The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  Lainey took too long to get ready so it looks as if the party is already in full swing. A band jamming out a faintly familiar song has several couples on the dance floor. I snag a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passes and swallow it in one full swig while clearing the room with my gaze. My stomach turns into knots when I see the back of a familiar black haired head. Adjusting my tie, I walk up to her back and tap her bare shoulder gently. She jumps, turns, and her full lips part in a smile.

  “Steve,” she says, exhaling a pent up breath. She looks completely different than the last time I saw her—a stranger.

  I take a step back. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I just wanted to say hello.”

  Shaking her head she closes the wide gap between us. “No. No. I’m glad you did. I’ve thought a lot about you.” She lays her hand on my arm, waits a couple of seconds, and then wraps her arms around my waist, laying her head on my chest. It’s an odd sensation to be this close to another human. Especially a woman. I’ve steered clear of all of them since I’ve been home. It’s been tough, but I needed the self-imposed sabbatical from sex to clear my head—to figure out what my next step is.

  Patting her back when I feel her sniffle, I say, “It’s okay Vivian. You’re safe now.” She leans back to look at my face, leaving her hands on my sides.

  “Because of you.” Without blood caked all over her body, I admit she’s more than a little attractive. She’s beautiful. She reminds me of her even more now. A lump forms in my throat. Her hand darts up to grab a piece of her hair and she begins to twirl it furiously between shaking fingers. Not like her.

  I press my lips into a firm line. “It was a group effort. I’m glad we could be of service, ma’am.”

  Vivian blushes, a crimson color that reaches from her bare collarbone to the tip of her nose. She drops her arms. “I’m here to cover the event…and try to have some fun. I’m so glad that I ran into you. It’s the first time I’ve been in a place with this many people since recovering. It’s really hard,” she explains, using her hands. I notice several long, red scars on her arms and hands, and cringe.

  Those mother fuckers.

  “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Vivian shifts from one high-heeled foot to the other. Touching my arm lightly again, she asks, “Do you want to dance?”

  Honestly, I was about to return to my seat and down about fifteen more flutes of champagne, but I remember that I’m supposed to be figuring out what my next step is and I don’t have a date.

  “I mean, if you like to and know how,” she mumbles, looking to the side.

  Smiling my biggest panther grin, I hold out my hand, palm up. “I thought you’d never ask.” Laughing makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. I like that, I think.

  She wraps a hand in mine and leads the way to the middle of the dance floor. There aren’t that many couples out here now, but I’ve never been afraid to be the center of attention. I spin her around once, and then pull her close to me. The blush returns to her creamy skin.

  Leaning my head down to her ear, I whisper, “I know how, Vivian.” She giggles and lets me lead us around the dance floor. Her happiness in spite of what’s happened to her is a breath of fresh air. I saw the reports. I know exactly what she went through. Watching her spin with crinkling eyes and gilded laughter gives me hope. Not just for her, but for anyone who has ever been broken.

  I’m in the middle of admiring Vivian when I see her across the room, her gray gaze piercing my soul. My heart rate speeds and my head swims. Alex is next to her. Morganna’s red mouth hangs open as she stares in my direction. She’s assessing my situation, trying to be the judge and jury of my current situation. Let her.

  I capture Vivian back in my arms when a slow song begins. Biting my lip, I return Morganna’s steely gaze. With my arms wrapped low around Vivian’s waist, I wink once and tilt my head down to whisper into my dance partner’s ear.

  Then I whisk us to a different section of the dance floor so I can recover from a mere glimpse of the only woman I’ll ever love.

  Morganna

  He winked at me. While another woman was draped around his body like an accessory. I’m not sure what to think. Windsor told me he didn’t have a date, except there is a raven-haired carbon copy of me fawning all over him. It takes me a while to realize who she is. Her photo was in the online news articles. She’s the journalist the guys rescued. She cleans up well and the jealousy I feel watching him watch her makes me feel ill.

  Alex returns with my champagne and I down it in a few sips, my eyes burning holes in Steven’s muscular back. My attraction to him is not only still there, it’s worse—lethal even. In a suit with his hair slicked to the side he reminds me of a brawny James Bond. Except even more appealing because he’s not fictional and I know what he’s truly capable of.

  “Well, are you going to go say hello?” Alex asks, his soft voice barely audible over the music. I should, but my unfaltering confidence took a nosedive when I saw how happy Steven looks. He’s perfectly fine without me, or my useless apology.

  Taking a bite of my dinner, I reply, “Maybe in a bit. He looks busy.” Alex agreed to come with me as a friend. I’m not so naive to think that he’s not hoping for more to come from it. He’s shaved and trimmed his shoulder length hair. It’s definitely a date in his mind. A real one. He excuses himself to use the restroom and I’m actually relieved at his absence.

  “Go,” Windsor barks into my other ear. I glance to my right. “Rule number one. Never let them see you sweat. You might as well have pit stains right now. That’d be a real shame, as that couture gown probably deserves something better,” she explains. I laugh as she throws one of my rules back in my face.

  “I’m not sweating. I’m calculating my success rate,” I admit, glancing over her shoulder to Maverick sitting next to her. “What do you think?”

  Maverick tears his gaze from Windsor’s naked shoulder. “I think he’s sealing the deal over there with Viv, if you want to know the truth. I also know he’s a twisted fucking mess over you and she happens to bear a striking resemblance to one, Morganna Sterns. If any part of you wants that man, I suggest you take your pit stains over there and tell him so.” He clears his throat. “Because life doesn’t wait. And that man has waited longer than any individual I’ve ever known.”

  Rising from my seat without another word, I walk, high heels blazing a trail to stand behind Steven’s chair. The girl, Viv, is leaning toward him, cupping her hand around his ear. He laughs at whatever she says, and then like a predator scenting prey, he turns his head and catches sight of me. The girl leans away and turns to face me as well. I see the second recognition lights her face. She’s a journalist. She knows who I am.

  I wave at her. “Do you mind if I borrow your date for a second?” I ask, refusing to make eye contact with Steven.

  Her eyes widen as she glances at him and then back to me. “Of course. I’m not his date anyways,” Viv explains, flustered.

  Turning to face Steven, I narrow my eyes. “A word, Mr. Warner?” He strokes his chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes searching my face for something. For truth.

  “Excuse me, Vivian. Let me find out what Ms. Sterns needs from me and I’ll be back,” Steven says, voice sending shivers to my core. How did Maverick know? It looks and sounds as if this deal is already closed. Steven rises from his seat, turning his gaze to the companions at my table.

  “What do you want?” he growls as soon as we’re out in the hallway and the music fades away. I wince.

  Glancing down the hallway, I see an employee exit a room with a fur stole in his hand: a coat closet. It will have to do. Grabbing his hand, I drag him behind me, unwilling to talk to him in a place so public. This is not going how I imagined it.

  When the door of the coat closet closes behind me, I lock it and lean against it, trying to catch my breath and steel my nerves. The scent of his cologne wraps around me, his brown eyes are wounded, his posture is strong
—solid. Everything about him is unsure and cautious, and I don’t have anyone to blame except for myself. He takes in a deep breath of his own and lets his gaze wander from my face to my body and back up. He closes his eyes as if my mere presence brings him pain. In return, it causes me indescribable agony.

  “There are a million things I should say right now, Steven. I’m going to say something and hope that you’ll honor it.” He opens his eyes and tilts his head, signaling his impatience.

  I hit my knees in the floor length evening gown. It’s harder than it was years before, but I make it without injuring myself. Clasping my hands together, I beg, “Forgive me. God, just forgive me for being so cold and so callous. I did everything wrong, Steven. I took your love for granted. I took my love for you for granted. I didn’t swallow life whole. I merely chewed up what I wanted and spit out the rest. I know that sounds weird and stupid, but it’s not. I’m so, so sorry for hurting you. I broke up with you because I was afraid to lose you...and myself. Again. I know how that barely makes sense, but I want you. I want you.” I hang my head, because the pain etched on his face is the stuff my nightmares are made of. My tear drips down onto the red, swirled carpet.

  My eyes are glassy when I raise my chin. “I’m asking you to please forgive me, and I don’t want anyone inside of me unless it’s you.” My smile is weak; his face is grim. He looks to the side where a long row of coats and fur jackets line the wall.

  “Stand up, Morganna,” he says extending a hand to me. I take it and stand, mere inches separating our bodies. I wait. And then I wait more. When he finally looks at me, he bites his lip and shakes his head sadly.

  “Did you ever look at me and actually see me?” His eyes turn down at the corners. His pain is fierce. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough for you, M.” Taking several deep breaths, he watches my lips as they tremble, afraid of what will come out of his mouth next.

  “I’ve always seen you, Steven. I saw you before you saw me! Before I was even a dot on your radar!” My voice is loud and angry. I know when I’m losing a case.

  His huge hands come up and grip my shoulders. His mouth descends to mine, hungry, greedily, roughly. I’m pinned against coats, his tongue dancing with mine the next second. It feels precisely as I imagined it would. Being with Steven is like being home—it’s fire. I can’t deny my feelings or his feelings. I never really could, but with him here…I’m addicted. I was foolish to think I could live without this in my life. The pain I’ve carried around for months erases a touch. Pressing his body against mine, he tries to blend our parts into one. The urgency is palpable. He wants us just as much as I do. He pulls away brusquely.

  “If what you say is true, we have to start somewhere. And right now I just want to fuck you and not think about anything else. I want your lips on mine, and I want my dick inside your body. Give me that. Right now. And I’ll think about the rest later.” I don’t even hesitate. Bending down, I grip the hem of my dress and raise it above my waist. His eyes are hungry as he pulls off my lacy thong and runs his hands over my stockings. He thinks about it, but in the end, leaves them on.

  “Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me pay for my hideous mistake,” I order. His gaze flicks up to mine. “Do whatever you want. Just forgive me.” My voice is pleading. I can’t handle seeing anymore of his pain. I want it for myself.

  He shakes his head, stands up, unzips his slacks, and pulls out his thick, throbbing dick. “This isn’t me forgiving you, Morg.” With one hand he strokes my core, spreading my wetness over the tip of his dick. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him. He groans. I moan, tilting my head back.

  His lips capture my neck, he bites a little before licking a trail up to my ear. In a rough voice he whispers, “This is me fucking, not forgiving.” I cry out as he enters me in one thrust, spreading me wide and filling me completely. His hands squeeze my bottom as he thrusts deep and wild, over and over, jostling me like a puppet. He feels bigger, stronger, more in control, and I want every single drop that he’ll give. Because I want his forgiveness, but what I really want is him. Any way I can have him. As he pushes inside me, bare and brusquely, I can’t help but feel like I’m his again.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he repeats over and over as he closes his eyes, lost in lust—trying to split me into two with his cock. When he opens his eyes, they lock on my mouth. He kisses me passionately—desperately, like a dying man, slowing his pace so he can better pay attention to my mouth. With my hands on his neck I kiss him back, willing him to feel the love I have for him…the love I will always have for him.

  Lifting my ass, he sinks into me deeply and I cry out from the sensation. This is a pace that I love—that will bring me to the edge.

  “Fuck,” he says, voice trembling, before coming, his dick pulsing deep inside me for longer than is normal. His throbbing cock pressing against me in just the right way. It’s been a while since he’s had sex. I’m sure of it. He lays his sweaty forehead down on my shoulder without disconnecting our bodies. I try to move myself up and down on him because I’m almost there, I just need a little more friction, a little more of his throbbing.

  “You want to come, huh?” he growls, without lifting his head. I nod, my eyes closed, desperately trying to keep the high going, breathing in the scent of his heat. It’s more than addicting, it’s intoxicating. I’m drowning in the emotions I pushed away for so long.

  His strong arms lift me and lower me once. The sensation is maddening, being full without friction. I need more…just a little more. “Please,” I whine into his ear. “More. I need more. Fuck me, Steven.”

  I grind myself against him—my clit rubbing against his pubic hair. He pumps into me several more times and I scream out as a powerful orgasm takes over my body, my thighs tingling, my head swimming, and my core clenching rapidly. He drops my ass and he’s all the way in, hitting the back as I contract around him again and again. I missed this. I missed Steven Warner even more.

  Sighing heavily for several breaths, I wonder what he’ll say next. “Funny. All I’ve ever wanted from you was more,” he says after my breathing finally slows a touch. When he slides out of me, I feel endlessly empty. He pulls up and then zips his pants in a methodical manner. He holds out my panties, dangling them on one finger. “Yours,” he says, smiling.

  “You keep them,” I retort, sliding my dress back down to the floor, the insides of my thighs wet with his cum leaking from my body.

  Steven unlocks the door, while surveying the disarray of all the coats. “I’ll call you,” he says, stuffing my panties into his pocket. His souvenir, I think caustically, my heart breaking into two.

  For once, I really don’t believe him. Not for one second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Steve

  I CALLED HER that night. I couldn’t resist the temptation. The coat closet fuck turned my head into a twisted place to reside in. Half of me wants to jump right back in with Morganna, the other half wants to keep my distance. All of me wants to fuck her brains out constantly. And my bastard heart just wants to love her.

  Gunner stayed with Morganna while I was deployed. She uses him to see me as often as possible, telling me that he misses his daddy and wants to visit. The last time Gunner visited, I got a blow job so mind numbing that I could probably jizz in my pants right now if I thought about it long and hard enough.

  We can pretend all we want that it’s just sexual, that we’ve both just missed sex, but we know better. Emotions are attached, rooted deep, and those bitches aren’t going anywhere. They’re only growing. Morganna’s changing—or she’s softening. Oh, her wicked backbone is still present, it’s just malleable when it comes to me. It’s different. I like it. Maybe if she had the soft spot the entire course of our relationship, we wouldn’t be starting back at square one. A weight has lifted from her shoulders, and in turn it’s comforted me. Wary comfort, but comfort all the same.

  At work I’ve eased back into my daily routine with today being the exception. They’re p
oking and prodding, drawing blood and testing my oxygen supply along with every other organ in my body. Scientists want to know what makes us tick, what makes us so different than the average male. A riddle they’ll probably never solve.

  I rip off the band-aid on the inside of my arm and toss it in a can next to the door. The weight room at work is busy as fuck today, so I decide to forgo lifting. It’s Frogman Friday, always an easy day, so I take off early for the boxing gym instead. Morganna’s schedule has been hectic all morning, or so Phillipe says, so I’m not sure what our plans are for the night. Something low key, I’m sure. My cell phone rings while I drive and I see Phillipe’s name on my screen. I never answer while driving. I send it to voicemail while pulling into the parking lot of No Easy Day. There are way too many cars for it to be lunchtime on Friday. It’s always dead in the middle of the day. I’m wary as I walk through the door with my bag slung over my shoulder.

  “Welcome home!” Coach crows, his arms spread out wide. I grin. I see some of my boxing buddies and several of Coach’s friends, smiling, beers in hand.

  “Aw. Gee. You shouldn’t have,” I say, taking the beer someone is extending my way. “How did you know I’d be here in the middle of the day anyways?” My phone chimes in my pocket, but I silence it so I don’t seem like a rude asshole.

  “There are eyes everywhere,” someone says, and then a chorus of laughter echoes the office.

  “So the plan is to get drunk and then box each other? You are men after my own heart. You know that, right?” I quip.

  Coach pats me on the back. “I know a couple guys want a go with you in the ring and I figure if you have a couple beers in ya’ it will even the field a bit.”

  I quirk a brow at him. “Really?”

  “Okay, okay. It won’t level the field at all. We’re all just happy you’re home safe, Stevey. Your ugly mug was missed around here.”