One Night with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  Stepping back, she cupped her breasts, rubbed her thumbs over the tips with a soft moan. “I need your mouth here.” She brushed her fingers over her core, sliding one fingertip up then down before cupping him through his jeans. “I want you inside of me. Hard, fast and deep.” She rubbed him and he swelled under her hand. “Now. Right now.”

  And like that, the tenuous thread of his control snapped. He yanked her to him, bringing her to her toes, whirled them around so that her back was pressed against the wall and prepared to give his woman everything she asked for.

  * * *

  YES, QUINN THOUGHT WILDLY, this...this was what she wanted. What she craved. Xander kissing her, his mouth hungry and rough, his hands on her, his body pressing against hers. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough.

  She matched the ferocity of his kiss, worked her hands between them to cup him once again. He pushed himself more fully into her hand and she fumbled with the tab on his jeans, tugged down the zipper.

  He stepped back, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to stop her, try to slow them down again, but instead he reached over his head and yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside. Oh, dear Lord, the man was gorgeous, all sharply cut muscles and smooth, golden skin, but before she could look her fill, he was kissing her again, his hands molding her breasts.

  Since she didn’t have the luxury of soaking him in, she took the opportunity to touch him, sliding her hands up his ridged abs to the hard planes of his chest and down again before dipping her hand beneath the waistband of his briefs.

  Breaking the kiss, breathing hard, he pressed his forehead against hers as she circled him. He was smooth and hot and hard—and way, way bigger than average. She ran the pad of her thumb over his tip, drawing the bead of moisture around the head, then stroked him. He groaned.

  He trembled.

  A heady rush of feminine power raced through her that she could make this incredible man tremble with wanting her. That she could make such a strong man weak just by touching him.

  That she could make him lose control.

  Shoving him back a step, she pulled off her tank top then kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans, standing before him in only her red silky bra and a matching thong.

  “So hungry for you,” she murmured, repeating her words from a moment ago.

  She pushed his jeans and underwear down slowly, then knelt before him. His cock jutted out, thick and heavy, the head glistening.

  “Quinn.”

  Her name on his lips was a question. A plea.

  She smiled up at him.

  Then took him in her mouth.

  With a moan, he tipped his head back, his hands fisted at his sides. She gripped the backs of his thighs, the muscles like steel, the skin covering them warm, and took him in deeper. His hands shot to her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, his grip on her light. Reverent.

  Though she was on her knees, she didn’t feel submissive. She felt strong. She reveled in it, in him sharing in this strength, giving her this moment of control. He moved just a little, pushing farther into her mouth then withdrawing. He did it again. Then again.

  She looked up at him, saw what it was taking for him to hold back, the cost of that control, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. And she wanted, more than anything, to give him what he craved. What he needed. She worked him, breathing in his musky scent, the salty taste of him on her tongue. Again and again, she slid her lips over him until he gave a low, vicious curse and pulled her to her feet.

  He kissed her like a madman, like a man possessed, and she matched him, licking her way into his mouth, scraping her teeth against his lower lip. His erection pressed against her belly and she wiggled, trying to ease the ache between her thighs. Reaching down for his jeans, he pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed himself, then slid a hand under the string of her thong and in one swift move, yanked it back, ripping it in two.

  Excitement coursed through her. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Pressing her back against the wall, still kissing her, he guided himself inside her. She bucked her hips, needing more.

  “Xander,” she gasped, clutching his shoulders. “Please.”

  Shifting her to one arm, he reached between them and stroked her clit. “That’s it,” he said, his words a low growl. “Come for me. Come for me.”

  She did, her entire body shaking, her head tipped back. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, left her breathless.

  Boneless, her legs started to slide off him but he hefted her higher, the move seating him even deeper. “No,” he said roughly. “We’re not done. Not by a long shot.”

  Taking her butt in his hands, he plunged into her again and again, hard and fast and deep, giving her everything she wanted. Pressure built, coiled inside of her like a spring and she crossed her ankles, dug her heels into his lower back trying to find purchase. Searching for release.

  He kissed her neck, her collarbone. The slope of her breasts. “Again.” He widened his stance and moved faster. Harder. “Again.”

  She was helpless. Helpless against his husky command, against the feel of him, so thick and hot moving inside her.

  But she wasn’t in this alone.

  “Not alone,” she said, sliding her hands into his hair and nudging his head up. She met his eyes. “I want you there with me. Right with me.”

  Pulling him down for her kiss, she stroked her tongue into his mouth and gave him all she had. All she was. Her hips moved like a piston, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her legs tightened around him like a vise, holding him as close as her own skin. His grip on her changed and he drew her higher, tipping her slightly so that her back arched, her hair caught between her shoulder blades and the wall. But she didn’t mind the sharp tug, could only think of one thing.

  “Please,” she breathed, close, so very close to the edge of pleasure of again. “Please, please, please, please...”

  Unbelievably, incredibly, she felt him grow even harder, and her orgasm swept over her like a wave. She cried out, her body quaking. As she crested the top of it, he followed, giving her everything he was with a short, guttural moan.

  And when he held her after, his face pressed against the crook of her neck, their breathing heavy, their bodies slick with sweat, she smoothed her hands across his shoulders.

  No, she wasn’t alone.

  Not tonight.

  8

  XANDER’S FEET POUNDED against the sidewalk, his breathing deep and even, though he was on mile five of his run. Routine was important. Doing the same thing, repeating a task over and over, staying on top of one’s game kept a man sharp, kept a warrior’s instincts honed. So today he got up at 0500 for PT like he did every morning.

  Like he did most every morning, he amended. He’d spent the past three mornings—and nights and two afternoons—in Quinn’s bed.

  But now he was back on track, doing what he needed to do.

  Too bad doing what he needed to do meant he’d left a gorgeous, naked woman alone in her bed last night.

  He gritted his teeth. Yeah, he was a goddamn idiot.

  This was for her, too, he told himself as he headed toward the high school. She was at Myer’s till after midnight, and he kept her up even later, trying to appease his hunger for her. It wasn’t working, and he was afraid it never would—something he’d worry about later.

  No, he’d done the right thing, sneaking out of her bed after she’d fallen asleep, leaving a lame note on the table t
elling her he’d call her later. He was monopolizing her time. She had a life here in Little Creek that she needed to get back to. Work and her studies and friends...

  He frowned and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Not that she’d ever mentioned any friends, but she had to have some. She was smart and fun with a wicked sense of humor. But she never talked about anyone. Never had any calls or texts, never made plans to meet up for lunch.

  What the hell was up with that?

  In high school, she’d been constantly surrounded by people. Was always the center of attention, the sun in a circling group of kids vying for some of her warmth. Her brightness.

  Now she was alone.

  He picked up his pace. Her choice, he told himself. She was the one who kept herself so guarded. But she’d let him in. Was letting him get close.

  And it was messing with his head.

  Another reason he’d needed to go on this run. He needed to sort through the twisting, turning thoughts in his mind.

  Like why he’d had such a hard time leaving her bed a few hours ago. Why he’d spent a good thirty minutes watching her after she’d fallen asleep last night.

  Why he’d spent those thirty minutes mentally going over how much leave he had left this year, how often he could come back to Little Creek to see her again.

  Yeah, he needed to figure a few things out. And he would. That was what he did. Zane was the impulsive one. He went with his gut, followed his instincts. Xander thought things through. Went over his options. Considered each and every possible outcome.

  And falling for Quinn Oswald hadn’t made the list.

  Xander stopped—just put on the brakes, his momentum almost carrying him forward into a somersault. His heart raced, his breath heaved out and he knew damn well it had nothing to do with his run, but with that crazy, wayward notion.

  He hadn’t fallen for her. Yes, she was beautiful and sexy, and the sex was everything he’d fantasized about and more. He frowned, began a slow jog around the front of the school. But she was more than his fantasy. Better than some hot, sweaty dream. Some magical ideal he’d worked up of her in his head.

  She was real.

  And he wanted her in his life—not just for the rest of his leave but for weeks...months...maybe even years to come.

  He picked up his pace as if he could outrun the truth. He had fallen for her.

  Now he was stuck trying to figure out how to handle that information.

  And what to do next.

  * * *

  HE’D LEFT HER a note.

  A neatly printed, properly structured, grammatically correct note written on the back of an envelope.

  Quinn almost kept it.

  That was how far gone she was, she thought, forcing herself to rip the envelope in half then stacking the two pieces together and ripping it again. So far gone that for a moment, she’d seriously contemplated keeping a piece of junk mail just because Xander had written on it. It wasn’t a love note, for God’s sake. It was an “I’m leaving” note.

  And she needed to take it for what it was. Had to take his sneaking out of her bed while she slept for what that was, too.

  Goodbye.

  Oh, sure, the note had said that he’d call her later, but she wasn’t an idiot.

  Or maybe she was, she thought, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a sip. Because she’d been surprised to find the note. Had been disappointed when she’d woken in her bed alone.

  She’d reached for him. Her eyes hadn’t even been open and she’d reached for him.

  She’d counted on him being there.

  That must be what they meant by a rude awakening.

  But she was awake now, her eyes wide-open to what was happening.

  What she and Xander had was winding down.

  She curled up on her sofa and stared blankly out the small window overlooking the street. She’d known this would happen. The man was a SEAL. He had a career. Missions to accomplish, freedom to protect, the whole bit. He sure couldn’t do that from Little Creek. They were temporary. There was no other way they could be. He lived in Virginia. She lived here. He had a career and plans for his future while she was floundering, trying to figure out what to do with her life. Who to be.

  They weren’t meant to last more than a few weeks. She’d known this day, this moment of them being over would come.

  She just hadn’t realized it would hurt this much.

  Lesson learned.

  One she needed to keep firmly in mind, she resolved as Xander pulled up and parked then jumped out of his truck, a man on a mission in running shorts and a T-shirt, his stride long and purposeful, his expression set.

  Well, she was on a mission, too.

  Protect her heart at all cost.

  Determined to do just that, she got to her feet and hurried over and opened the door—despite wearing only a tank top and black-cotton boy briefs. Her heart—the very same one she was so adamant about protecting—tumbled at the sight of him, his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair damp with sweat.

  She glanced up at the heavens. She could use a little help here.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked, so proud of her cool, “couldn’t care less if he ever came back or not” tone.

  “Yes.”

  She raised her eyebrows at that one word, ground out from between his teeth. Why on earth was he mad? He’d left her.

  She stepped aside but he didn’t move. “Well? Come in and get it. And hurry. I was just about to take a shower.” She gave him a slow once-over. Wrinkled her nose. “You might want to do the same.”

  He nodded once, stepped inside, shut the door.

  And swept her up in his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he carried her toward her bedroom.

  She told herself the only reason she wasn’t screeching at him was because she was breathless with shock—not excitement. That she didn’t struggle because the man was a SEAL and any attempt she would make to extricate herself would only serve to bruise her dignity. And the only, only reason she linked her hands behind his neck and held on was so he didn’t drop her.

  If a woman couldn’t lie to herself, who could she lie to?

  Stepping into her room, he slid her an unreadable glance. “You told me to come in and take what I wanted.” He shrugged as if he wasn’t holding one hundred and fifteen pounds in his arms. “I’m taking what I want.”

  “I told you to come in and get what you forgot. It wasn’t an invitation to pillage and plunder.”

  “I forgot you,” he said, then he gave her a brief, hard kiss that tasted of frustration and anger and something else she couldn’t name, before tossing her on the bed.

  She bounced and shoved the hair out of her face. Leaned her weight on her elbows and reclined on the bed, reveling in his hungry gaze. “You didn’t forget me. You left me. Snuck out of here—” she patted the mattress “—like a thief in the night.”

  He toed off his sneakers, kicked them aside. “Didn’t you get my note?”

  “Oh, I got it.”

  “Then you knew I’d be back,” he said, bending down to slide off his socks.

  “How could I? Your note only said you’d call later.”

  “You knew I’d be back,” he repeated, holding her gaze.

  She hadn’t. Not for certain. “I thought you’d had your fill,” she blurted.

  He straightened. Frowned. “What?”

  Her face heated and she sat up. Crossed her arms over her chest. This was the problem with letting a man get too close. He made a woman weak. Made her clingy.

  Made her want more and more of him.

  “I thought maybe you’d worked me out of your system,” she said, referencing the words from the other night before they’d made love fo
r the first time.

  He shook head. “Impossible. Under my skin, remember?” His voice softened, his gaze warmed. “In my head.”

  Giddiness flowed through her, followed by the most dangerous of all emotions.

  Hope.

  She tried to tamp it down but it kept rising, filling her chest with lightness. That sensation expanded when he spoke again.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, stripping off his shirt. “I can’t stop wanting you.” He stepped out of his shorts, standing before her with his arousal evident in a pair of clinging boxer briefs. Her mouth dried, her gaze glued to the movement as he slid them off, his cock jutting free. He stroked himself. “This is what you do to me. All I have to do is think about you and I’m hard and aching for you. Tell me you feel the same way,” he said gruffly. “Tell me it’s the same for you.”

  She shouldn’t. Admitting that would give him even more power over her, and she was terrified he had too much as it was. But she couldn’t deny him.

  She couldn’t deny him anything.

  “It’s the same,” she whispered, her gaze glued to the movement of his hand, how he stroked himself lazily all while watching her. “Under my skin. In my head. All I have to do is think about you and I want you. Sometimes, the wanting gets to be too much, more than I can bear...” Times like now, her breasts tingling, her nipples hard. She squeezed her inner thighs together. “Like after you kissed me the first time.”

  He stilled, his entire body going rigid. “Quinn...”

  “I thought of you,” she told him, loving how his gaze darkened. His breathing ragged. “I thought of your hands, your mouth on me.” She trailed her fingertips over the center of her panties where she was wet for him. “And I touched myself.”