HOT SEAL Bride: HOT SEAL Team - Book 4

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Ella knew she was playing with fire, but there was something about the way he looked at her, green eyes flashing, that excited her beyond reason. She shouldn’t push him. He was helping her out, doing her a favor, and she was needling him about attraction.

  Specifically, their attraction to each other. Because she was attracted. So very attracted. Her nipples drew into tight little buds, and her center grew wet and swollen at the idea of sharing a bed with him.

  Oh, that stupid porn she’d viewed. It had put ideas into her head. Ideas she’d never had with Sheikh Fahd. But Cash McQuaid? Her husband?

  Husband.

  The word made her shiver deliciously. It conjured up all sorts of wonderful pictures in her mind. She did not know what he looked like naked, but she imagined he was spectacularly beautiful. She did not see how he could be otherwise. His body was lean and hard with muscle. She knew that from being pressed up against him.

  But what would he look like unclothed? His penis hard, jutting from his body? And how would it feel when he slid it into her body? That she did not know.

  She’d masturbated, of course she had, but she’d never had a man—or anything resembling a man—inside her. She had, however, read romance novels. And oh my goodness did they make it sound wonderful.

  So had the porn she’d viewed. Well, most of it. A couple of the videos were clearly geared toward men. She, for instance, had never considered kissing another woman or grinding her lady parts with someone else’s. And yet that was often a feature in the male-oriented ones.

  But it was the man-on-woman action she’d loved the most. And when the man was considerate of his partner? Amazing. It was clear to her that some porn was made for women and some for men. She far preferred the woman porn because of the emphasis on mutual pleasure and not on titillation for titillation’s sake.

  Cash was watching her with narrowed eyes. He threw back the whiskey—the second glass since they’d returned to the room—and slammed the empty on the bar.

  “Yes, you fucking excite me,” he growled. “But it’s not happening, sweetheart. Not at all.”

  A thrill shot through her. It was intoxicating to hear him admit it. Even more so than the wine she’d been drinking.

  “I don’t mind if it does. You’d be helping me take care of a problem.” Because virginity was a huge problem for her. Get rid of it, end the appeal to sheikhs and other rich men who were willing to buy her hand in marriage from her aunt and uncle. It was the answer to her prayers.

  “It’s not a problem anymore, Ella. We’re married, and there’s not a soul on earth who’s going to believe you’re still a virgin after tonight.”

  That was probably true. She had to admit it was—in fact, she’d thought it herself earlier. And yet it disappointed her. She wanted more. She wanted to know what it felt like to belong, even if only for a night. Worse—she wanted to know what it felt like to belong to this man.

  After everything he’d done for her, she knew he would take care of her. He was wired to do so. It wasn’t in him to be selfish when it came to how he treated her.

  “I know more than you think,” she said, swaying a little on her feet. She wasn’t drunk, but oh, she was warm. Glowing from the inside out. And she was strangely willing to talk about things that would have embarrassed her only a short while before.

  It’s the champagne and the wine. Shut up, Ella. Just stop before you make a fool of yourself.

  But she couldn’t. She’d been silent for so long. About so many things.

  Cash was looking at her with a hard frown on his face. “What does that mean?”

  “About sex,” she said. “About what happens. I’ve watched porn.”

  His eyes widened. If she wasn’t mistaken, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was emboldened to continue.

  “I know that a man likes it very much when a woman licks his penis and tugs on it with her hand at the same time—”

  “Ella.”

  “It’s true! I know it’s true—”

  “Ella, for God’s sake.”

  “I know how it works, Cash. I know where a man’s dick—or cock. They call them cocks sometimes—goes when a woman isn’t sucking on it. I know I’m supposed to feel immense pleasure when it’s inside me, though I can’t quite figure that out because my finger didn’t have the same effect—”

  “Jesus,” Cash said. “Stop. Just stop.”

  “I want to know, Cash. I want to feel what it’s like.” She sucked in a breath and then put a fist beneath her breasts, pressed it there. “I want to feel what those women felt deep inside. I want to be so lost in what a man does to me that I forget everything else, that I understand what pleasure is…”

  Her voice faltered as he started moving toward her.

  “…I want what those women had. Not all of them…”

  He was still moving.

  “…Some of it was fake, I’m certain, so not that…”

  He was a wall of muscle that swept into her, swept over her, pushing her back against a long table sitting against the wall. He overwhelmed her with his size, but he didn’t do it in a way that was frightening. No, he did it in a deliciously territorial way.

  She tipped her head back to look up at him, her hands automatically reaching for the table’s edge behind her. Her heart slammed her ribs. He caged her in, arms on either side of her head, hands pressing into the wall behind the table. His nostrils flared.

  “Ella, you have to stop talking about this shit.”

  “But I don’t want to,” she whispered.

  “You want to kill me, don’t you?” He shoved the fingers of one hand through his hair. He might have growled. She wasn’t certain. Her heart still throbbed and her sex ached with want. She was wet and swollen. He could fix that.

  “I don’t want to kill you. Honest. I just want you to touch me.”

  His eyelids dropped. His shoulders seemed to sag. When he met her gaze again, his eyes blazed. “I know what you need, Princess. And I’m going to give it to you—but no more of this, okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak because her lungs had stopped working. He fisted her silky gown in two hands and began to slide it up her thighs. His mouth came down on hers, lightly, sweetly, and she found herself reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. When he reached for the elastic of her panties, her heart shot skyward.

  Oh God, could she do this?

  The answering voice in her head was stern. You asked for it, Ella. Stop being wishy-washy.

  His thumbs hooked into the waistband and dragged the skimpy fabric down. It didn’t want to go anywhere at first, but at a certain point gravity took over and he let go. The panties slid down to her ankles. She didn’t have time to think about it as his fingers feathered into the curls between her legs.

  His tongue delved deep into her mouth and she moaned, taking everything he had. Part of her wished his tongue was where his fingers were—oh yes, she’d seen that too.

  He skimmed a finger down the seam of her body, sinking into the wetness there. Ella gasped, her grip on him tightening. He broke the kiss to gaze down at her.

  “Change your mind, Princess?” His voice was husky, his eyes gleaming.

  “No…”

  “Say no at any time. I’ll stop.”

  “I know.”

  He kissed her again, and she lost herself in it. His fingers skated over her sensitive flesh, light, teasing. Part of her was scandalized at herself. Part wanted to rip this dress off and bare her body for him—and then beg him to do all the things she’d dreamed about since watching them in videos.

  He pressed a little harder now, his thumb taking up a rhythm on her clit that made her gasp.

  “Open your legs,” he murmured.

  She did, and he was free to move his fingers faster. More skillfully. He pinched and rubbed, and her breathing quickened as her body spiraled toward release. She didn’t know what he had planned, but she didn’t want to stop him. Perhaps he would do this first, and
then he’d strip her naked and slide his penis into her.

  But right now all she could do was ride his hand, her hips jerking against him, her body tightening with pleasure. She wanted to be naked, wanted to feel more than this, but it was a start.

  She gripped his shoulders, arched herself into him, sucked his tongue deep—

  And exploded.

  Ella ripped her mouth from his, crying out, riding the wave as long as it carried her. It was more intense somehow. More exciting with him than alone.

  His lips were at her ear. “That’s it, Ella. Beautiful, beautiful Ella. Let go. That’s it. Damn, that’s so hot, baby. You make me harder than stone. So fucking hard.”

  He stroked her until she shuddered, until she went limp in his arms. She thought he might pick her up then. Might carry her to bed and finish what he’d started.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he let her dress slide down her hips. Then he stepped away, adjusting himself. It took her a moment to realize that it was over. That there would be no more.

  A man had finally touched her—but she was still a virgin.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her chest aching, her body throbbing with release—and somehow still with need.

  “I don’t either,” Cash muttered. “But that’s how it’s going to be.”

  *

  He was dying here. Ella was so damned innocent and sweet—yet still dirty enough to confuse the shit out of him. Porn? What the fuck?

  Cash’s dick throbbed. His heart beat faster than he liked. The urge to bend her over and slam into her was strong. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.

  Virgin princess. Virgin queen.

  God, what a nightmare.

  She was watching him with wounded eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, the only hint of what had just happened. Otherwise she stood there so serenely, her gown covering her, all evidence of her desire hidden from view.

  She wanted him, would have spread her legs eagerly, but he couldn’t do that to her. It wouldn’t be just sex for her, no matter that she wanted to pretend it would be. She already trusted him far too much. If he took her over that hurdle?

  He shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. She needed to make a clean break from him when it was time. If they were involved? Too complicated.

  “How is it you’ve been watching porn? I thought your aunt and uncle restricted what you could see online.”

  She dropped her chin, clasped her hands in front of her body. “My aunt thought I should know what to expect.”

  He reeled. Fucking reeled. Her aunt had given her access to porn to teach her about sex? As if what happened in porn was real sex. As if the ridiculousness of fake-breasted women humping the pizza-delivery guy within seconds was normal. Or, worse, some of the shit that happened in those things. Women taking guys in every orifice at the same time as if it were ordinary. Not that he cared what the hell people did in the privacy of their own bedrooms, but he was a one-on-one kind of guy. No way in hell was he sharing a hot babe with another swinging dick.

  One-on-one.

  “I hope you know that most sex doesn’t happen like that.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “It seemed straightforward enough.”

  Somebody kill him now. “That’s not what I mean. The mechanics, yes. But the artifice, the way people always seem to do a hundred positions all over the house before anybody comes—that’s not great sex.”

  She was listening intently. He was beginning to think he’d made a strategic error in judgment.

  “What is great sex?”

  His dick was not going down. Not at all. “Great sex is two people being into each other, touching and feeling and doing what gives them pleasure. If it feels great, it is great. If it doesn’t feel good, don’t do it just to please the other person.”

  She nodded, her expression so serious. “I will remember that.”

  “Your aunt should have told you these things. She shouldn’t have given a virgin porn and expected her to figure it out for herself.”

  “But maybe she doesn’t know what it is either.”

  He blinked. Wise girl. “Yeah, that’s entirely possible.”

  “But it was still helpful. And then there were the romance novels. Sex is always so wonderful in them.”

  Cash didn’t know what he’d done to piss off Lady Karma, but she was gunning for him hard right now. Ella’s slick heat was seared into his memory banks, and here they were discussing what made sex great. Torture was a mild word for it. “Is it? I’ve never read one.”

  “You should.”

  He didn’t think that was likely, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “Yeah, maybe so.”

  There was a knock at the door. He reached for the Glock he’d tucked behind his back and motioned to Ella to stay where she was. When he got to the door, he looked out the peephole—and relaxed. Thank God for the interruption. It was just one of Hawk’s guys carrying garment bags over his arm. Cash jerked open the door, though he kept the Glock hanging at his side. Just in case someone was out there.

  “Clothing for tonight,” the guy said, holding out the bags. “Hawk says they’ll be ready to go in fifteen minutes. He’ll text you before it’s time to go downstairs.”

  Cash wanted to beg the guy to stay until then, but how could he reasonably do that? He couldn’t, so he took the bags and thanked the guy. When he was gone, Cash locked the door again and carried everything into the bedroom.

  Ella was sitting on the end of the bed. The bed was huge, and she was a vision in white. She looked so demure sitting there. And she also looked sweetly sensual, because he knew what he’d just done to her. How she’d orgasmed, clutching him and crying out while she came for the first time ever with someone else touching her.

  Christ.

  It hit him then how significant that was. Ella had never been touched by another man. No one had ever made her come before today. Any orgasms she’d had up until now were given by her own hand.

  Anger punched him. He’d made her come while backed up against the edge of a table. Her legs barely spread, her skirts hiked up, his need to keep her at arm’s length driving him to give her something impersonal, something easy. Something requiring no commitment or, hell, finesse.

  He was an ass. “I’m sorry, Ella.”

  “Why?”

  He tossed the bags onto the bed. “For what just happened. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Her lashes dropped, covering those dark eyes of hers. “I liked it.”

  A shiver went through him. “I’m glad. But I still shouldn’t have done it. Your first time being touched by someone—it should have been better than that.”

  Her head lifted, her eyes widening. “How could it have been better?”

  He had an urge to show her. To go over and ease her back onto the bed, strip her slowly, and show her everything she should demand from her future lovers.

  “I should have taken more care,” he said roughly. “You deserve patience, not a quick and dirty encounter against a piece of furniture.”

  She tilted her head as she gazed at him. He felt like a bug under a microscope. It was an odd feeling, especially since he didn’t typically give a shit what anyone thought about him.

  “I think both ways have their time and place, yes?”

  Holy shit. This woman.

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  She stood and reached for the garment bag labeled with her name. “I assume this is for tonight.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  She picked it up and walked toward the bathroom. When she was nearly there, she turned back to him. “I liked the way you touched me, Cash. I would like it if you did it again.”

  Chapter 16

  Ella didn’t know what to expect during their night out, but she was still surprised at the amount of attention they got. Oh, most of it was directed at Gina, certainly. But once the reporters snapped pics of her and Jack and got answers to their questions, they’d turned to Ella and Cash.


  And then, as the evening wore on, many of them came to her and Cash first. Because the news of her marriage to Cash, combined with the national story of her disappearance, was a hot topic.

  It was so strange. She’d spent her life sequestered behind walls at her aunt and uncle’s estate, for the most part, so this attention was astounding. And overwhelming. She began to shrink from it, to dread it. Cash seemed to realize it at some point because his arm around her waist tightened whenever a gaggle of reporters approached.

  It only happened when they moved from one location to another, but it was enough she was beginning to fear it. They had dinner in one casino, drinks at another, played the tables at a third, took in a show—and now they were on their way back to the Bellagio in order to have more drinks.

  It was grueling, and she was on the brink of an introvert meltdown. So many people for so long, when she’d only ever been around people in snatches. Maybe it was the fact she was the center of attention, or maybe she just couldn’t handle people for very long. She didn’t precisely miss her room on the estate in Virginia, but she missed the solitude.

  Cash kept his hand on her back when they were moving. When they were still, he looped an arm over her shoulders. It made her feel safe.

  “Princess Antonella,” the reporters called as they left the safety of the limo and started across the carpet toward the casino entrance. “When did you meet Cash McQuaid? Was it love at first sight? Why didn’t you tell your family about him? Did you really run away from a wedding to Sheikh Fahd?”

  Ella kept her chin high, but she trembled deep inside. She could feel Cash stiffen. And then he stopped, anchoring her against his side as he faced the reporters.

  “My wife isn’t answering any more questions about our marriage. If you need to know something, you can ask me. We’re married, we’re in love, and her family will just have to get used to it. End of story.”

  He steered her toward the doors as the reporters clamored behind them. They were inside within seconds, the seething mass of questions left behind. When Ella glanced over her shoulder, she saw Gina vamping it up for the photographers. The reporters turned to questioning her while Jack stood there with a hard look on his face.