Tempted by a SEAL (11 page)

“Uck. Don’t talk about sex and my mother.” Lydia spun to face the sink, this time actually doing as they were supposed to have been this whole time—rinsing the dishes.

He opened the dishwasher door and took the first wet plate out of her hand. “Hey, they’re newlyweds. You’re delusional if you think they haven’t christened every room in this place.”

Nothing said he couldn’t help and annoy her at the same time.

“Oh my God, you’re so gross.” She handed him the next plate, serving it up with a good dose of disgust, judging by the expression on her face.

Mack shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Thinking about your father having
sex
.” She hissed the last word in a whisper.

It bothered him, but not for the reasons she imagined. His father moving on rubbed that old wound that the loss of his mother had caused. But the fact his father was behaving like a normal, healthy man? Not one bit. “Nope. He’s in his early fifties. He’s not dead.”

She sighed, looking defeated as she handed him one more dripping dish. “My mother’s still in her forties.

“See. You plan on not having any sex when you’re in your forties?”

“No. I don’t know. That’s so far away. I can’t even think about it.”
 

He rolled his eyes. “Spoken like a twenty-two year old.”

Having stared down thirty himself, Mack knew forty was just around the corner after that.

Hell, given what he did for work, he’d be happy to make it to that age. And if he did, God willing, there was no way he’d waste those years. He’d probably be like a deer in rut if he was lucky enough to have a new bride at that age. Or even an old wife.

Wife.
That word gave him pause. He’d never even thought it before in relation to his own marital status.

Must be Lydia’s over abundance of sex hormones from what they’d just done spilling over onto him.

Something else to worry about tomorrow . . . or the next day.

Another dish, some cutlery and the dishwasher was loaded. Lydia flipped off the water and turned to face him. “I guess we’d better get back in there.”

“Don’t want to?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna tell me why?” Mack asked.

She let out a laugh. “Too many reasons to list. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

“Spoken like a devoted daughter.”

Lydia blew out a derogatory noise. “You should talk, devoted son that you are.”

He really couldn’t argue that point. He could have wedged in a visit to his father in that week he’d been home between Iraq and Africa. Brody had managed to go to his family’s home during that same time, and he had to drive all the way to Alabama.

Mack pushed aside that thought. Life was too damn short to be burdened with regrets or guilt. Or to do shit for everyone else before doing it for yourself.

One look at the judgment on Lydia’s face told him she had yet to learn that.

She was young. She’d learn soon enough to live for herself.

In the living room, Mack saw the happy newlyweds sitting hip to hip on the sofa.

His father had obviously learned to live the life he wanted. He’d gone ahead and married a woman he’d met without even telling his son before the fact.

Yup, selfishness must run in the family. Maybe Mack was a bastard thanks to genetics. He liked that theory.

“Dishwasher is all loaded,” he announced as he moved toward a chair.

As he sat, he realized he should have gotten himself another beer while he’d been in the kitchen.

He’d been too distracted by Lydia.

Considering how little he wanted to be here and how much he enjoyed a cold one on a Sunday afternoon, that was saying something.

Obviously she was quite a distraction.

CHAPTER 10

Lydia stood outside Mack’s apartment door after following him there in her car as he led the way on his bike.

He was so bossy he had to lead her even on the road. That thought had her sighing and tapping her foot as she waited for him to get the key in the lock.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Just so you know, you can pretend to be mad at me all you want. I like it. Besides, I’m not really sure what the hell you have to be angry about, but whatever. It’s fine with me.”

Mack defaulted to what Lydia had learned was his usual expression, at least around her—amused or more specifically amused at her expense—before he turned the key and the knob.

Not sure why she’d agreed to come back to his apartment, she watched as he pushed open the door.

She shook her head as she followed him inside. “What you did in my mother’s—your father’s kitchen . . . You’re obviously crazy.”

“Perhaps. But you loved it and you know it.”
 

“I did not love it.” She frowned, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right.

“Liar.” He grinned wider as he pushed the door closed and flipped the deadbolt. With a hand on each of her arms, Mack backed her up across the narrow room. “We’re not at our parents’ house now.”

No, they certainly weren’t and there was no one to help her as she tumbled backward onto the sofa.

He followed her down, trapping her between his hard body and the soft cushions. She sank into the pillows with no hope of ever getting out, especially not with what had to be close to two hundred pounds of muscle-bound man on top of her.

Mack had to be the most infuriating man on Earth—and she couldn’t hear his voice without having her insides twist with the need to have him.
 

At the moment he was assaulting her weak spot, which he’d figured out at some point during their brief association.

Twenty-four hours they’d known each other—a little less actually—yet he already knew that the heat of his mouth against her ear had her insides turning molten. He was taking full advantage of that now.
 

As he nipped at her earlobe, Lydia decided two could play at this game. She reached between them, blindly working on opening the buckle of the belt he wore.

He pulled back enough she could see his smile. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what I want.” Her own words, delivered in a low and sultry sex kitten voice she’d never heard come out of her own mouth before, shocked her.

Where had that come from? Where had the shy, insecure girl she’d been when she woke yesterday gone?

He lifted a brow. “Go right ahead.”

Mack shifted so he was sitting next to her, giving her full access to him and his pants.

Now that she had that access, she was going to have to use it.

A small case of stage fright hit as she moved off the sofa to kneel between his feet on the floor. She reached up for the fly of his khakis, undoing the button and lowering the zipper as her mouth went dry.

Lydia wasn’t used to being the one in charge. Setting the pace. Making the moves. Undressing a man. And was he ever a man. One big, hard man.

That was more than proven as she slipped his length free of the boxer briefs she’d exposed.

He watched her progress with heavily lidded eyes. His breathing deepened as she took him in her hand.

“What are you gonna do with that?” he asked, his voice husky.

“This.” Lydia leaned forward and slid him between her lips.

He reached down to lay his palm against the back of her head and hissed in a breath when she sank lower over him.

Mack slid down on the sofa, driving him deeper into her throat. He groaned in reaction.

Lydia could count the number of times she’d done this on one hand and still have fingers left over, but judging by his reaction, she was doing all right.

That gave her the confidence to attack the job at hand with more enthusiasm. He rewarded her effort with a mumbled cuss that she chose to interpret as a compliment.

She’d been unable to resist him, even when she should have, such as today in the kitchen. Now, she wanted him to lose control because of her.

It seemed her plan was working. Mack thrust into her mouth as she worked him with hand and tongue until she heard him groan.

Inspired, she moved faster, working him harder. His quickened motion, his breathing getting faster, his moans louder, all told her he was close even before he held deep and she tasted his release.

A few more pulses and he slumped against the cushions, panting, with barely enough breath to say, “Holy shit, that was good.”

Silly girl that she was, she couldn’t have asked for better praise. She beamed at his words, until he leaned forward, reached down behind her and slipped her dress up over her ass.

He slid his hand beneath her underwear, then breached her with his fingers.
 

Briefly she’d felt as if she’d been in charge. Even on her knees, while he’d been in her mouth she’d controlled him. She’d dictated his pleasure.

That feeling was completely gone. The power had shifted. It was clear Mack held it now, as surely as his hands gripped the fleshy globes of her ass.

The sound of a slap echoed off the walls as he brought a palm down against one of her butt cheeks, leaving a hot sting behind.
 

Lydia sucked in a sharp breath that elicited a satisfied smile from Mack.

“I do love you on your knees, but I want you on them on my bed. I’ve got big plans for you in that position.”

She had no desire for him to see her big naked butt from behind. And she had no idea what his plans for her were, so she should have had plenty of doubt about doing this.

But there was no question as to what her answer would be. Her breath was coming faster already and they hadn’t even gotten to the bedroom yet.
 

Lydia swallowed. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 11

Mack could get used to this. Lounging in his big, soft bed. The warm body pressed next to him. The feeling of being so relaxed he could fall into a light sleep. The satisfying knowledge that after he dozed for a bit he could wake up, enjoy her and then sleep some more.

Would this get old after a while? Maybe. Probably.

Who knew? He could only imagine he wouldn’t get tired of any of it for a good long while.

After all the months he’d spent working vampire hours, trying to sleep during the day while in a crappy rack in a room full of guys, he figured it would be quite a while before he got tired of this bed. Or this woman.

Lydia had proven more than once tonight she could spit anger at him one moment, then nearly bring him to his knees just from seeing her naked in front of him on hers.

Oh yeah. It would be a good long time before he’d tire of this spitfire’s smart sexy mouth, and for once he wasn’t just thinking about the way she’d used it on him today.

His cell phone on the nightstand buzzed with a text alert. He glanced at the time on the clock and groaned. The glowing numbers showed eleven-sixteen.

A text coming through this late at night could only mean one thing. There was something happening in the world he needed to know about. Something that could get him called in.

Another time, with a different girl in his bed, and he’d welcome the action.