Hot SEAL, Best Man (SEALs in Paradise)

by Parker Kincade

  “You do, huh?” There was humor in his voice. “Have you had any food to go with that wine?”

  She hadn’t. Not since a light lunch, hours ago. “The kitchen is sooo far away, and I’m happy here.”

  “Where is here?”

  Without meaning to, Presley slipped her fingers under the hem of her shirt. The lazy circles she drew around her belly button left a quiet, tingling sensation along her skin. Heat pooled between her legs, and Presley arched her back and squeezed her knees together in a futile effort to contain the arousal building in her body.

  “Relaxing in a lounge chair on my screened-in porch.” She heard him shift, followed by a loud clanking sound, like he’d closed a metal gate. “Where are you? Are you working?” She couldn’t remember if he’d said he had the day off or not.

  His voice was hushed when he answered. “Yeah, I’m at work. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time.”

  “A cowboy’s work is never done,” she said, distracted by the wine and the feeling of her fingers against her skin. She knew she shouldn’t be touching herself while she was on the phone with Evan, but it felt too good to stop. She trailed her fingers up, tickling along the underside curve of her breast. A shiver worked its way down her spine. “Have you had a good day?”

  “It’s been all right,” he said slowly, his tone cautious.

  Did he somehow know what she was doing? Did he know how reckless, how deliciously naughty, how unlike herself she was being?

  Tomorrow was soon enough for the embarrassment to come. She would blame the wine. Right now…right now, she needed relief, needed to feel.

  “Presley?”

  God, she wished Evan was there with her. She pictured his face—his sharp jade eyes and the dark stubble that always seemed to cover his jaw. She suddenly wanted to know what those whiskers felt like against her skin.

  “Hmm?” She slid her curious fingers up. Grasping the tight tip of her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, Presley pinched, lightly at first, testing, then she pinched hard enough to make her breath hitch. No. That wasn’t quite right. She released the sensitive bud and scraped her short fingernail across the tip.

  Yesss.

  “Presley?” Evan’s growl in her ear made her belly clench. “What the hell are you doing? Is there someone there with you?”

  She could almost make herself believe she heard a hint of possessiveness in his tone. The ache between her legs intensified, and she couldn’t wait another minute. It had been weeks since she’d taken the time to pleasure herself…and even longer since anyone had done it for her.

  Abandoning her breast, Presley opened her legs and shoved her hand under the waistband of her yoga shorts. She slipped her fingers past her panties and pressed them flat against her pussy.

  “There’s no one here with me.” Her words were airy and light, a direct contrast to the fire racing through her blood. She trailed her middle finger along her slit, teased her lips apart, groaning in surprise at how wet she was.

  “Tell me what you’re doing,” came Evan’s quiet, harsh command. “Now, Presley.”

  Her body rejoiced in this new facet of Evan’s personality and lit up like a Christmas tree. Her clit throbbed, begging for attention. She’d never cared for bossy men, but it seemed her lady bits were ready to make an exception.

  “I-I’m—”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m touching myself,” she said in a rush. Heat infused her cheeks and her pussy. Her skin felt alive, tingling with sensation from her neck to her feet.

  Funny how three little words could change the course of a relationship. Her declaration wasn’t the kind that set them on the path to forever. Instead, she’d set them on a wicked path fraught with grit and desire. And it was too late to turn back.

  Evan’s curse was loud and harsh in her ear, and she nearly orgasmed on the spot.

  “How close are you?”

  “Evan.” His name escaped her lips before she could stop it. Her voice was broken, full of need, unrecognizable to her own ears.

  She teased the tip of her forefinger over her clit, but it wasn’t enough. She added her middle finger to the first, imagining the pair were his thick finger between her legs. Visualizing Evan above her, around her, in her, was all it took to pull her muscles tight, tight, tight.

  “How. Close?”

  His tone was angry, the words pushed through gritted teeth. Presley didn’t understand why, but the force of his words ramped up her arousal.

  “Close.” So, so close. “Talk to me, Evan. I need…your voice,” she admitted. Just one more item to add to her list of things to be embarrassed about tomorrow.

  “Fuck. You’re killing me here, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I want to be there with you right now. Not to touch you, but to watch. I want to see what you like, how greedy your little fingers get when they’re between your legs. After you come, I’ll want to take the fingers you used into my mouth and taste you. You’ll be sweet on my tongue, Presley. So fucking sweet.”

  Presley’s hips jerked as she moved her fingers in tight circles over her clit, picking up speed with every word Evan fed to her. Perspiration broke out on her skin, and Presley bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

  She was almost there when a loud clamber sounded in the background, followed by a man’s voice yelling, Cowboy! Let’s go, man. We’re wheel’s up!

  “W-who is that?”

  “No one for you worry your pretty head about,” he instructed. “I’m the only man you’re going to think about right now. Come for me, Presley. Let me hear you.”

  Presley moaned his name as her body let go in an explosion of sensations. Her muscles tightened, her blood roared, and she saw fireflies behind her closed eyelids.

  She slipped her hand free of her pants and collapsed against the lounge chair.

  “Evan,” she said, breathless and halfway to sleep. He muttered words she didn’t understand. “Hmm?”

  “I gotta go.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Presley in a wine and orgasm-induced euphoria, floating back to earth without him there to catch her.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Evan scrubbed his hands over his face until it hurt. The action didn’t do a damn thing to calm the raging fire going on in his BDUs.

  He’d experienced a lot of things in his life, but listening to Presley get herself off was at the top of the highlight reel. Screw the top. She was the whole goddamn thing.

  She’d surprised the hell out of him. When he’d called, his plan had been to see what she was doing later. Since she said she didn’t have to work the next day, he thought maybe they could hang out. Grab a bite to eat.

  Evan growled against his palms.

  He had a good idea the wine had everything to do with what Presley had just done. A better man would’ve stopped her. A better man wouldn’t be grateful to know the sound of his name on her voice as she came.

  And then, like the better man he was not, he’d hung up, leaving her to ease down without his voice to reassure her. To tell her how crazy sexy she was and how hard she made him.

  Fucking-fuck-fuck. Evan shoved his fist against his locker, hoping the pain would make his hard-on recede.

  “Cowboy,” C-Note yelled and rattled the walls of Evan’s cage. “Did you hear what I said? Get the lead out. We’re rolling.”

  Of all the nights to be at the firing range. He was hard, annoyed as hell, and about to be armed. Not a good combination if he expected to hit his targets.

  “I’m coming.” Not. But, God. He wished he was. “This shit better not take all night.”

  C-Note regarded him with a curious look. A quick glance down was all it took for Blackwell’s brow to arch. “It’ll take as long as it takes.” The fucker smirked. “If you need to hit the head on the way out, be quick.”

  Evan didn’t want to jack off in the bathroom. He wanted to see Presley, needed to see her.

  But fuck. He didn’t even know where she live
d.

  9

  It was well past midnight by the time Evan headed home from the base. Not wanting to wake Presley but unable to let another minute go by without at least making contact, Evan shot her a quick text, asking for her address. It was a legitimate request. He couldn’t pick her up for their cake tasting date without knowing where she lived. His hands shook with the need to hear from her, to ensure she wasn’t embarrassed or berating herself about what had happened, but he had enough self-control to at least type please instead of now. He wasn’t a complete caveman.

  Presley hadn’t responded by the time he got out of the shower and fell into bed, naked and hard—so fucking hard—from thinking about her, but too pissed off at himself to relieve the pain. He deserved to suffer. He’d hung up without giving her a thing. Nothing soft or warm or real that she could hold onto until the next time they spoke. What sort of asshole does that?

  Me. I’m the sort of asshole who does that.

  The thought lingered like a bad smell for the rest of the night.

  Evan’s phone remained screamingly silent when he went out for his four-a.m. run. His pace was slower than usual after what constituted little more than a power nap, and he spent the entire ten miles trying not to obsess over whether Presley was upset with him or not. Of course, she was upset. She’d shared an incredibly intimate moment with him, and he’d done a grab and run like a thief making off with the neighbor’s TV.

  After he got his ten, Evan pushed through an extra five miles as further punishment for being a world-class dick. He’d warned her that he hadn’t much free time, but she wouldn’t understand because she didn’t know what his responsibilities were. She thought he was a cowboy, which was a stupid fucking term for a guy who didn’t work with cows. His teammates had given him the nickname because he could ride a horse, like that made him John Wayne or some shit. Not that she knew about that, either.

  Back at the cottage house, Evan showered, dressed, checked in with his brother and his team, and then ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast. He was putting the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher when his phone finally pinged.

  After forcing his heart back inside his chest, Evan scrambled for the device. Like a football fumble/recovery worthy of its own sports news highlight reel, the phone flew out of one hand, bounced off the other, then practically dropped into the sink before Evan scooped it out of the air and gained control.

  Jesus.

  A bizarre combination of nerves, excitement, and dread coursed through him when he saw her name on the screen.

  What the holy hell was happening to him? He was a Navy SEAL, a sniper, for chrissake. His ability to remain steady and calm under pressure was the foundation of his entire career. He’d faced the greatest evil this world had ever known, and he couldn’t handle one tiny brunette?

  Fuck.

  Evan took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then opened the message.

  His heart sank a little as he stared at what Presley had sent. Her response was simply a number followed by a street name. Nothing else. Not even one of those cute emojis she liked to send. He hated those damn things, but right then he would’ve given anything for a smiley face, a fucking bread crumb to show he hadn’t fucked this thing up before they even got started.

  Evan grabbed his keys. She wouldn’t be expecting him this early, but what he had to say couldn’t happen over the phone—he’d already messed that shit up once—and he didn’t want to wait.

  The drive to Presley’s took almost an hour in Monday morning traffic. Evan was restless by the time he pulled up in front of a sweet little bungalow bearing the address she’d sent. He grinned at the immaculately landscaped yard. The beds along the front overflowed with colorful flowers. The hedges were trimmed, neat and tidy. Hanging baskets filled with a variety of plants and flowers lined the front porch. He was definitely in the right place.

  Evan walked up the porch steps and in two strides was at her door. His pulse pounded in his throat, making it hard to swallow as he knocked. He heard her approach. He did his best not to look desperate. The door had a peephole, and he could feel her watching him. Could feel her debate from his side of the door.

  Evan flattened his palm against the wood.

  Come on, Presley. Open up. Open, open, open.

  An eternity later, she did.

  “Evan.” She stared at his feet, her expression so vulnerable he felt physical pain in his chest. “You didn’t tell me you were on your way. I’m not quite ready to go.”

  She looked ready to him. She wore a light, airy-looking top that exposed her shoulders, jean shorts, and sandals. Her hair was down, framing her face and curling slightly around her breasts. Her face was make-up free and so naturally pretty he couldn’t help but reach out.

  “I had to see you.” He slipped a hand around the back of her neck and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  Color rose in her face. He hated that she wouldn’t look at him. Holding her with a gentle hand behind her neck, Evan stepped into her personal space. “Presley. Look at me, baby.”

  At the sound of the endearment, her gaze snapped up. The uncertainty staring back at him was Evan’s undoing.

  He backed her into the house. He didn’t know the layout, but his trained eyes mapped the details within seconds as he searched for the nearest flat surface—where was a wall when he needed one? Damn open floorplans.

  Evan kicked the front door shut with his foot. He spun them around, easing Presley’s back toward the door.

  The scent of honeysuckle with a hint of bacon filled the air around them. He breathed it in. He braced his free arm against the door above her head, and then breathed her in. And she made his mouth water.

  Urgency heated his blood, but he kept his movements slow. He was wound tight after last night, and then waiting to hear from her this morning. The last thing he wanted to do was add fear to all the other things she must be feeling.

  He tilted her chin and brushed his lips over hers. “I’m sorry about last night, sunshine.”

  He suckled her bottom lip. Presley stiffened, but Evan wasn’t deterred. She didn’t fight or try to push him away, so he licked the seam of her lips. When she didn’t open for him, he moved on and pressed feather-light kisses along her jaw, her cheeks, her eyelids in between whispered words.

  Thank you for sharing your private moment with me. I didn’t want to hang up. Not ever. Hottest moment of my life. You’re so fucking beautiful.

  His words jumbled together after that, falling from his mouth without direction from his brain. Words to soothe. To reassure her that she had no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed.

  Slowly, so goddamn slowly, Presley responded. She hooked her thumbs through his belt loops, her fingers teasing at his sides. Evan was working his way up her neck when she turned her head and captured his mouth.

  Evan opened for her, giving her the lead for the moment. He let her suckle his tongue, tease hers over his teeth and lips. He let her grasp her hands around his head and deepen the kiss, but when she climbed him like a tree…when her legs circled his hips, and she rubbed that hot little pussy against his dick through their clothes, Evan snatched the reins.

  Grabbing her wrists, he pressed her hands to the door above her head. And to stop her incessant moving, he shoved his hips forward, pinning her, making it impossible for her to grind those gorgeous hips against him.

  Her breath rushed out, hot against his cheek. Evan ground his teeth, the sensation of being snuggled into the heat between her thighs almost too much to bear.

  He jerked back his head to look at her. Her face was flushed, her sea-green eyes bright with excitement, her lips kiss-swollen and glistening.

  He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

  “I’m not giving you my cock for the first time against a goddamn door, Presley,” he growled against her ear. As if his words meant nothing, his hips rocked of their own accord, needing the friction, the relief.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind,
Evan knew there were any number of places he could lay her down. The floor. The couch. Presley’s bed. But he couldn’t think past the woman in his arms. He had to touch her. Now.

  “There are other things I can give you. You want my fingers, baby? You want to ride my hand then watch as I lick your orgasm off my fingers?” His dick swelled against his zipper, angry and opposed to being left out. “I know I promised last night I’d suck your fingers clean, and we’ll get to that later. This time, it’s my turn to touch that pretty pussy.”

  “God.” Presley’s back arched. “When did you get so—?”

  “Dirty?”

  Unable to resist the offering of her breasts, Evan switched his hold, taking both of her wrists in one hand. Jesus. The sound she made when he flicked his forefinger over the tight tip would haunt his every waking hour. He needed more. He slipped his hand under her shirt. Presley whimpered when he shoved her bra out of the way and cupped her. She filled his hand so perfectly. So soft and ripe that Evan had to bite his lip to keep from shooting in his pants.

  “I was going to say sexy, but okay,” Presley panted. “Dirty works, too.”

  He loved that she was into his filthy talk—had begged for his voice last night. Most women didn’t like it, and he was relieved to know he wouldn’t have to curb the instinct to vocalize what he wanted with Presley.

  “I could ask you the same question. That stunt you pulled last night? Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  He teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged, watching her eyes, gauging how much she could take. He tugged harder, pinched harder, set a rhythm of plumping and teasing her nipple until she gasped.

  “I-I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Never?”

  Presley shook her head in short, choppy movements. “My sex life hasn’t been horrible, but it hasn’t been adventurous either. God. Do that again.”

  Evan stilled, possession unlike anything he’d ever felt spilling into his veins. The thought of another man touching her, sliding into her, gutted him. He wanted to erase the memory of every motherfucker who’d had his hands on her and replace it with his. His hands. His mouth. His cock.