“I need to feel you inside me, Patrick.”
“Oh, baby, thank God,” he whispered to her lips.
She giggled, like she felt shy. He became shy as well. He thought about the school grounds where he first fell in love with her as a child and where he’d understood recently he could love her now as a man. That she could be his woman. It had taken him over twenty years, and here he was, right back there, standing on the playground of long ago, waiting for her to show up in all her pinkness.
How he’d played that image on repeat in his mind over the years. But this time, this night, he would be making her his. It was a dream he’d had for as long as he could remember. He didn’t have to share her with the entire school or the twenty years of her life it took to bring her back to him. Their past was their past. She was about to give him her present.
She climbed under the sheets, and Patrick pulled them off her.
“I want to see you, Stephanie. All of you.”
She could barely make out his face in the moonlight when he slowly kissed his way down her belly, fingering her sex, causing her back to arch in pleasure. His thumb pressed down on her nub, making her cry out in need of him. Patrick was as tender as she expected he would be, yet even more so. His sensual lips kissed her deeply while their tongues played, sending her into waves of need. She wanted to tell him the only thing that came to mind as he worked his way in and out, as his kisses commanded obedience:
More.
Was it possible to need more than to enjoy the sex? Did this need encompass everything about their relationship?
Whatever it was, she would ride this tide of pleasure, and if she was lucky, he’d stay right with her. He’d catch fire like she was. She wanted to ignite whatever fantasies he may have had at one time in his life, become that woman he desired more than all others. She would not rest until his surrender to her was equal to hers to him.
When at last he mounted her, she heard a distant sea bird crying like it was the last of her tragic tears. She’d not be alone any longer. She heard the water lapping under the pier, and the metal clanging on the masts of the boats moored there. His breathing was ragged, sounding like waves crashing on shore.
This was right, and this was true.
She’d learned how fragile life was and how it could be snuffed out unexpectedly. She was in it for the long haul. She’d face everything she needed to face in the coming weeks and months. She’d do it honestly, and she’d let her love handle the fear of what was to come.
She’d hold this man in her heart, like she held him now. And she vowed she’d never quit.
Chapter 12
Patrick had always given Ryan a hard time about the sun in San Diego. It was hell on a hangover. But one thing he could not deny was that it was wonderful for lingering in bed for some early morning, then mid-morning, and followed by late morning sex.
He was sure there wouldn’t be a fourth round, but damn if she didn’t just turn on everything inside him like it was Christmas, Fourth of July, and Opening Day at the stadium playing in front of the Royal Family.
By the way she lazily lay back with her arm over her head, her honey-brown hair invitingly splayed all over the white pillow, that half smirk and special twinkle in those sleep-deprived brown eyes of hers, she knew she’d surprised him. It wouldn’t be good form to comment on that. Their love was too fragile and early. But holy hell, the sex was strictly old school and full-out passionate, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Nice thing about it was it felt clean, right, and wasn’t enhanced by alcohol.
Well, that’s because she’s mine now.
Yes, her heart was still snagged on Ryan, and it always would be, and that would be okay with Patrick. But now, this little lady, quickly becoming his reason for living, belonged to him. She’d not like to hear it that way, but a man knew what that felt like without any apology. He was mated just as solidly as those dark vampires she liked to read in her romance novels. It was a feeding from one soul to another, and back again.
Last night had been a burst of the senses that washed away the bad memories of all the past hookups and back seat quickies. Now he wanted to do all those things with Stephanie. He wanted to see her naked anywhere and everywhere. He wanted to see her as a good girl with her pink lunchbox containing a pink vibrator he could use all over her, see her in a uniform without panties, in a soccer jersey—in his soccer jersey—so he could smell her pheromones all during a game. He’d stretch and extend more. He’d catch every fucking ball that came within a half a field of him. He felt great, like he could go for ten games straight without any rest. He’d rip the legs off anyone who came at him with their cleats up. It would be career ending for the unfortunate baller, he felt so strong.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked in a sultry whisper, closing her eyes halfway for emphasis.
He licked his lips. What would he taste next, now that he had his breath back? Veeger was beginning to get hard again, and that little anatomical part was demanding all the blood in his body, so he couldn’t think to give her a proper answer.
So he just smiled.
“There! That look,” she exclaimed, reaching under the sheets and then letting her eyes go all wide, faking surprise at his hardness. She hand-stroked him, and then she squeezed his balls.
After he sucked in all the air in the room, he whispered, “Miss Stephanie, I had no idea a preschool teacher could fuck so fantastic. I was prepared for the sermon, but you had the choir, the big pipe organ, and the tympany going too.”
She liked hearing that and giggled, showing off that soft velvet beneath her chin and the jiggling flesh at the top of her chest. Just the way she writhed in bed when she laughed turned him on. He was going to be a mess tomorrow, but he didn’t care.
He drew up to her ear and whispered, “Man, I’m wiped and ready to go again. You’re going to send me back emaciated, a mere shadow of myself.”
“That’s because I don’t want you to forget me when you get back to the team.”
“Not a possibility, honey. But I have to ask you something.”
She pushed him at the shoulders and examined his face at arm’s length, worried. “Ask me what?”
He tried to keep a straight face, but failed, burying his head in her chest instead, laughing.
“What?” she insisted again. She clutched at his scalp, attempting to raise his head by pulling his hair.
“You said Ryan was only your second?” He was going to burst a gut, but he held his laughter in.
She nodded.
“What the hell was the first guy thinking? How in the dickens was he so stupid to let you go?”
Her smile was cautious. “I wasn’t very smart. Happened by accident the night Ryan left for Great Lakes. I thought we were done. I was heartbroken.”
This was concerning. “So is that what this is?” He knew it was a big mistake the instant he said it and winced. “Sorry.”
Her warm hands flew up to his face, and she nearly pulled the ears right off him. “Don’t you ever say that again, Patrick. This is real. This is no recovery from a nightmare. This is what I was made for.”
“Honey, I’m sorry.” He placed his palm gently against her forehead and brushed it with his thumb. “And about the being made for this,” he continued by kissing her down her neck then crossed over to her midsection and sucked at her belly button, “that’s affirmative. Except you were made for me, honey. And I like how all the pieces fit and how wonderful all this feels.”
They checked into a rental agency and got a list of houses and apartments available for rent. Patrick felt himself blush because their open affection made them the center of so much attention everywhere they went. They drove through various neighborhoods until he focused on a duplex midway between the strand and the beach on Coronado Island. Stephanie was game to try to rent it.
“This is as expensive as Palo Alto. I can’t afford to live here,” she said, after reviewing the list of rental units on the island from the a
gency.
“Not your concern. You’re a kept woman, Steph. I pick up this tab—depending on how much I have to give the team to buy out my contract.”
“What if they don’t let you out?”
“Then I go postal on them.”
She hit him with the sheaf of papers. “No, really, Patrick. What if I get situated down here and then you can’t leave Tottenham?”
“They have to. It’s in my contract. There’s even a suggested value they need to be within ten percent of. Not like I’m Rinaldo or Pele. And it frees up some cash. My contract was going to be up in two years anyway.” Then he added, “And we have a couple of guys who live in Germany and a couple Africans who fly home whenever they can. Leave their families there and sort of commute.”
“That’s just nuts.”
“You have to understand many guys from other countries don’t have the connections and can’t get their families visas anyway. And it’s cheaper in their native country besides.” He also knew that running around chasing women was a big pastime with the teams and suspected that factored into those decisions.
“So they won’t really care?”
“I wouldn’t say that. If they scream too loud, they might get more money out of me, but it’s something that’s done all the time. Just like if another team was interested in me, I have a covered clause where I can go, if the other team pays enough. Not like it is in the States. Oh, and they can retain me for several games in the new season, but I’m going to try to get out of that. Otherwise, we might spend a little time in London. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. What about the apartment?”
“We keep it.”
“And the Navy?”
“I wait on them. They tell me when the class starts. I go to Great Lakes, just like Ryan did. Then the four phases. The pay will suck, but I’ve saved. I’ll not even earn what my bonus would have been.”
“I know you’ll make it.”
He felt the same way but didn’t want to jinx it by saying so. “You just keep praying for me. Knowing I’ll get to come home to you. That might just give me that extra bit of motivation to get me over the top. You know what Ryan went through.”
She got that far away look again and nodded absent-mindedly.
They drove his rental car to the beach and watched the waves. They held hands and didn’t say a word. It was so damned fast, all this. But just like their first night together, it felt clean—an honest beginning.
“So should we do this?” he asked.
Her warm brown eyes spoke of her innocence and complete trust in him. “I think if I don’t do it, Patrick, I’ll regret it the rest of my life.”
He completely agreed.
Before they left the island, Patrick gave the rental company a fat check to hold the apartment, with the rent starting the first of the next month. That would give Stephanie three weeks to give her notice and begin the move-in. Patrick was going to detach from the Spurs as soon as the friendly season was over and head back to California to help with the move.
Two days later, Patrick went with Chief Petty Officer Trevor Markham to visit Lt. Eugene Forestall, the recruiter Markham had told him about.
“First of all, you don’t believe his bullshit,” Markham started.
“I thought you were friends.”
“Oh, we are, but I never take their lies for granted. They lie as much as they drink, and recruiters always drink a bunch. He has no idea what it takes to become a SEAL, so he’s going to tell you there are things that will be better for your future.”
“Like what?”
“Dental school. Submarines.”
“I have no interest in either of those fields.”
“They’re gonna act like they own you, but don’t fall for it. It will be all smiles and handshakes and assurances. You make them put it in writing before you sign up today, if that’s what you’re here to do.”
“That’s my intention.”
Just as Markham had described, Lt. Forestall was used to glad-handing everyone who walked into the door like he’d been pressing his uniform and filing his nails and waiting for him for two hours. Like he was Forestall’s best friend.
He was a big man, about six foot seven, slightly taller than Patrick, but with a lot more meat on him. He had a wide gap between his two front teeth that gave him a pronounced lisp when he talked. On a big man, the lisp was distracting and hard to listen to without laughing.
“I’m sure your drinking buddy here has told you about the SEALs, but we got all kinds of programs here in the Navy that are even better.” He leaned across the desk. “The SEALs are just for show, you know that, right? The Navy likes to parade them around foreign countries to make them think the whole military is like them. Actors. Fucking actors.”
Markham growled, and Lt. Forestall went into a fit of belly laughter. Patrick didn’t find it funny at all, but then the recruiter didn’t know he’d just lost his best friend, Ryan. Patrick decided he didn’t like the guy and certainly didn’t trust him.
He tolerated the lecture and demonstration of the different programs outlined in glossy brochures. There was a movie running at the side of his office, projecting on the wall, showing pictures of pontoon boats spraying greenish water along a swampy riverbank. One of the occupants in the boat shot a large tuna-shaped fish leaping from the water, trying to escape the noisy craft. The screen displayed the words, They Appreciate Wildlife.
Forestall noticed his preoccupation with the movie. “Those are the SWCC boat guys. They do the extractions, mostly SEALs or joint Special Force commands, and equipment. Lots of action and very dangerous. You seem like a way smarter fella than that.”
Patrick had to laugh. “Actually, Lt. Forestall, no worries there. I get seasick. That doesn’t appeal to me at all.”
Markham stared at him like he was a stinky piece of laundry. “No shit? You didn’t tell me that.”
“Does it make a difference?” Patrick asked.
“Dental school,” Forestall said as he plunked down a large book and tapped it with his finger before Markham could reply. “We got lots of pathways to earn your D.D.S. or M.D. – shoot, you could go into public health and never have to ride a boat for your entire naval career!”
“I’m trying out for the SEALs,” Patrick insisted.
“No, that’s not up to you. The Navy decides who tries out for that gig. Only one out of a thousand is given the chance to try out. You’re too big to be a SEAL.”
“Ah come on, Forestall, you know that’s not true,” interrupted Markham.
“Look at me? I’m too tall—”
“Fuck sake, Forestall, you’re too fat. Don’t give him that line of crap,” Markham continued. His face was turning red.
“Patrick, I think you and I better have our little chat in private, if you don’t mind, LPO Markham.”
It was one of those orders that Patrick understood should never be disobeyed, if Markham didn’t want to get written up. He stood, patted Patrick’s shoulder, and mumbled, “Meet you outside in a few. Remember what I told you.”
Patrick rose out of respect. “Thanks, man. I won’t be long.”
Growling and without addressing Lt. Forestall, Markham left the room.
An hour later, Patrick was ready to leave the recruiter’s office because Forestall refused to put in writing that he had a slot to try out for a Team. But before he could get out the door, the recruiter produced a request application, signed it, and Patrick was promised a consideration for a spot in the next class, which was due to start in six months. With that, Patrick agreed to report to Indoc later in the month, after he’d negotiated his separation from Tottenham.
Markham was pleased he’d managed to get the commitment his first time trying. “I’ve known guys that go back four, five times, and never get one. And then they have to fight all the way through basic. He must have understood you were serious.”
“I am.”
“You’re gonna hate it. But it�
��s worth it, in the end. I hope you don’t hate me for encouraging you.”
“That’s a fair warning, but I’m ready.”
Stephanie was talking to a girlfriend in Palo Alto when Patrick entered their room. She was wearing the fluffy robe with the hotel insignia on it, her hair up in a clip, her long legs crossed sensually, showing off her red-painted toes. He put his paperwork on the edge of a side table and stared at it. Then he smiled up at her while she signed off the phone. So much was going to change for both of them. This would be the last lazy day they’d have, perhaps.
She untied the robe and floated over to him. His hands smoothed over the soft velvet of her skin, pulling her into his groin, enjoying her light fragrance and the warmth she emanated. Her fingers laced through his hair as she covered him in her warm breath. She didn’t ask him anything, because she knew.
It hit him just before their lips touched that this was what he would be fighting for. This was what he would be coming home to. He also understood that in time SEAL wives sometimes soured to the whole gig. He hoped Stephanie’s kisses and her body always remained soft and welcoming. He’d work hard to make sure it remained that way.
“Marry me before I go in, Stephanie. Would you do that for me?”
“Oh, sailor, you don’t fool around much, do you?” She nibbled on his lower lip, pulling it with her teeth. “You like things fast. I can tell it’s going to be an adventure. You’re all about the adventure,” she said as his hand found the juncture between her legs. “But I couldn’t do that to my mom. She’d want the whole wedding thing. I’m afraid you’re stuck with that.”
He was enjoying the feel of her warm sex and how she jumped when he breeched her lips.
“How ever am I going to keep up with you?” She smiled, her eyes wide and sparkling, daring him further.
“Because I’ll be there to carry you. You just keep up the kissing, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”
She squealed as he picked her up and threw her on the bed where he stood over her. She allowed the robe to fall to the sides. Lying on her back, she propped herself on her elbows and touched his groin with the toes on her left foot. “I’m going to make you work hard tonight, sailor. So get those clothes off, because I’m in desperate need, and you’re the only one who can fill it.”
SEAL's Rescue (Bone Frog Brotherhood Book 4) Page 19
