Teasing Her Seal (Uniformly Hot!)

by Anne Marsh

  Laney shrugged. “Being lied to is an occupational hazard of working in the ER. No one likes to admit that they’re responsible for their own accident or that they did something stupid or illegal. Take your pick, but bodies don’t lie. That guy in the towel hut was shot on multiple occasions.”

  “You can tell he took a bullet more than once?” He knew that was the truth, but how did she?

  “The scars are different colors,” she said with a second shrug that threatened her cotton shroud. “The one on his palm is older than the one on his forearm, so not a matching set.”

  Damn. She was good. It would have been easier if she were less aware of her surroundings.

  “So, no matter what he told you, he’s been in a firefight.”

  Also true. Levi had acquired those scars during a less-than-friendly meet-and-greet with the Nicaraguan Navy. He had joked that the bullet that had creased his palm was a souvenir. Since Levi had also walked away from that fight, Gray had been satisfied. Sometimes, blood got spilt. As long as everyone got patched up in the end, that was all that mattered..

  “Got it,” he said. “Everyone lies.”

  She shrugged again. “Pretty much.”

  Great. She’d spent her professional life being conned and lied to, and he was doing the same thing. In the name of US national security, true, but the end result was the same. He sighed. There were days his job sucked, and this was definitely one of them.

  “Tell me something, Doctor. Why are you here by yourself?” He stepped in closer until his thighs brushed hers. The massage cabana was a cozy space, and he had her up against the massage bed. He liked the way she refused to retreat, the way she held her ground and dared him to keep on advancing. Sex with her would be good. More than good. It would be great, and she would tie him in knots if he let her. Which he wasn’t going to do.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you look at my reservation the way you did my phone?”

  “Would you believe me if I said no?” In point of fact, he hadn’t. Ashley had. She was a whiz at cracking databases and sticking her nose where it shouldn’t be. He’d asked her to hack Laney’s phone, although apparently that had been super easy because Laney had keyed in the password in front of Ashley, and the undercover op’s memory for numbers had done the rest.

  Laney sighed and tightened her arms over her chest. The move did fantastic things to her bikini top, so it was a pity her beach bag covered the rest of her because he liked looking at her. She wasn’t naked and in his arms, but it was the next best thing. Her swimsuit was approximately ninety square inches of wet nylon.

  He could have her naked in seconds.

  And then in his arms five seconds after that.

  Laney stared at him as if she’d just made up her mind about something. She stepped backward and he knew immediately that playtime was over. She was done with him.

  “Damn it,” she said, and he recognized the regret filling her voice. He had far too much firsthand experience with that emotion himself. “I really wanted this massage, but I’m going to have to pass.”

  Letting her walk away from him was harder than he’d anticipated. Her flip-flops smacked against the pool deck with a brisk snap-snap, her ponytail flicking back and forth. She didn’t so much as throw him a backward glance. Stay in character. He didn’t need a consult with Levi to know that a real masseuse wouldn’t go chasing after a client who had just canceled on him.

  Never break cover. Fortunately, he had that iron self-control thing down pat, because the island’s newest guest was hands down the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Better yet, she was interested in him, too. He had no idea how he’d lucked into that, but he definitely wanted to be the man giving her whatever she wanted.

  He’d never been one to take orders in the bedroom—he was best at giving them—but some sixth sense told him Laney might be willing to let him be the one in charge. She was stubborn, opinionated and unless he missed his guess, an excellent trauma surgeon. When she wasn’t naked on his massage table, she owned her surroundings. He liked her confidence, her self-control, the aura of awareness she projected. It made the possibility of convincing her to let go even more intriguing.

  He watched her go, moving double-time. His current position gave him an excellent view of her ass. She walked with a firm, determined stride, but her hips swayed just the tiniest bit as she walked, a sexy rhythm a man had to watch to catch. He needed to let her go. The closer they got, the harder it would be to not blow his cover, especially given her eagle eye for battle scars.

  And...who was he kidding? He wasn’t interested in playing this smart. He was interested in her. He tossed her abandoned towel onto the bed, and hotfooted it after her, knowing Levi would give him shit for weeks.

  “I don’t want a massage,” she said, picking up her pace when he fell into step beside her.

  “Okay.” He would have enjoyed giving her one, though. Her basic black bikini had double strings holding the sides together over her hips. One hard tug would be all it took to untie the strings and let the scraps of fabric pool around her ankles... “So tell me what you do want.”

  5

  WHATEVER GAME GRAY was playing, he needed to find a different playmate. Did he take the hint, though? Of course not. The man was impossibly used to getting his own way. He tucked his hands in those ridiculous white linen pants and sauntered along beside her. He had no business looking so good in those pants.

  Then to add insult to injury, he’d asked what she wanted.

  She wished she knew.

  “We’re not having sex,” she said, ignoring the frisson of disappointment in her southern regions. Her body was used to not having sex of any kind on a regular basis.

  He blinked, but otherwise showed no other reaction. He had gorgeous lashes, thick and dark, the kind of lush her girlfriends wielded a mascara brush to get and more proof that life wasn’t fair. Although, since she got to recover from her breakup on a tropical island, she was in no position to complain. Sitting on her couch mainlining Ben and Jerry’s wouldn’t have been anywhere near as fun.

  “I didn’t realize sex was an option,” he said finally, and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

  Great. Not only had she almost propositioned him yesterday and failed then, but she was failing now, as well. Hooking up should have been simple. She said: “Do you want to have sex?” And then he said “My place or yours?” or even just “Yes, please” and they did it and she had the orgasm she needed so desperately. Instead, one of them was screwing this up and it appeared to be her.

  “I’m going back to my bungalow.” She needed flirting lessons. Or an intervention. Hookup time was over.

  “Uh-huh. And where am I in this picture?” His shoulder brushed against hers.

  “Not invited,” she snapped. Did he need her to draw him a map? She wanted to be alone. Alternatively, he could relocate to Antarctica and put her out of her misery. This was why dating a doctor had made so much sense. They both had crazy schedules and no time. If you wanted to have sex, you penciled it in on the calendar and there was no misunderstanding about what was happening and when.

  Except that Harlan had misunderstood her, the unwelcome voice in her head said gleefully.

  “Because I’d really like for sex to be an option,” he said in that deep voice of his. “I’d really, really like it.”

  She jerked in a breath. And, of course, she had to look down so she could see exactly how much he liked it. Which was plenty, judging by the enormous ridge filling out the front of his pants, but he didn’t seem embarrassed by his predicament. He should have looked silly in those linen pants with a hard-on, but he was a big, tough, sexy guy...who was turned on by her.

  “Tell me a fantasy,” he said gruffly, his gaze fierce.

  She wasn’t a storyteller—she was a fish out of water. Expensive resorts weren’t really her thing, although she liked pretending she was a sophisticated world traveler who could handle whatever the island threw at her. But
that was a game. In reality, she had no idea how things worked here. For instance, the poolside misting thing made no sense to her. Why would you want to lie around on a lounger and allow some random stranger to squirt you with Evian water when there was a perfectly good pool not three feet away? And fantasy sex was even more unfathomable.

  “Laney.” How did he manage to make even her name sound so sexy? He stared at her, focused and intense. She had the sudden feeling that he could describe every piece of clothing she was wearing, the contents of her beach bag and how she’d done her hair. He didn’t miss anything. “Help me out here.”

  She opened her mouth to say something. Surely it would have been witty or memorable. Something scintillating, if the vacation sex gods were smiling down on her. But before she could get the words out, he was helping himself. He backed her into a palm, his strong fingers tilting her face up toward his. So, okay. That worked for her.

  “I’m going to kiss you soon.” His words were a statement of intent and not a request. Her body sure noticed the difference. She’d always avoided the dominant type, going for guys who were smart and polished. On their occasional free nights, Harlan had taken her to wine bars and dancing, to opera benefits and restaurant launches. Gray wasn’t taking her anywhere. Not only was he bossy and domineering, but he knew it, too, and he wasn’t making any excuses for it. She shouldn’t have been so turned on by it, but...she was.

  Oh, God. Was she ever. With Gray, she wouldn’t have to give directions or look after her own orgasm. He nipped her lower lip and soothed the sting with his tongue, a bright bite of pain followed by sweet pleasure. He was dangerous.

  She sucked in a breath and angled a little bit closer, until her thighs bumped against his. She could do this. Be sexy and bold and fun. “How about now?”

  “I can do that.” His thumb stroked over her lower lip. Good, she decided. But not enough.

  She grabbed the front of his T-shirt, inching him closer. “Do it.”

  Before I lose my courage.

  He grinned. “Your wish is my command.”

  He took over before she could chicken out, pressing her backward as he sealed his body to hers. Thigh to thigh, chest to chest, and all the good parts in between knocking and grinding together. He was so big and so hungry, roughly sweet and demanding as he kissed her. He wrapped his hand tighter in her hair, holding her in place, and damn could he kiss. If sex on a stick had a taste, it was Gray. He devoured her mouth, his lips moving masterfully over hers as he opened her up deeper.

  A callused palm skimmed up her side and over her arm. She arched into the touch, goose bumps skittering over her bare skin. How would his hand feel elsewhere?

  He reluctantly lifted his head, his brown eyes meeting hers. “Do you want to order a drink? From the menu?”

  She didn’t think he was talking about cocktails, but she needed to be sure. “You want a drink? Now?”

  “Off the special menu, sure.” His big hand cupped her face, his thumb rubbing slowly over her lips. “But do your ordering soon, sweetheart, because you’re killing me here.”

  “Did someone tell you about the menu?” Yesterday, she’d felt humiliated because he didn’t know. Today, his knowing didn’t make things any easier because, somehow, that spoiled the fantasy. He worked here. If there really was a menu, of course he knew all about it. Maybe it was some kind of game the island’s staff played. Or maybe it was a joke. Because she couldn’t imagine this man letting any woman dictate what happened in bed.

  “I’ve been clued in since yesterday. You’d be my first.”

  “First what?” Because there was no way in hell this man hadn’t had sex before even if he hadn’t known about the private menu.

  “My first fantasy.” He gave her a crooked grin that was as sexy as his kiss. The idea of being his first was potent. She’d never pursued a man sexually before. Her relationships had all been pleasant, well thought out and with mutually agreed upon limits. One thing was clear, however. If she slept with him, she wouldn’t be the one in charge. He’d demand complete submission in the bedroom, and she had no idea why that was so arousing. She’d led operating room teams, run an ER chute with military precision. She didn’t need to be told what to do. It was simply a craving.

  Her secret fantasy.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Did you like the idea of picking a fantasy for me to give you?”

  Oh. God. She could feel her face burning. “Yes.”

  “I should warn you. I don’t play by the rules. I enjoy my sex raw, and I have it on my terms.”

  Wow. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  “Does that mean you intend to hurt me?”

  He smiled slowly. “Only if it feels good.”

  “To you—or to me?”

  “You, sweetheart. It’s all about your pleasure in our bed.”

  “So if I don’t enjoy pain, you won’t give me pain.” Shockingly, she was okay with that.

  “I’ll give you what you enjoy. You just have to ask for what you want.”

  * * *

  LANEY STARED AT him suspiciously, as if he was mere seconds away from tying her to the palm tree and spanking her pretty butt. She rallied fast, though. He’d give her that. “You should know that I’m not into handcuffs and leather. That’s not something I’ve ever fantasized about.”

  “Fantasies don’t have to be elaborate. A good fantasy doesn’t have to mean costumes and whips. It’s about whatever really turns you on.”

  From the pink flush on her cheeks, he could tell she had something in mind. Maybe talking dirty did it for her. Maybe it was something else. All he knew was that he’d give it to her. He toyed with her bikini strap while he plotted his next move. Her black suit had embroidered flowers on the cups and was tied in a precision bow at the back of her neck. He’d bet one tug wouldn’t be enough to undo her. It would take two, maybe three tries before she fell into his hands.

  She slanted a glance up at him. “What do you like?”

  You. Naked. “I like to lead in bed.”

  “Oh.” She paused, chewed that over. He would have given a million bucks to know what she was thinking about right then. “Are you a...Dom?”

  God, she was so cute trying to get that word out. The blush on her cheeks grew brighter. He leaned in, fitting his body to hers. “If you’re asking if I go to clubs and wear leather, only when I’m riding my bike.”

  “You have a motorcycle?” Her lips parted, her breath catching.

  “Do you ride?” He flattened his left palm on the tree beside her head, caging her in place. His right curled around her hip, stroking the soft skin exposed by her suit.

  “Motorcycles are dangerous.”

  “You don’t see the fun side of the danger in the ER,” he said.

  “Road rash. Lower extremity injuries. Ejection into the path of oncoming traffic. Should I keep going?”

  “You’d like riding with me. Imagine what it would be like.”

  “I’ve seen the accidents,” she pointed out.

  “Shhh.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “It’s my turn to talk. I put you on the bike in front of me so I can wrap my arms around you. We take off down the road. It’s empty, so I can take us fast. The motor vibrates between your thighs as I gun the engine and push us to ninety—”

  “You’re going to kill us,” she interjected.

  “You’re spoiling my story. When I can’t wait to touch you any longer, I pull over onto the edge of the road. We’re alone, just you and me, the road and the bike. I lift you off the bike, bend you over the seat and lift your skirt.”

  She made a face. “I’m wearing a skirt on a motorcycle? Because that seems really stupid.”

  “This is my fantasy, sweetheart. I get your panties around your ankles and I’m pounding you hard, your hands gripping the bike.”

  “I think I’d be demanding more foreplay than that.” She sounded breathless, though.

  He shrugged. “That’s one of mine. Yo
u tell me one of yours. We can compare notes.”

  She hesitated. He figured the best way to get what he wanted—her—was to keep pushing. She was driven, a perfectionist and damned curious.

  “You have to tell me what you want. That’s how this game works.”

  “You want me to beg?” The expression on her face made it clear that begging would happen when hell froze over. Twice. That was okay by him. He didn’t want to humiliate or control her, but he fully intended to have the upper hand in bed.

  “I want you to tell me what you want.”

  “And then?”

  She liked things spelled out. In fact, she’d probably prefer a numbered list of sex acts. He bit back a grin. God, she was fun. He didn’t know if she’d let him sleep with her more than once—he didn’t need a memo from the good doctor to understand that theirs was a temporary relationship with an expiration date—so he planned on making tonight count. And count and count.

  “And then I give you what you asked for.”

  “It’s that simple?” Yeah, her voice held plenty of doubt. He’d have to teach her that he always followed through and got the job done.

  “Try me.”

  “I’m out, taking a walk, going for a jog. Having a good time at the corner bar. It doesn’t matter where, but then I see you. You’re watching me and you buy me a drink, which is really cheesy, but you’re trying to be nice, so I buy you one back so we’re even.”

  “Does this drink have a name?”

  She nodded. “You’re a beer guy, but I order you something really girly, with one of those ridiculous names I can’t believe I’m saying to the bartender. Fortunately, the bartender’s a woman, so she’s on my side. She serves you the Much Fuss for the Conquering Hero with two parasols and so many cherries on top that you can’t even see the drink. And you have to use the little blue straw.”