SEAL Defender (Brothers In Arms Book 1)

by Leslie North

  She buried her face against him. “Okay, yeah. Maybe then too.”

  “Right.” Mark undid his own seatbelt and got out of the car before helping her down too. He fished his cell out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Let me call Jace and have him bring the tow truck to get this.”

  “He drives a wrecker too?”

  “Like I said, he works part-time as a mechanic between classes at Brothers In Arms.”

  Mark held the phone to his ear, lacing the fingers of his free hand through Geneva’s to maintain their much-needed connection. Man, oh man. If that Jeep hadn’t stopped in the nick of time, they’d both be flattened on those jagged rocks below. He peeked over the edge of the cliff and shuddered.

  “Burrell’s Service and Towing, Jace speaking.”

  “It’s Mark. I need you to come get me. Bring the truck.”

  “Dude, what happened?” Jace might talk like a typical So-Cal hipster, but get that guy on the battlefield and he could kick some serious ass. “Everything okay? You sound weird.”

  “We had a little accident with the Jeep. And yeah, we’re fine.” Mark relayed the evening’s events in his usual brisk way. “How long?”

  “I’m on my way. Fifteen-minutes max, if I floor it. Glad you and Geneva are okay, man.”

  “Me too. See you soon and be safe. Thanks, buddy.”

  Mark ended the call then led Geneva back toward the roadway and away from the cliff, they’d almost gone over. What they both needed right now was a way to forget about this horror show. Humor always seemed to help in tense situations, so he went for that. “Well, you can’t say I’m a boring date.”

  “True.” She stuck close to his side. “But I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

  “Do you want it to be a date?” he gave her some serious side-eye.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “Yeah.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders then leaned back against a nearby boulder. “Normal reaction after a near-death experience. Guys used to crowd into the mess hall and the officers’ lounge after battles. No one wanted to get stuck inside their own heads after something like that.”

  “Exactly.” She shivered in the chilled night breeze and he pulled her closer. “It’s like every time I close my eyes, all I see is that guardrail coming at us and the terrifying sheer drop beyond.”

  “Well, it’s over now and we’re both okay.” Mark dropped a quick kiss on the top of Geneva’s head then squinted down at the highway. “Can’t believe those bastards cut my brake lines.”

  “Are you sure it was deliberate and not just mechanical failure?”

  “Jace serviced the Jeep last week. No problems at all. Those brakes going out was no accident.”

  She exhaled and leaned against him. “If that’s true, then someone’s targeting you.”

  His suspicions were more than confirmed on that subject, but he didn’t want to get her all riled up again so he offered her an alternative theory. “Or it’s a bunch of entitled assholes who think they can get away with whatever they want, like those guys from the rally.” He shook his head and looked away. “Could go either way.”

  Headlights veered off onto the end of the drive and he snorted. “If that’s Jace, then I’m pretty sure he broke the sound barrier getting here.”

  “No kidding.” She peered around him to see down the road. “Looks like a tow truck to me. I think we’re good.”

  “Yep.” Mark smiled down at her. “We are.”

  Within minutes, Jace rumbled to a stop at their pull off and got out. “Man, you sure pick your spots for car trouble. That’s a one-hundred-fifty-foot drop there, dude.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” Mark gave his buddy a flat look then walked over to the Jeep. “You back the tow truck into position and I’ll direct you.”

  “Cool.” Jace climbed behind the wheel once more and ten minutes later, they had Mark’s car loaded up on the back of the flatbed and chained into position. “I’m telling you, man. There’s no way those brakes went out on their own. I checked ‘em myself last week.”

  “I know.” Mark helped Geneva up into the cab of the truck then followed in behind her.

  “Where to?” Jace asked.

  “She’s staying at the Fireside Inn,” Mark said, tilting his head toward Geneva.

  “Scoops, please,” Geneva said. “My SUV’s there and then I can give Mark a ride home.”

  Mark stared down at her and saw the spark of heat in her eyes, the hint of desperation in her expression, and recognized the same in himself. They both craved companionship and connection after what had happened. Neither of them wanted to be alone. “Yep. Scoops.”

  “Okay, then,” Jace responded, that devilish twinkle back in his brown eyes. “Scoops it is.”

  9

  “So, here we are.” Geneva swerved up to the front of a quaint looking older farmhouse situated near the edge of the Brothers In Arms compound, close to a neighboring vineyard. From the wide porch wrapping around the place, to the intricate gingerbread-style fretwork decorating the exterior, it looked like something right off the set of a movie. “You live where you work? That’s dedication.”

  “A SEALs work is never done.” Mark winked then undid his seatbelt. “You want to come in?”

  A sudden burst of nerves jolted through Geneva’s system. Back at the accident scene, she’d been pumped full of adrenaline and primed to jump this gorgeous man’s bones. Now, with the reality of spending the night with him staring her in the face, Geneva’s old insecurities reared their ugly head. She wasn’t exactly a one-night stand type of girl, but some good, old-fashioned cuddling sounded damned near irresistible right about now. She couldn’t seem to shake the chill from her bones or the terror of those last seconds before Mark had stopped the Jeep from her mind. Decision made, Geneva cut the engine and flashed him a brief smile. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll come in for a second.”

  They got out and walked up onto the porch. The wood creaked beneath her steps, but the place looked well-cared for, with fresh paint on the walls and lush potted plants hanging from the rafters above. Mark unlocked the door and walked inside first, flipping on the lights before inviting her in.

  “Please excuse the mess.” He gestured toward what she considered an immaculate room. Her tiny apartment back in San Francisco looked downright shabby compared to this. Not that she didn’t keep it clean, but it was hard to create a home when she traveled so much for her job. Geneva wasn’t complaining about her lack of roots. She loved what she did, but her career required certain sacrifices. Namely any kind of steady home or personal life.

  “This place is gorgeous,” she said, taking in the large open-concept great room and gleaming hardwood floors. “When was it built?”

  “Eighteen-ninety-two.” Mark tossed his keys onto a side table then walked through the living room and into a large country-style kitchen filled with fancy stainless steel appliances. “I did a lot of the modern restorations myself.”

  “Wow. A man of many talents.” She moved to stand before a granite breakfast bar. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. The guys helped a lot too.” He opened the double refrigerator then glanced at her over his shoulder. “You want a beer?”

  “Sure.” Geneva did her best not to stare at his firm ass as he bent over to grab their drinks. It was unfair, him being so damned attractive. He reminded her of that action movie star—Dwayne Johnson—only hotter, if that were possible. Her knees tingled and her core clenched and she took a seat on one of the stools at the counter to avoid collapsing into a puddle of goo at his feet.

  Remember why you’re here, girl. Remember the story.

  “What are you going to do about what happened tonight? Will you press charges?” she asked, hoping to get her mind out of the gutter where he was concerned and back on track with her story. “If those people would cut your brake lines, they could hurt someone else too.”

  He
twisted the caps off two bottles of ale, handed her one, and then took a seat on the stool beside hers. “Doesn’t seem much point in filing a police report yet, since Sutton seems to have all the local law enforcement in his pocket; at least right now. Besides, I don’t have any proof, not until Jace fixes the jeep and gets a look at the brakes. Besides, it was my fault for letting down my guard around them. I shouldn’t have taken you there in the first place.”

  She shrugged, and assessed his defensive posture from over the rim of her bottle as she took a drink—all stiff shoulders and narrowed gaze. Obviously, this wasn’t a subject that was up for discussion right now. She tried a different angle instead. “You and your business partners seem really close. You all served together?”

  “Three tours.” Mark took a long swig of his ale. “Why?”

  “No reason. Just trying to make small talk.” She set her beer aside and wandered over to one wall in the living room covered with photos. Some were of Mark and the guys, some were of Mark and Leila, some were of Mark and an older Polynesian woman Geneva assumed was his mom. “Tell me more about Brothers In Arms.”

  “What do you want to know?” He finished off his beer before joining her, the heat of his body penetrating her thin cotton top and making her yearn with unexpected need. The accident must’ve affected her more than she thought. This close, he smelled of salt and sea and sandalwood cologne and Geneva had the crazy urge to bury her face in his strong chest and inhale deep. Instead, she took a step away and stared at more photos—these looked like construction pictures of their facilities. “How much land do you guys own?”

  “Forty acres.”

  “That’s a lot in these parts.”

  “We need it.” He moved toward her and she moved away. “For all the different types of training classes we conduct.”

  “Right.” Geneva swallowed hard, her heart rate quickening as her gaze flicked to his full lips. Would they feel as soft as they looked? She forced words past her suddenly constricted vocal cords. “Is all the property grassland?”

  “Some of it. Our holdings extend to the foothills on the one side, with some flatland access too. The other side leads down to a small cove with a rocky beach. Gives us a lot of options with our classes.”

  “That’s, uh, that’s great.” Geneva inched to the side and realized she’d backed herself right into a corner. Smooth move, dumbass. Her reporter instincts told her to go in for the kill, to ask him bluntly about his feelings toward the military’s cutbacks on mental health spending. That would surely get him out of his amorous mood and back into suspicious business mode.

  The rest of her, though, demanded she sink into him, let go and let whatever happened between them happen, find out if all those rumors were true about men with big hands and feet, because damn, his were huge.

  “Are you from Ortega originally?” Her words emerged as little more than a whisper.

  “Born and raised.” He moved closer still, the heat of him enveloping her as he leaned one forearm against the wall beside her head. With only inches separating them now, his minty, alcohol-laced breath ghosted across her cheeks and his muscled chest brushed against her hard nipples. Geneva bit her lip to stifle a moan. It had been so long since she’d been with a man, what with her crazy schedule and ruthless work ethic.

  Her body felt hot, starved and wanton. Without realizing what she was doing, Geneva arched her back to keep her body in contact with his. Mark’s answering deep chuckle and knowing gaze sent a sizzle of molten heat straight between her legs. He shifted slightly and leaned in farther to nuzzle the sensitive spot on the side of her neck, just below her ear. His voice all but purred against her skin. “You don’t really want to talk about my past, do you?”

  Hell, no.

  Hands shaking, Geneva slid her fingers up his beefy arms and around his neck, twining them around the nape of his neck. He shuddered against her at the gentle touch and she was lost. Lost to the moment and lost in him. Before she could stop him, Mark had pulled away and stared down at her, his expression serious.

  “We’ve both been through a lot tonight, Geneva,” Mark said, his breathing rapid. “I don’t want to do something we’ll regret later, no matter how good it feels now. I’ve got a guest room upstairs you’re welcome to use, if you want.”

  Touched by his gesture, Geneva blinked up at him. His hard cock pressed against her soft lower belly and his pupils were blown wide, nearly obliterating his gray-green irises. All the physical signs said he was just as turned on as she was, yet still he behaved like a gentleman. That only made Geneva want him all the more.

  To eliminate even the shadow of a doubt from his mind, she slid one of her hands down Mark’s chest to the front of his jeans and stroked the hard length of his manhood through the soft denim of his jeans. Mark inhaled sharply and leaned his head back, eyes closed and expression full of pleasure.

  “What I want…” She kissed and licked the pulse point at the base of his neck exposed by the open collar of his shirt. He tasted salty and sweet and utterly addictive. “…is for you and me to forget all about what happened on that hillside and to affirm what’s real and true and alive tonight. I want to be with you, Mark. Do you want to be with me?”

  “Fuck yes!” He moved so fast, one-second Geneva was standing in the corner, her back pressed against the wall and her front pressed against him, and the next she was swept up into Mark’s embrace, her arms going around his neck and her legs coiling around his waist. His lips and hands seemed to be everywhere on her at once as he carried her across the living room toward the carved wooden staircase.

  “Let’s do it then,” Geneva said, giggling into the side of his neck at her unintended pun.

  “Oh, we’re going to do it all right, manamea.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, in between nibbles on his throat. “That word?”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, pausing halfway up the stairs to kiss her deeply. He tasted of mint and beer and pure, decadent passion. “In Samoan.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and Mark pushed through the doorway at the end of the hall into his bedroom. Geneva couldn’t ever remember being so turned on or so desperate for physical connection with someone in her life. She ignored the niggle deep in her gut that said this might be something more than a one-night stand and put it down to their near-death experience on the cliff. Best to enjoy her one night in paradise then move the hell on before she got hurt again.

  Mark placed Geneva gently onto the center of his king-sized bed then followed her down, his wicked grin wide. She hastily tugged his polo shirt from his jeans and pulled it off over his head before doing the same with her top. Then she reached for her bra clasp, but he stopped her.

  “Nope. I want to unwrap my own present, thanks. And believe me; I plan to take my time.”

  10

  Mark kissed his way down Geneva’s neck to her collarbone, loving the feel of her fingers stroking his hair, the scrape of her nails against his scalp. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he would take his time. He planned to kiss and lick and otherwise adore every single inch of her before this night was through. He wasn’t sure if it was the accident or the forbidden nature of their tryst—given their opposing objectives—but damn, he hadn’t been this raring to go in a long, long time.

  After removing her bra, he nuzzled the valley between her breasts, tracing his tongue up to one of her hard, pink nipples before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. She groaned beneath him. Her skin felt like silk and tasted like strawberries and cream. She seemed so responsive to his every touch, so attuned to him in ways his previous lovers hadn’t, that it worked on Mark like a powerful aphrodisiac. His hard cock pressed against the fly of his jeans, eager to play, but there was no rush. Nope. It had been far too long since he’d slept with a woman, and tonight was all about taking things slow and savoring each delicious moment. He moved to her other breast and treated it to the same lavish care before kissing a path slowly down her belly. He
reached for the button on her waistband, but Geneva grabbed his hand.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Damn. Disappointment swelled inside him. Mark closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the warm skin of her belly. He knew it was too good to be true. Things between them had been too perfect, too easy. If Geneva wanted him to stop, though, he would. No matter how much he wanted the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her arousal in his mouth, he’d never taken an unwilling woman to his bed and he wouldn’t start now. Mark sighed, removing both hands from Geneva’s body and holding them in the air as he sat up. “Okay. If you want to stop, we will.”

  “No. I don’t want to stop. I just…” She rolled away from him then got out of bed. She pointed toward a door in the opposite wall. “Bathroom?”

  He nodded.

  “Be right back.”

  Mark watched her disappear into the other room and close the door. He flopped back onto the mattress, his knees hanging over the edge, and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was twenty-eight-fucking-years-old today. He’d had countless lovers in the past but still apparently had no clue about the inner workings of a woman’s mind. He stared at the ceiling above for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes until the bathroom door opened again. He leaned up on one elbow and his breath caught in his throat. Geneva stood clothed only in her panties and socks, bathed in the pale moonlight streaming in through his windows.

  She tucked a long curl of her auburn hair behind her ear and moved closer, her gaze dropping shyly as she placed her jeans and boots on the floor. “So, yeah.”

  “Wow!” He stayed on the edge of the bed and took in the vision she presented, all soft skin and curves a man could lose himself in. His throat felt dry, his voice husky with need as he whispered, “Come here.”