by Zoe York
She gripped the side of the tub so hard her knuckles turned white, and still he moved her with him, filling her over and over again with his thickness.
“Proud of you,” he muttered, his mouth plastered to the back of her neck, right beneath the curve of her hair that he’d shoved over her shoulder.
His hands found her breasts and cupped them firmly as he picked up the pace, his body pressing against hers in a dozen different places, but she needed—
“Touch yourself,” he growled.
She bit her lip as she smiled. He always knew.
Shifting her grip to balance on one hand, she reached between her legs, the warm water bouncing against her knuckles as she touched first him, then herself, where she stretched around his cock, and finally where she was most aroused.
It didn’t take much. A few slow rolls over her aching clit and she started clenching around him, urging him—dragging him—into the abyss with her.
“Well that was better than grocery shopping,” she finally said once they’d recovered and rinsed off, standing up and using the shower this time.
He laughed. “I grabbed dinner stuff this morning. When I ran into town to drop off the building permit applications.”
“You meanie!” she gasped. “And here I was feeling all conflicted and guilty, being a terrible housewife.”
He kissed her soundly. “Never.”
She climbed out of the tub and grabbed two towels—if she wasn’t contributing anything else to the care and order of their little home, at least she could do that small kindness for the man she loved. “I did cook for you once last week…” she said, squinting as she tried to remember if that was in fact true, or maybe just something she’d meant to do.
She’d been so busy the last few weeks, diving headfirst into her new role, which was a bit of a work-in-progress, since her crazy boyfriend had offered her a job that didn’t exist, on a payroll funded by a guy who had no clue what was going on.
And it had all worked out, somehow, miraculously, just fine.
Except for the part where she remembered to buy groceries and make dinner.
“You’re perfect,” Mick said with a satisfied grin as he wrapped his towel low around his hips. Her gaze tangled up on the deep vee carved between his lower abs and his hips. “And… eyes up here.” He winked. “I’m not a piece of meat, kitten.”
“Maybe not, but you are very pretty.”
He snorted. “Covered in scars?”
“Every last inch a beautiful, wonderful man.” She tightened her own towel over her breasts and headed for the bedroom. There was something so lovely and intimate about getting dressed together.
She tugged on shorts and a new tank top, then dropped a quick kiss on his shoulder as she cruised by to fix her hair before it got out of control. “What are we having for dinner, anyway?”
He swung through the bathroom to collect their beer bottles. “Rice with peas and mango, chicken drumsticks.”
“Yum.”
He held up the beers. “You want to take a walk down to the beach with these while the chicken cooks?”
“Sure.” She flashed him a smile from under her arms as she worked on twisting her hair back into decent looking spirals. Daphne’s hair cream was good, but it didn’t work magic if the frizz got out of control.
He disappeared, and she heard some kitchen noises, but by the time she made it out to the living room, he was waiting for her with a little smile on his lips. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
He handed her beer over and they headed down the path to the beach, hand in hand.
She kicked off her sandals as soon as they hit the white sand and he followed suit. They walked a little ways down the shoreline, but the jungle encroached on a headland not too far along, so they turned back, taking their time.
When they got back to what she thought of as their beach, she sat down on a piece of driftwood and dug her toes into the sand. There was something soothing, healing about just sitting and listening to the waves. A sound as old as the ages, it whispered right into her heart that everything would work out.
Mick watched her for a minute, then joined her on the log.
“I went to see your mother yesterday,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” Her mom had met Mick twice already—the first time right after Cara had told Mellie she was quitting her job. Her mother had stood up and insisted she be introduced to this man that made her daughter crazy in the head.
But Mick had won Mellie over. Not enough to explain a spontaneous visit, but…Mick was that kind of guy. Sweet—deep down inside, anyway.
“I was in town, and I thought…” He shrugged and mimicked what she was doing with her toes, burying his own in the sand beside her. “She said that when you were a kid, you used to talk turning Villa Sucre into a Bed & Breakfast.”
She turned pink. “Yeah. It was a pipe dream.”
“Any room for a B&B in the living history proposal?”
Her heart rate picked up. “I don’t know.”
“You should think about it. Might be a nice idea. We’re going to have to use one of the resorts on the other side of town. Could be good to have closer accommodation options as well.”
She was already picturing the proposal. It would mean only doing re-enactments on the main floor, and they’d need to do something about the kitchen… She licked her lips. “What did my mother say?”
He laughed. “You don’t want to ask her yourself?”
God, her cheeks were warm now. “I don’t want to get her hopes up. If I did something like that, part of it would be for her, you know?”
He nodded. “I know. One of the many things I love about you.”
“My guilt over the fact that my mother still works as a maid?”
“That you’re kind and giving and a good daughter.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “She doesn’t stop talking about you, you know.”
“Really?” Cara knew her mom was proud, but hearing it from Mick was something else. “Thank you.”
He stood up and walked down toward the water. The sun was dropping fast behind them, and cast the entire sky pink and purple.
He turned around. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice carrying a bit.
“What?”
“That this was what I was looking for.” He came closer again. He was smiling, and it reached his eyes, softening his entire face. Still strong and capable, but he was also truly relaxed. It made her heart nearly explode from the joy of it.
“Me too,” she said.
He slowly sank to one knee, and her chest got even tighter as she watched him duck his head for a second, then look back up at her.
“What are you doing?”
“I talked to your mom about something else,” he said slowly. She stood and walked toward him, her legs shaking. “I told her how much I love you. How I never want to let you go and I always want to be there for you.”
“Oh, Mick…” She blinked back the tears. “You’re a crazy, wonderful man.”
“So I don’t have a job,” he said with a laugh.
“That’s okay, neither do I,” she whispered.
“And I live in a shack.”
“It’s got a beach.”
“Filled with rocks.”
“Keeps the tourists away.”
“Good point.” He took a deep breath and pulled a thin gold ring from his pocket. She recognized it immediately. “That’s my mother’s engagement ring,” she said through the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“She thought that since I was a broke-ass American vet, she might do me a solid and let me use it to propose to you.”
Cara hiccuped as she laughed. “She did not say that.”
He shook her head. “No. She said that she didn’t regret a single day of her marriage to your father and that it would be foolish to wait until the right time. Life is short and love is precious. So Cara Levasseur, would you make me the happiest man on the planet and be my wife?
”
She nodded, over and over again, as she sank to her knees and threw her arms around his neck. “For richer and for poorer. I’ll marry you tomorrow, Mick Frasier.”
~
Keep reading in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series… Anne Marsh’s Sweet for a SEAL, Finn Callahan’s story, is coming soon! Turn the page for a list of titles in this collection. Have you read Dex and Emma’s story? If not, go back and discover Claiming her SEAL by Kat Cantrell!
And coming later this summer…BOUND BY THE SEAL. The last thing Brayden Lucas expects to find when he lands on Miralinda is a sexy woman in a catsuit breaking into what should be an empty estate. So he does the only thing that makes sense: he ties her to a chair.
ASSIGNMENT: CARIBBEAN NIGHTS
Duchess Island by Kat Cantrell
Claiming Her SEAL
Revealing Her SEAL
Miralinda Island by Zoe York
Ruined by a SEAL
Bound by a SEAL
Angel Cay by Anne Marsh
Sweet for a SEAL
Her One Best SEAL
Visit us at Navy SEAL Romance and never miss a story in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series!
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WHAT TO READ NEXT
Visit www.zoeyork.com to explore all my small town and military romance novels. And you can get started with the Small Towns, Big Dreams two book starter set.
What Once Was Perfect, Wardham Book 1
She's always owned a piece of his heart. He was her first love. Is a week of holidays enough time for Kyle to prove to Laney he's a different man than the one who let her go?
small town contemporary romance, geek romance, second chances, vacation romance, first loves, doctor, teacher, Christmas
Love in a Small Town, Pine Harbour Book 1
Six years. Two break ups. One divorce. They should be over each other.
small town military romance, soldier, cop, divorced couple, second chances, big family, summer romance, rural romance
Keep reading for samples from both of these books, and then dive in to the Wardham and Pine Harbour series! More standalone contemporary romances that will fill your heart with joy and bring that little spark you've been looking for.
AN EXCERPT FROM
WHAT ONCE WAS PERFECT
They sat like that for almost an hour. At one point, Kyle was convinced that she had fallen asleep, but he didn’t want to risk losing the moment, and he couldn’t see her face without shifting. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he didn’t mind, because her hair smelled amazing, an intoxicating blend of honey and some kind of fruit. Thank god her ass was perched high on his thigh and her legs were bent over his other arm, because in the space beneath he had developed a brutal erection. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on by cuddling before, except maybe in those first few weeks of dating when they were still working on rounding all the bases.
He remembered every single day of that spring, the long string of her firsts: Laney slowly peeling off her t-shirt in the barn, then crossing her arms against her chest; her sliding across the bench in his truck, straddling him, grinding her jean-clad pussy against his cock; getting completely naked in a hotel room after the Science Society Formal Ball, wanting to punch a hole in the wall after their only condom broke. Laney had made that night worthwhile anyway, sliding his cock between their bodies, holding herself open, rubbing against the length of him until they both shattered apart. They’d spent the night twisted up in each other, and when Laney wrapped her warm little hand around him in the shower the next morning, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He returned the pleasure before check out, and two weeks later when he moved into his first apartment, they had an entire box of condoms at the ready.
She lifted her head and he was torn between wanting her to see where he had wandered in his mind, and hoping she’d return to her original position so he could keep smelling her hair like a pervert. He didn’t dare think that she might be wandering around the same spots on memory lane, even when she pressed her forehead against his chin, then rubbed up his face until her lips connected with his jaw. Kyle stifled a groan and eased her legs down to the ground, freeing his arm to press between their bodies.
“Laney, sweetheart, that’s not a good idea.” It’s brilliant, asshole, shut up. He could barely grind out the words. His body was not on board with being noble.
“Probably not.” She pressed against his hand, flat against her upper chest, stretching her body to reconnect with his face, and the upper swell of her breast filled his palm. This time the groan was louder. “Tell me to stop.”
“We’re going to regret this.” Freud would have a field day with what was going in his head. Baser instincts were definitely gaining traction.
“Probably. Tell me to stop.” Her lips found the corner of his mouth, at an angle, and then her face turned again and they were sharing the barest of open mouth kisses, her bottom lip resting on his, pressing it down. Her eyes were wide, pupils dark and full of want. He didn’t see any hesitation, only heat, and his resolve slipped. One kiss. He let her breath slip into his mouth, hot and moist, and he was lost, disoriented in a mixed fog of memories and unfulfilled fantasies.
With a slight jerk, his extended arm relaxed, allowing Laney to crawl back on his lap, straddling his hips this time, and she looked down at his erection with a smirk. “I knew you didn’t want me to stop.”
“Wanting you to stop and knowing you should are two different things. Hell no, I don’t want you to stop.” He dragged a ragged breath into his chest and ran his hands down the sides of her body, squeezing her hips, tracing over her thighs and then up again, harder this time, sliding his palms under her sweater and over the thin cotton tank top hiding underneath. “But I don’t want you to hate me, either.”
“I’m not an innocent college kid anymore, Kyle.” She wiggled her hips, trying to slide closer to the bulge in his jeans. “I like sex. You make me think of sex. I’m all fired up from fighting. Let’s go.”
It should have been an ardour-dousing wakeup call, the casual offer of something that was once so special to her, to them. The higher-thinking part of his brain was protesting that something was wrong, that Laney couldn’t possibly want a booty call.
But all Kyle could focus on was the easy confidence that she had gained, how she must have gained it, and his primal need to re-possess that which he had lost took over. He could hear raspy need in his voice and he didn’t care. “Now it’s your turn to tell me to stop, sweetheart.”
AN EXCERPT FROM
LOVE IN A SMALL TOWN
He brought wine and a winning smile. She was in trouble.
“Nope. We’re not opening that.” She shook her head as he grinned and stepped inside. The temperature outside was dropping and he was wearing a leather jacket she hadn’t seen before over jeans and a white t-shirt. He looked good. They didn’t need to add alcohol to the mix for her to feel unsteady about what was going to come next.
And it wasn’t them, together, in an orgasm-fest for the ages. What happened Friday morning could not be repeated. Not when she’d made up her mind about moving forward with her life in a way that didn’t involve Rafe Minelli and his future conquests.
If he wore that jacket around town, there would be a lot of conquests in his near future. Hot damn.
“Then put it on your wine rack or something. I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He handed it over but didn’t let go right away. He pressed the bottle into her hands and stared at her intently as if he was trying to unlock her secrets.
She was only hiding two things. One she was just trying to work up the courage to share. The other—that he still melted her from the inside out with his chocolate brown eyes and stupid dimple—was locked in the vault.
This wasn’t the first time he’d come over since moving out, b
ut it had been at least nine months. He’d taken the Christmas lights down and replaced the weather-stripping on the front door, and she’d given him a stiff thanks at the door. So he hadn’t seen—
“You painted.”
“Yeah.” Because the warm yellow had reminded her too much of him.
“By yourself?” He turned around slowly in her living room, formerly their living room, an inscrutable look on his face.
“It was pretty easy,” she muttered. He’d taken half the furniture, which left a lot of room to move stuff around and create bare walls.
“I like the beige.” He was totally lying. Taupe, oatmeal, canvas … didn’t matter what she called it, he’d never wanted any neutral colours in their space.
“Have you made any other changes?”
“Uhm, I tiled the backsplash in the kitchen.” She pointed the way, which was stupid. They’d bought the house together. He knew where the kitchen was. Had made her coffee in it almost every morning for three years, even if he was gone before she woke up. Had perched her naked on the counter and knelt in front of her, licking—
“Looks good.” He glanced back at her, his gaze lingering on her pink cheeks for a moment. “A lot of good memories in here, huh?”
He couldn’t know what she was thinking, not exactly, but her breath caught in her throat nonetheless when he patted the counter. “Come here.”
She shook her head in short, choppy movements. Nuh-uh. They needed space between them. Loads of it.
“I’m not going to bite, Liv.” His voice was low and rough, like he was actually promising to bite her all over.
“I’m not so sure about that,” she teased as lightly as she could.
