A SEAL's Honor

by JM Stewart

  A part of him had died with Ava that day four years ago. Mandy was a bright spot in his world, a blip of sun. Beautiful. Enchanting. She made him want to actually live, instead of simply existing. He was going to allow himself to enjoy the time he had with her, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk losing her friendship.

  And he would if he allowed his feelings for her to grow any further. Because it never failed. He always managed to fuck relationships up. He’d failed Ava.

  He exited the car and opened the rear passenger door, scooping Cammie off her blanket in the backseat. “Come on, girl. Looks like we’ve got company.”

  She wagged her little tail and he set her on the ground, then locked the car and jogged up the front walk. He called out as he entered the foyer, “Mandy?”

  When she didn’t answer, he started for the kitchen, but something out of place in the living room caught his eye, halting him dead in his tracks. Some twenty feet or so across the space, Mandy sat in the recliner.

  In nothing but the blue silk tie he’d worn to the masquerade and a sultry smile.

  With one leg bent up against her belly and the other dangling over the edge of the chair, he had a fantastic view of the lovely heart she’d carved on her mound. His mouth watered and his heavy thoughts flitted away as quickly as they’d come.

  She fingered the end of the tie. “Evening, Marcus.”

  Cammie took one look at her, spun in an excited circle, and ran, leaping onto the chair and straight into Mandy’s lap. She set her feet on Mandy’s very bare belly and leaned up to lick her chin, her tail wagging.

  Marcus chuckled as he closed the front door and moved into the front room. “Look at you. What on earth are you doing here?”

  Mandy’s smile faltered as she attempted to greet Cammie while dodging the dog’s kiss attack. “I wanted to see you.”

  He stopped in front of the chair and pointed at the floor. “Cam, down.”

  If dogs could pout, he was pretty sure Cammie gave him one as she reluctantly hopped from the recliner and sat with a little huff at his feet. He leaned one hand on the chair’s arm and bent over Mandy. The desperate need to be as close as humanly possible fired through him, but he forced himself to move slowly, lest he scare them both. “I’m sorry about her. She’s not very well mannered.”

  Mandy stared, wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you, but I kind of forgot about her.”

  “What happened to Sunday?” He bent closer, hovering now over the soft temptation of her mouth and, unable to resist, trailed his fingers over her bare curves. Over her soft shoulder, down her bare belly, and between her thighs. He plunged two fingers inside her heat and groaned. God, she was wet.

  She gasped, her hips bowing into his hand. “I c-couldn’t wait.”

  “Well, I’m glad.” Unable to hold back any longer, he brushed his mouth over hers once, twice. “I’ve been dying to see you.”

  She angled her chin, reaching for him, her voice now a breathless whisper. “Missed me, did you?”

  Missed wasn’t quite the way he’d put it. He craved her beyond something that made sense. He wanted the connection, when he sank into her and her body rose to his and something more powerful than gravity pulled them together. It wasn’t like that with any other woman, and he yearned to see the reflection of it in her eyes.

  “You tell me.” He took her hand and guided it to the bulge in his pants. “That sprang up the minute I saw your car in the driveway.”

  She cupped his erection, massaging and stroking him through his jeans. “Have you…?”

  “No. I’d much rather…” Marcus released a shaky breath and dropped his forehead to her shoulder as his whole body focused on that one fine point. Her hand on his cock for what felt like the first time in ages. “Shit.”

  She leaned her mouth to his ear, her breath a hot, erratic huff against his neck, and kept stroking. “You’d rather what?”

  “Have you.” One stroke of her hand, one look at the heady mix of desire and vulnerability in her eyes, and she had him right where she no doubt wanted him. Completely at her mercy.

  Her warm mouth covered his earlobe, teeth gently scraping the sensitive flesh. Her hand released him, only to reach for the button on his jeans. One rough tug and she had his fly open. Seconds later, her warm, supple fingers slid around his engorged cock, setting off a shower of hot sparks from the point of contact outward. She stroked him slowly, her fingers gliding over super-sensitive skin. “Let it go, Marcus. I need this. I need you.”

  He swore under his breath. He’d wanted to take this slow, to enjoy every supple inch of her, but like that night at Gabe’s barbeque, he didn’t have the strength to resist. He pumped into her hand, thrusting in time with the stroke of her fingers.

  It didn’t take long. Her luscious soft skin conspired against him. His orgasm exploded over him, leaving him shaking and gasping and emptying himself into the warmth of her hand.

  When the spasms ended, his legs dropped out from beneath him and Marcus landed on his knees. He laid his head in her lap as he attempted to catch his breath. All the while, she sifted the fingers of her free hand through his hair, her long nails gliding along his scalp, the sensation soothing and tender.

  When he found the strength to move again, he kissed her thigh and smiled up at her. “How is it you always seem to bring me to my knees, angel?”

  Amusement glinted in her eyes as her hand caressed his face, along the back of his ear to his neck. “Just good, I guess.”

  “Come on.” After pushing to his feet, he leaned over her and captured her mouth for a lingering kiss, then straightened and held out his hand. “Let’s go clean you up. Then you’re next.”

  He pulled her to her feet and led her into the master bathroom. As she moved to the sink to wash her hands, he sidled up behind her. He bent his head, skimming his mouth along the side of her neck. Nipped at her deliciously bare shoulder. Cupped her full ass in his hands and massaged the muscle before sliding his hands up her flat stomach to her breasts.

  When his palms grazed her hardened nipples, she moaned softly and leaned back into him, reached behind her, and slid her hand around the nape of his neck. Her image in the mirror drew him. Her back arched, pushing her breasts into his palms. Her warm, satiny skin on display. Her generous ass nestled against his pelvis.

  “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He nudged her earlobe with his nose before nibbling his way down her neck and across her shoulder. “All this glorious skin. So damn soft. I’d fuck you right here in front this mirror just so I could watch your face when you came, if I didn’t want to taste you so badly.”

  She moaned again, this one soft and throaty, and pushed her ass back into him. He slid his hands down her belly to her hips and pulled her hard against him. Already his cock swelled behind his zipper again, as if reaching for her.

  “Come on, angel. I’m suddenly starving.” He winked at her reflection, then gripped her by the shoulders to hold her steady as he stepped back. When she straightened and faced him, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom. There he pulled her close, allowed himself a taste of her mouth, then nodded at the bed. “Lie down.”

  “Yes, sir.” Playful impishness glinted in her eyes as she rose onto her tiptoes and flicked her tongue against his bottom lip. Then she turned, crawled up onto the bed on her hands and knees, and lay back. With her head tipped so that her gaze caught his, she bent her knees and dropped them open, reached down and stroked a finger along her slit.

  A low growl escaped him. A fucking growl. He wanted to laugh. His need for her had made him a goddamn beast, but holy Christ she was gorgeous. Supple thighs spread, fingers stroking soft and slow. Her intimate folds glistened in the low light drifting in from the attached bathroom, and his mouth watered.

  “Tease.” He crawled up onto the bed and nipped at the flesh of her right thigh before settling himself on his stomach. He moved her hand out of the way and dipped his ton
gue in for a taste. Her flavor exploded on his tongue. Musky. Sweet. A quiet groan escaped him. “God, I can’t believe how many times I’ve made love to you, and I’ve never taken the time to taste you.”

  She gasped, one hand sliding into his hair. “Would this be your favorite fantasy, then?”

  He darted a glance at her. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut, thighs dropped open in abandon. She was fucking beautiful.

  “No.” He dipped his tongue in again, this one a long, slow stroke from the bottom up. He pushed his tongue inside, gathering her juices, and ended with a light flick over her swollen clit.

  This earned him a quiet moan. Her fingers curled into his scalp. “Now who’s the tease?”

  He couldn’t resist a grin. “Clearly if you can still talk I’m not doing my job properly.”

  He leaned in again, this time pushing his tongue deep, savored the flavor of her for a moment, before circling her sweet, tight little bud with light, teasing strokes. He wanted her writhing, wanted to draw out her pleasure, so that when her orgasm finally overcame her, it was over the top. He wanted her breathless and gasping.

  Mandy panted, her fingers clutching the hair on the top of his head, holding him to her. He finally drew her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, then let her pop free. “Jesus, angel. You taste sweeter than my grandmother’s apple pie.”

  She let out a strangled gasp. Her hips arched into his mouth. “Don’t tease. Please.”

  With his right hand, he stroked her inner thigh. “Do you trust me?”

  She moaned, this one tormented and needy and frustrated. “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Just trust me.” He pushed a finger deep into her, stroked her inner walls, and fluttered his tongue over and around, again and again. The desperate little gasp she let out made him want to beat his damn chest. Her thighs began to shake, along with her belly.

  Another flick of his tongue and a needy moan slid out of her. That sound was his undoing. Shaking right along with her, he slid one hand beneath her ass, lifting and angling her, and gave in to the hunger burning through him. He buried his mouth in her heat, licking and sucking with abandon. It would probably scare the hell out of him at some point, but he needed her pleasure almost more than she did.

  A second hand joined the first, gripping his head. Her legs slid out straight, her knees locking, and those sweet, addicting sounds became low, throaty moans. Mandy went as rigid and still as a statue and, with another flick of his tongue and a stroke of her inner walls, began to shake.

  “Marcus…” She moaned his name over and over as she gasped and sighed and shook.

  It was fucking glorious. He yearned to be able to watch the pleasure travel across her face, but concentrated on her, stroking her through every luscious pulse, desperate to draw it out as long as possible.

  With a sharp, indrawn breath, she finally went limp and closed her legs, pushing him back. Every bit as breathless as she was, he moved up the bed and dropped beside her, gathered her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  “Oh my God.” She draped her arm over his belly, slid her thigh over his, and let out a breathless laugh. “You really want to know what I like so much about older men?”

  He kissed the top of her head. Truth was, he had no desire to know or to have the thought of her with other men parading through his mind. To be polite, though, he had to ask. “What’s that, angel?”

  “That.” She giggled again, the sound glorious in its girlishness. “Sooo that.”

  Some part of him understood she’d meant her comment as a compliment, but his chest constricted all the same. The thought of her with anybody else made him want to hit something. Namely the next asshole to lay his hands on her. Their arrangement meant eventually she’d go back to dating other men. Spending her nights in their beds. Making love to someone else. Laughing at his jokes. Hell, eventually, she’d find someone she wanted to marry.

  And he’d have to let her. Because he wasn’t any good for her.

  He glared at the ceiling, libido thoroughly doused. “I take it most of the idiots you date don’t.”

  She lifted her head, frowning up at him. “Why do you insist on calling them idiots?”

  He tilted his head to meet her gaze. “Because any man who takes his pleasure at the expense of his partner is.”

  She leaned up on an elbow, her gaze following the movements of her fingers as she caressed the side of his face and over his chin. Her voice became a husky whisper between them. “You’re the only one, you know. Who’s ever admitted I had that effect on him, when you said I bring you to your knees, I mean. I haven’t had that in a while, a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable with me.”

  It would seem he didn’t have a choice where she was concerned.

  Long moments passed in silence, somewhere between comfortable companionship and a sweet, aching tension. The kind of tension filled with everything they weren’t telling each other. Because they weren’t supposed to. Because this was just supposed to be about sex.

  Mandy dropped her gaze, effectively breaking the tense moment, and sifted her fingers through the hair on his chest.

  “It’s why I came over. I missed you, missed that feeling. I probably shouldn’t tell you that, considering our arrangement, but if you really want to know why I’m here, that’s it.” She frowned and shook her head slowly. “It’s been a hell of a week. I had a bridezilla to tame. Her wedding’s tomorrow, and the only part of it I’m looking forward to is when it’s over. I just wanted to see you before I had to deal with it.”

  The soft honesty in her tone set his heart hammering. He’d looked forward to her, too. For very similar reasons. Nothing about the engine he and the guys at the shop were rebuilding had gone the way it should have. It had been an uphill battle the whole way, with a very impatient customer who kept calling to ask when it would be completed.

  He’d been looking forward to this exact moment. When he’d have Mandy in his arms. When he could get lost in…every damn thing about her. The feel of her body against him. Her soft mouth. The ring of her laughter.

  All of which meant he was already in way over his head. She’d become…too important. He’d have to put a stop to this sooner or later, but he didn’t have the strength to do it now. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted the rest of the month with her. Then he’d let her go, as planned. Because that’s what he wanted…wasn’t it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mandy drew a deep breath and blew it out as she climbed from the car. She halted at the end of the front walk, eyeing the house before her. Marcus’s grandmother’s house. Not surprisingly, given the things Marcus had told her, the place had a warmth to it. Coffee colored with white trim and lush green plants hanging from baskets in the fascia. On either side of the door sat two tall, round ceramic pots containing fat, brightly colored flowers. On the other half of the three-by-five porch was a padded chair and a small end table holding another plant with a single, white bloom.

  The neighborhood reminded her a lot of the one her parents lived in. One of the few where the houses didn’t all look the same. Children’s laughter rang through the cool evening air from somewhere close, telling her the neighborhood was likely filled with families. Across the street, a large German shepherd pulled a woman down the sidewalk, his nose to the ground.

  Having gotten Cammie out of the backseat, Marcus came to a stop beside her. Cammie trotted past them, climbing the porch, and pawed at the door.

  Both of them looked a lot calmer than she felt.

  Her every limb seemed to be shaking, and her heart hammered from the vicinity of her tonsils. Two weeks ago, when she’d agreed to do this, it had seemed so simple. How hard could it be to pretend to be his girlfriend? She’d had a crush on him anyway, so it hadn’t seemed like it would be a huge stretch to pretend to be enamored with him.

  Now? Well, now her feelings for Marcus had changed, and their relationship didn’t feel so phony anymore. His grandmother’s first impression of he
r suddenly meant everything.

  As if he sensed her gaze, Marcus looked over at her. “You ready for this?”

  “Piece of cake.” She let out a laugh that sounded half panicked even to her and glanced down at herself, toying with the hem of the silk camisole she’d donned an hour ago. “Do I look okay? I tried to pick something conservative. I’ve haven’t done the whole meet the parents thing since high school.”

  She’d chosen a top like the one she’d worn to Gabe’s barbeque, because she’d caught the look in Marcus’s eyes that night. The undisguised hunger there had made her feel beautiful. She’d wanted to hold on to that tonight. She’d topped the camisole with a blazer and a black pencil skirt, but was the outfit “meet the family” material?

  Marcus’s eyes glinted with amusement, crinkling at the corners. He stared a beat before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

  “You look beautiful.” His gaze flicked down her body. “Are you wearing a bra under that?”

  “Yes.” Mandy pulled her shoulders back. Of course she was. That was a girl thing. Girls could always tell when you weren’t and tended to judge each other harshly for it. Among her closest friends she could go braless, because nobody cared, but Marcus’s grandmother might. He’d said she was old-fashioned, and back in the day they trussed themselves up like chickens. Didn’t they?

  He faced the house again, but one corner of his mouth hitched. “Damn.”

  Mandy couldn’t help her smile. Whether he’d done it on purpose or not, his teasing lightened her mood and her nerves flitted away on the breeze. Instead, that night at Gabe’s barbeque invaded her thoughts. His hand pushing beneath her shirt. The unbelievable pleasure when his warm palm curved around her breast for the first time.

  She bumped his shoulder. “Tease.”