Rescued (Navy SEALS Romance Book 1)

by Rachel Hanna

  That made him smile. Square jaw, sharp cheekbones. She thought he'd shaved before coming over and already his jaw was a dusky blue-black. "Hardly. Kind of the opposite."

  Taylor frowned. "What's the opposite of marriage? Divorced?" That sounded a little too cute.

  "No. I just – I don't get into long commitments. Guys on my team? There were married and single, engaged and divorced, guys living with chicks and those who had perpetual girlfriends and those who had a number of them."

  She nodded, confused. If this was his version of clarifying something, she'd hate to see what he did if he wanted to obfuscate.

  But even Tanner looked frustrated with what he was saying. He ran one rough hand over his mouth. "I wasn't going to call you because I could see myself caring about you. Easily. Fast."

  Taylor narrowed her eyes. "And that would be bad?"

  She didn't expect him to nearly knock his chair over getting up. He hit his head on the low-hanging chandelier over the table and reached up to steady it as shadows careened around the room. She was still reaching out to him or the light or something when he caught her hands and drew her up into his arms.

  "As a SEAL my first responsibility is to my team. We're reserve but if we get called back up, that relationship is number one. As a civilian in search and rescue, when I'm working, when I'm on a job, my responsibility is to my team of buddies, coworkers. I never understood how anyone in special forces could hook up casually and just take off and she didn't even know where he'd gone. Those guys with wives? They're asking a woman to live with a shitty job, a dangerous job, with missions he can't tell her about and knowing any time he does go out he might not come back. She's got the worst job, too – Because he's actually doing something. She just waits."

  Taylor could feel the frown like it was engraved into her skin. "You were going to dump me because you cared about me? You were dumping me for my own good?" Should she laugh or cry? Or try to force her hands out of fists?

  "Because if I cared about you, how do I leave you with that over and over? And because if I care about you, when does that come between me and my job?"

  Anger was winning out. "I didn't ask you to protect me. I didn't ask for anything except that when we share a night like we did and you tell me you'll be in touch, you be in touch, even if it's to say something chicken shit like you just said."

  For a second she thought she'd made him too angry but an instant later he burst out laughing. Taylor was too shocked to join him.

  "The one thing no one ever calls a SEAL." They were still standing, Tanner looking down into her eyes. "It's not chicken shit. It's selfish at best and probably scared. Yes, scared. People say it all the time for other things. Like performers – If I'm ever not scared before I go out on stage, it's time to hang it up because I don't care anymore – and police, because it can get them killed. It's not any different for us except that being scared is buried under layers of training and discipline and weapons and buddies. Except when it comes to holding someone else's life in my hands. I can admit that scares me, plain and simple, right on the surface. And it's not that I think having someone in my life long-term is going to cause me to be so distracted. I'm good at what I do. I don't get distracted except by the situation itself. But what if you couldn't handle it and you left?"

  She felt a surge of hysterical laughter – did he think women didn't deal with that uncertainty with every new relationship? – that instantly drained away. "You're asking for reassurance that you won't get dumped. Forget the reason, you want to know you're not going to get dumped."

  He nodded.

  "You're asking to know that you won't get dumped and then making it life or death?" When he nodded, not quite looking at her, Taylor positioned herself so she could see up into his eyes. When he was looking at her, she said, "You might," and then laughed at his shocked expression. "It's life, Tanner. Deal with it. You can hide and protect yourself and in the meantime be the best at everything you do because there's no distractions. Or you can have something a little more and school yourself against the distractions like you must have learned to school yourself against the fear. Life," she repeated. "And whether or not it's too soon to say it, I want to spend at least some of my life with you. And one more thing?"

  He raised his brows.

  "Maybe having someone to come home to will make you more careful and precise. Maybe having someone doing something worthwhile and important as well as dangerous will keep me from ever once taking you for granted."

  The kiss shouldn't have caught her by surprise. They were already locked together, looking into each other's eyes by the light of the still gently swaying chandelier. But his mouth came down over hers, hot, wanting, hard, his tongue instantly finding hers before he licked her lower lip and bit it. His hands found her breasts and molded her clothes to them, fingers splaying to the sides to cup, thumbs rubbing the nipples until they strained against her bra. His hips moved, grinding him against her and Taylor met him, pressing hard, her own hands sliding down his waist to his ass, pulling him closer, harder against her, backing up to lead him toward the hallway.

  He scooped her up before they got there, carrying her easily, pressed against his chest. They broke the kiss long enough for her to be in his arms before he carried her up the hall, unerringly to the bedroom as if he knew exactly where it was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He let her go at the side of the bed. Taylor slid down his body, her hands still locked behind his head. His head was down, watching his hands as he tried to figure out how to unzip her jeans. She closed her eyes, wanting to help him, wanting her clothes to spontaneously combust off of her body and forcing herself to wait, experience every single second.

  "You think it's not up to me to protect the girl?" He let go of her as she futilely tugged his t-shirt, reached back behind his head with both hands and pulled it over his head and off in one smooth motion.

  Taylor licked her lips, losing the power of speech at the sight of his chest again, the honey colored skin, the thick pecs, the way this shoulders capped in muscle, the lines of his abs and the glory road of pure muscle leading down into his jeans.

  "I'm saying," she breathed, "You might be more afraid of having someone to come back to, someone you might hurt by not coming back to, than you are of not coming back." She licked her lips, then licked his chest, the diamond shape at his solar plexus where everything came together. "That's what's selfish - not letting a woman decide."

  He sucked in a ragged breath as she slid to her knees, tugging his belt, forcing the end through the buckle, popping the buttons on his fly and finding him under the placket, deliciously naked, the commando gone commando. She leaned in and gave him one experimental lick, following soft skin over rigid, rock hard flesh, from base to tip, before he caught her in his arms and dragged her upright, murmured, "Next time," even as they fell backward together onto her wide bed.

  He undressed her fast, her delicate butterfly top pulled off like his t-shirt, thrown to join it on the floor, and her bra pulled off over her head like it was a sports bra, making her sputter as it caught and was tugged, then laugh as he threw it hard enough it cleared the room and caught the bedroom doorknob. Jeans followed, a free-for-all as they both tried getting them off. Then her legs were naked and curling around his as she tried scaling him, knocking them both back onto the bed, laughing and landing on him, girl on top until he spun her, pinned her, his eyes on hers, a teasing smile that held wonder at the same time. His hands stroked her face, her throat, sending a rush of chills and pleasure through her, he knelt over her, stroking her breasts, her pink nipples hard and demanding attention and he took them in hand, rolling them, rubbing them, breathing deep. She felt him watching her as her mouth opened, her eyelashes fluttered, then his hands were tracing her breasts, her ribs, her waist, his thumbs were touching the inside curl of her hips as his fingers splayed along the outside, his thumbs came down and met in the middle, pressing against her tight hot core until she arched off the
bed, reaching for him.

  She pulled him tight against her, feeling his hardness throb between them. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and said, "Please tell me you've got – " but he was already ripping open the package and sliding it on, almost unnoticeable and somehow it seemed he never stopped touching her, never stopped stroking hair and face and breasts and hips and the V between her legs, hot and wet and wanting.

  Tanner pressed hard between her legs, against her belly, pressed hard and slid down and down until he was nudging against her at the same time his thumbs were on her nipples, his mouth was on hers, and she felt him pause for an instant, hard and ready, and waiting.

  And then he plunged the length of himself inside her and Taylor, completely filled, cried out in joy.

  The first time was fury and passion and speed, was greed and fingers grabbing. The first time was sensation, the way she throbbed around him, coming three times before he groaned, said her name, said, "I can't – " and arched his back, driving as far into her as he could, eyes closed until the last second when he looked down at her.

  In those instants Taylor knew he saw her, even as he came, shaking a little, his arms hard, muscles popping as he supported himself above her.

  He didn't collapse down onto her. He didn't fall asleep or roll off her and become unavailable. Instead, he scooped her into his arms, pulling her up against his tautly arched body, her arms around him, their mouths hard and hot on each other. He never even slid out of her. She felt him grow hard again within her, felt him stirring to life, met his eyes, saw the arrogant smirk of male pleasure at performance as she heard herself say, Oh, yes. Her legs came up even as she slid down, dragging him with her, locking her ankles around the small of his back. His hands slid up her arms, disentangling them from behind his neck, pressing them down and out on either side of her head, pinning her to the bed, the most innocent and basic and lustful bondage. He pumped into her, ducking his head to lick and bite around her mouth, her throat. She couldn't move, not unless she panicked and wanted out from under him and she was anything but panicky and wanted anything but to be released. Immobile, she gave herself up to pleasure, arched her back so her nipples rubbed against his chest, let her head fall farther back so he had more throat to lick and kiss and nip, tightened her legs around him so he pumped deeper into her with every long stroke until he shuddered again, this time arching himself into her with a groan that tumbled Taylor over into her own throbbing rings of pleasure.

  That time he did try to collapse against her, the sleeping post-love lover, the male half of the equation accused of being unavailable after the actual act and Taylor, determined they'd would disprove every stereotype in one session, rolled easily out from under him, tumbling him onto his back where he lay wide eyed and looking a little apprehensive as she slid her hands down, down, down his golden torso, fingers firm so she didn't tickle, enjoying the feel of his flesh and the scent of their unions. She let her hands range down the length of his body, finding him only semi-soft and starting to stroke, one hand after the other, faster and faster, feeling him stir in her hands, becoming harder, his length spilling out of her fist now, filling both hands. Stroking him harder, laughing at the feel, leaning down to nip at his nipples, run her tongue across his chest, suck one of his thumbs into her mouth but she wasn't going there again, not tonight, there were so many wonders ahead of them, nights and positions and places and dreams. For now she just wanted to make him so hard he groaned as she slid him up inside her, girl on top, kneeling over him. His hands came up, reaching for her breasts, a little more roughly at first and then more gently, thumbs on breasts, hands then sliding down between them, where her clit pressed hard against him he added his thumb and Taylor's head flew back as the heat and pleasure raced through her, turning her body into nothing but pleasure.

  This time she was the one to collapse onto her partner, spilling onto the bed on her back, hair all around her on the pillow, arms out, breathing hard and feeling sleep even then trying to creep up on her.

  Their mouths found each other, trading sweet kisses, slow and satiated. Tanner surrounded Taylor with his arms, turned halfway to his side, creating a warm hollow she slid into where she was held close against his chest, her head pillowed on his biceps. The last of the summer's day sunset painted the ceiling in coral. She watched it, expecting the stars he had teasingly told her about on the beach to appear on her bedroom ceiling.

  But she fell asleep before the stars came out.

  Tanner woke because dawn was coming in fifteen minutes. He almost always woke before dawn, an internal alarm going off. He lay in a tangle of microfleece blankets they'd wriggled into during the coldest part of the night. Not that it had been that cold, inside or out, but they'd felt the change in temperature and moved closer together, body heat burning between them, the blankets a luxury. He lay without moving, cradling Taylor where she spooned against him, her hair a bright spill of curls across the pillow, her lips parted as she breathed.

  He'd been ready to run and his partners would have thought none the less of him. Short term non-commitments were Tanner's specialty. No one would have looked down on him for it. But maybe Tanner himself would have. He'd lived with his own code for so long, protecting anyone who might get hurt because of loving him by making sure they didn't have the opportunity to do so. It was hard to conceive of doing anything else.

  Maybe he really was trying to protect the girl.

  Maybe he was just as afraid of what would happen to him if he got involved as he was afraid of what might happen to the girl.

  There was nothing wrong with the map of his world as he'd had it 24 hours ago. There was nothing wrong with the new map he was considering, either. Caring for someone he would treat as an equal. Learning to live with the fear of her losing him and being hurt.

  Learning to live with the fear of losing her, and being hurt himself. For all the fears he acknowledged in his roles as SEAL and as search and rescue, he'd never once expected this.

  In the brilliant morning sunlight filling Taylor's room, he felt thoroughly capable of facing his fears, allaying hers, building a future or at least learning what the future potentially held.

  He felt the slight tension in his body ebb away again and sleep steal up over him.

  Taylor wasn't quite asleep. She felt Tanner's body relax, but even asleep again he didn't release her. The arm snugged around her waist was comforting. The hand loosely cupping her breast as if that were the most natural place it had come to rest was enticing enough for her to look forward to them both waking, hungry for breakfast and starving for something else.

  At some point she'd had to wake completely and decide if it was a work day or a weekend day. She couldn't quite place the date in her head. At some point they'd have to get up and actually eat things if only to replenish their strength so they could return to bed.

  In the meantime she lay, half awake and half asleep, refusing to return completely to sleep because she didn't want to miss any of the magic of the morning, the sound of the world waking around her, the sound of Monster padding up the hall, huffing into the bedroom and disappearing again in a jangle of collar tags. She didn't want to miss the way Tanner hardened against her, his cock twitching as he dreamed, the way his hand cupped more possessively around her. She liked the feel of his warm breath on the short fine hairs on her neck and the warmth of the two of them growing into heat as the summer day came on.

  Somewhere in between wondering what the day held and what the future held, Taylor fell asleep in the arms of her SEAL, feeling most definitely rescued.

  When she woke in the morning, he was gone.

  Taylor woke slowly. Even still asleep she sensed something was wrong. Like waking the day after something terrible has happened, a major breakup, the loss of a grandparent.

  They'd had one night together, one amazing, athletic, blissful night, and before even waking she knew he was gone.

  Not the kind of gone that's gone for a run, will pick up bacon, se
e you soon, new girlfriend kind of gone. But gone.

  When she opened her eyes finally there was no sign of him. The whole thing could have been her imagination. Her bedroom was the same as always. Monster slept on the rag rug at the foot of her bed. There were no male clothes piled in the chair by her vanity or the armchair near her closet, no sound of water running in the shower, no smell of bacon like someone was making breakfast.

  When she stood she was naked. That was different. Taylor slept in a long t-shirt. No sign of it, but her clothes were scattered everywhere.

  It wasn't as if she didn't believe the night had happened. She was pleasantly sore and her clothes were strewn about. When she found her t-shirt and pulled it on and padded out into the living room, there was a bottle of wine, nearly empty, on the coffee table, and leftover pizza and a movie that wasn't hers and had come from one of those freestanding red vending machines. She never used those.

  Taylor rubbed her head. Monster, wagging the Tail of Doom and threatening a vase of fading flowers, came over to her so she'd rub his head instead.

  "It's not that I don't believe he was here, or that I don't believe he exists," she told the lab, stroking his velvet soft ears between her fingers. "It's just that I don't believe I let him do that to me. Again." The first few tears splashed onto Monster's head and he stood, tail threatening everything breakable, and licked her face which made her hiccup and laugh and cry at the same time.

  She called in to work. She called Jessie. This time she didn't wail and she didn't cry. She just said, "He's gone, again."

  And Jessie, sounding distracted by her work, said, "Who's gone again?" and Taylor realized there hadn't even been time to tell Jessie he was back.

  "Tanner."

  "What?"

  Taylor had her full attention now. "I ran into him. Again. Second time. Same elevator."