Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance (11 page)

Her smile widening, the young woman scratched behind his ears before stroking down his snout. For a one year old, he was very well behaved. No small blessing when the dog was big enough to do serious damage to the unwary.

“You’re not scared of him.” Owen’s comment was tinged with surprise as he gazed between the two of them.

“Why would I be?” She returned, stroking along the dog’s back. “You’ve already told me all about him.”

She indulged Eddie for a few minutes more before turning her full attention to Owen. “May I come in?”

He seemed to realize that she was still outside on the stoop and his expression turned embarrassed for a moment before he let her in. Genny slipped inside the startlingly clean dwelling, followed by an eager Eddie as Owen led her to the family room. Above the mantelpiece were hung a bevy of awards he’d earned, along with a picture of him that looked about ten years old, with an older man she presumed to be his father smiling beside him. She stepped up to the framed photo, lifting it from the mantelpiece to examine before turning to find Owen seated on his leather couch, looking up at her with hollow eyes.

Her heart clenched in her chest as she placed her bag on a nearby table, taking a seat next to him. As Eddie curled up by their feet, she prepared herself. The man she was faced with did not look like he meant to seduce her. Quite the contrary, actually. “What happened last night, Owen?”

Her voice was careful, soft. She didn’t want to demand anything of him that he wasn’t willing to give.

Owen exhaled a heavy breath, running a hand down his face before he answered. “I woke up in the middle of the night…couldn’t move. Not terribly uncommon for me. It’s the nightmares…I…I keep reliving what happened in Fallujah.”

Genny’s heart leapt. “Would you like to tell me about your nightmares, Owen?”

The lieutenant opened his mouth, then closed it, before repeating the process. It was clear from the pain in his eyes that he wanted to speak to her – he
wanted
her to know. But there was something that stood in his way…some mental barrier.

She had encountered this before – and when most patients reached this point, it was often a loved one – a wife, a daughter, or a friend – who helped the patient open up.

Owen’s father wasn’t present, and his mother never would be. She didn’t know anyone he was close to well enough to draw them into this session – but she didn’t want to lose this moment. Not when so much was riding on it.

Genny hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to take the man’s hand in her own, sliding her fingers against his calloused palm. Owen visibly jolted, his eyes lowering in surprise to where she held his fingers loosely. “It’s alright, Owen. I’ll listen to anything you have to say…I
promise
I’ll help you through it. You just need to talk to me.”

It seemed an eternity before Owen’s eyes rose slowly to meet her own, his expression tortured. “It’s not as though I don’t want to, Genny. I just…I
can’t
.”

He needed something more. Something no one had given him before. And the moment the notion entered her mind, Genny knew what it was. Her face flushed slightly and her body heated, but she knew that what she gave Owen wasn’t about carnal lust anymore.

It was about him believing that she believed in him…and if he needed physical proof, she could give it to him.

Better that than to watch Daniel Kant ruin him for a paycheck.

Without a word, Genevieve rose onto her knees, inching closer to the man until she could cup his face between her palms. Her palm gently traced over the scar on one side of his face before her gaze fell to his mouth. The mouth she had longed to kiss again since that first time. When her mouth lowered to his, touching it briefly, gently, the man made a sharp sound of surprise, his fingers curling around her waist even as he jerked backward in shock. Quickly, the young woman reassured him. “It’s not about that….Owen. If it was just about that, I would have given into you a long time ago.”

She watched him – watched him register the desire in her eyes – the understanding there. He needed her – in a way too few others could comprehend.

“You’re sure?” His tone was tentative, disbelieving, as he slowly drew her back to him, his gaze darkening. “You have to be sure, Genevieve.” His suddenly husky tone made her shudder. “Because once I start, I won’t stop.”

The statement went straight to the core of her, making her bite back the moan of want that threatened to tear from her throat.

This was her last chance to back out – to keep from being undone even as she sought to undo. “I’m sure.”

The moment the words left her, she was crushed against him, his mouth devouring hers with a ferocity that took her breath away. The man’s tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking hers brusquely to life and making her arch against him as her fingers slid into his hair and against his scalp. Ever since Owen’s picture had first landed on her desk, she had imagined this – hoped for it even as she’d known how very dangerous it was.

Now, as she kissed him – tasted coffee, strength and pure masculine desire – and she forgot her propriety and all the warnings her subconscious had buffeted her with.

She wanted him.

Owen growled against her mouth as his hands curled into her behind, drawing her even closer to him as he sucked and nipped at her lower lip. When his mouth left hers, his tongue following the line of her throat to the crease her breasts, a low gasp escaped her. God, his mouth was hot and demanding, lighting a fire wherever it travelled and making her shudder in undeniable pleasure. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once – roving over her behind, peeling her skirt upward until her lower half, clad in lacy Brazilian briefs, was exposed – and then jerking her flush against him. He pressed his jutting erection against her through the thin material of her underwear and she cried out softly, her arms sliding around his waist as sensation blossomed from the aching haven between her legs.

Had it really been so long?

The feel of Owen’s hands on her was so impossibly delicious that she could hardly comprehend how she had resisted him for so long – or if she ever would be able to again.

In a dexterous movement, the man slid her shirt off over her head, throwing it heedlessly across the room to reveal breasts confined by a dark, lacy bra. Genevieve had only ever worn lacy underwear because it pleased her. For she, a woman so rarely sexually indulged, it reminded her that she could be a sensual being. But now, she was reminded of another purpose of lingerie. When Owen took in her enticing lacy accoutrement, a low, tortured sound escaped him. “
Christ
, Genevieve. You’re trying to kill me.”

The young woman inhaled sharply as Owen rose from the couch, hefting her easily in his strong arms to carry down the hall – past a bathroom and into the master bedroom. The décor was simple and neat, in colors of forest green and burgundy – but at that point, what Genevieve cared most about was the bed.

It was large and unmade – and the moment Owen set her on it, he flipped her over, exposing her behind for his viewing pleasure. His hands curled into it, massaging each full globe firmly before he lowered his head to place a heated kiss at the base of her spine. “
Fucking
divine.” She arched as his mouth continued lower, over the curve of one of her buttocks. “
Decadent.”
Then, without warning, his hand came down sharply upon the crest of one cheek and a soft sound of surprise escaped her – a moment before the burn of arousal worked its way to her core. She didn’t think any man had ever hit her before – she’d never even contemplated such a thing. The second time Owen’s hand struck her buttocks, she yelped, the sound fading into a soft moan as his lips soothed the hurt his hand had caused.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He growled softly, smoothing over her behind with his fingertips. “Of this toffee skin, ripe under my tongue?” His teeth grazed the curve of her behind and she inhaled sharply. The next thing she knew, the man’s bare chest – hard and sculpted – was sliding along the line of her spine until his mouth found the line of her neck and shoulder to nip there hungrily.

When his hardness nestled against her womanhood – already soaking its way through her panties – Genevieve bit back a groan. He was immense – hotter and harder than she remembered. She had to exercise restraint not to turn over and rip the man’s sweatpants from him and demand that he enter her.

This was, after all, about him.

The man’s fingers slid over her belly, down further and further until he reached the hem of her panties. With hardly any hesitation, his hands delved beneath the thin fabric, almost immediately finding the dampness of her arousal. “
Fuck
, Genny.” He growled against her ear, his hips thrusting powerfully against hers. “You’re
so
wet for me.”

The words made her entire body quiver. He was so carnal – his voice thick with need. Two of his fingers slid over the wet length of her slit before finding her entrance. Whimpering, the young woman thrust her hips down into his touch, begging wordlessly. In a matter of seconds, Owen had reduced her to a shuddering, ingratiated creature of desire.

He obliged her by thrusting two fingers deep into her hungry passage, and Genevieve cried out at the contact, her thighs tensing as the man’s mouth roved up and down the length of her neck. His opposite hand curved over one of her ample breasts, teasing its taut peak as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of her. Trembling moans and sighs escaped her as he stimulated her, her inner muscles clenching eagerly around his invasion. “
Yes,
Genny…
my
Genny.” Owen’s murmur was dark and primal as he bit at her throat. “You were mine the first day I saw you.” His fingers thrust particularly deep and Genevieve cried out, her entire body wracked with trembling.

Her voice rose even louder, however, when Owen withdrew his fingers, rising from atop her for just long enough to urge her onto her back. Genevieve lie back against the coverlet, her face flushed with desire as the man who’d haunted her dreams lifted his fingers to his mouth to taste her, making her womb twist in raw want.

As Owen sucked his fingers clean, his gaze never left hers, and Genevieve felt a whimper rising in the back of her throat. Leaning down, the former SEAL pressed his mouth to hers, branding her own flavor on her lips so she arched against him, her fingers curling into his shoulders. The man’s chest was gloriously bare against her, every hill and valley of every muscle sliding against her skin in glorious relief.

Owen yanked her hips to the edge of the bed, inching down her underwear until they pooled on the floor beneath her feet. Then, he was undoing the laces of his sweatpants until his erection sprang free against her – almost scalding her with its heat. “Tell me you’re mine.” The demand was issued, low and commanding, against her ear. Genevieve could hardly have denied such a request – not when the man’s erection was pressed so tantalizingly against her – not when he had teased her to within an inch of her sanity. “
Tell me
.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, arching her hips against his. “Owen, I’m yours.”

He slid into her swiftly – deeply – pinning her hips against the bed and filling her to the cusp of pain so she gasped, her fingernails clawing red welts down his back. “
God
…” She moaned, squirming beneath him as he throbbed within her. The man pressed even deeper – to the very hilt, and Genevieve gasped his name. “
Owen!
”

The lieutenant clung to her, using one hand to pull down a lacy cup and reveal her breast. His mouth closed over her nipple and he groaned against the sensitive flesh as he withdrew, thrusting back into her powerfully. Genevieve cried out loudly before moaning as he pistoned his hips against hers. His movements were precise – devastating – designed to undo her with every swiveling motion of his hips.

She clung to anything she could reach – to the coverlet – to his shoulders and arms –anything to keep herself grounded as his teeth and tongue played havoc with her breast, his member hitting spots inside her she had forgotten existed. With every motion, he groaned, as if the feel of her squeezing around him – milking him – would be his undoing. Genevieve felt her body begin to tremble- her entire world begin to contract as Owen pressed her closer and closer to the edge of her endurance.

When his mouth returned to her neck – when he ordered her to cum for him as he plied her deep –so deep she could feel him in the back of her throat- Genevieve came apart in his arms. She found her peak with his name on her lips and shuddered as the man stiffened against her with a shout, emptying his seed into her hungry womb.

Her form absolutely boneless, Genevieve collapsed against the coverlet, trying to catch her breath as Owen did the same above her. His breath fell hotly against her throat, which she could feel was peppered with pockmarks from the attention he’d paid it. Slowly, as the energy began to gather in her arms, Genny reached up to run her fingers through his hair, relishing in the feel of it.

The body that lie against hers now was free of all tension – there existed no nerves, no preconceptions, and no expectations. For a brief moment, she believed that Owen might have found peace within himself.

And oddly, so had she.