As he turned, Presley caught sight of the tattoo on his back. Everyone who grew up in the San Diego area knew what the SEAL Trident looked like, and there it was, permanently etched across his shoulders.
I’m a Navy SEAL. All I could think about was getting to you.
I’ll miss you this week.
The door slammed shut, making her jump.
She’d made a mistake. A horrible, unforgivable mistake. She’d let the past dictate the present…and ruined any future they might’ve had.
She’d lost him. Again.
And it was her fault. Again.
14
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Evan punched the wall next to the door, adding to the injuries already plaguing his body. And why the hell not? Tonight was the perfect ending to a perfectly shitty week.
The mission hadn’t gone as planned, but missions rarely do. No amount of intel can account for how a target will react when a perceived threat arrives. As SEALs, they plan for the worst then rely on their extensive training and experience to manage the situation as it happens.
The mission had been deemed a success, but it hadn’t been quite the in-and-out C-Note had indicated. Evan was banged up—the wound on his arm hadn’t needed stitches but hurt like a bitch, and his vision on the left was still blurry—but they’d taken out the targets and secured the hostages.
He’d helped save lives, and not just the hostages’. They’d removed any potential future threat posed by the men who’d orchestrated and carried out the attack. They’d done that and all returned home in one piece.
They’d gotten a win. Evan shouldn’t be bitter.
John and Chloe would understand why he hadn’t been there tonight.
Presley would have, too, if I’d been honest with her.
Evan stormed to the kitchen and picked up the tumbler of bourbon he’d been in the process of pouring when Presley had knocked on his door. He tossed it back, willing the amber liquid to ease the pain. Not from his injuries, but from the gaping hole in the center of his chest.
He’d known the past would come back to bite him. He’d had a good idea of what Presley had thought about him that night. To this day, it killed him that she hadn’t given him a chance to explain, but she’d been angry, hurt…and sixteen.
He also knew she would’ve forgiven him—eventually—had he given her the opportunity. But he hadn’t stuck around. His dad had told him not to come home, and as Evan had boarded that bus to Chicago the next morning after sleeping at the bus station, the knowledge of Presley’s future forgiveness had eaten at him. And then had continued to gnaw away at him each time he’d silenced her phone calls, week after agonizing week until, eventually, she stopped calling.
His angry, grudge-holding, pre-military self had refused to listen to her messages, convinced that whatever she’d had to say didn’t matter. He’d been embarking on a new life with the Navy, temporarily in Chicago for his initial training, then wherever the Navy sent him.
Evan tossed his phone on the bed on his way to the shower. He started the water and kicked his dirty clothes aside. With a heavy sigh, Evan got in, letting the water wash away the dirt and grime, if not his sins.
He’d disappeared from Presley’s life without a word. For all she knew, he’d done the same thing this week. The short, cryptic text he’d sent before he’d stowed away his phone in his gear cage hadn’t changed the facts. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t responded to any of the texts that had hit his phone less than two hours ago when he’d finally powered the thing back up.
Presley was upset, and she had a fucking right to be. In her eyes, he’d been a ghost for the last five days. He hadn’t been honest with her, then or now. He’d accused her of misjudging him, but what was she supposed to think when he’d withheld the most basic information from her? When he’d withheld himself from her?
Tonight wouldn’t have gone down the way it had if Evan had told her the truth a month ago. Then, instead of being in the shower, alone and pissed off at himself for fucking up everything, she might’ve been in the shower with him. Or maybe he would’ve come home and found her already waiting, her gorgeous eyes flaring with relief and elation when she saw him.
He’d felt those things when he’d opened the door tonight. Relief and elation and…love. God. So much fucking love he’d thought he might choke on it as he’d drunk in the sight of her. That fucking dress she’d worn to the wedding…Evan groaned and banged his forehead against the shower wall. How did everything she put on her body make her look like a walking wet dream?
Her body. Her kindness. Her wit. Her smile. Her love for her work. Her passion for him. From the moment Evan had opened that door, he’d known he was in love with Presley. And not the selfish, unforgiving love of an eighteen-year old but the deep, intense, possessive, and forever love of a man who understood what that meant.
Evan had sent her away in anger, much as she’d done to him all those years ago. But he wasn’t going anywhere this time. Not without Presley by his side. And he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.
Evan finished showering and threw on a pair of sweats. He grabbed his phone and sat on the edge of the bed. It was late, but he knew Presley would be awake. He’d hurt her. The anguish on her face was burned into his retinas for all time.
He pulled up her number and hit call. He had to make things right. He had to tell her—
The sound of a phone ringing came from the living room. With the speed and stealth of the soldier he was, Evan was on his feet. The phone rang a second time as he turned into the living room and saw Presley standing by the door. She cast him a glance before looking down at the phone in her hand again.
With a shaky grin she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Presley.”
“The door was unlocked. I couldn’t leave without…without…” A sob erupted, and Presley hugged her middle, as if the pain were unbearable.
Evan dropped his phone to the floor, his feet closing the distance between them before his brain registered the directive to move.
“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” Evan brushed her hair back. He kissed her forehead, her wet cheeks, her lips. “I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I should’ve told you the truth long before now. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I promise I won’t make the same mistake again. Can you forgive me, sweetheart?”
Her lips trembled. “F-forgive you? I’m still here because I’m the one who needs forgiveness. I couldn’t leave without…without you knowing how sorry I am for how I reacted.”
“I didn’t give you much of a choice.”
“We always have a choice, Evan. I should’ve trusted the man I’ve come to know over the last few weeks. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.”
Evan tipped her chin up until her gaze met his. His heart tripped over itself in his chest. “I love you, Presley. I know it’s only been a month, but I love you. And I’m not going anywhere this time. Wherever you are, that’s where my heart will be.”
He sealed the promise with a kiss.
He loves me. Evan loves me.
It was on the tip of her tongue to give him the same gift, but then her tongue was in his mouth. The gift she wanted to give him shifted to something warm and dark and carnal.
Her hands roamed, greedy, now that she finally had his naked skin within her grasp. She traced the curves of his pecs, eliciting a dirty growl from him as she flicked a nail over the flat surface of his nipple. Going lower, her fingers followed the grooves of his abs, down, down, down.
His breath caught, and their kiss stuttered when her hand bumped the smooth, hard head of him pushing out from under the waistband of his sweats.
Evan jerked away from her mouth, his hand circling her wrist. “Come with me.” His tone was rough, gritty, demanding.
A swell of arousal hit Presley low in her belly as he led her into the bedroom. The subtle warmth of cinnamon and spice enveloped her, intoxicating her as sure
as any wine ever had. She’d waited for this moment. Had thought about it for years, and now that she was there, Presley froze, unsure what she should do.
Evan caressed the back of his fingers along her jaw. “Presley,” he whispered, her name a longing on his breath. “This dress has got to go. I’ve been waiting a long time to see you. Show me, baby.” He took hold of the zipper at the back of her dress and slowly slid it down. “Show me the woman I love.”
His gaze burned into hers as her blood turned to liquid fire in her veins. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ebb the need that had settled in between. Her dress fell loose around her shoulders, and she shimmied, allowing it to slide down her arms, exposing her to her waist.
Exposed was a good word for how she felt. Not just her body, but her heart, too. She felt vulnerable and nervous, but seeing the heat in Evan’s eyes as he watched her, made her feel powerful, too. Desired in a way no man had ever wanted her before.
Evan trailed a finger from the base of her throat to the crease between her breasts. He followed the cup line of her strapless bra, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Tell me you’re mine, Presley.” His finger changed direction, tracing the curve of her other breast.
“I’m yours.” Her chest heaved against his teasing touch. She needed more. More of his fingers. More of his mouth. More of him. “Only yours, Evan. Please.”
“Mmm. I like the sound of that. Please what, baby?”
Presley reached back and released her bra. Evan’s jaw twitched as the bra tumbled to the floor between them. Quickly, she kicked off her shoes and wiggled out of her dress. As she reached for her panties, the ground disappeared out from under her. A second later, her back hit the mattress, and Evan was above her.
“Those are mine, too. I’ll be the one to remove them.”
She cupped his face, his gorgeous, bruised face, and the words tumbled out of her mouth. “I love you.”
Evan dropped his head, pressing his face against the crook of her neck, the sexy rumble she’d come to associate with him tickling her. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Evan Lancaster.”
This time when his mouth met hers, all the finesse, the gentle nips and licks were a thing of the past. The kiss was frantic, greedy.
Evan devoured her. Owned her. Cherished her.
As oxygen became an issue, Evan tore away from her mouth. Leaving her panting, he pressed wet kisses along her neck and throat. Presley arched her back as he ran his tongue around her nipple, silently begging for him to stop teasing. To suck her nipple into his mouth and douse the fire he’d started.
A slow stream of breath cooled the tip of her breast, setting off sparks of sensation deep in her sex. Her muscles clenched as he gave her other breast the same attention, and she could feel the moisture building between her legs. She felt empty. Needy. Hot. Hot. Hot.
“Evan.”
Those green eyes, full of fire and love, glanced up at her. “I’ve got you, baby,” he told her, and not for the first time tonight.
And she believed him. Believed in him.
Evan hooked his fingers into her panties, his gaze locked on her core as he eased them down. As if he couldn’t wait another minute, he left the material at her knees and touched her. The heat of his finger teasing along her seam shocked her, and her hips arched off the mattress.
“Fuck. I can’t…”
Presley cried out as Evan pressed his mouth against her. His tongue swiped between her folds then teased her clit with tiny flicks. She’d never felt anything so deliciously dirty, or so right, in her life.
Presley Masters was fucking addictive.
And she’s mine.
It did crazy things to Evan to know he was the only man who’d pleasured her this way. The only man to feast on her arousal. And feast he did. He took his time, teaching her how good she could feel, how much she could feel when he had his mouth on her. When she’d been sufficiently schooled, Evan gave her his fingers.
Her wet heat surrounded first one, two, then three of his fingers. God, she was tight. His fingers stretched her as he worked her clit with his tongue. She moved with him, her whimpers and cries for more were musical candy for his ears. He drove her higher and higher, watching her gorgeous body writhe and tense while her nipples grew impossibly tight.
She was close.
Let me have it, baby.
Evan slipped one finger from her opening and eased it back. He kept his rhythm, steadily pumping his fingers in and out of her as he smoothed the wet tip of his finger around her lower entrance, teasing—only teasing—her with the new sensation.
Presley cried his name as her body clamped down hard on his fingers. He eased her down before he replaced his fingers with his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the echo of his name, the tight squeeze of her body, the taste of her orgasm.
With the last of her shudders, Evan kissed her folds with a silent promise his mouth would be back, soon and often.
Evan shoved from the bed, ignoring the sharp sting from the cut on his arm. He wiped his mouth and stripped out of his sweats. Presley’s hooded gaze followed as he grabbed a condom from the bedside table and sheathed his cock.
She opened her arms, beckoning. She widened her legs, circling them around his hips as he braced over her.
Presley frowned, her hand hovering over his arm. “Are you okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Evan huffed a laugh. “The only thing that’d hurt me would be if you didn’t reach down and guide me in.” He leaned down. “Put me out of my misery, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “I need you.”
She reached between them, her fingers lining him up. A curse burst from his lips at the first hint of her heat. He captured her mouth, swallowing her gasp when he rolled his hips and slipped inside her body.
Evan let out a long, tortured groan. He was going to embarrass himself, for sure. She was ready for him, but so damn snug and hot, Evan thought he would lose his mind.
He pushed up and set a slow pace, giving her time to adjust to his penetration. Presley’s languid movements belied the lust returning to her eyes. She bit her bottom lip, her head sinking deep into the pillow under her.
The sight of her growing pleasure sent a zing of awareness to his balls. Evan had to move. Had to feel the friction of her sweet pussy hugging him, squeezing him, milking him for all he was fucking worth.
He wanted to give her words. Pretty ones. Words of praise and love and encouragement. But it was as if his brain had short-circuited, and he’d been reduced to two words. “Hold on.”
He hooked his good arm under her leg, opening her wider for his thrusts. The pace was frantic, primal, and raw. His sunshine…his sweet, greedy sunshine met him stroke for stroke. She reached between them, blowing his mind again as she worked her clit. The added sensation of her fingers brushing over his cock with every stroke was his undoing.
Too soon—because he could live in the bliss that was her pussy forever—his spine tingled.
“Fuck. Presley.” He wanted her to come with him.
“Yes. Evan. Yes.”
Evan swore again as her body tensed around him, forcing him to follow. A month of pent-up need exploded out of him, stealing his breath and most of his sight. Cradling Presley close, he gave her everything he had. His body, his desire, his love.
Once sated, Evan disposed of the condom and crawled back into bed. He tucked Presley into the crook of his uninjured arm, her cheek resting against his chest.
“You’ve really never had a woman here before?” she said softly.
The random question surprised a laugh out of him. He kissed her forehead. “Only you, sunshine.”
She hummed. “Is it bad that I’m happy about that?”
“Not as happy as I am to be the only man who’s ever gone down on you.”
Presley snuggled closer. “You’re such a man.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll show you how much of a man I am.” The yawn that followed
ruined the effect of his words. Exhaustion blanketed him. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a week, but he wasn’t ready to drift off yet. He wanted to enjoy this post-orgasm time with her.
“How was the wedding?”
She glanced up at him. “We pulled it off. The ceremony, the surprise…everything came together just as we’d planned.”
Evan drifted closer and closer to sleep as Presley described the night in detail. Her voice soothed all of the rough edges inside him. He could do this every night, he decided—fall asleep with her in his arms.
“I’m sorry I missed it. Some best man, huh?”
Presley placed a soft kiss against his chest, her next words the last he heard as exhaustion claimed him.
“You excel at being the best man, Evan. The best man for me.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Evan bounced his foot against the floorboard of the truck. “Hurry up, man. Ensign Davis will kill us if we’re late to the wedding.”
Fuck, he hated being late. This particular time more than most.
“Relax, Cowboy. I’ve got this,” C-Note assured him. The guy tapped his finger against the clock on the dash. “We’ve got eight minutes before it starts.”
“One time, man. Could you not keep it in your pants one time?” Rooster bitched from the backseat.
C-Note chuckled. “Hey, don’t blame me. That gas station clerk was hungry. What was I supposed to do? Let her starve?”
Evan groaned. “Your cock gives us more trouble than the Taliban.”
“And yet, it’s so much more popular,” C-Note pointed out.
Evan refused to get into a debate on the popularity of Bravo One’s dick, so he turned his head to watch the scenery race by.
Hot SEAL, Best Man (SEALs in Paradise) Page 13
