HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He knew all about her asshole husband now. He’d googled her just like she’d suggested. The tale was sordid, and she was most definitely the injured party.

  Christina was damaged by what her husband had done. He got that, and he got that it was too soon for her to think about something else. But for the first time that he could remember, he wanted to know a woman. It wasn’t love or anything like that, but it was more than just sex for him.

  He wanted it to be more, but she didn’t. And that pissed him off.

  He didn’t know why she’d picked him out of the guys who’d been at Buddy’s that night, but she had. He could either do what she wanted and hope it went further once she realized how good they could be together, or he could walk away.

  He was seriously considering the merits of both as they drove. Christina talked to him about her job because he’d asked, but a lot of it was white noise for him. He pulled the truck up in front of her place and put it into park. He did not shut off the engine, however.

  And he didn’t take his hands from the wheel.

  It was dark and her porch light was on. Manners dictated he walk her to her door, but he couldn’t quite make himself do it just yet. If he could just sit here and get his disappointment and anger under control, it would all be okay.

  She was silent and so was he. Then she unclipped her seat belt. It was louder than he expected it to be, and he turned his head to look at her. She was sitting there looking so sweet and pretty, her eyes big and innocent, her dark hair falling over her shoulders.

  “Do you want to come in?” Her voice was small, tentative, and he knew she was feeling the strain as much as he was.

  “I shouldn’t. But I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “All right.”

  He turned off the truck and got out. She got out of her side before he could go over and open the door. She met him on the sidewalk in front of the truck, and they walked up to her door slowly. They didn’t touch.

  And then they were there on her porch and she gazed up at him, those eyes tempting him all over again.

  He thought about giving her a peck on the cheek, telling her to call him when she was ready for something more, but she took the choice away from him.

  Before he knew what she was planning, she closed the distance between them, stood on tiptoe, and curled a hand around his neck. He bent to her automatically, though he hadn’t intended to.

  She kissed him. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, or a good-night kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that had him yanking her against his body and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. One touch and his control evaporated like dew in the desert.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and her body arched into his. Goddamn, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. He’d been planning to walk away, no matter what he’d said to her earlier about playing the game her way.

  But his dick was hard and his body felt electric in a way he couldn’t recall feeling before. He must have felt this way at least once in his life, but damn if he could remember when.

  He pushed her against the door, molded his body to hers. She responded, her hand slipping down his chest, his abdomen, over the bulge in his jeans.

  She moaned as she ran her hand over him, and he shuddered with the force of the need cresting inside. He was an animal, a hard male animal who wanted nothing more than to take this woman and find his pleasure in her body.

  Still, he managed to step back, to try to inject some sense in this situation. He held her by the shoulders, their bodies no longer touching. His body ached for hers, but he had to be strong.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “I am thinking about it. I want you, Remy. It’s been so long and I need this.” She sucked in a breath then. “But if you don’t want me—”

  A little sob escaped her throat, and Remy stiffened. “Christina, it’s not that. I want you. I definitely want you. You felt the evidence… But damn, honey, I want to be more than a revenge fuck, okay?”

  Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I want more too. But I’m scared. I’m scared it’s too soon and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared you aren’t what you seem to be, and that tomorrow you’ll walk away—I’m scared of so many things.”

  Of all the possible things she could have said, this was the one thing he couldn’t resist. He slipped his hands from her shoulders, cupped her cheeks, his thumbs gliding over her cheekbones.

  “You don’t have to be scared with me, Christina. I’m not walking away.”

  “We don’t even know each other,” she whispered, her eyes still glittering as a hot tear slipped over the edge and spilled onto his skin.

  “We know enough, don’t we? There’s something here. It may be inconvenient. It may be unusual. But it’s here, and we owe it to ourselves to figure it out, don’t you think?”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. His heart felt like it slowed to nothing, but then she nodded and it started to beat again.

  “Stay with me, Remy. Come inside and stay with me.”

  “Cher, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  6

  Christina didn’t quite know what she was saying, but she knew she couldn’t let him go. Not tonight. Not when it was vitally important somehow that she climb back on that horse and remember what it was like to be wanted.

  She unlocked the door with trembling fingers, the big man behind her making her shiver. Not from fear.

  From need. From want. From anticipation.

  She got the door open and stepped inside. Remy was right behind her, closing the door and locking it before he turned to face her again. She stood in the foyer with her heart pounding and her knees shaking, wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

  It wasn’t too late to tell him she’d changed her mind, that she couldn’t do this.

  But, oh, how could she say no to this man?

  She let her gaze run over him, looking her fill. He was tall, broad, his heather-gray henley stretching over muscles that were glorious to look at. He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline. His hair was dark, cropped short because he was in the military, and his eyes were a piercing blue as he watched her.

  He didn’t look safe at all—but he looked like someone who would keep her safe. Someone who wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

  Looks were deceiving. Ben hadn’t looked like the kind of man who would cheat and lie and stomp on her heart. He hadn’t looked like he’d steal all her money and make a mockery of her love.

  He’d done all those things. No, you couldn’t tell a damned thing about someone just by looking at them.

  Or by touching them. Hell, you couldn’t tell anything at all. You just took your chances every day and hoped you weren’t wrong.

  And when you were wrong? Well, you got your guts ripped out and stomped on.

  “Second thoughts, cher?”

  Her pulse kicked at the evidence he could read her so easily. What was it about him? What was it that drew her even while she should be running in the opposite direction?

  “These days, always.”

  And that was the other thing about him. She couldn’t help but tell him the truth. She always said what was on her mind, though she was typically the sort of person who considered all the angles before speaking. Not with Remy. With him, she just kind of laid it out there.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. He was so sexy it hurt. Really, truly sexy. And he wanted her, which was thrilling and frightening all at once.

  “I love that you’re so blunt with me. Tell it like it is, Christina. Always tell it like it is.”

  “I’m not usually this direct,” she admitted. “But for some reason, I can’t seem to be anything but honest with you.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way, all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Now, how about you tell me if you want me to get in my truck and go home or stay here? Either way, I’m calling you tomorrow.
”

  Christina’s heart thudded. Yes, she was scared, dammit. And yet the idea of him leaving made her chest tighten. The only way she was getting through this was by forging ahead and doing it. She closed the distance between them and slipped her palms over his chest, thrilling at the hard peaks of muscle.

  “I don’t want you to go, Remy. I want you to stay right here and make me feel good about myself again.”

  His arms went around her, but he held her loosely. “I want to do that for you, baby. But you’ve got nothing to feel bad about, okay? Your soon-to-be ex lied to you about his sexuality. His inability to be faithful to you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. You got that?”

  His words made warmth flare in her chest. “Yes.”

  He tipped her chin up with his fingers, stepped in closer. “One more thing, baby, and this one is important.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re doing this to get back at him, don’t do it. He won’t care and you will, so think about that for a minute.”

  Oh God, if her heart wasn’t so bruised and battered, if she weren’t completely convinced that she was never trusting a man again, she might just fall in love with Remy Marchand.

  Except that was impossible because she’d known him for barely over a week. Nobody fell in love in a week. And definitely not when they were still reeling from the last relationship they’d been in.

  That was called rebounding, and she wasn’t going to rebound.

  “I won’t say that getting back at him never occurred to me,” she said softly. “It did, precisely three seconds after I met you the first time. But you’re right, Ben wouldn’t care even if he knew. The only thing he cares about is himself. If I offered to take him back tomorrow, he might come running—but only because it might salvage his political career, no other reason.”

  “Damn, baby.”

  She loved the quiet condemnation in his voice, the way she could hear everything he didn’t say just by his tone. She’d always been careful what she said to people who knew her and Ben, including her brother and Evie. But with Remy she could say whatever she wanted. He didn’t know Ben, and he didn’t care about him. Not that Matt and Evie cared about him either, but they cared about her in a way that meant they got really angry whenever the subject of Ben came up.

  She took Remy’s hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom. When he reached the threshold, he stopped. She turned and watched him looking at her bedroom.

  It was utterly feminine, with soft white and pink flowers on the coverlet, frilly shams, and white furniture mixed with antiques. The floors were wood overlaid with Oriental carpets. There was a television on a dresser, and the remnants of her frantic wardrobe search earlier lay across the bed.

  She went over and scooped up the clothes, dropping them on a soft pink Queen Anne chair. Remy still hadn’t moved.

  “Too girly for you?” she asked, arching one eyebrow as she did so. Yes, she was nervous—and yes, this situation was funny considering the way he looked at her room like someone had set off a Strawberry Shortcake explosion.

  His gaze met hers then and her heart skipped. God, he was pretty. So masculine and beautiful. Definitely not the kind of man who belonged in a Laura Ashley/shabby chic boudoir.

  “It’s pretty girly, yeah. But it suits you.”

  She ran her hand over the coverlet automatically, smoothing out wrinkles. Ridiculous considering he was here to mess the bed up as much as possible.

  “In case you’re wondering, Ben never slept in this bed. It was our guest bed. When we split up, I moved out and took this furniture with me.”

  “Yeah, I was wondering.” He stepped into the room then, his dark form at odds with the frilly decor. His hands were shoved into his jeans pockets, and a little thrill ran over her at the idea of undressing him.

  She realized she’d picked up a pillow and held it to her middle. She set it down carefully, fluffing it as she did so, her throat suddenly dry. Remy was too smart to think she’d been straightening it in the first place. She didn’t know why she even tried to make him think the action was deliberate when they both knew it wasn’t.

  “Come here, Christina.”

  She swallowed—and then she walked over to him. He reached for her, curled a hand around her waist, and tugged her in close. Oh, she loved the strength of him. The way he took charge of the situation.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” he said, his voice a growly rumble. “First, I’m going to kiss you until you melt. Then I’m going to undress you and lay you down on that pretty bed where I plan to explore every inch of you with my fingers and tongue. Sound like something you’d enjoy?”

  Christina’s belly tightened with need. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good, because that’s not all. I’m going to lick you, baby, thoroughly and deeply, until you come hard on my tongue. Then you’re going to ride my cock until neither one of us knows our name anymore. I plan to be here for hours, you understand? In you, on you, under you—cher, I want it all before I’m through. If this doesn’t work for you, you need to tell me now.”

  Oh God. Her heart thundered and her ears burned, but yeah, she needed every bit of that right now. Every bit of Remy.

  “It works for me.”

  He smiled a slow, wicked smile. “Glad to hear it, ma petite.”

  7

  Remy knew she was nervous. But she wanted this, that much was clear. Her pretty eyes dilated, her bottom lip dropped, and her tongue darted out to lick it. He practically groaned.

  Yeah, there was something special about this girl. Something that made the need hammering through him practically hurt. He wanted her, and he wanted to make her happy. He didn’t want her to regret a moment of this.

  His gaze lifted and slid over the room. Goddamn, it was so frilly and girly it ought to make his skull ache, but it fit her. Christina Girard was a lady. A soft, gentle lady who didn’t deserve the shit being heaped on her by her asshole of an almost-ex-husband.

  It was a wonder her brother hadn’t pounded the guy into the dirt yet. Then again, it was probably a good thing considering what he was capable of—what all the HOT guys were capable of.

  Remy had planned to start kissing her right here, but he bent and put an arm behind her knees, sweeping her up and into his arms as easily if she were a feather. She gasped softly, her arms winding around his neck as he carried her the few steps to the bed. It was totally unnecessary to pick her up considering how close the bed was, but there was something about doing so that felt right.

  He put a knee on the bed and laid her back on it, coming down on top of her. He could feel her heart hammering in her chest in the moment before he lifted himself up and put a little bit of space between them.

  He kissed her gently, softly, but she didn’t seem to want soft. She lifted her head and kissed him harder, her tongue demanding where it stroked against his.

  All right, he could change the pace if that’s what she wanted. He held himself up on his elbows, his hands cupping her face as he devoured her mouth.

  She moaned as she met him eagerly, their tongues tangling and bodies straining to rub against each other.

  Shit, he was hard. So fucking hard that every shimmy of her hips sent an ache arrowing into his balls and up to the base of his spine.

  Her hands glided down his sides, around to cup his ass. She pulled him harder to her, and he began to get the idea about how this was really going to go. No leisurely kisses while he stoked the fire. No working up to undressing her. No slow burn for Christina.

  She wanted to go up in flames right away. Well, hell, he could do that.

  He got to his knees, reached for the belt at her waist, and unbuckled it. Christina sat up and he found the zipper at her back, slid it down until she could slip her arms free of the dress. Another few seconds and he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside.

  Her bra and panties were white and lacy. Sensible, but still sexy. And fuck him, she was still wearing
those pearls.

  She must have followed his gaze because she reached for the clasp. He put a hand over hers, stopping her.

  “Leave them on, cher.”

  She blinked, but then she smiled. “All right.”

  He’d have never guessed it, but there was something about the idea of being cock-deep in a woman wearing pearls that turned him on.

  He reached behind his head and grabbed a handful of the henley, pulling it off and dropping it. Then he pressed Christina back into the bed and attacked her mouth again. She moaned as she wrapped her arms around him, arching her body up to his.

  And oh, he so got it. Because they were skin to skin for the first time. Yeah, she still had her bra on, but he could fix that. He reached beneath her and unsnapped it, lifting it off before lowering himself again.

  This time there was nothing between their torsos but hot, silky skin. He glided a hand to her breast, cupped the small roundness in his palm. Her nipple was a tight peak that he rubbed back and forth beneath his thumb while she gasped into his mouth.

  When he couldn’t take it a moment longer, he tore his mouth from hers and sucked her nipple, flicking it with his tongue as he drew her deep.

  Her fingers curled into his shoulders. “Oh, Remy. Damn, that feels good…”

  He feathered his fingers down her body, over her soft skin, before sliding beneath the waistband of her panties and into the slick heat of her sex. She bowed beneath him as he found her clitoris and stroked it.

  “Oh my God…”

  She made a choked sound, her body stiffening, and then she cried out. He was so surprised he had to push himself up and look at her. Her cheek was turned into the pillow, her eyes were closed tight, and her skin flushed a pretty pink.

  “You came,” he said. “Jesus.”

  “It’s been a long time,” she whispered. “What can I say?”

  A hot, possessive feeling flooded him then. He wanted to cherish her, make her feel as good as possible for as long as he could.

  “I need to taste you,” he said hoarsely, slipping her panties from her hips and down her slim legs.