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

by Alana Albertson

  I knelt by the side of her bed and clutched her hands in mine. It was easier to be accepted at eye level than standing with our vast height difference. “I want to apologize for never telling you I was about to deploy. That’s why I didn’t call you. I thought we bonded, for real, but since I was leaving I didn’t see the point of starting anything. That would have made it harder on you in the long run.”

  She nodded and bit her bottom lip. “It’s cool. I get it. I do.” She didn’t. Not even a little. But I kept my mouth shut. “I figured you’d thought I was a slut for going home with you the night we met. I don’t normally do that, I swear.”

  All girls wanted you to believe you were the only man they’d hop into bed with. I didn’t doubt her, but I wasn’t one of those men who actually cared if she was easy since I was a player. I loved a woman who knew what she wanted—in and out of the bedroom. I didn’t want no damn virgin. “I believe you. But you’re here now. You’re like an angel sent to me. Call or no call, I missed you,” I relented. “I’ll take care of you while you’re here and make sure you’re safe.” It was a genuine offer. Some of the shit I had seen left me with nightmares. But I was damn good at my job.

  I touched her shoulder and watched her body shiver. I wasn’t going to push myself on her, but I hadn’t gotten laid since that night. I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to try. Besides, I really liked her. With just one night, she’d kept me on my toes.

  Her body responded to me, her chest heaved, her mouth moistened. That was all I needed to see. I kissed her, my beard scratching her soft skin.

  “Kyle, I’ve thought about our night together so many times. But I don’t want to get kicked off the team. We have strict rules about not entertaining the men.”

  I placed my finger over her lips. “It’s okay, baby. If you want to spend some alone time with me while you’re here, I can arrange that. I want you. But the ball’s in your court. Trust me. No one’s going to know.”

  Her eyes widened but her brows furrowed. After an awkward pause, she finally spoke, her voice cracking. “Yeah. Sure. Why not? I’m game.” Her eyes told me she didn’t agree with what she’d said. But I wasn’t about to question her. She rubbed her fingers over my chest and traced them down to just above my cock. I groaned inwardly, my balls tightening. Yep. I was in for a world of hurt tonight. My length grew inside my cammies, and I wanted to take her then and there, but I needed to wait.

  She fought a yawn, but it overtook her. I knew she must’ve been tired, after her long travel day. I had a week to be around her, take care of her every need, and maybe she’d take care of mine. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see her dance in those tight, white boy shorts the girls on her cheer team wore.

  “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. I’ll work something out for after the show.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Kyle.” Her plump, pink lips parted, begging me to kiss them.

  “Get a good night’s rest. I’m your personal security guard for the week. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kissed her with gusto, showing just how much I wanted her, and cupped her ass in my free hand. Then left before I got both of us in trouble. I walked back to my barracks, adjusting myself as I went. I’d plan a date with her tomorrow night. Shit, Pat owed me one. He’d find a way to hook a brother up.

  I didn’t normally believe in fate—Pat and Annie were always talking about how they were destined to meet and be together. But that was for suckers, right? Shit. I shook my head. Could it be true? What were the chances of Sara and me meeting in San Diego, both omitting parts of our lives, and reuniting all the way across the world? I wasn’t gonna lie. The cheerleader and football player had a nice ring to it.

  4

  Sara

  I savored Kyle’s taste on my lips, desperate for another kiss. He was so fine, looked even hotter than when I’d seen him last. His sleeves rolled up on his cammies revealed his incredible bicep, his pants clung to his strong thighs. He’d sported a full beard that had been absent in the club, making him look even more masculine. Dangerous. Badass.

  I was still baffled. What were the odds of him being here? We’d spent one amazing night together. Afterward, he’d asked for my number, but never called. That had stung. Badly. I’d assumed besides unfairly judging me for what we both willingly participated in, maybe he was just such a player and he never intended it to be anything more than a one-night stand.

  The name tape on his uniform read: Lawson. Kyle Lawson. Not proud of it, but I had cyber stalked him after our time together. He’d told me he was a football player, and his face did look vaguely familiar. So I had Googled every Kyle who’d ever played professional football, but had come up empty-handed. I knew for sure he didn’t play for San Diego. But now I remembered reading a story a few years back about a football player who had turned down a multi-million dollar contract to join the military. I swore that guy had a different name. Terrence? Trevor? Was that Kyle? Sure sounded like him. Maybe SEALs used fake names? I wanted to look it up now. It wasn’t stalking. It was research. Dammit—the lack of Internet over here in these barracks really killed me. I was suffering serious withdrawal. People nowadays were completely too dependent on electronics, especially smart phones, and I was no exception. I clutched my useless iPhone, which at the moment only acted as a photo album. Our director had mentioned how long these guys’ tours were. I couldn’t imagine living here for seven months—how did these men do it? They had my upmost respect. Finding out the lack of communication these men had made me feel a bit better about never hearing from Kyle. I still couldn’t believe I’d bumped into him, here of all places.

  A strong rap at the door startled me. Had he come back so soon? I opened the door, but instead of Kyle standing there, I was greeted with the scowl from my director.

  “Hi Denise. I was just about to crash. Do we need to do anything?”

  Her eyes leveled me. “No, just a night check to make sure that you’re alone. I saw that SEAL seemed to be awfully friendly with you.”

  Damn. Nothing got past her. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. I know him.”

  Her lips pursed. “That’s what I was afraid of. Look, Sara, you’re a rookie. Four hundred girls tried out to be on this team and I chose you. Don’t make me regret my decision. The Wildfire organization has strict rules regarding fraternizing with the military men while we are on tour. If you embarrass me, I’ll kick you off the squad. Are we clear?”

  She was a buzz killer. “Absolutely. You don’t have to worry. I’m on my best behavior.”

  She gave me a condescending nod—as if she read my dirty thoughts about Kyle. “Good night, Sara.” She left the room and slammed the door.

  I nervously pulled my hair. It was too risky to hook up with Kyle while I was here. I didn’t want to get kicked off the squad when I’d worked so hard to get here.

  But maybe, I could get away with it. Kyle was a SEAL. If anyone could smuggle me out of this room, he could. Their motto was, “We are U.S. Navy SEALs. There’s no need to thank us because we don’t exist. You never saw us. This never happened.” Yeah, if he could extract a hostage, he could definitely pluck a sex-starved cheerleader from a barracks room.

  A Navy SEAL. I was almost certain he was the man I’d read about. How many men would give up millions of dollars to join the military? My mind was blown. Was his love for his country so deep? I couldn’t fathom giving up my lifestyle to fight a war. But I guess that’s what it meant to be a SEAL.

  My brothers hated SEALs. Die-hard jarheads, my siblings loved God, family, and the Marine Corps. They were always saying how they thought SEALs were a bunch of cocky assholes. And I was supposed to agree. The thing was, I didn’t. At least I didn’t think I did. I knew a great guy whom just so happened to be a SEAL.

  Besides, my brothers loved football. Kyle definitely loved it as well. They’d probably get along great. And then it hit me. I was defending him as if what we had was real.

  Stop thinking that, Sara. He was a hookup—not a boyfriend. Your family w
ill never meet him. He didn’t even call you.

  Still it was hard to be fully upset with him. I knew Kyle was a special man when I’d met him. But I had no idea how amazing he was. This one act of leaving football, something he clearly loved so much, to serve our country showed me there was more to Kyle than just physical strength. Yes, he was a sex god with rock-hard abs and a glinting smile. But more importantly, he was selfless. He fascinated me. He was someone who I wanted to get to know, who I needed to learn what made him tick.

  He was someone I could fall in love with.

  Sara, stop!

  I closed my eyes and forced my mind to calm and return to reality. I could never fall in love with this man and he most definitely wouldn’t fall in love with me. I didn’t always have the smoothest history with men. Except for my brothers, the men I had gotten attached to tended to leave me high and dry, starting with my father. Soon, after weeks went by without a call, I knew I’d almost made the same mistake again. Sure, tonight Kyle had been excited to see me, but that was because I was probably his only hope of getting laid for the remainder of this deployment. I was a sure thing. My oldest brother once told me the second a man met a woman the man decided in that moment if she was going to be a hookup or a girlfriend. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I was the latter. Kyle saw me as a fling. And that’s all I’d be to him. It wasn’t rocket science.

  And honestly, it was better this way. Clear expectations from both sides, with no hope for a future. It was what it was. Kyle wanted hot sex with no ties or drama, and honestly so did I. He would never make me false declarations of love. There was no expectation of him ever staying with me.

  And my heart wouldn’t be crushed when he left. So why did it feel like I was giving up my needs just like he’d given up his football career?

  5

  Kyle

  I awoke the next day at zero six hundred, and for a second I thought seeing Sara had been a dream. Once I came to, I hurriedly got dressed. Pat and Vic were already waiting for me. The rest of the guys on my Team were beginning their day as well.

  Pat slapped me on the back. “So, you want me to distract, maybe kick up a sandstorm, so you can get some alone time together?” My boys always had my six.

  “Sounds like a plan. How’s Annie?” Communication here was limited, so Pat had to deal with hearing news late sometimes. There were so many dudes here that all of them wanted a piece of the action. Thank goodness for the communication hall, even if our allowed time did suck ass.

  “Good. No longer having morning sickness. At least that’s what she told me last time we were able to talk. We find out the baby’s gender on Friday. I’m excited to find out, man. But I’m sure it’s a boy.”

  Vic cackled. “In your dreams, Walsh. It’s a girl, and you know it.”

  Had to hand it to Vic—he was probably right. All Team guys ended up with girls. Frogman’s curse. Something about our balls being frozen in the cold water made our sperm only shoot out X’s. One of our buddies had six daughters. Six! That was a Team in itself. But I’d show these fools how it was done. When I decided to have children, I’d take a month of leave and head to Hawaii first. Warm that shit up.

  I glanced at the schedule: Two meet and greets with the football players, performance from the cheerleaders, and autographs. There were hundreds of soldiers here, so the shows would be split in two. I’d be attending the first show. Then tomorrow they’d be transferred to the next base and repeat the same routine. They’d only return here on select nights till they left.

  We skipped the football player meet and greet—been there, done that. But no way in hell was I going to miss Sara dancing for me.

  I dragged Vic and Kyle early to the auditorium. American flags adorned the concrete walls, and plastic fold-up chairs filled the floor. I needed a good seat. Within minutes, the hall was filled with sailors, SEALs, and Marines.

  After a cheesy introduction by some nameless comedian, the girls took the stage. I only had eyes for one. Sweet Jesus, Sara was fine. She came out in cutoff daisy dukes, a red tank top, and blue cowboy boots. It wasn’t the typical white shorts the dancers normally wore but I’d take it. She discreetly blew a kiss in my direction. Any guy who may have seen it probably sported an instant hard-on. Yeah. She had that much pull.

  The lights dimmed, and the unmistakable guitar riffs of AC/DC’s classic “You Shook Me All Night Long” began. Her eyes glued on me, Sara twirled her hips, whipping her hair back and forth. It was as if she was my own personal dancer. And every time her eyes glossed over with need, I pictured her face when I’d made her come. She’d sported the same intoxicating expression. Her movements were perfectly in sync with her squad, but Sara stood out. The curves of her body, the precision of her steps, the warmth radiating from her smile. I’d seen tons of dancers in my time, on and off the pole, but Sara was in a class of her own. The audience was mesmerized. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining we were back in the club in San Diego, and she was dancing only for me—not for a room full of horny men.

  The song ended, and the roars from the claps echoed throughout the room. Maya grabbed the microphone. “Hi, everyone. As captain of the Sparks, on behalf of the San Diego Wildfires and ourselves, I want to thank you for inviting us here to perform for you all. It’s truly an honor for everyone on the squad to be entertaining our heroes.”

  The audience clapped as Sara took the microphone next. And the guys grew louder when she winked. “Hello, everyone. I’m Sara. For this next number, we’re looking for three volunteers.” Her gaze turned to me, and my hand popped up in the air, like some involuntary response.

  Of course, she chose me. By the way she was just eye-fucking the shit out of me, it wasn’t even a question. And then two other men were chosen, a Marine and sailor. She ran off the stage, emerging a minute later dressed as a sexy Santa.

  Another cheerleader pulled out three chairs and motioned toward me and the two other men to sit. Score, I’d be getting some sort of a private dance after all. Just a very public one. One where I couldn’t touch her like I wanted.

  Each guy had a cheerleader by their side. Then the song “Santa Baby” started playing. Modernly sang, it was the Taylor Swift version, and not my favorite rendition by Eartha Kitt. I had more memories associated with the original. But since Sara danced around me, waving some feathery boa in my face, I didn’t give a fuck who sang. As long as I had a good view of her ass, Humpty Dumpty could be playing. I’d get down with nursery rhymes. Fuck it.

  I relaxed into the chair, thoroughly enjoying my PG lap dance. Pat and Vic were laughing their asses off at me. Fuck them, this dance was the closest any of us got to getting laid since we’d arrived. Those two could go jerk off in their racks later tonight, alone. I was going to get some pussy.

  The song ended too soon and Sara kissed me on the cheek. So did the other two shitheads picked. I’d take what I could get for now but would arrange something for later tonight.

  When I thought no one was looking, I whispered in her ear, “Leave your window open.”

  Momentarily, she froze. Her upper lip quivered, but she was a good actress. She gave me a friendly hug, and shooed me off the stage.

  Back in the audience with Pat and Vic, I formulated a plan. All I needed was the top of an empty bunker, a sleeping bag, and her willing body. It was going to be a banging night. In more ways than one.

  6

  Sara

  Finally, a computer. With Internet.

  Following our hour-long show, I was exhausted. Afterward, we did autographs and were shown around the place a bit. We practiced for our next show and now, here I was. I really wanted to soak in a bathtub, maybe with some Epsom Salt. But warm baths were one of the many luxuries that would have to wait till I returned home.

  I had a small break before dinner and then another meet and greet. All my girls were checking their emails or Facebook on the computers in the communication hall. I however, had more important things to research. I picked a spot in the ba
ck and got to work.

  “Kyle Lawson football.”

  Articles popped up. Terrell Kyle Lawson. So Kyle was his middle name—seemed like a clandestine SEAL maneuver. I clicked on the Wiki link.

  Terrell Kyle Lawson is an American football player who left his professional career and became an officer in the United States Navy. He turned down a five-year, 9.6 million dollar contract with the Oakland Marauders. Popularly known by his initials, T.K., Lawson is as renowned for his refusal to grant any media interviews as he is for his talent on the field.

  He gave up 9.6 million dollars?! I knew he was special. To some, that action would seem like he ripped up a winning lottery ticket.

  Article after article rehashed the same story with no new insight, mainly because Kyle had refused all media interviews. Which made perfect sense because anonymity was important to be a member of the SEALs. Despite all the recent SEAL memoirs, SEALs were supposed to be silent operators. That much even I knew.

  Maya pulled her chair next to mine. “I can’t believe he’s the same guy we met at Green Flash Bar & Grill. That’s crazy. His boy Vic is fine as hell with his insane body and never-ending tats—thank God I didn’t hook up with him though. I remember that night I just thought both of them were players. I would never date a SEAL. And neither should you.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “It’s totally fate—we were meant to see each other again. I honestly believe that. Yes, he may be cocky. But there’s more to him than that.” I pointed to the screen. “Case in point. Check this out. Did you know he turned down a 9.6-million dollar contract to become a SEAL?”

  She studied the computer screen, and crinkled her face. “That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. I mean, think of all the good he could do with that money. There’s no law that says you have to blow it on mansions, a Maserati, or frivolous bullshit, Sara. He could’ve saved a ton of homeless dogs or donated to a women’s shelter.” I knew she was right, but his decision did not lose its luster in my eyes. It was still humble.