Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “Sure, not a problem. Well, other than the relentless come-ons with that lot, harmless but exhausting.” I smile and roll my eyes.

  “Just tell Joe if they give you any trouble, sweetheart. He has some very big knives.” He winks and returns to his office. I return to the kitchen and mentally high five myself, because this is a good result for me. Just before one I change into my work clothes and set up the big table for Marco’s crowd. Throughout the morning, I have had a steady stream of texts from Daniel. His playfulness makes me smile. His texts range from questions regarding what type of food I like, what drink apart from tequila, to deeply detailed descriptions of how he intends to make me scream tonight, and how often. Seriously I’m at work, surrounded by possibly the most flirtatious men on the planet, and I’m blushing like a nun in Amsterdam. I slip my phone in my apron for the hundredth time.

  “Hey, Marco, when are you going to convince Bets that I’m the man of her dreams if she would just give me a chance? Look, she’s blushing already. You know that’s a good sign, right? It means your body wants me.” I stand at the end of the table as Marco snakes a protective arm around my hip and glowers at his best friend.

  “Stef, don’t flatter yourself, man. That colour is not for you, and if it was, I’d lock her in a tower and throw away the key. She is too good for you. I’ve yet to meet a man good enough, but it certainly ain’t a player like you.” Marco laughs at his best friend, who tries to look offended.

  “Takes one to know one, Marco.” He tips his beer bottle and clinks it with Marco, and the whole table erupt in boisterous laughter.

  “Men are pigs.” I lean forward and kiss Marco on the head, just so he knows I don’t mean him. I finish serving the last coffee and retrieve my phone once again. Every question Daniel has asked, however silly or obscure, has made it really hard not to ask my own. I feel myself wanting to know about him, his family, his life, and I actually have to physically curl my fingers into tight fists to prevent that line of enquiry. It’s not that I am not interested--I really am. It’s just that knowing more will make this less like the fun it is supposed to be. I have to keep this fun; fun is temporary, and temporary I understand.

  His last text reminds me his driver will pick me up at six. He also suggests for the third time I get some rest. I can’t believe in the space of a weekend I’ve gone from virgin to nymphomaniac. I feel like the sexual equivalent of his supercar, nought to insatiable in three point zero days. I head upstairs to rest, read, and I really need to catch up with Sofia. I notice the small flashing green then red lights in the corner of each room straight away. I don’t have a television, so anything electrical would stand out like a sore thumb. I run back downstairs and knock on Anthony, Jr.’s, office door.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How was lunch?” He grins widely.

  “Are you fishing for compliments or information?” I narrow my eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Lunch was fine. Marco kept the wolves at bay… I just wanted to check something. The flashing lights in my apartment, they’re just motion detectors right, no cameras? I don’t want to find out my super exciting life has gone viral?” Anthony laughs and slaps me on the shoulder.

  “That would have to be the dullest YouTube ever, sweetheart.” I can see full-on hysterics bubbling beneath his laugh, but he holds off to add, “No cameras, just sensors.” I must look relieved when he adds. “Just a safety thing, okay?”

  “Okay, thanks.” I head back up to my new ‘super safe’ apartment.

  Having smoothed things over with Sofia, I’m a bad friend for leaving her to worry, but she was placated when I told her all the details of my weekend with Daniel. She has a penchant for the dramatic and is a complete romantic, so she has read way too much into the ‘rescue in the rain’ incident. Her world view is a little rose-tinted, and it’s wonderful for her to have found her perfect match in Paul, but I am much more likely to think horse when I hear hooves, while Sofia hears unicorns. I have washed as best I can, and I am thankful that Sofia takes me for regular waxing treatments, because I would easily sever an artery trying to shave my legs, balancing with one leg high in the sink. I am now in a panic. What underwear? I know what’s on the agenda tonight, and I would love to wear something sexy and alluring, or even pretty would be good. I can’t wear any of the lingerie I have been sent. Another box came today, cream silk lace bra and panties; that set would be perfect. But it would feel wrong to wear underwear bought by one man to fuck another. It feels like cheating, and I know how he feels about lying. What if he asked? Okay, that’s ridiculous, but it would still feel wrong; plain Jane it is, then.

  I wish I had asked a few more questions about tonight, because now I’m getting nervous. He said dinner. Did he mean dinner at his apartment? Is he going to cook, or is he taking me out? Where would he take me? What should I wear? I look in my wardrobe and eighty percent of what is hanging there belongs to Sofia. She comes over, hauling armfuls of clothes that she is bored with, some of it still with tags, and she switches my wardrobe around so it is a constantly changing entity and full of surprises. I find a thin jersey wrap around dress in black, a cropped leather jacket and my knee-high boots. The evenings are chilly now, so I take a scarf, too. I have straightened my hair and put a little lip gloss on, but I don’t want Daniel’s driver ringing the bell, so I go to wait outside by the back door just before six. I see the sleek Bentley pull around the corner and not that this is a rare sight in Knightsbridge, but the fact that my tummy starts to churn means I know this is Daniel’s car. The car pulls to a gradual stop and with impeccable timing; it is then that the kitchen porters decide to take their cigarette break.

  “Whoa, Bets. Is that sweet ride for you?” Ricky, one of the youngest porters can’t hide the awe in his voice. “Hey Joe!” He yells inside gaining the attention of the remaining chefs and waiting staff, all of whom scramble outside. I close my eyes and curse myself. Why didn’t I just walk? “Looks like Bets, has bagged herself a rich dude!” He laughs, and Joe slaps the back of his head. My shoulders slump, and I return a tight smile.

  “No, Ricky, I’m not interested in his money… It’s his fucking enormous cock I’m interested in. Not that you’d know much about that. Now, if you don’t mind my ride is waiting?” I wink at Joe and throw myself arse first in to the back of the car, snapping my knees together as I do to make sure I don’t flash the audience, which is now standing with mouths slightly open.

  “Good to know.” Daniel’s deep voice makes me jump; I didn’t see him in the darkened interior.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry about that. It’s just the guys, well, it’s what anyone would think anyway, so I thought I’d put them straight. Really I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve just walked to your place. It’s not like it’s far.” I start to mumble, and I can feel my face heat.

  “But I wanted to collect you.” He is quiet for a little while before he adds, “So the only reason you would be with me is because of my money?”

  “What? No!” I laugh, but he looks deadly serious. “No, Daniel, you can’t possibly think that. You do have mirrors, don’t you? It’s just we are not exactly on a level playing field, are we? You’re well…” I try to swallow the dryness from my throat. “Daniel, you’re gorgeous. I mean seriously hot as hell, and I wasn’t joking about your cock.” I can’t help bite my lips together. “But you’re seriously wealthy, too, and although I don’t care, no one in their right mind is going to believe me. Just like anyone would think that your interest in me is either as a charity case or purely about sex. Personally, I think it’s about the charity, but then I don’t know anything about you, and that is how it should be. This”--I wiggle my finger between the two of us again--“is off the charts sexy and intense, but it’s just a bit of fun.” I nudge him playfully, with a wide grin spread across my face.

  “Bethany.” He reaches for my hand. The familiar spark of heat ignites inside. “I think we need to qualify what constitutes fun, because I think our definitions are poles apart.” I s
hrug and whisper as I turn to the window.

  “Whatever.” I feel the seat dip as he leans over and pulls me on to his lap, one arm curled around my waist, and the other hand holding my chin millimeters from his face. His breath is warm, his eyes dark and serious.

  “So I’m a philanthropist, is that right? That is why I want you?” He tucks my hairs behind my ear.

  “I have no idea why you want me, and I don’t care; it’s just fun, Daniel.” I’m getting aggravated, and so is he. He grinds his teeth.

  “Bethany, you are-” I interrupt, and by the look on his face, I am not sure this happens to him much.

  “-Daniel.” I narrow my eyes and repeat slowly, “I. Don’t. Care. It’s. Just. Fun!”

  “Dammit, Bethany! You think this is fun, feeling like this is normal?” His voice is a loud rumble and his jaw ticks.

  “I have no idea what normal is, and, yes, it is fun.” My voice wobbles, “It has to be.” I blink back the tears I can feel rising, but I have to close my eyes tight to hold them back. I try to move from his lap, but he strengthens his hold, waiting for me to open my eyes again. I don’t understand why he is pushing this, but he has the same intensity in his eyes when I open mine. “Look, Daniel.” I don’t know how to explain this; I’ve never had to explain this. “It’s one of ‘my things’. Another one of ‘my things’, which you can also deduce, is my way of surviving.” I push with more strength and manage to sit back on the car seat. I have trouble thinking when his body generates such turmoil in mine. “Although, this one actually takes care of two of ‘my things’. First, everyone leaves. Second, everything is temporary. So it’s never going to be anything else, and if that doesn’t work for you, that’s fine, too! We can stop the car and end it here.” I lift my chin to punctuate my determination at this point.

  “God, you’re infuriating!” His tone filled with fury. “How can you deny this? How can you pretend to be so indifferent? I fucking know you’re not indifferent. I can feel you, Bethany, every pulse, every increase in your heartbeat. I feel you respond to me, react to me, need me.” He has closed the distance again, and the heat between us is stifling. I can’t think, “Why don’t you trust this? Why don’t you trust me? Why can’t you be honest with yourself?”

  “Daniel,” I say softly. “I do trust you, I just don’t trust myself. And honestly? For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared shitless.” I let out a nervous laugh, which actually lightens this intense mood. He covers my mouth with his soft full lips, sucking in my bottom lips and grazing it over his teeth. He presses into me and dips his tongue, inviting mine to join his sensual dance. He tastes divine, sweet mint and erotica. I grab at the lapels of his jacket, tightly fisting the material. I need to feel his weight on me. I need the release I know he can give me. He builds this desire so easily, so quickly, it makes my head spin. I groan my response as he pulls back. His eyes are warm pools of desire and lust, matching my thoughts precisely.

  “You know that’s fucked up, right? You’re an intelligent woman, and you have to know that’s fucked up?” He laughs, and I stiffen a little as he dismisses my insecurities with his cocky smile. “Don’t get all defensive, I understand. Well, I mostly understand, but we can work with that. I have a plan.” His wicked smile is infectious and he screws a firm kiss into my hair and exits the car, which has been parked a while.

  DANIEL HAS PLACED me on a stool in the kitchen next to the large marble island, while he grabs two wine glasses.

  “Wine?” He tips the empty glasses toward me.

  “Definitely.” I grimace at my over enthusiasm for liquid courage.

  “You wound me. Do you really need to be drunk to spend an evening with me?” He slaps his free hand playfully against his firm chest and supposedly injured heart.

  “Ha, that’s funny! The drink is for my nerves. You have me on edge in more than one way. So, yes, I can definitely use a drink to help me survive an evening with you, Mr. Stone.”

  “Red or white?” He smiles softly.

  “What are we eating?” I inhale deeply.

  “Sea Bass.” His confident reply has me surprised.

  “You are cooking?” I raise a teasing brow. I know he’s not. There is not a cooking smell to be sniffed, as yet.

  “No, Miss Thorne, I’m ordering in. My housekeeper in on holiday for two weeks, and if you were staying, I would have taken you out to eat. You have insisted on this ridiculous curfew, so I have a very limited time with which to enjoy you. So we are eating here, and I am ordering Sea Bass, Thai Sea Bass.” He is so sure of himself, it is easy to be seduced by his confidence and even more impossible to resist his demands.

  “Yum, white wine then, please.” He pours a large glass of Pinot Gris, and I take two substantial fortifying sips. It’s crisp and fresh and goes down far too easily. “Would you like me to set the table, put my talents to use?” I offer mostly for something to distract my nerves.

  “No. Those aren’t the talents I want to exploit, Miss Thorne.” He holds my gaze with implicit intent. “There are two things we need to address first.” He stands in front of me, takes my glass and places it on the island. He lifts me from my stool, as if I am no weight at all, and strides out of the kitchen. “First, I am going to make love to you like I would have if you had been honest with me on Saturday.” I gasp, and he grins, then whispers wickedly in my ear, “and second we are going the have a luxurious bath together, where we will explore the nature of all this fun we are going to have.” We’ve entered the largest bedroom suite I have ever seen. The floor to ceiling glass wall along two sides gives an unobstructed endless view over London, which is now aglow with evening lights. He carries me over to the corner where the two windows meet and stands me in front of a sumptuous looking chaise. “And then I’ll feed you,” he states as a matter of fact.

  The lights in the room are low, soft and warm, but I shiver all the same. He stands close to my back but doesn’t touch me, and I quiver with anticipation. He leans so I can feel his warm breath against my neck, and I know his lips are suspended just above my skin. My skin flushes with a heat and instant rush of prickles. He has yet to touch me, and I’m burning up. I tilt my neck, a blatant show of submission, as I open my vulnerable neck to him. He groans approval but still doesn’t touch me.

  “You know.” My attempt at a casual tone has failed with the high-pitched squeak mid-sentence. “My first time was pretty amazing, you really don’t need a do-over.” I press my thighs together to quell the burgeoning ache and get some release. This may well have been extra amazing if it was the first time, but since I now know exactly how high the heights of ecstasy are that this man can take me to, this tortuously slow pace is insufferable.

  “Only pretty amazing? Had you said ‘mind-blowing’ or ‘out of this world’ even, I might forgo the ‘do-over’, but since neither expression passed those beautiful lips, I’m afraid I am going to have to go all out, Miss Thorne. I’m nothing if I’m not a perfectionist!” I can feel his wicked smile as his lips curl closer to my neck. “Bethany, I am going to drive you insane, I am going to make you come so many ways, so many times, and you’re going to scream my name so fucking loud, you won’t be able to speak after. Which will be a shame, because you’re going to be begging me to stop, and, baby, I won’t be able to hear you.” He plants the softest kiss on my neck and is rewarded with an uncontrollable full body shudder.

  He wraps his strong arms around my waist and unties the bow which holds my dress together, and it falls open. He puts his large hot hands flat against my stomach and presses my body back against his. There is no mistaking that he is as turned on as I am; the thought makes me moan, and I grind a little into his hardness. He slides his hands up and cups my aching breasts over my bra, pinching and rolling the hard nubs between his thumbs and forefingers just to the point of pain. Instant sparks shoot straight to my core, and I start to draw rapid breaths, trying to keep up with my pounding heart.

  “You’re so fuckin
g perfect, Bethany, and you have no fucking idea what you do to me.” He mumbles into my neck as he drags his teeth along my skin, leaving a searing mark in its wake. He moves his hand to slip my dress from my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. He again scoops me up in his arms and strides toward the bed and carefully lays me down. He frowns, and it looks like he has changed his mind.

  “I know you take instruction very well, but I think this first time I want to worship your body vanilla style.” His smile is stunning, he has a strong jaw and defined cheekbones. His crystal eyes sparkle with lust and desire. He could keep me as a sex slave for all the kink he could dream of at this moment in time, but the decadent way he suggests vanilla is pure sin. I decide to keep my first thought to myself. He kneels on the bed and takes my feet in his lap. He starts to massage and stroke. He varies the pressure as he makes his way up my legs, using his thumb to draw out long strokes easing tension from my muscles. I close my eyes and release a heavenly sigh. He gives a light laugh, but continues his ministration up my legs. He has to kneel up and his muscled thighs flex as they encase mine, trapping me, not that I would want to be anywhere but right here.

  He lightly traces his fingers along the outline of my panties but moves on to my tummy. He slides his hands and grips my waist as he bends over and kisses a path from my belly button to the top of my panties where he releases a burst of warm breath. He then kisses a trail all the way up to my throat, avoiding my aching, heavy breasts. My fingers twitch, and I start to raise my hand. He looks up to my eyes, which are now open. “I said I wasn’t going to give you instruction, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want this my way.” His calm tone leaves no chance of misunderstanding his meaning, and I lay my hand back flat against the bed. Is it too early to start screaming his name? He swoops back to my neck and sucks hard, pulling my tender skin into his mouth, marking me, releasing a scorching heat deep inside, and I buck a little, but I manage to still myself before he stops again. He hovers above me, holding his weight from my body.