Read Her Firefighter SEAL Online
Authors: Anne Marsh
Tags: #firefighter romance series, #firefighter contemporary romance, #SEAL romance, #navy seal alphas, #military romance, #second chance romance, #small town romance
Her Firefighter SEAL (20 page)
Waiting was not a good use of time. The sixty hours a week she spent—
had
spent—in a San Francisco trauma bay had been measured in increments of a minute or less. Of course, the same could be said about her sex life, which was her problem right there. She hadn’t been getting any, ergo she had sex on the brain.
Or maybe that was the resort’s fault. Her libido had Madeline’s explanations on the seaplane playing in a sexy loop through her head. Place an order from the cocktail menu—and pick a sexual fantasy.
A Good-Night Kiss
,
Affair
,
Climax
,
Double Jack
,
Triplesex
... Pick one. Point. All she had to do was ask for it.
She lifted her head up and fished her phone out from beneath her sheet. Six minutes late. She’d scheduled thirty minutes for this massage business—so she had twenty-four minutes left.
She liked to keep to her schedule.
Her masseuse, apparently, did not share her outlook on life.
“You’re cheating, sweetheart. No phones in the spa.”
Two big legs appeared in front of her, legs as big and rough as the voice issuing orders. Laney looked up and up and...sweet baby Jesus, the man had good genes. He was also more than a little rough around the edges. His face was all hard lines, his hair cut ruthlessly short with military precision. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw as he towered over her. He wore the loose white pants and form-fitting T-shirt that all the male resort employees sported, but somehow he managed to make the cotton look lethal, as if he was balanced on a razor edge, ready to pummel or go brute predator on the first threat that crossed his path.
This
was her masseuse?
He tapped her phone. As if he had the power to make her do precisely as he commanded. It wasn’t hard to imagine him giving orders. Hit man. Maverick CEO. Rogue mercenary. She had no idea who he was, but her body leaped in anticipation when his thighs bumped against the side of the massage table.
Was
he
on the menu?
“This isn’t the spa.” Since her butt was stretched out beneath a cabana with a thatched roof, building rules absolutely did not apply. Neither did logic since, although Fantasy Island had twelve private villas, all positioned for maximum privacy and sunset views, what it did not have was an actual spa building. She’d been promised her masseuse would be
happy to attend you wherever you wish, madame.
“And you’re not in charge.”
“You’re on my massage table.” Amusement colored his deep voice, although his face remained impenetrable. Playing poker with this man would be dangerous. Hell, everything about him screamed dangerous. He certainly didn’t fit the spa’s brand of peace and mind-numbing serenity. He made the gangbangers, with their frequent-flyer cards to her ER, look like tame bunnies.
“That makes me the client.”
And your boss.
After all, she’d be picking up the tab for this little hands-on session.
“Uh-huh.” He plucked the phone out of her hand. “What could you possibly need to check?”
“The time. Give me back my phone.” She rolled over, sat up, extended an arm, and the sheet promptly dipped to nipple level. Damn it. The spa attendant must have been an Egyptian embalmer in a former life, because somehow the woman had gotten all the individual pieces of sheet strategically arranged to cover the embarrassing bits. Laney could do an emergency intubation on a flatlining patient, but the sheet defied her. She yanked it up and used her armpit as an anchor.
Sexy
. Not.
“You have a hot date?” He pocketed her phone, ignoring her outstretched hand.
Are you busy?
“So. Are you going to massage me or what?”
Oops. That sounded downright pornographic. Her girl bits immediately voted for option B even as she lowered her arm.
“Lie down.” He nudged her eye covering back down, plunging her into the dark. She didn’t do vulnerable—and apparently her credit card wouldn’t need to cover a tip for this man because he had zero customer service skills.
“Wait.” The blast of heat she felt as she processed his order—and
followed
it—was chemistry. She knew all about chemistry, thanks to medical school. This man simply possessed enough symmetry that her own body had ramped up the pheromone production. It wasn’t personal—it was simply that he was mate-worthy.
“Who are you?”
Before he placed his hands all over her naked body—
please
—she needed to know his name.
Available October 1
st
, 2015!
The Hunt
THE HUNT: Part One – Domination
THE HUNT: Part Two – Pursuit
THE HUNT: Part Three – Capture
THE HUNT: Part Four – Discipline
THE HUNT: Part Five – Challenge
THE HUNT: Part Six – Claim
THE HUNT: COMPLETE EDITION
Blue Moon Brides
TEMPTED BY THE PACK
PLEASURED BY THE PACK
CLAIMED BY THE PACK
TAKEN BY THE PACK
CAPTURED BY THE PACK
––––––––
The Fallen
BOND WITH ME
HIS DARK BOND
SAVAGE BOND
––––––––
Warriors Unleashed
VIKING’S ORDERS
AT THE VIKING’S COMMAND
––––––––
Smoke Jumpers
BURNING UP
SLOW BURN
––––––––
When SEALs Come Home
BURNS SO BAD
SMOKING HOT
SWEET BURN
YOURS FOR CHRISTMAS
HEATED
ONE HOT SEAL
––––––––
The Hotshots
REBURN
HOT ZONE
FIRED UP
––––––––
SEALs of Discovery Island
WICKED SEXY
WICKED NIGHTS
WICKED SECRETS
SEALs of Fantasy Island
TEASING HER SEAL
PLEASING HER SEAL
DARING HER SEAL (Summer 2016)
W
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Copyright © 2015 Anne Marsh
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, with the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Her Firefighter SEAL
Copyright © 2015 Anne Marsh
All rights reserved.