“Cade?”
He heard movement, the soft sound of her footsteps on carpet. He stretched out on his back, the soft comforter beneath him and his arms overhead, and smiled at her. “Time for your next fantasy. Tie me up, gorgeous. The night isn’t over, and I’ll be damned if I let the sun rise without crossing off every item on your Post-it.”
Her fingers toyed with the belt from his discarded robe. “I don’t need pity sex, or pity fantasies.”
“Lucia, look at me.”
Her hesitant gaze zeroed in on his face, and her hands stilled. “Okay,” she said.
“I hate what happened to you. But I’m not lying here with my cock hard at the thought of you tying me up and riding me until you forget your own name out of pity.”
She blinked, and he watched her focus shift lower, until she saw the proof of his desire.
“I’ve broken a lot of my own rules tonight,” he said. “Not because I feel sorry for you. I want you. From the moment I first saw you staring at the painting, I wanted you. Come to bed, gorgeous, and claim your fantasy.”
Chapter Seven
Lucia had witnessed countless people—family, doctors, strangers, the list went on—offer her the all too familiar words: “I’m so sorry.” She knew pity inside and out. And Cade was right. Pity didn’t look like this—a Navy SEAL with the muscles of a superhero, naked on her bed.
Her gaze drifted over the hard lines of his body. This man’s body was a work of art, surpassing even her wildest fantasies. And he was still here. For her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, gorgeous. Did you have something different in mind for number four?” His arms moved to his sides, elbows pressing into the bed. And his upper body curled off the bed as he looked at her. “I can improvise.”
“When I wrote that list…” Her gaze drifted over his sculpted abs, moving lower and lower. She’d licked every inch of his long, thick cock, reveling in the way he filled her mouth. When he’d climaxed, his hips pumping into her, demanding more, she’d lost herself in the heady rush of power.
And then she’d lost her mask.
At home in Tennessee, she’d allowed her imagination to run wild. She’d sat in her sunlit studio writing lists without thinking through the consequences.
“I’m listening,” he said. “Tell me what you wanted when you wrote your list.”
To run away from my past and straight into the arms of a fantasy.
Everything about this man was bigger than her dreams. “The thought of tying someone to the bed—”
“Not someone¸” his deep voice cut in. “Me.”
Her gaze met his. “Claiming control sounded exciting. But now, with you…”
Her feet refused to carry her one step closer to the bed. Hidden behind the mask, she could allow desire and wanting to sweep her off her feet. But without it?
“The red dress,” she continued. “That’s not me. Not really. And I don’t—”
Ride men like you until I come screaming your name.
She’d planned to keep her insecurities bottled away for the night. The simple act of spelling out her fantasies on paper had granted her confidence. She could do all of the things she dreamed about when she closed her eyes and pretended she was the beautiful, sexy woman who’d walked into Glitterati tonight.
But to do this now? They’d just dipped into reality, and he was inviting her back into a fantasy. It blurred the lines in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Lucia.”
She glanced up at his face, expecting frustration. He’d offered her exactly what she’d claimed to want, but instead of joining him on the bed, she’d decided to explain all of the reasons she might die from embarrassment if she actually tied up a Navy SEAL. And if she climbed on top of him, he would notice every extra pound and—
“Watch my hand.” His voice drew her mental downward spiral to a halt as he reached for his cock.
He ran his hand up his thick length then paused at the top. His fingers swirled through the liquid beading at the tip and drew it down. He lifted his hips off the bed and groaned as he thrust his thick cock against his palm. But he kept his eyes fixed on her.
Oh, he was good. He’d seen how watching him touch himself excited her. Now she ached to replace his hand with her own. To abandon her robe and climb on top of him—before he changed his mind about the woman who’d invited him into her hotel room and then left him to take care of his own needs.
“Cade, I can’t—”
“Just watch,” he said, and his deep baritone seemed to send a vibration all the way through her. “I don’t give a damn about the dress. I’d tear it to pieces to get at what’s underneath. Without you, that dress does nothing for me. But on you? The way it revealed just enough to leave me dying to slip my hands underneath and feel your perfect ass…”
The intensity in his eyes bordered on overwhelming. His free hand moved between his splayed legs and cupped his balls, drawing them down.
“Open your robe.” His words hovered on the line between a command and a plea. “Let me see you.”
She dropped the tie from his robe to the floor, and then she drew her robe back, exposing her breasts and widening the V-shaped opening to her waist. The belt remained snug around her stomach, hiding the parts of her body that left her second-guessing why a man like him would want her.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
She let his eyes linger on her, soaking up his desire. What was he thinking about her while he looked at her? While he touched himself? “What about you? What are your fantasies?”
He sat up. “I look at your breasts and I want to bury my cock between them. Let’s call that fantasy number one.”
The blatant appreciation in his green eyes spoke to the part of her body silently pleading with her to join him on the bed. “And number two?” she murmured.
“Reach down, below the belt, and open your robe.”
She drew in a deep breath and pulled back the fabric. Her thighs had never been fantasy material. But the groan coming from the Navy SEAL on the bed told a different story.
The sound reignited the bold feelings she’d carried into the restaurant with her. She drew the robe wide open.
And his hand froze midstroke.
“Cade?” she whispered.
“If I keep going, I’m going to explode.” Deep, dark desire shined in his eyes, the kind that turned a tuxedo-clad superhero into an animal. “When I look at you, the things I want to do—hell, I’ll need more than one Post-it note.”
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“Fantasy number two,” he said. He wasn’t touching himself anymore, but his cock rose back to attention anyway, irrefutable proof this man wanted her. “I’m dying to slide inside. I’d settle for straight-up missionary. But since this is my Post-it list, I’d lay you down, your breasts pressing into the bed. I’d take you with my hands on the ass I’ve been admiring all night.”
His words were like a drug, and the intoxicating sound of his voice doused her doubts in a haze of longing.
“Number three,” he said with a playful smile. “I’d like to revisit the scene at the nightclub.”
“The people below,” she said. “They turned you on?”
“You did. Tasting you drove me wild. I don’t give a damn about the setting. I’ll make you come with my mouth buried between your legs any damn place you choose. Give me a day and I’ll prove it. I’ll go down on you in bed, at a club, by the pool, in a closet—any location that turns you on and leaves you wet, I’m game.”
His gaze shifted up her body to her face. Instinct demanded she turn her damaged cheek away.
“Lucia, look at me.” His words were filled with a deep wanting. Not a hint of a threat. And she turned back to him. “I meant what I said by the fountain. My number-four fantasy lines up with yours. I look at your mouth and I fantasize about your lips.”
When she looked in the mirror, the woman who stared back at her, haunted by the past—she wasn’t fantasy
material. But maybe if she narrowed her focus to her mouth and her breasts, if she concentrated on the pieces of herself that turned him on, she could slip into the illusion for a few more hours.
Cade patted the bed. “Come here, gorgeous, and let me kiss you.”
As she bent over the bed, her breasts spilled out of the robe’s wide opening.
Look at me, touch me, lick me.
The words spun on the tip of her tongue. She glanced up at him and reached for the discarded belt from his robe.
“Do it,” he said. The gleam in his eyes bordered on feral. “Pick up the tie and bind my wrists before I come just from looking at you.”
She took a tentative step forward. “Lie down flat.”
His abs contracted as he leaned back and stretched his arms overhead.
She paused at the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes,” she said softly.
For a second, she thought he would protest. But he simply took one last look, his gaze lingering on her breasts until anticipation rippled through her. And then he obeyed and rested his head on the comforter.
With the robe still covering her waist, she climbed onto the bed and crawled to his wrists.
Do I dare?
In the morning, the fantasy might shatter into a million pieces. But he was here now. And he wanted her.
Her gaze dropped to his thick cock. Thinking of how he’d touched himself, she wrapped her fingers around him.
“Last chance to tie me up,” he growled, his hips lifting into her touch. “Do it now.”
She released him and slid the bathrobe tie under his wrists. The headboard didn’t really offer a place to wrap the cloth around. Unless she wanted to bind him to the nightstand, she would have to settle for tying his wrists together. She completed the bow and knelt beside him, admiring her work.
“With your training, you could probably break free anytime you choose,” she said, her gaze moving over the six-foot-plus Navy SEAL on her bed.
“In a heartbeat,” he confirmed, opening his eyes. “But those training exercises are about escaping a situation. Right now, the last thing I’m looking for is a way out.”
His words were measured and controlled. But the wild look in his eyes begged for unrestrained satisfaction.
She bent over and kissed him hard. She pressed her palm against his chest and ran her hand over his abs. Her hair fell forward, covering his face and chest. As she deepened the kiss, her fingers brushed the tip of his cock, and she moaned against his lips. She wanted him just like this—the need clear and present in his green eyes and her body on fire with yes-I-dare desire.
He broke the kiss, and his chest rose and fell as he drew in quick, measured breathes. “No more teasing.”
She sat up, the hint of a smile on her face. “No more.”
She slipped off the bed and retrieved a condom from her purse. She rejoined him, straddled his thighs, and tore the foil packet open.
“Don’t play with me,” he warned. “I haven’t been this close to losing control since I was a teenager.”
“I can’t wait any longer,” she said, feeling the truth of her words through every inch of her body.
She rolled the condom on him, savoring his fierce groan. With one last glance at the wicked, wild fantasy lying bound beneath her, she positioned him beneath her and sank down.
His hips thrust up, punctuating his sentences. “I need you to hold on tight. This is going to be hard and fast. Next time, I’ll take it slow. I swear. But right now, I’m out of my mind.”
“Don’t hold back,” she murmured, leaning her head back. She matched his frantic pace, grinding her body into his. The robe flowed around her like a cape. And right now, in this moment, she felt like the perfect match for the superhero SEAL bucking beneath her.
She fell forward and placed her hands on his chest. Her world narrowed down to the feel of him filling her…the pressure against her clit…the pleasure. There was no space here for her past and her insecurities. Not with this man taking her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
“Say my name again,” he barked, pumping into her.
She felt him straining toward the end goal, no longer bothering to hold back. Maybe he’d climbed onto her bed with a road map, an idea of the right way to do this. But she had a feeling he’d abandoned it, losing himself to base need. Losing himself with her…
The thought brought her to the edge, too, suddenly, powerfully. She screamed his name as she collapsed on his chest, her legs trembling from an orgasm that deserved a place in the record books. She closed her eyes, determined to memorize this feeling, the sensations bound to this place, and to—God help her—this man.
“Cade,” she whispered. “Cade.”
“Right here with you.” He thrust up one last time. A low groan filled the room, his body tensing and straining beneath her. And then he stilled, the only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he gasped for air.
Slowly, she sat up, their bodies still joined as she stared down into his warm eyes. The desire had faded, replaced with something that looked an awful lot like awe.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“We’ve moved a helluva long way past hello.” His voice set off an aftershock pulsing up through her. “You just rode me to the best damn orgasm of my life.”
“The best?” She wrapped the robe around her body and sat beside him on the bed. “You don’t have to say that.” He was sweet to compliment her, but one red dress and a list of fantasies did not make her Bond girl material.
“You might not believe me now,” he said, sitting up and easily slipping his hands free from the bow that looked as if it belonged on a present, not a SEAL. “But it would be my pleasure to prove it to you tomorrow.”
He stood and headed for the trash, his back to her as he disposed of the condom. He turned to face her with his hands on his hips and his head cocked. “Assuming you want me to stay.”
She’d expected him to pull on his pants and head for the door. The thought of sleeping in his arms and waking up to his voice, his body, and oh, heaven help her, his words…
If she said yes, she might start to believe the fantasy. And when she stepped onto the plane Monday afternoon, it would hurt that much more. But she’d learned to live with pain and rejection before. It was the pure pleasure that was new to her. She wouldn’t let this opportunity slip her by. Who knew when she’d have a chance to live out a fantasy like this again?
“Yes,” she said. “Stay with me.”
Chapter Eight
Walking into a Vegas breakfast buffet dressed in the tux he’d worn to last night’s opening—minus the bow tie—screamed walk of shame. And shit, today he had a damn good reason to hang his head in disgrace. He should crawl into the doghouse for breaking his promise to his best friend. And for hiding the truth from Lucia.
He’d done a lot of things that rode the line between right and wrong while serving his country, but holding back from Lucia felt like a new low. Yeah, he was pissed at Natalie for hiding pieces of her sister’s story. But his anger was like a fine sheet of ice. Beneath the frozen surface, his heart broke for what his friend had suffered.
Natalie was tough now, but he hated the fact that she’d been forced to develop her don’t-fuck-with-me attitude as she’d been passed from one foster home to another. And after hearing her story, he suspected Natalie shouldered a share of the guilt for their foster father’s actions. Hell, maybe Natalie had been protecting herself as much as Lucia by keeping these things secret.
His phone vibrated against his leg, and he withdrew it from his tuxedo pants. Please don’t let it be Natalie. He needed to talk to Lucia’s sister, but not before breakfast.
He glanced at the screen, spotted his home number, and moved away from the crowd gathered by the plates. “It’s my dad. I need to take this, but it won’t take long.”
Lucia nodded. “I’ll wait for you.”
He held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”
“Cade!
” His father’s voice boomed through his phone. “When do you get into town? My calendar said last night, but I know how these things change. I can’t wait to see you, son. I made a list of things we can do to make the most of your leave.”
“I’m here. I arrived last night, but I had plans.”
“Oh.” The excitement vanished from his old man’s voice.
Cade winced. He could picture his father counting down the days until Cade’s leave. Hell, as a kid, Cade had done the same thing. “But I’d love to meet up later and fill you in. In fact, I could use your help.”
“I don’t know how much advice I have to offer these days,” his father said. “Does this have something to do with your team?”
“No. But I know you can help. Pick a time this afternoon that works for you and shoot me a text.” Cade glanced at Lucia waiting patiently to the side of the buffet line. “Right now, I’ve got to go.”
He ended the call, slipped his phone back in his pocket, and headed for Lucia. “Ready to eat?”
She smiled. “Starving.”
They moved to the end of the buffet line. A tall, slim woman in a pink tank with the word “Angel” written across her chest turned to Lucia and offered a plate from the stack. The angel let out a soft gasp but quickly covered it with a fake smile.
“Thank you,” Lucia murmured. She turned her face and kept the scarred side out of the woman’s view.
He picked up a plate still warm from the dishwasher and fought the urge to snap the china in two. The casual glances thrown in their direction as he’d walked through the hotel in last night’s tux took on new meaning. He placed a hand in the small of her back and guided her forward. The woman in the pink shirt bypassed the hot food and headed straight for the fruit.
Lucia’s gaze followed the other woman. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she looked away. Shit, she’d lived with that for years. No wonder she didn’t bother letting it show how much the woman’s expression must have hurt. Witnessing it firsthand, he wished he could shield her from that kind of pain.
To Tempt a SEAL Page 5
