by Tawny Weber
“Enough talking.”
She didn’t stop talking because he ordered her to. She stopped because she simply didn’t even know what she’d been about to say. She couldn’t draw two thoughts together to figure it out. It didn’t matter, though.
Because Sam lowered his head, his teeth scraped her nipple. His tongue soothed, swirled. Then he bit down. Just hard enough to make her cry out. To make her damp, her core throbbing, her nether lips trembling.
His fingers seared a hot trail down her belly, through her wet curls. Bryanna shifted her legs wider, making room to welcome his familiar touch.
But Sam didn’t move with his usual teasing gentleness.
Instead, he scraped one finger over her shuddering bud. He pinched, tweaked and pulled until the orgasm quivered there, just out of reach.
As if he knew how close she was, and she didn’t doubt that he did, he plunged. One finger, then two. Like everything else about him, Sam’s fingers were huge. Long and strong and so amazingly talented. It only took them one swirl while his thumb circled her wet clit to send Bryanna flying over the edge of passion.
The climax tore through her.
Her mewling cry was lost in his mouth.
Her mind was lost as intense waves of lust pounded over her, washed through her. She didn’t know when he released her mouth, she hadn’t even realized he had until she felt his tongue on her nipple. Licking. Swirling, teasing and tempting her higher.
Her breath came in pants. Her fingers flexed, clenched and flexed again, working his biceps the same way the muscles low in her belly worked her orgasm.
Sam shifted to her other breast, starting her on that wild, demanding journey toward her next climax.
She’d be damned if she’d go alone, though.
She knew her fingers made fast work of buttons, zippers and fabric but she didn’t know which of them stripped his clothes away.
“And you say you don’t want me,” he murmured against her bare skin as he shifted his hands, both under her hips to angle her higher.
Before Bryanna could respond, before she knew if she was going to agree or cuss him out, he plunged.
Hard and deep, he slammed into her.
Her body went haywire. Instantly, uncontrollably, she came. Over and over again.
Lights exploded behind her closed eyes. Air burned, hot and raspy in her throat as she panted. Sensations burned out of control, all thoughts disappearing as wave after wave after wave of pleasure swept her away.
It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour before she surfaced. When she did, Sam was still there, still sliding in and out and in again.
“Again,” he growled. “Go over again.”
Sam thrust harder, hesitated, then slammed into her again. Then, because he had more control of her body than she did, Bryanna did exactly as Sam told her to do.
He came with a roar, shattering her into tiny pieces of pleasure. So many pieces. Some, she knew, that she’d never, ever have again.
Chapter 7
Sitting on the side of Bryanna’s unmade bed, Sam pressed the heels of both hands into his forehead, wishing he could simply squish the pain away. But the throbbing, aching misery wouldn’t budge.
God, what a night.
He had no complaints about the sex. Sex with Bryanna was always amazing. Amazing enough to worry him a little.
Or a lot.
He didn’t know how much was a morning-after hangover, or how much was the misery brought on by Eli’s reminder. Had to give the guy credit. He’d started them out at a freaking fern bar filled with laughing nine-to-fivers, then after reminding Sam of a pledge he’d made before he’d even had his driver’s license, Eli had pulled out the big guns.
He’d shown Sam what his life was going to be like. They’d stopped by the base to watch a team of SEALs train for a while, then hit Olive Oyl’s, the famed SEAL watering hole, where Sam had got to hang out with Eli’s team members. He’d dreamed for years of being a SEAL. He’d worked toward it, and he was within tasting distance of achieving it.
But yesterday had opened his eyes to so many things.
Last night had opened them to even more.
He just wasn’t sure what to do with his newfound knowledge.
Yeah, he’d been late, he acknowledged as he carefully bent over, eyes slitted as he reached around blindly, feeling for his pants.
And sure, the sex had been incredible. Hot and wild with an edge he’d never felt before. A dangerous edge that, if he had to label it, was anger.
And that wasn’t good.
Sam rose, slowly pulling his pants on while testing his body’s reaction. No nausea. The room wasn’t spinning. Just the headache from hell.
He could handle it, he decided, yanking his shirt on.
Moving like a ninety-year-old man on a tightrope, he made his way out of the bedroom. He froze when he saw the naked tree sitting in the corner, looking deserted but for the pale blue cloth draped around the base. Next to it was a plastic bin labeled Christmas Decorations.
Oh, hell.
They’d planned to decorate the tree after dinner last night, hadn’t they? Bryanna loved Christmas. Decorating, baking, celebrating. She was totally into that kind of stuff.
How the hell much had he had to drink that he’d forgetten something like that? Sam pressed his thumbs against his closed eyes, trying to press the pain away. He wasn’t sure if it was because trying to remember taxed his alcohol-soaked brain or if it was the scent of eggs making his stomach rebel. But all he wanted right then was to go back to bed. And maybe die.
Since that wasn’t an option, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he made it into the kitchen.
Her back to him, Bryanna stirred eggs on the stove, her shoulders hunched beneath a pewter gray jacket. As if his eyes weren’t burning, he looked her over. Sam frowned when he saw the jacket was paired with a short skirt and high heels of the same color. If these were new sex clothes, he didn’t see the appeal. Maybe it was better from the front, though.
Which was brighter, he wondered, swaying a little in the doorway. The morning sun beaming brilliantly through the window, or the vivid sheen of Bryanna’s blonde curls where the sun bounced off them.
“Toast is on the counter,” she said not turning around. “Coffee, too.”
“Goody,” he muttered, irritation rising in reaction to her snotty tone.
“Goody?” she turned, spatula in hand and a look in her eyes that made him wonder if she was going to use it to throw eggs at him. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Might say more after I have coffee,” he decided. Ignoring the attitude manning the stove, he grabbed the coffeepot and debated just pouring it directly down his throat. Telling himself that a little drinking couldn’t bring him down that low, he snagged a cup instead, filled it, drank half, then filled it again.
After he’d drained it a second time, he noticed the dishes piled in the sink. Fancy ones. A casserole soaked and two silver candleholders sat next to a butter knife as if someone had been using it to chip away at the melted wax dripped down their sides. He glanced through the doorway to the small, gateleg table to see two wine glasses sitting next to a corked bottle and a small vase holding a single rose.
It flashed through his mind that he’d never given her flowers. Not in all the years they’d known each other. All the years they’d been together.
Pushing that thought out was the realization that she’d gone to a lot of trouble last night. Elaborate dinner, wine, and he had a vague recollection of fancy lingerie.
He’d ripped it.
Why that made him feel even worse was a puzzle, but suddenly Sam wished he’d walked out of that bar yesterday when Russell did. Better yet, he wished he’d ignored Eli’s call altogether.
But while ignorance might feel blissful, it was also stupid to wish for.
Still...
“Bryanna, I’m sorry,” he said, manfully pushing the words past stiff lips. A
nd he really was sorry. He simply hated saying it. But he figured that after ruining her evening, he at least owed Bryanna an apology.
While he waited for her to sweetly accept it, he refilled his coffee, then snagged a cold slice of buttered toast.
“Why’d you do it?”
“What?”
“Last night. When you stood me up. Why’d you do it?”
Hadn’t anyone ever taught her the right way to respond to an apology? Irritation starting to build, Sam jerked his shoulder. Even as he tried to toss it off, Eli’s words echoed through his head. A SEAL couldn’t have ties, because those ties would always rip at him. Always demand more.
At that very second, Sam hated Eli. Not because the man was wrong. But that his insight had cost them a few more days of oblivion.
He’d said Bryanna would push until he had to choose between her and his career.
And he’d been right.
“I don’t have to explain my reasons?” Sam said sharply as he started to feel like an idiot for not seeing for himself what Eli had pointed out. “To you, or to anyone?”
“Our relationship makes me think that.” She threw the words at him, her hands fisted on her hips and her face tight with more anger than he’d have thought would fit in that sexy little body of hers. “Two years, Sam. We’ve been exclusively seeing each other for two years. Have I asked you for anything in that time?”
“You once asked me to fix your car.”
Before the smart-ass comment was out of his mouth, her face flashed. He’d never realized she had this kind of a temper, had never once seen it aimed his way.
Then she hissed.
He ducked just before the skillet hit his head. As it slammed into the wall behind him with a painful clang, he credited training for his fast reflexes in the face of a hangover. Before he could pat himself on the back, though, he had to brush the bits of egg off his shirt.
Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
Her eyes so big they felt as if they were going to fall out of her head, Bryanna gaped at the sight of Sam, his blue shirt speckled with bits of creamy yellow scrambled egg and a look of fury on his face.
She’d never thrown anything at anyone before. Well, there was her brief attempt at softball when she’d been ten, but she’d spent so much time on the bench she couldn’t even remember touching a ball. But she’d just thrown her best copper-bottomed skillet at Sam’s head. Worse, she’d thrown the eggs she’d scrambled with fresh chive and ricotta.
“What the hell?” As if making sure he didn’t shoot it right back at her, Sam set his coffee cup on the counter with a sharp snap. Then, arms crossed over his chest and a glare on his face, asked, “Want to explain that?”
No. She really didn’t. She couldn’t.
Because even though she was still pissed, she wasn’t sure that his being a jerk was a good enough excuse to pellet him with a pan.
But she knew from the look on his face, he wasn’t going to let it go without an explanation. As if mocking the drama of this moment, her stomach growled at the sight of the fluffy bits of egg decorating his shoulder and the front of his jeans.
Dammit, she’d been starving for those eggs.
“I made dinner,” she muttered.
“I apologized for missing it,” he reminded her, looking like he hated sounding so defensive. “And I sent you a message.”
“Right. A message.” Anger flared again, burning away horror as she remembered how long she’d waited, how lousy she’d felt. “A lousy message, in the form of a text from my idiot brother, consisting of three fucking words. Don’t. Wait. Up.”
Sam looked blank for a second before the scowl returned in full force.
“That’d be your fucking brother’s fault,” he pointed out. “I was going to call and tell you I’d be a little late but I couldn’t find my phone. He said he’d take care of it. How was I supposed to know he sucked at messages?”
Not all messages, she’d bet. From the look on Sam’s face, Eli had been touting all sorts of things. Maybe he’d even come up with a few more of those nifty pledges of his. Next time she saw Eli, Bryanna vowed, she was going to punch him right in the face, just like he’d taught her when she was sixteen.
“Why would you trust my brother with anything? You know he thinks we should...”
“We should what?” Sam prompted with narrowed eyes when her words trailed off.
She knew damned well that he and Eli had talked about Sam becoming a SEAL. And there was no way they’d have that conversation this close to Sam graduating BUD/S without Eli mentioning that vow. But just in case...
“This isn’t about Eli,” she snapped, waving her hand in the air as if she could erase her words. “It’s about...”
What? It wasn’t like she could say it was about him dumping her, breaking her heart and leaving her crushed and miserable.
“You seem to be having some trouble finishing sentences this morning.” Sam angled his head as if wanting a better view of the emotions racing across her face. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re so pissed. Over my being late for dinner? I’ve been late before. Hell, I’ve missed dates without a word before when I’ve been called up or shipped out early.”
“That was before.”
“So what’s changed? You’ve never had a problem with me being in the Navy. But you’ve had quite a few snotty things to say about your brother being in the SEALs. I figured that was just some sibling crap between you and Eli. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
“There’s nothing between me and Eli,” she bit out. “He turned his back on relationships, remember? Can’t have any of that silly emotion dragging him down while he does his part to save the world.”
“You say that like he cut the family off,” Sam ridiculed with a roll of his eyes.
Hadn’t he? When was the last time she’d spent more than two hours with her brother? He sent presents from time to time, but kept himself at a distance. He almost always served overseas, and even when he spent leave here in San Diego he stayed on base, separate from the family. It was better for them, he claimed. That way they didn’t ask any inappropriate questions and, she figured, their very existence didn’t get in the way of his career.
But Sam knew that.
His brother Noah wasn’t quite as rigid as Eli, but he was close.
And Sam was going to do the exact same thing.
“Eli thinks his way is the only way.”
“Eli has a lot of experience and knowledge. So it’d be stupid to dismiss his input out of hand.”
“I guess that’d be up to you to decide,” she said carefully, folding her hands together to keep from digging them into his shirt and trying to shake some sense into him. Not that it’d work, given that the man weighed twice as much as she did and no amount of shaking would change his actions.
Nothing she did would change them.
Fancy meals, romantic evenings, wild sex.
Expensive lingerie, wine she couldn’t afford and more wild sex.
Hot wild sex. Sweet wild sex. Intense wild sex. Every kind of sex she knew how to give, and even some she didn’t.
She’d done everything she could to keep him.
But everything obviously wasn’t enough.
Bryanna’s mouth trembled, her throat tight and her stomach knotted with misery. Needing an excuse to hide her face, she kneeled down to scoop bits of eggs into a pile.
She couldn’t keep pretending that she could make her dream come true, that she could keep Sam. He was going to finish BUD/S. In six months, he’d graduate. He’d get his trident. He’d end their relationship.
But that was six months away.
A part of her wanted to wait. To see if she could come up with some new sexual position or erotic temptation that would change his mind. To make the most of what little amount of time she had left.
Except she wouldn’t make the most of it. She knew herself too well. She’d be miserable. Eyes burning, she straightened, throwing the handfu
l of ruined food in the trash.
She glanced at Sam, noticing that his irritation with her hadn’t stopped him from eating his toast and finishing the entire pot of coffee.
All of a sudden, she wanted to throw the pan at him again.
“I’ve got to go. I’ve got to work,” she said, knowing she was babbling but too desperate to leave to try to communicate clearly. “I’m going to work.”
“Why don’t we settle this first.” He didn’t sound angry. He obviously wasn’t upset. She hated that.
“There’s nothing to settle. I was upset last night. We had plans for dinner and to decorate the tree. It hurt me when you blew them off to go out with my brother.” She took a deep breath, then forced herself to continue. “It hurts more to know that you value Eli more than you do me. His opinions, his company, his advice. It doesn’t matter if they are right for you or not. If Eli says it, you do it.”
“Funny.” Sam gave a rueful half-laugh and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure your brother was worried about the exact same thing.”
“That he’d screw up your life?”
“That you would. He also said that you’d set down an ultimatum,” he said in a tight voice. “So what’s it going to be, Bry? I give up my friends or you’ll leave? Maybe I quit the Navy or you won’t put out. Why don’t you lay down these new rules of yours?”
Her bottom lip trembled, but not nearly as much as her heart did. Bryanna had to clench her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. Or worse, throwing something again.
Because she’d never set rules, because she’d never felt confident enough of them that she thought she could. She’d never had enough faith in his feelings, in their relationship, to ask for a damned thing. She simply sat on the sidelines, accepting any crumbs he’d throw her way.
So why should she be surprised when that’s all he offered was crumbs?
Bryanna wanted to curl up and cry.
But she didn’t.
“Where the hell are you going?” he demanded as she walked out of the kitchen.
Needing the distance, desperate to clear her head and figure out how much of this was her own fault for expecting the impossible while not bothering to ask for it, she walked faster.
