SEALs of Winter: A military romance superbundle

by Seton, Cora

  “What?” Whatever Bree had just said, he’d missed it. Because you’re lusting after her body, jackass.

  She made a face and dropped down onto the sofa with a bounce, collecting her kitten. He sat next to her, close enough that his thigh brushing hers when he stretched his legs out in front of him. He had no intention of sitting halfway across the room like he was the Avon Lady.

  “So,” she said and he wondered if she had a script for this evening. Hell if he knew what to say. He set the untasted beer bottle on a coaster on the coffee table. He didn’t want the drink. He wanted time with her.

  So he took the bull by the horns. “I want a chance.”

  She licked her lips. “At?”

  “You. Us.” He plucked the kitten out of her hands and set it on the back of the couch. It cracked one eye sleepily but didn’t protest the change in venue. Definitely a boy cat and on Zack’s side. “Staying married.”

  “I’m not sure we were ever really married in the first place,” she said.

  “Ten minutes in Nevada says otherwise.”

  He picked up her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. That was a start, right? Just that simple brush of her hand on his had him hard, however, which wasn’t something he’d planned to bring to this conversation. He didn’t want her to think he was jonesing just for sex, although he’d give everything he had to take her to bed again. Some things were show and not tell, and it would be easier to let his body do the talking.

  “We’ve never so much as lived together. We haven’t even talked for years.”

  “You wrote me letters.” He wasn’t letting go of her without a fight.

  “About sex.” She blushed.

  “And I appreciated every word,” he said solemnly. Jesus. Her letters had been a lifeline, the next best thing to being in bed with her and making every single fantasy come true. He wasn’t stupid. He’d known that he couldn’t simply show up in Strong and expect her to drop her clothes and invite him in. To make those words their new reality.

  Although, sure, he’d hoped. Those had been some really sexy letters.

  “Okay. But those letters were made up stuff. They weren’t me.”

  Not literally, no, but there had been a whole lot of Bree in those pages. He knew that. The descriptions of what she might do to him or he to her were in her own words and those words had been exuberant. Sometimes funny and always erotic. Hell, he’d enjoyed just looking at the soft black ink and swoops and curves of her handwriting. The way she threw in little details that told him what she liked and disliked. She liked really expensive sheets, for example, and vanilla. She didn’t like jasmine. She liked cold weather, the smell of burning leaves, and antique collectibles, whatever the hell those were.

  He had her letters—he just hadn’t really had the face to go with the words on the page. Plus, for every one thing he knew about her, there were a dozen more he didn’t know. He could spend a lifetime getting to know her and she’d still be surprising him each day. It was the kind of mission he could get behind.

  “Zack?” She nudged him, looking uncertain.

  To hell with it. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

  *

  Thirty-six months ago for a few hours, Bree had been on top of the world. Zack had taken her to the dance and afterwards he’d taken her for a drive. They’d parked—because she wanted to look at the river in the moonlight—and then…then she’d done some taking of her own. Learning more about Zack, kissing and touching him even if it had been in the front seat of his truck, had seemed like a dream come true. She’d had her SEAL in her arm and he’d been paying attention to her. For the first time since he’d picked her up from her front door, he’d seen her as a woman.

  She’d kissed him.

  Scooted onto his lap.

  Hell, she’d half-drowned him in the enormous, floaty, gorgeous tulle skirts of her formal. He hadn’t minded, either. Nope. He’d scooped her closer and groaned. When he’d said her name, she’d known that he was right there with her.

  It had been a dream night.

  Perfect.

  Until he’d looked at her, still holding her, and told her that the condom had broken. Then it was rush-rush to drive over the border into Nevada and get married. Just in case, he’d said. Marrying him immediately had been crazy. They could have waited a month or three and married by proxy or Skype or something. Instead, because she was eighteen and over the moon crazy for him, even though he’d talked to her precisely twice before the night of the dance, she’d said yes.

  Because, the thing was, he didn’t seem like a stranger. She’d known him for so much longer than one night. Joey had talked about him, shared stories about him, and she’d fallen more than partway in love with Zack through Joey’s letters and casual mentions. She knew Zack was loyal, could bench press his weight and then some, and that he was earning a degree in fire management from an online university when he could sneak in the hours. He liked cinnamon jellybeans and he’d given Joey shit for smoking, which she heartily applauded. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t pull his punches either and you count on him for the truth.

  So yes…just yes to Zack and the possibility of being his something more.

  Zack ran a finger lightly over the kitten’s side. “Do you think he’s asleep? I feel like we’re parents.”

  Something inside her melted. “Cats sleep all the time.” Or at least she was fairly certain they did.

  “Good.” He pulled her toward him. Slowly, giving her time to protest when she had no intention of doing so.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” Honestly, she had no idea what this was, but she felt like she should warn him. He didn’t get to back off this time. If they tried out their…ideas…in person (please God), he didn’t get to close himself off afterwards.

  He grinned at her. “You have no idea.”

  One more gentle tug and she landed on his chest. And, yeah, no complaints from her. His chest was a good place to be. She could feel the heat of him through the wash-worn cotton of his T-shirt. His heart beat out a steady rhythm, rock-solid and right here in the moment with her. He pressed his mouth against her throat. The delicious rasp of his cheek against her sensitive skin was followed by the warmth of his mouth.

  Oh, yes.

  There were some things letters simply couldn’t say.

  “You’re really, really sure?”

  His mouth travelled down her throat, his tongue exploring her collarbone. She squirmed because it tickled and he licked her and it had been so, so long since anyone had touched her. Since Zack had touched her.

  “There’s plenty of things we haven’t tried,” he whispered against her skin, the vibrations making her squirm even more. “I aim to try them all with you.”

  Yeah, she wanted to do things with him too. To do things to him. Instead of anything sexy and witty, though, all that came of her mouth was one word. “Please.”

  “I promise,” he growled in a sandpaper-rough voice and dropped between her legs.

  He found her knees with his hands and pushed her skirt slowly up. He wasn’t playing fair, she decided, as callused hands stroked over her knees, up her thighs. She was frozen in place, waiting, focused on the pulse of anticipation between her thighs. God. Had she worn her good panties today? Should she have used perfume? Waxed? Found some magic way to lose five pounds off her thighs? She hadn’t dated in years. What if the rules had changed and she got this all wrong?

  She clenched her eyes shut. Thank God for the darkened room. The merry twinkle of the Christmas tree lights would be kind.

  Her skirt reached her waist and he exhaled roughly. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Even more beautiful than I remember.”

  She cracked an eye and looked down. He looked up, smoothing his thumbs over her thighs as he held her gaze. She was soft. She ate too many cookies. The fierce heat in his eyes said he didn’t mind one bit.

  “Do you remember my fantasy, about my coming home and you’re waiting for me o
n the couch?”

  Of course she did. Every word he’d ever written her was committed to memory. Sometimes shocking, sometimes blunt., his words had always been passionate and erotic. He’d written about what he wanted to do for her, how he wanted to make her feel. She remembered this particular fantasy of his—honestly, she remembered them all—and she bit back a moan. She’d be on the couch, he’d written, naked except for her panties. He’d spent a lot of time describing her panties. And then he’d come in and she’d spread her legs wide and he’d…

  Oh. God.

  He watched her.

  “Please,” she whispered again, more hoarsely this time, and he slid his fingertips higher, tickling the sensitive crease of her thigh.

  She opened up for him without his asking. She wriggled, fighting the constriction of the denim around her waist and bunched beneath her butt and damn it, she should have bought a bigger couch, but she hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected Zack to come home.

  “I’ve been dreaming of doing this for years,” he growled. He traced his fingers down her front, over the silky panel of lace and she pressed into him.

  And then he tugged. The thin ribbons holding her panties together in sassy bows snapped and he tossed them over his shoulder—she remembered that from his letters too—and he lowered his head, cupping her butt with his hands and pulling her forward. Her legs slid over his shoulders, his mouth came down, and sweet baby Jesus…

  She might have shrieked. His heated breath was followed by the wicked swipe of his tongue over her drenched sex as he opened her up with his fingers and tasted her.

  *

  Bree was hot and wet, her sweet pussy tightening around the two fingers Zack slid inside her. When he sucked her clit into his mouth and ran his tongue over the full bud, her heels dug into his back, holding him in place.

  Not that he was going anywhere.

  Instead, he kissed her again, working his fingers in and out of her slick folds. When she came, she shrieked his name so loudly Zack was certain the neighbors heard her at the end of the block. He pressed his mouth against her hot, sweet spot, easing her down.

  Booted feet thundered up her front steps. For a moment, he thought the sound was the blood pounding in his ears.

  “Incoming.” Goddamn it. He was between Bree’s knees, trapped by her fucking coffee table. He jackknifed to his feet, grabbed a fluffy little sofa throw and tossed it over her. Something was better than nothing.

  “Bree?” Joey’s voice thundered out his wife’s name, getting closer. Yeah. This was not going to end well.

  He moved toward the door on an intercept course. “I’m going to have to kill him.”

  Behind him, Bree sat up, frantically reaching for her skirt beneath the blanket. “Oh, my God.”

  A new note of urgency filled her voice as she processed the fact that her skirt was tangled around her waist, her pretty pink panties halfway across the floor. He moved faster, but he wasn’t in time. The front door banged open and Joey hurtled through, clearly ready to kill whoever was making his sister scream. At least he wasn’t packing. Small blessing.

  Joey froze and Zack gave up on the lost cause of making it to the door first. “You didn’t lock the door?”

  Beneath the throw, Bree frantically wriggled her skirt down, not even trying to be subtle. Joey made a strangled sound. “This is Strong. No.”

  “Fuck.” Joey’s heartfelt curse said it all. He jerked his eyes away from Bree and focused on Zack.

  “Oh, God,” Bree said. When he glanced at her, her face was redder than Santa’s suit. She looked like she was seriously considering pulling the throw blanket over her head.

  Zack, on the other hand, had no idea what to say. Maybe he needed to write her another fucking letter. Maybe he needed to drag Joey outside and do some punching.

  “Go,” she said. “Just go. Please.”

  Joey looked at him and she repeated her request. Leaving was the last thing that he wanted to do—he wanted to kick Joey’s ass out and then crawl back on the couch with Bree, maybe carry her into the bedroom—but she’d asked.

  He dropped one last kiss—on her mouth, unfortunately—and nodded.

  “We’ve got eleven more days of Christmas,” he said and damned if his voice didn’t sound gruff.

  “And?” Pink still stained her cheeks.

  “And I’m not letting Joey chase me off. I’ll be back for you this time.”

  She made a strangled sound, so he had to kiss her again. A quick, hard, possessive kiss because she still tasted like Bree and he wasn’t ready to walk away.

  “I’m just taking my sweet time,” he warned and then he turned around and followed Joey out of the bungalow, hoping he hadn’t just lost his one shot with Bree.

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  Sleeping in was apparently not an option. Bree yanked the pillow over her head, but no amount of hypoallergenic memory foam could block out the memories of last night. Crazy, wild, amazing memories—right up to the point where Joey had burst into her living room ready to protect and defend. It could have been worse. She could have been completely naked, for instance, or there could have been full penetration.

  She wondered what Zack had done after he’d left her bungalow last night. Part of her had yearned to draw him back inside and to hell with Joey’s dramatic white knight entrance. She was a grown woman and her brother would just have to come to terms with her having a sex life. Even if—please God—she didn’t want to have said sex life in front of him.

  Although apparently she didn’t have any inhibitions in front of Zack.

  Nope. She’d dropped her panties and encouraged him to have his wicked way with her willing body. Giving up on sleep, she got up and shuffled out of the bedroom, because she had an urgent date with Mr. Coffee and eighteen ounces of hot, liquid caffeine. Unfortunately, making coffee meant she came face to face with the scene of the crime.

  She’d never look at her couch the same way again. Immortalize it? Burn it? She had no idea. The throw pillows were tossed about, which was her fault. And Zack—he’d dropped to his knees right there and…

  Shown her a whole new side of heaven.

  Holy. Smokes.

  The man could kiss. Or he followed instructions really, really well because unfortunately she’d written more than one letter to him detailing exactly how she liked her oral sex. Or thought she’d like it, because yeah…they’d had an ocean or two between them and she hadn’t been getting any.

  Nice move.

  Before she knew it, her feet were taking her to her underwear drawer and the small box nestled beneath her best stuff. She’d taken her wedding ring off as soon as Zack had cleared her driveway all those years ago and she’d never put it back on again. Not in public. Maybe she’d taken the ring out a few times, tried it on and wondered, but she’d always, always put it back in its hiding place.

  The drawer slid open easily and the ring was right where she’d left it. She slid the cool weight onto her finger. It was just an inexpensive gold band from Sears. Trying it on was okay.

  She could take it off again.

  It was safer on her hand than nestled with her panties because, God knew, she didn’t need to think about this man in the context of her panties anymore than she already did.

  The gold gleamed in the light of the electric Christmas candles she’d stuck in her bedroom window. So simple and strong. The truth was, she liked wearing it.

  She liked Zack.

  She thought about that for another minute, but the panic didn’t come this time. They were married and she actually could imagine them staying married. So what if they’d gotten married young? She knew a good man when she saw him and she’d staked her claim. He was back in time and they had…possibilities to explore, both in bed and out.

  She padded out into the living room. Her Christmas tree rustled a happy welcome and a baby kitten face poked out from the top. Nice. She’d have to tie the tree up with string just in case her new homebo
y decided to pull a Superman. She walked up to the tree and stroked the small head. The kitten rewarded her with a demanding meep.

  “I should find you a vet, huh? You’re going to need a whole set of shots, plus a nip and tuck on your manly parts.”

  Gently she disentangled kitty from her tree. It settled in against her collarbone with a purr, tiny claws kneading her skin. Someone was definitely happy to see her.

  She rubbed her nose against its silky fur. “You’re going to be an expensive date.”

  The kitten meeped again, unconcerned by its impending loss of manhood. Too bad real-life guys weren’t so easy to manage.

  The knock on her door was unexpected. When she answered, she found Joey standing there.

  “Hey.” His half-grin was hesitant, like maybe he expected her to slam the door in his face. She considered it, but they were related. She loved him. And, most importantly, he’d brought doughnuts.

  “You learned to knock and wait,” she said.

  She could feel her face heating up because her brother had caught her riding the SEAL’s face and making dying puppy noises. She couldn’t help remembering what it felt like…because BOB and her fingers had nothing on Zack. God, Zack was good. Or bad. Yeah, definitely bad.

  He ignored her dig with the practiced ease of a brother. “Can I come in?”

  “We’re going to have to talk about this, aren’t we?” Weren’t guys supposed to be anti the sharing thing?

  “Yeah.” He handed her the pastry box and she took her consolation prize and headed for the kitchen. The couch was off-limits. No way she had a serious conversation with her brother in the same place where she’d come shrieking Zack’s name. Maybe in another ten years—or fifty—Joey could sit there again. Or she’d buy a new couch. That could work too.