TRITON: A Navy SEAL Romance (Heroes Ever After Book 2)

by Alana Albertson

  Vic nodded and we set our beers down and followed the bass-filled path up to the platform. The ground thumped with vibrations. No words. I started grooving behind Barbie. If the way she had looked at me was any indication, she wasn’t tight-laced. And I was open to any and all possibilities that got me close to her body. She shrugged her shoulders and gave me a coy smile. I was in. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her tight little ass grind up against my cock. Life was good. Inhibition was nowhere to be seen.

  Blondie smelled salty and sweet, sandy even, like she’d just spent the day at the beach. And the sensual way she moved made me certain she was a dancer. I just hoped she wasn’t the type who earned her living on the pole. Then I’d know I didn’t inspire her, it was merely her occupation. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I whispered in her ear so she could hear me over the music.

  “I’m Sara,” she shouted back. She nodded to her friend. “And this is Maya.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sara. I’m Kyle. And this is my buddy, Vic. Can we buy you ladies some drinks?”

  Her head bobbed with the music, not fully committing to a yes, but she followed me off the platform. Always in control, I took her hand, and we found a table near the bar, where I signaled to the cocktail waitress to take our order. She would be over in a second. We were regulars, and she knew we were huge tippers.

  I glanced at her friend Maya, who clearly wanted to be somewhere else. She wasn’t even making eye contact with Vic or me. I studied her closely, taking note of her massive diamond earrings, tiny designer purse, and red-soled heels which were visible when she crossed her legs. The girl was either loaded or looking for a sugar daddy. I’d been wrong—she definitely wasn’t a good match for Vic.

  Sara, on the other hand, sported a small, gold necklace shaped like the Lone Star state, an iPhone case with slots for her ID and a few credit cards, and wore flip-flops adorned with rhinestones. I felt my pulse steady—it was refreshing to meet a girl who didn’t appear to be materialistic. Being into labels and appearing money-orientated was the quickest way to lose my interest.

  The waitress came over and Vic and I ordered two beers, Sara wanted a Malibu and Coke, and her friend Maya just asked for a glass of water. Probably because she was waiting to be offered some thousand-dollar glass of champagne. Nope. Vic definitely wasn’t getting any tonight.

  I turned my attention to Sara. Her blonde hair was cut in one of those crisp bobs, revealing her delicate neck. Her tits looked real, a rarity in Southern California. “So, Sara, what do you do for a living?”

  “I go to SDSU, getting my degree in education. Right now, I work part-time at a preschool. How about you?”

  Hot for teacher. Sounded good to me. Refreshing compared to the typical answers from many of the local girls I’d met here. Most had dreams of becoming a model, Instagram star, or reality show wannabe. And with her looks, if she wanted that life, she could easily get it.

  “I play football.”

  Her face brightened. “I love football. I grew up a huge Dallas Wranglers fan, but I also love the San Diego Wildfires.”

  She was refreshing to talk to—I loved a woman who loved sports. “I guess we have the love of the sport in common.” I paused. For a moment I wanted to tell her the truth. But I never told anyone the real reason I’d quit football and joined the Teams.

  Not my friends, nor my family.

  Not even my Team.

  And I made it a habit to never tell anyone my current job. Even if it was guaranteed to get me pussy.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re happy. That’s my motto.”

  I dug her northern Texas accent. Most girls started asking a ton of questions once I mentioned pro ball, but not Sara. Maybe she didn’t care about my money and actually wanted to get to know me. That would be nice for a change. I was going to find out if she was bluffing.

  The waitress brought us our drinks. A new song began. The music boomed, and I could barely hear a word of what Sara said from there on out. Vic tried to talk to Maya but neither of them seemed all that interested. That shit was brutal to watch. And I wasn’t into audiences. It was time to make my move.

  I lightly brushed Sara’s hair off her face, letting my hand linger at the nape of her neck. “It’s too loud in here. Tell you what—I live down the street. You want to go back to my place? Hang out there for a while?” I smiled. I definitely had balls.

  She blinked rapidly and crossed her arms. For a second I thought she’d decline. She looked at the disaster happening to her right then back at me. “I’d love to,” she said under her breath.

  Well I’ll be damned.

  Sara hugged her friend and whispered something in her ear. Maya squinted, and her face showed a disapproving scowl.

  I signaled to Vic to help a brother out. Poor dude had to take one for the team.

  Vic turned to Maya, “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Maya gave a reluctant nod, and we said our good-byes. I found it funny she’d judge her friend at the drop of a hat for going home with a complete stranger, but had no issues with getting a ride from one. Unreal. But she wasn’t my problem. I put my arm around Sara and led her out of the bar past the bouncers. A gentle breeze from the ocean was a welcome change from the stale air and sweat from the club. The neon lights of the other marquees glowed in the distance as we walked toward the beach.

  It always boggled my mind a girl would honestly go home with a man whom she’d just met in a club, especially knowing what had happened to Annie, but I wasn’t complaining. And let’s face it, Sara was safer with me than she would be with any other man, though there was absolutely no way she could be certain I wasn’t a serial killer or rapist.

  I hadn’t had a full conversation with this chick and didn’t even know her last name, but it didn’t matter—this was going to be a one-night stand. I was only in town for the next month before I deployed again, but she didn’t need to know that.

  All she needed to know was I thought she was the sexiest girl in the club, and I planned to ravage every inch of her body tonight.

  2

  Sara

  What had I been thinking? Was I seriously going home with a man who I had just met? We walked quietly down the crowded sidewalk, his hand wrapped around mine, and he smiled. Underneath that easy smile, I knew he must’ve thought I was so easy, but I swear I had never done this before. Ever. I didn’t bother to utter those words. They were so clichéd, even if they were the truth.

  I couldn’t explain it. I was drawn to him. Lord, he was sexy. He was well over six feet, with bulging muscles and smooth skin the color of my grandmother’s antique mahogany armoire, his kind, intense brown eyes being the most striking. There was a familiarity about him I couldn’t explain. I could’ve sworn I’d seen him before—and when I remembered he’d said he was a football player, it clicked. I was almost sure I’d seen him making a play on the field when I had watched a Wranglers game with my brothers. But I wasn’t one to spend game day checking out the players. Every time I went to a football game, my eyes focused on the cheerleaders. They were so beautiful, bright, and vivacious. Everything I wasn’t. I’d been an awkward teen, a loner, and had battled depression after my dad had left us. The only solace I’d found was practicing dance daily until my feet bled. If only I worked harder, turned faster, and stretched more, I too could one day be on that field.

  And now I was a rookie San Diego Wildfire Girl; a newbie Spark.

  Not that I told Kyle I was a cheerleader—I never mentioned it to guys I met. The minute a man knew I was on a pro dance squad, he would react in one of three ways. One—I was a conquest, a trophy to fuck and then forget about. Two—I was a bimbo, some whore who danced in short shorts, clearly incapable of any meaningful conversation. Or three—I was a diva, and somehow instantly way out of his league. The fanboying started, quickly followed by the, “Can you get me free tickets?” or, “Come on, babe, help me meet my favorite player,” pleas. So no, just no. I kept my secret
to myself. Sure, the occasional guy recognized me from my newly released Miss September calendar picture, which said dude probably jerked off to, but this was my first season and there were so many blondes in San Diego, I seemed to blend in well.

  Now Kyle, he was different. I knew he was a football player. But I also knew he didn’t play for the Wildfires. Ha, I had to memorize the names and positions of every member of the team for auditions. No way was I going to tell him I shook my pom-poms for a possible rival team. He’d think I lacked team loyalty. And as was the case with many cheerleaders, he’d think I was a gold digger and a jersey chaser. Most players figured that we women became cheerleaders to hook up with and be maintained by the guys on the team. That simply was not true. Besides my love for dancing, the real reason I became a cheerleader was for all the great opportunities to do charity work. Even though the season had just begun, we’d already done fundraisers for breast cancer, military families, shelter pets, and foster kids.

  I also loved that we were role models to little girls. All the ladies on our squad were either in college, had degrees, or worked full time. Our group included doctors, lawyers, teachers, and even scientists. I was proud to be part of such a strong sisterhood. But I wanted to get to know Kyle first before I explained all of this to him. So I would keep my mouth shut, well at least outside of the bedroom.

  Besides the occasional quick stops to admire the faraway waves crashing on the shore, we walked down the busy boardwalk that lined the beach. Now Kyle’s strong arm was wrapped around my shoulders and the heat from his body filled mine. I should’ve been scared; I mean, he could’ve been a sociopath. But I felt safe, protected.

  He led me into an alleyway between two garages that led to a stone path. I held my breath but it wasn’t because I was nervous. I was impressed. His house was right on the beach. This man had to be loaded. The thought crossed my mind—did he think I was interested in him because of his money? No. I couldn’t think like that. I’d agreed to go home with him before I’d seen his home. I was interested in him. And only him.

  He opened the door and I found myself standing in a huge glass atrium, to my left a serene koi pond under the stairs, above me a retractable roof with views of the stars. The furniture was very modern, masculine, and sleek: steel-gray sofa, shiny black coffee table, monster flat-screen TV above the stone fireplace. He had incredible taste. I’d give him that.

  “Sara, can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water would be great. Thanks.” He smirked at my choice of drink and I felt the need to give an acceptable explanation. “I’m feeling a bit dehydrated.” The truth was I didn’t need any more alcohol; I wanted to be in control. I wanted to remember this night.

  He nodded, opening two mini bottles of chilled water, and poured them into two glasses at the bar, handing me one. We drank our water, and I glanced around his place. I wasn’t exactly sure what had possessed me to go home with this man. I rarely indulged in down time. Last year, I’d spent every second of free time I’d had training for auditions. Dancing, working out, dieting, preparing to make the team had become my life. Over four hundred girls tried out for one of the coveted twenty-eight spots, but veterans always took most of those positions. Only eleven rookies were selected and hearing our director call my name had been like an out-of-body experience. Even better, I was the only rookie chosen for show group—which meant I’d get to travel and perform for our troops overseas during this holiday season. It was such an honor.

  But I’d completely put my life on hold to achieve my goal. For an entire year, I didn’t party or hook up with any guys at all. When the season finally started, preparing for our swimsuit shoot took over my life. It finally happened last week in Mexico, so I figured I deserved to cut loose. Maya and I had spent the entire day at the beach, and then we hit the clubs. Some saw it odd that my best friend was the captain, but we didn’t see positions, just friendship. Once we’d entered the club, other guys had talked to me, some had even tried to pick me up, but I hadn’t been interested at all—until Kyle.

  But I didn’t know this guy. Second-guessing reared its ugly head. If something happened to me, no one would know where to look for me. All Maya knew was I’d went home with a guy named Kyle. Maybe I should text her.

  Before I could reach for my phone, Kyle placed his hand on my back. “So, where are you from, sweetheart?”

  I pointed to my necklace. “Dallas. I love it there—can’t wait to move back home. But I always wanted to live near the beach.”

  “I love Dallas. Greatest people out there. Warm, hardworking, patriotic, many of them deeply religious.”

  He paused over the word religious. As a cheerleader, I’d been through strict media training—never talk about politics or religion. But let’s be honest, this was a one night stand not a media interview. Besides, something about Kyle’s presence made me break yet another rule. He was getting really good at that.

  “Yeah, that’s totally true. Everyone back home is so friendly. I really miss that. I know this is a military town and all, but I felt a stronger connection back in Texas. I come from a family of Marines. My father is a former Marine, and so are my two brothers.” I swallowed and pushed the heartache out of my head. I refused to mention how my father had abandoned his family, destroying our happiness when we found out he led a secret double life.

  His lips widened into a smile. “No kidding. My father was a Devil Dawg, too. So you know what it’s like to be raised in a strict household. Man, my father didn’t let me get away with anything.”

  I relaxed back into the sofa, gazing up at the stars above. I didn’t want to think of what we did or didn’t get away with. All I thought about was what my father had gotten away with for so long, right under our noses. Nonetheless, it would be rude not to answer his question. There was this ease between us, and I was pleasantly surprised we had something in common besides the intense sexual attraction. I transported myself back to a happier time. The time before we’d been left. “Yup. My dad didn’t let me date until I was sixteen. He would clean his guns when my boyfriends would come by.” I smiled at the memory.

  Kyle let out a deep laugh. “Sounds like my type of guy. He knew he had something precious.” The smile fell from my lips and he must have interpreted it as me growing serious; taking the conversation to the next level. His eyes started slowing undressing me, and I felt the tone in the room change. His eyes hooded when he said, “Let me show you something. Upstairs.”

  Right then, some women may have become nervous. But I wasn’t shy; I knew why I’d come here tonight. I wanted him, and he wanted me.

  He took my hand, and we walked upstairs to his bedroom. It was beautiful. Crisp white sheets and duvet on a plush dark-framed bed. Two end tables that held books, coasters, and small lamps. Across from the bed, a large flat-screen TV hung on the wall. A tall, dark dresser beneath it. Simple and elegant. Like he barely slept there. But he didn’t stop near the king-sized bed—he continued past glass doors out onto the deck, a Jacuzzi beckoning us under the stars. Smooth.

  I caught his gaze, and pulled my tank top off, wiggling out of my skirt and revealing my bikini underneath. Kyle gave me a full-body eye fuck, and peeled off his own shirt, as if he was challenging me.

  And holy lord, he won the body contest, hands down. I’d never seen a body that ripped up close. Was that an eight-pack? His abs were so defined it was as if they were drawn in. Though I was sure he appreciated my soft curves just as much as I was enjoying the definition in his. His arms were massive, putting most guys to shame. I couldn’t stop staring, and my mouth opened a tad.

  Before I could speak, he switched the spa on, disappeared into his bedroom, and emerged a few moments later in light blue swim trunks. They hung low on his hips. “Ladies first.”

  I slipped into the bubbles, the jets massaging my legs. My calves and back were killing me from a long week of cheer practice. Our director was a total witch, demanding we dedicate our lives to the squad. She weighed us befo
re every practice, even when we were on that time of the month. Heaven forbid if we gained a pound, we wouldn’t be allowed to cheer in that week’s game. The flat stomach. The demanding diet. Prim and proper at all times. It was all complete torture. If she saw me now, she’d freak! Going home with some random guy I’d just met. Her words echoed in my head, “Sara, you are a Wildfire Girl twenty-four hours a day. Whether you’re in uniform or not.” Well I was definitely not in my uniform at the moment; I was half naked with a hotter-than-sin man.

  Kyle climbed into the hot tub, and pulled me back, close to him. We semi floated, and I lay against his firm chest as we spoke. The conversation was easy and relaxed. He felt amazing, and goose bumps ran down my arms and back.

  “This place is incredible. I can’t believe you live right on the beach. You’re very fortunate.”

  “Well, don’t get too impressed, doll. I own it with two buddies of mine. We bought it as an investment a few years back. But they live up north during the season, so it’s all mine for now.”

  An investment. I liked this guy more and more. Even in just the six months I’d made the squad, I’d seen it all with football players—blowing all their money on cars, houses, drugs, and women.

  The conversation continued at a comfortable pace, a part of each of our bodies always touching. He massaged my neck and shoulders then glided his hands down my arms as I touched his legs. He was solid. And I felt cocooned in more than muscle. He was nothing like I thought. As the conversation continued, I saw there was more to him than met the eye. I gasped when he ran his lips across my ear. Then he nipped the sensitive shell. Firecrackers went off inside me in response. Water sloshed as I twisted, and sat face to face with him. The hot water warmed my skin, but Kyle’s words warmed my soul. My gut told me he was for real, he wasn’t just playing me, we had an actual connection. Maybe this wasn’t just a one-night stand. I considered confessing my own football secret to him, but just as my lips opened, Kyle cupped my face with one large hand and kissed me.