his narrow-minded, uptight, idiotic belief the best SEALs
were single SEALs.

Eli.

Her very own ass hat of a brother. The man
who put his career ahead of every single thing in the entire world.
Including the woman who’d loved him.

The idea of her brother peddling his
small-minded ideas to the man she loved made her fingers clench,
her cellphone digging into her flesh before she sent the phone
flying across the room.

As if it were the signal he’d been waiting
for, Sam stepped into the room just as the phone bounced off the
couch, skidded over the hardwood and landed next to the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, sending her a
blurry grin as he bent over to scoop up her phone.

“Hey, baby?” she repeated through clenched
teeth. He didn’t even have the decency to look sorry for standing
her up. Instead, he looked happy as hell.

He tossed her cellphone on the couch, where,
this time, it stayed. He tilted his head from side to side as if
working out a little tension.

“Miss me?” he asked with a wink.

And that was it. Her control simply snapped.
She was pretty sure she even heard the twang when it happened.

Suddenly Bryanna didn’t care about making
Sam happy. She didn’t give a good damn about convincing him that
she was the best thing in his world.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked in
a voice low with fury. The anger flamed a little hotter when she
realized that Sam either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“I was over in Coronado for awhile. Met
these great guys. Great bunch, deployed with SEAL Team Three. It
was so cool.” The whole time he was talking, Sam was moving. First
he sauntered into the kitchen. She heard the fridge open, metal hit
tile, then he sauntered back out, a beer in hand. “We ended up
shooting some pool, then getting pizza.”

“So you ate already,” she said, ignoring the
fact that the garbage disposal had already eaten their dinner.
“Despite the fact that you said you’d be here for dinner at six.
That was four hours ago.”

“I got caught up. Sorry I missed dinner,” he
said with an easy shrug. Then, as if he’d just noticed her, Sam’s
eyes went wide as he looked her up, then down. “I think I’m ready
for dessert though.”

“And by dessert, I suppose you mean
something other than the sticky toffee pudding that I made?” From
scratch, twice, dammit. She’d had to throw the first batch away
because she’d missed a step in the cookbook.

“I’d rather get you sticky,” he said with an
agreeable grin before taking a long drink of his beer. “Then I’ll
lick you clean.”

The look in his dark eyes was so hot, so
sexy, that it was all Bryanna could do not to throw off her robe
and let him get down to it. But she wasn’t some slutty base bunny
who was looking for cheap thrills or to get her fingers on his
paycheck, such as it was. So she’d be damned if she’d be treated
that way.

“You told me you’d be here for dinner, four
hours ago,” she said again, shooting for a calm and friendly tone.
From the arch of his brow, she knew she’d missed. “Not letting me
know you were going to miss dinner until an hour after you were
supposed to be here was rude. Blowing me off to screw around at a
bar was obnoxious.”

“I’m here now,” he said, his words clipped
and precise. “And what I was doing, who I was with and why, would
be my business. Maybe you don’t understand what my career means.
Maybe you don’t realize what it’s going to be like soon.”

Oh, God, she didn’t want to. Bryanna’s
breath knotted in her chest, pain stabbing at it as she thought of
his career, and what the changes he was making would mean.

To him.

To her.

To them.

“I know exactly what it means,” she said,
looking at him through devastated eyes. “And I don’t like it.”

She’d blown it.

As angry at herself now as she was at him,
Bryanna threw her hands in the air and headed for her room.

“Go home, sleep on the couch, do what you
want. I’m going to bed.”

Bryanna didn’t bother with the light to yank
down the bedspread. Before she could toss her robe aside, she
realized Sam had followed her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she
snapped.

“What I want.”

It wasn’t until he had her trapped between
his body and the wall that Bryanna realized that the odd scent in
the air was booze on his breath.

“You’re drunk,” she accused. She wanted to
press her hands against his chest and push him away. But she was
afraid that if she touched him she’d grab so tight she’d never let
him go.

“Not drunk, just buzzed.” He anchored one
hand on either side of her head. His body wasn’t touching hers. So
why did she feel so turned on? She was still pissed, the anger
pulsed through her veins, pounding counterpart to the heavy thrum
of lust. “No big. I caught a ride with one of the guys instead of
driving. Figured you could take me back to my car tomorrow.”

He loomed over her, his shoulders so broad
they blocked the light from the other room. His face was in shadow,
so all she could see was the gleam in his eyes.

“Taking a lot for granted, aren’t you?” This
time she did push. But his chest was as solid as a rock. A very
hard, very smooth, deliciously tempting rock. “Get out of my
way.”

She tried to move to the left, but he bent
his elbow, blocking her. When she angled to the right, he dropped
his other hand lower.

“In your way? Baby, I’m right where you want
me.”

To prove his point, Sam lowered his
head.

When Bryanna turned hers away, he settled
his lips on her throat without a murmur.

“I’m not in the mood.” At least, she didn’t
want to be. But desire, so familiar and always there just beneath
the surface, swirled.

“Right. Like you don’t want me?”

His laugh was like salt in her wound. Like
he knew how much she loved him, was sure she’d always be there. No
matter how he treated her. He’d blow off meals, choose his buddies
over her, walk away from her.

And she couldn’t do a damned thing about
it.

“I don’t want you,” she insisted, hoping one
of them would believe it. When he laughed, she pushed again. She
gritted her teeth and glared. “Sam, get out of my way.”

“Uh huh,” he murmured, pushing the robe from
her shoulders and leaving little tingles behind where he’d touched.
“When I’m done.”

From the slow, easy slide of his lips over
her bare shoulder, he didn’t plan on being done anytime soon.

She wanted to hold onto the mad. She tried,
with desperate need, to grab it back. It was her last defense, her
only chance, she knew, to protect her heart.

But Sam shifted, then. His body leaned into
hers, hot and hard. His hands skimmed down her sides, gripped her
hips and pulled her tight against his body. Bryanna controlled her
own body, she told herself. She was a strong woman, one who had
control over her reactions. But when her belly rubbed against the
hard length of his erection, need stirred, wet and desperate.

“Sam—”

Instead of listening, instead of even giving
her a chance to voice the rest of that protest, he took her mouth.
And with one sweep of his tongue, obliterated her
determination.

Passion washed over her, hot and needy and
exciting.

“The bed...” she murmured, pulling her mouth
away. Her head fell back against the wall, her fingers gripping
tight to his shoulders to keep herself upright.

“To hell with the bed.”

He moved, fast and sharp.

She gasped at the sound of ripping fabric.
She felt the cool waft of air over her suddenly bare skin. She
mentally kissed her expensive new nighty goodbye. Her thighs
trembled and her knees shook. Need curled, low and tight in her
belly.

“Sam—”

“Enough talking.”

She didn’t stop talking because he ordered
her to. She stopped because she simply didn’t even know what she’d
been about to say. She couldn’t draw two thoughts together to
figure it out. It didn’t matter, though.

Because Sam lowered his head, his teeth
scraped her nipple. His tongue soothed, swirled. Then he bit down.
Just hard enough to make her cry out. To make her damp, her core
throbbing, her nether lips trembling.

His fingers seared a hot trail down her
belly, through her wet curls. Bryanna shifted her legs wider,
making room to welcome his familiar touch.

But Sam didn’t move with his usual teasing
gentleness.

Instead, he scraped one finger over her
shuddering bud. He pinched, tweaked and pulled until the orgasm
quivered there, just out of reach.

As if he knew how close she was, and she
didn’t doubt that he did, he plunged. One finger, then two. Like
everything else about him, Sam’s fingers were huge. Long and strong
and so amazingly talented. It only took them one swirl while his
thumb circled her wet clit to send Bryanna flying over the edge of
passion.

The climax tore through her.

Her mewling cry was lost in his mouth.