SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle

by S. M. Butler

  “Yes, sir.” He flipped her a teasing salute. “We good now?”

  “Okay.” She didn’t want to hold on to her mad. The water felt too good after poking through the ashy remnants of her poor car, and her SEAL felt even better. “I guess you swam in places that were way more dangerous than a puny little river.”

  “Trust me,” he said, rolling onto his back so she rode his chest like he was her own personal merman. “I’m having way more fun here.”

  He finned through the water with her, making for the little series of waterfalls where the river cascaded down a few feet over slick, wet rock. Rivulets of foam streaked the surface, tiny currents eddying around his shoulders. This whole back-to-nature thing was really starting to work for her. Plus he was naked, and that just made her whole afternoon.

  “I didn’t get a chance to kiss you our first night together,” he said, the rough-tender note in his voice making something inside her melt. Where she saw last, he saw first, and how screwed up was that? The water poured down around Luke’s shoulders in a littler version of that night’s waterfall. The waterfall might be smaller, but the feelings were larger. God. She was in trouble here. She specialized in uncomplicated, hot sex. Luke, however, didn’t seem to be playing by those rules.

  As if he sensed her brain going into overdrive, he reached up and tugged her mouth down to his. His lips were firm and knowing, as determined and focused as the man himself. She whimpered, clenching her fingernails against his shoulders, marking his skin in a faint echo of the way he branded her mouth. Yes. He wrapped the long, wet tail of her hair around one big hand, holding her in place when, truth was, she had nowhere else to go.

  Nowhere else she’d rather be.

  He kissed her and she kissed him back, her tongue stroking into his mouth, tangling with his tongue. He tasted good, better than good, like Luke and mint and some flavor for which she had no name but knew, in those heart kind of places she didn’t like to think about, that she wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. Luke Dawson was going to single-handedly ruin her for any other man, and right now, she didn’t care. He kissed her and kissed her, and she kissed him right back.

  *

  Cold-water swims in BUD/S training hadn’t been half the torture swimming with an almost-but-not-quite-naked Deelie. Her nipples were hard pebbles beneath the translucent fabric of her bra. Her panties had to be see-through too, although his view through the surface of the river wasn’t perfect. So he cupped her ass, lifting her over his dick even as the water poured around them.

  “I’m soaking wet,” she said in that tone of voice he’d learned meant: I think I look like a hot mess even if you think I look like your best Playboy fantasy.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous.” Too bad if she didn’t like rough and honest, but he hadn’t memorized any Hallmark verse. “Wet’s a good look for you, and this is supposed to be my date, yeah?”

  It was afternoon. They were skinny-dipping in a river on public land. Deelie seemed on board with the plan though, so he was hopeful for the rest of his afternoon. She grinned at him, a real genuine smile, not one of those flirty looks she liked to send his way. He liked those too, but they seemed automatic, more like her version of please and thank you than a true reaction. Her eyes lit up with this smile though, the tension flowing out of her body. Which he was in the perfect position to know, seeing as how he was plastered up against her and the only thing between them were her sopping wet panties and bra.

  “I don’t know,” she said, and it took him a moment to remember what the fuck the question was. His brain shut down around Deelie, got lost in the amazing feel of her. “We might have moved onto the hot monkey sex part of our deal.”

  Her voice was rueful. It was also husky, with a little thread of need that had him pulling her close.

  “Absolutely.” He slid one hand out from underneath her ass, loving her whimper of protest, and traced her collarbone with his fingertips. She was so soft, her bones delicate beneath her skin. He’d fought beside SEALs who were rough, tough men who were well-trained killers and lethal weapons. Deelie’s feminine body was fucking nirvana. She moaned at his touch, and he must not have been a nice guy, because he loved that little needy sound.

  “Luke—” Her lashes drifted closed.

  “Say my name again.” He’d make damn sure she knew who was holding her. Who was loving her. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that night at the waterfall all those years ago had simply been their first. It damned certain wasn’t going to be their last, although he had every intention of being her one and only from now on.

  “Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke.” She chanted it without opening her eyes, that small secret smile of hers curling her mouth.

  Love.

  Yeah, fuck him, but maybe he believed in this whole love-at-first thing, because he’d been lost that very first night at the waterfall. He’d been hers ever since, even if neither of them had known it.

  He ran his hand down her arm, dragging her bra strap with him. Then he did the other arm too. The blue-and-white fabric was almost translucent from the water. Flicking open the clasp—located in the front, thank you God—he drank her in. How could she possibly be even more gorgeous than she’d been in high school? She’d kill him in another ten years or fifty. The water sluiced her breasts, large breasts that were round with the prettiest brown nipples. She wasn’t a girl anymore, which was a good thing because he wanted to do every filthy, loving, wonderful thing he could think of to her. With her.

  Rolling, he took her beneath him, anchoring her on the rock shelf as he followed the droplets of water with his mouth. Her heels dug into his back as she held on for all she was worth, rocking up against him. Her panties teased his dick as he explored her breasts and ass, drawing naughty patterns with his mouth and fingers that made her groan and shiver.

  “You going to look at me?” Because he really wanted to watch her eyes as she came.

  “You giving me a choice?” She opened her eyes lazily, stretching her hands over her head, and just like that he needed to be inside her now. He’d gone without her for twelve years; another twelve seconds might kill him.

  He swam them over to the edge, breaking all known speed records. As soon as his feet hit bottom, he waded out with Deelie still wrapped around his waist. Five steps and he had her on the blanket, building her a nest of towels and himself.

  “Look, I have a leash,” she said, tugging on his dog tags, but the smile on her face said she was just teasing.

  Good. She didn’t need to know right now that she had him so wrapped around her fingers that he’d go wherever, do whatever she wanted. Or maybe that went both ways because, as if she’d read his mind, she leaned up on her elbows and shrugged off the wet bra.

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” he said, cupping her breasts.

  A smile touched her mouth. “Perfectly bad.”

  “We should dry you off.”

  “Feel free to make suggestions.” Her smile turned wicked—and was all the permission he needed.

  He eased down her body. And then, fuck it, the ground was hard and he had a rock digging into his knees, and he wanted this to be perfect for her. Rolling onto his back, he lifted her up over his face.

  “Jesus, Luke.” She sounded shocked, which was cute. And gratifying.

  “Hold on,” he demanded. Don’t ever let go of me, he thought but he wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud. Not yet. Deelie’s hands latched onto his shoulders. Perfect.

  “Luke—”

  “This afternoon-swimming thing is working for me,” he said.

  He eased her higher. Perfect.

  Her position gave him the sexiest view of her panties. White and blue, those panties matched her bra. Even better, their time in the river had made the fabric see-through wet. “I really, really like your panties.”

  He ran a finger down her center. Up. Then down.

  “Oh.” The greedy little sound she made set him on fire.

  “More. Please.”
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  “Everything for you.” He touched her softly, then deeper. Harder. Teased her beneath the edge of her panties before shoving the soaked fabric to one side. And much, much later as she shrieked and tightened her thighs around his head—because Deelie wasn’t quiet, and she didn’t leave him in any doubt about how she felt—he lifted his head for just one moment and asked, “You sure about this, sweetheart?”

  Because he wasn’t ever letting go of her now.

  “Yes,” she demanded, yanking on his head and wriggling against him in not-so-silent demand. “Yes, please.”

  And since she’d asked so nicely and he hadn’t had his turn twelve years ago, he did, sending her over the edge, holding her tight as she came.

  *

  Deelie was riding Luke’s face like she was a cowgirl and he was the pony called Sexy Stud. Water dripped from her hair, but she wasn’t cold. Nope. She was so hot she was about to catch fire.

  Again.

  Twelve years ago, she’d had a taste of this man and walked away before he could dump her ass. She’d known then that Luke Dawson was dangerous, and time certainly hadn’t softened him. He didn’t give her so much as a moment to come down from her orgasm high before he was rolling her underneath him.

  Luke was a hell of a lot of man. Fully dressed, he’d made an impression on her hormones, but naked… her girl parts squealed in pure ecstasy. Or maybe that was wicked glee, because she was absolutely certain there was nothing pure about how she felt toward this man. All he wore was a pair of dog tags around his neck. From there to his waist, he was all chiseled muscles and six-pack abs so hard they should be illegal. She might have spent too much time eating and not enough time exercising these last twelve years, but Luke had clearly been honing his body into a finely tuned weapon. Her sailor was gorgeous—and primed for business.

  He braced his arms on either side of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. Yeah, he looked pretty pleased with himself. Well, that made two of them. Luke was amazing in bed—or on the riverbank—and she’d been a fool to walk away from him twelve years ago. Or maybe it was a question of practice made perfect? Which strangely wasn’t an idea she liked. Right now, right here, Luke was all hers, and sharing him was off-limits.

  “Earth to Deelie,” he said huskily. “Come back to me, baby.”

  Come. She could do that. She giggled, and he shook his head.

  “You’re hell on the ego.” He didn’t sound like he minded much though, and he brushed his thumb over her lips with something that almost seemed like tenderness. She could get used to this. Used to him.

  “Your turn,” she said, shimmying out of her panties because those other thoughts of hers needed to stop. Luke was a loaner man, and eventually he’d hit the road and she’d be left behind. Funny how the river looked exactly the same as it had twenty minutes ago, but yet she felt different. When he raised a brow, she tossed the panties over his shoulder with a grin.

  He laughed, and reached beside him. Condom. Thank God, because the last thing she needed right now was a baby. Seconds later, he pressed against her and she open up for him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  He smoothed her hair away from her face. She probably looked more drowned rat than sexy beach babe, but he didn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. Instead of hurrying to get to the good part, he rested against her, hard and slick, and pressed his mouth against her temple. Followed the trail of water down her face, over her cheek, to her neck.

  “I’m not complaining if you want to hurry up a little.” She angled herself against him, doing a little pressing of her own.

  “Shhh. I’m enjoying you,” he ordered gently. He braceleted her wrists with his fingers, pulling her arms over her head. “Have I told you how much I love your breasts?”

  “You could show me,” she said, knowing she sounded breathless. God, this man got her going. He drew his mouth down her neck, then lower, skimming over her heated skin with the lightest, naughtiest of kisses. He licked and she moaned, his mouth closing over one pouting nipple.

  “More,” she ordered, digging her heels into his mighty fine ass.

  “Demanding,” he said. “I like it.”

  She liked it too. Or maybe too much, because she needed him as crazy for her as she was for him. She slid her hand down his stomach, reveling in the tension in his body. He knew where she was headed. When she grasped him, he groaned.

  “In,” she demanded, and he gave her what she wanted, the slick length of him pushing through her grasp and into her body. There was nothing slow about him now. Instead, he drove deep inside her, not stopping until his balls smacked against her butt and she’d taken every inch of him.

  “Okay?” He lifted his head, watching her face like he’d find his answer there.

  “Do it again,” she ordered. “Give me more.”

  “Bossy.” A smile touched his mouth, and then he did exactly as she’d asked. He slid hard and fast inside her, and her brain turned off. She slammed up to meet him and he thrust. Right now, right here on this blanket, they were in agreement and she loved it. Could—almost—love him.

  Danger.

  He pulled back, drove forward, taking her over and over, pushing her closer to her orgasm with each hard stroke.

  She came before him, slower this time. As she floated down from the blissful place he’d brought her to, she hung on to his shoulders. Hung on as he pounded into her, finding his own orgasm. Plenty of blue sky peeked through the lacy canopy of the trees over their heads, and it was pretty. She had birds and waterfall sounds and shit to go with her wild monkey sex, and it was just like screwing in the middle of one of those woodland sound CDs or a postcard. And yet, as he groaned and buried himself one last time inside her, it was funny how the only thing, the only person, she really saw was Luke.

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  “Why’d you cut me loose before?” Luke sounded sleepy, sprawled out beneath her, his big, beautiful body temporarily hers—and he wanted to talk? She had a bad feeling about this.

  “You really want to revisit the past?” Because she was all about today and right now. Her head hadn’t been in a good place in high school, and she’d made more than her fair share of questionable decisions.

  He lifted a shoulder, opening his eyes. “I do. I thought we had something, but then you disappeared on me. You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

  “We had sex, not a relationship.”

  “I had a blow job. You got nothing. So, yeah, I agree with you there. You cut us off before we had a chance to see where we could take things.”

  She had no idea what he meant by things, but they wouldn’t have lasted. Couldn’t have.

  He reached up to cup her jaw. “I liked you then, Deelie. I still do.”

  No doubt, Luke thought he meant what he said, but things said while naked didn’t count. Plus she was no longer the girl he’d dated briefly in high school. Even outwardly—more’s the pity—she’d changed, and he needed to accept that.

  “That Deelie, the girl by the waterfall, she doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Got it,” he said, running a hand down her back to cup her butt. As the punctuation to his sentence, the move guaranteed she wasn’t doing a whole lot of listening. She turned her head and stared at the river, wishing there were easy answers there. All she heard was the steady beat of Luke’s heart beneath her cheek, and damned if that wasn’t distracting.

  “Now what?” God, she wished she smoked. Or that she had a working car, wings to fly with, or a whole different life.

  He sighed and sat up, shifting her onto the blanket beside him. “Come home with me.”

  Right. To the ranch. She bet his family would just love that. “It’s not a good idea.”

  He stood up and grabbed his jeans. Playtime must be over. “Your sleeping on couches and in your car is the bad idea.”

  Apparently, while she’d changed and moved on, he’d stayed the same in some fundamental ways. He’d always been a white knight, and
now here he came, riding to her rescue.

  “Deelie.” He nudged her face around to meet his gaze, and she considered knocking his fingers away. Or nuzzling them because, God, she was conflicted, wasn’t she? “Would you really rather be sleeping on Laura Jo’s couch?”

  “We just had sex,” she said.

  He looked at her, clearly trying not to laugh. “Yeah. Is that ‘just,’ as in we recently had sex a few minutes ago, or ‘just,’ as in we had meaningless monkey sex and a smart man wouldn’t try to read anything into it?”

  If they lived together for even a few days, she’d probably kill him. “Sex by the river isn’t a relationship or a roomie tryout. How do you know you won’t regret asking me home with you?”

  He shrugged and helped her to her feet. Somehow her bikini top had ended up in a nearby bush, and her bottoms were lying in the grass. Nice.

  “All I know,” he said, “is that I’ll regret not giving us a shot. So work with me here, okay?”

  She meant to get up and go, but somehow the next word that came out of her mouth was, “Okay.”

  *

  The Dawsons ran cattle on a thousand-acre ranch that was one of the oldest in the county. His family had owned the place since the eighteenth century. They had the kind of roots that ran even deeper than the large collection of springs, reservoirs, and wells dotting the property. From what she remembered of her high school days, Luke had two brothers, one younger and one older.

  He also had his own place on the ranch, which was a relief. The two-bedroom redwood home was tucked away in a grove of California oaks. It had floor-to-ceiling windows for watching the nearby mountains and wood-beamed ceilings. There was a stone fireplace in the great room and a decent-sized kitchen. It was easy to imagine Luke here, raising a family.

  It was harder to imagine herself here.

  Or maybe that was because Luke, when he had a plan, was pretty much unstoppable. He’d swung by her storage unit since, as he’d pointed out, he had both a truck and a garage. Paying rent on the unit was a waste of money when she could leave her stuff at his place for now. Since the sooner she could save up the money for the deposit, the sooner she could get her own place, she’d agreed. Or maybe that was because Luke, in the sweetest, nicest possible way, was kind of oblivious to her resistance.