Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction\A SEAL's Surrender\A SEAL's Salvation\A SEAL's Kiss (9 page)

She wrinkled her nose, ready to remind him what a failure that had been, tastewise, when he kissed her.

Deep, intense. Mind-blowing.

Alexia melted.

Slowly, her lips still clinging to his, he pulled back and arched one brow at his plate.

She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to. She had no idea where the strength to resist came from, but suddenly it seemed like the most important thing in the world. She needed a little distance, she realized. Some space to get a grip on this...what? It wasn’t a relationship, was it? She didn’t even know his last name. Had no idea what he did for a living. It wasn’t as if the last two days had been silent. They’d shared plenty of words. It was just that most of them were in the form of directions, dirty talk or cries of ecstasy.

“I’d hate to ruin the taste of the eggs with the flavor of my body wash,” she said, giving a little laugh as if it was a joke instead of a blatant excuse.

Blake didn’t complain, though. Nor did he push the issue. He simply smiled, let her go and picked up his fork. He waited until she was seated before digging into the eggs on his plate.

The man was perfect. How was that possible?

It wasn’t.

She settled in her chair, the brush of their knees sending sexual tingles up her thighs to tease her still-quivering flesh.

“Where are you from?” she asked after a few bites. She was suddenly aware that while she knew just how much pressure he liked when she stroked him, and how sucking on his tongue made him crazy, that was about the extent of her knowledge. “Are you a California boy?”

“No. I grew up in South Carolina, but now I’m more of a nomad.”

She waited. But that was it. He didn’t expand, he didn’t explain. He just scooped up another forkful of eggs.

What the hell?

“A nomad, hmm? Does that mean you’re just visiting, or will you be around awhile?”

He finished the last of his eggs, then gave her plate a questioning look. Alexia obediently forked up some of her own while he munched on toast.

“I’m here for a while,” he said. “I like the weather in Southern California.”

“And we have great beaches,” she said with a smile, remembering where they first met. And, she quivered a little, where they first made love.

He didn’t smile back, though. His gaze darkened, then shifted. As if someone had slammed the book shut. The pain she’d sensed in the bar was there again, radiating from him like a silent sob of misery.

They’d spent two days sharing their bodies. Surely he’d share this with her, too.

She wanted to ask him what was hurting him so deeply, why he was hiding from it. Before she could find the words, he gave her a wicked look, then reached one finger into the jelly bowl and scooped out a dollop of glistening orange sweetness.

“Taste?” he asked, offering her his finger. “Your neighbor said it’s plum. Made from her own trees.”

Beneath the amusement in his eyes was a challenge. Purely sexual, totally tempting. She couldn’t resist. Alexia leaned forward, sucking the tip of his finger into her mouth. Yum. The sticky sweetness had a tart edge. As she swirled her tongue around, licking all the way to the knuckle, his gaze deepened. Intensified.

“More?” he asked, his voice husky.

Power, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, filled Alexia. This man had had her six ways from Sunday. He’d climaxed more times than she was years old. And he’d done it on barely any sleep. Yet just the swipe of her tongue, and he was all hot and bothered.

Totally turned on.

She stood, arched both brows, then unbelted her robe.

All it took was a shrug for it to drop to the floor.

“Gorgeous,” Blake moaned in delight. He leaned forward to pull her onto his lap, but Alexia shook her head. Nope, it was her turn to call the shots.

“Strip,” she ordered.

He grinned. Then, proving he was all for equality among the sexes when it came to loveplay, he stood, and in a few quick moves, had that incredible body bared for her pleasure.

Alexia dipped her fingers into the jelly jar, then smoothed them over his lower lip. With a delicate swipe of her tongue, she licked it clean.

“Yum,” she told him.

He grinned, waiting to see what she’d taste next.

She swirled the sweet jelly around his nipples. Then she sucked them clean. They tightened gratifyingly, first one then the other, beneath her lips. She smoothed her other hand down his slender hips, over the rock-hard angles of his sexy butt.

She dipped her fingers in the jelly again, dropped to her knees and kissed her way down his belly. His body was a feast. Every inch delicious. And she wanted to taste him all.

“Nope,” he said with a strained laugh, grabbing her sticky fingers just before they could spread the breakfast preserve over his erection. “That’d get in the way of what I have planned next.”

“But I wanted to taste,” she said with a naughty smile. Her hand still in his, she leaned down to blow a soft puff of air on the glistening tip of his dick.

It jumped.

She slid a glance up at Blake, noting the hazy, almost-stupefied-with-wanting look on his face. Still, though, he didn’t release her hand.

So she tasted without jelly.

First with just her tongue, sipping gently at the tip of his dick. Then she slid it down the hard length, and back up. His fingers, wrapped around her wrist, trembled. She sucked the velvety rounded tip. Just the tip. He groaned out loud.

Before she could take his entire delicious length into her mouth, he used her wrist to pull her to her feet. Her breath shocked right out of her, Alexia gasped. Still holding her hand, he lifted the jelly-smeared finger to his mouth and licked it clean. Then he grabbed her by the waist, flipped her around and pressed her body between his and the table.

“You’re the most delicious woman in the world,” he murmured against the back of her neck, his lips moving along her shoulder in soft, wet kisses. Both hands reached around, cupping her breasts. Fingers tweaked, pulled, swirled the tips until they ached with pleasure. Her butt brushed his erection again and again as her hips undulated, desperate for release. Wanting more, and since his hands were busy, she pressed her own down between her thighs, preparing, readying herself for the delight she knew he’d give.

“Mine,” he protested, one of his hands sliding down to cover hers, twining their fingers together so they worked the aching swollen nub in concert.

Alexia moaned, heat swirling, passion building tight in her belly. Before she could climb too high, too fast, Blake bent her low over the table.

Her face nestled in her arms, she let him position her, lifting her hips for his entry. Even with proof so many times over of how big, strong and fabulous he felt inside, she still gasped with shock when, his hands braced on her hips, he plunged deep.

Her fingers dug into the tabletop, the wood cool and unyielding under her. Her hips shifted. Back, forth and back again, meeting his thrusts.

One hand still guiding her hips, he slid the other between her thighs, flicking his finger over the quivering bud there.

She cried out with pleasure.

He thrust again. Flicked once more.

Two strokes, then three. Her body exploded. Stars danced a wild boogie behind her closed eyelids as she gasped, moaning his name over and over. The orgasm rocked her, her body pressing tighter to the table, to his hips, as if she could somehow wring even more pleasure from the climax.

Her moves were all the encouragement he needed. Blake’s fingers dug into her hips, holding her still for his body. With a guttural moan, he plunged again, then once more. Then he groaned, loud and long. His thighs, so hard and strong, quivered against the back of hers.

Spent, totally empty, her body lay across the table as she tried to catch her breath. To find her thoughts. To remember her name.

“I have to go,” Blake murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder, making her shudder as yet another tiny orgasm rocked her body.

“No,” she protested. She wanted to lift her head, to roll over and grab on to him. But she didn’t have the strength. There was nothing left, he’d drained her dry.

She heard him move away but still couldn’t open her eyes.

“Look, I’ve got a thing tonight,” he told her. His voice was distant, as if he was trying to put space between them. A hint of panic flamed in her stomach. Before it could grow, he continued, “But I should be done by eleven, midnight at the latest. I’ll come back.”

Alexia’s lashes fluttered. She forced her head to turn so she could see him. She wanted to protest. To tell him to ask instead of inform.

She might even have plans.

Her brow furrowed.

Wait.

She did have plans.

“I’m busy tonight,” she realized, not sure which she wanted more. To exert herself, proving that this was a two-way street and she’d be calling just as many shots as he would. Or to grab on to an excuse to ditch the admiral’s retirement party and have another bout of mind-blowing sex.

“How busy?”

She sighed. She’d promised Michael she’d be there. And she’d promised herself that if she moved back, she’d make her best effort to get along with her parents.

“Very busy.” Pulling a face at having to climb off the cloud of sexual nirvana, she rolled to her side. Blake’s eyes heated to blue flames. “I’ve got a family thing going on.”

She only hesitated a second before adding, “But I can be back by midnight.”

He zipped his jeans, tucking his T-shirt in and giving her a long, contemplative look. As if he knew exactly what she was offering. Not just sex. Trust. A chance to see where this went. And, she admitted to herself with a sigh, rolling off the table, a boatload of expectations.

She could see the hesitation in his blue eyes. Knew he was weighing all that, probably against how fast he could hit the door. He stepped forward, sliding between her legs again and resting his hands on her bare waist.

Eyes open, staring into hers, he leaned down to meet her lips. Whisper soft, it was a promise, an acceptance. For the first time, his kiss didn’t make her think,
Let’s get naked
. It made her think,
Wow, there goes my heart
.

“Midnight, then,” he said, kissing her one more time before striding to the door.

And just like that, she felt committed. She didn’t know anything about him other than his name, that he was incredible in bed and that she’d trust him with her life.

Trust. That was the biggie.

Other than Michael, had she ever trusted another man in her life? Growing up with an emotionally—and often physically—absent father who ruled everything on a need-to-know basis, and a mother who didn’t bother sharing important things like when or where they’d be moving next because she hadn’t wanted to hear the whining, Alexia tended to demand a lot of information from people. Maybe it made her a little bit of a control freak, but she liked to know everything she could, before she made decisions.

And here she was, with a man who hadn’t told her anything.

Alexia pressed her fingers to her lips, still sticky with plum jelly. The front door shut behind Blake.

“It’s a date,” she whispered to the empty room.

6

“C
HEERS
,
BUDDY
,” Cade said, tilting his beer—in a glass, no tacky bottles at the admiral’s retirement party—against Blake’s. The sound was lost in the sea of well-modulated voices, yawn-worthy chamber music and the almost silent white noise of the air conditioner. “Gotta admit, the old guy has style.”

Blake shrugged. He’d grown up poor enough to appreciate that using a glass instead of the bottle gave the guy doing dishes a chance to earn a living. But other than that, opulence confused more than impressed him. What was the point? Rich people were more worried about showing off their fancy than guys were showing off the size of their...muscles.

He didn’t bother saying that to Cade, though. Compared to the Sullivans, Cade’s family, Admiral Pierce might as well move into the trailer park Blake had grown up in.

“What do you think he’s gonna do now that he’s retired?” Cade asked idly, his mellow tone at odds with the sharp intensity of his gaze as he scanned the crowd. “Put on one of those flowered shirts and putter in the garden?”

“I hope someone takes pictures,” Blake snorted. Then, after another drink, he shrugged. “He’s mentioned doing consults in D.C., maybe put together some programs here on the base.”

That was the great thing about Cade. No pissiness over Blake having an inside track with the admiral. Then again, Cade’s uncle was a senator and his father owned half of northern California. So he had plenty of inside tracks of his own.

“Why bother to retire, then?” Cade asked. “Retirement is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? Like R&R every day?”

Blake grimaced. That was way too much relaxing for him. Like this party, that kind of deal just wasn’t in his cards. He scanned the crowd again, looking for a waiter and another beer.

Unlike the poor civilian saps in tuxes, he and Cade, along with a bunch of bright shiny brass, got to wear their dress whites. It wasn’t fatigues, but close enough to keep him comfortable.

“Sir,” the waiter said with a little bow as he exchanged Blake’s empty glass for a full one.

He shifted his shoulders against the constricting fabric. At least he used to be comfortable. For the first time since he’d put it on, it felt as if his uniform didn’t fit right.

“What’s up?” Cade asked after exchanging his own glass. “You’ve been antsy as hell all night.”

“Just want to get out of here. This isn’t my kind of thing.”

“Dude, ya gotta party while the music’s playing.”

Cade’s grin disappeared as the words cleared his mouth. That’d been Phil’s favorite saying.

Blake stared into his own pilsner glass. They were trained for this. They went into every single mission knowing it wasn’t just a possibility, but a probability, that sooner or later one of them wouldn’t make it out. So what was with the emotional drama? When did it get easier?

“Landon, Sullivan, glad you could make it,” the admiral said in a big, hearty social voice. As opposed to the big, gruff commanding voice he usually used to bark out orders. There actually wasn’t a whole lot of difference in the two, except the slightly disturbing smile on his face.