Her SEAL Protector

by Jillian Burns

  She circled his wrist with her hand, but he immediately twisted out of her grasp.

  “The weakest part of your attacker’s grip is where his thumb meets his fingers, so all you have to do is twist and jerk your arm free in whatever direction his thumb is facing. Now you try it.” He grabbed her wrist. It was so small and delicate.

  She met his gaze, waiting for his signal.

  “Jerk it away.” He shook her wrist and gripped it tighter, and she wrenched her arm away from his thumb, and like that she was free.

  She smiled. “It worked!”

  That smile would be the death of him. He nodded. “Try it again.” He grabbed her other wrist from a different direction and when she tried to wrench out of his hold, she couldn’t. He shook his head. “My thumb was in a different place this time.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Right.” She yanked the other way and escaped.

  “Good. Now, the most vulnerable parts on the body are knees, nose, eyes and groin. He pointed to each area as he spoke, motioning last to the zippered area of his jeans. Then he led her over to the punching bag and demonstrated how he wanted her to turn sideways and kick the punching bag. “Pretend you’re aiming for a knee.” He grabbed her hands. “Get your arms up like a fighter, make a fist, that’s it. Now kick.”

  Gabby toed off her shoes, kicked and glanced back at him. “Like that?”

  “That was good, but really throw your weight into it by twisting from the waist.”

  After she’d kicked the bag again and again, grunting louder with each kick, he had her punch the bag with her fists, then jab it up high with the heel of her hand as if she was going for a nose.

  “Not bad, but—” He moved behind her. “Transfer your weight from your back foot to your front foot.” He put one hand at her waist, gripped the elbow and moved it forward to simulate the jab, but he felt her stiffen at his touch.

  He backed off, gritting his teeth. Had he scared her? “Try it again.”

  After about a dozen more hits, jabs and punches, she turned to face him, breathing heavily. “Yes!” She planted her hands on her hips, and bounced from foot to foot, smiling. “That felt so good. I’m so glad I’m doing this!”

  Clay’s attention was riveted on her chest as it rose and fell, and on her swaying hips. She had no idea how provocative her movements were and that turned him on even more. He forced himself to look away.

  “Can you show me what to do if someone grabs me from behind?”

  Like you just did. Clay heard her unspoken words. She hadn’t wanted him coming up on her from behind like that. Well, he was just as uncomfortable touching her as she was being touched. Although he was pretty sure it was for completely different reasons. Just thinking about fitting snugly against her backside...

  “Clay?”

  He needed a cold shower. “Okay, so...” Slowly, he moved into position behind her. Think about something else, Bellamy. The hypothermia of Hell Week. Or the month he froze his butt off training in winter warfare in Sweden. Gritting his teeth, he reached his arms around her and pinned her arms to her body. Her scent did things to his brain function. “What you want to do is move your hips to one side.”

  She cocked her hip to her right. “Like this?” She glanced up and behind her and their lips almost touched.

  He froze a moment, his gaze on her mouth. If he lowered his head a mere half an inch... Her lips parted and he closed his eyes, breathing in. “What is that perfume?” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

  “Gardenia. My grandmother wore it.”

  Her grandmother. Clay snapped out of his lust. He remembered she’d talked about her family that day in the jungle. About her parents and siblings. She was close with her family. And a virgin.

  White picket fence, remember, Bellamy?

  Putting some space between them, he took her left hand and curled his fingers over hers, making a fist. “After you move your hip to the side, punch back to his groin.” He swung her arm back forcefully, stopping just short of his jeans. “You can slap, punch, even grab his you-know-what and twist.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and stared at their hands, his larger one wrapped around hers. “You smell nice, too.”

  Clay almost groaned out loud.

  When he didn’t respond, she pulled her hand away and started to step forward, but he tugged her back against him. “Let’s say he’s got you really low and tight.” He bent his knees and dropped his arms lower around her hips, his chin touching her shoulder. He heard her gasp, and thought he’d scared her, but she leaned back into him with a tiny moan. Wait, what? Maybe her reaction wasn’t fear.

  “Clay?” Her voice sounded breathy.

  “What?” If he turned his face he could nuzzle her neck right behind her soft little earlobe.

  She turned to look him in the eye. “What do I do now?”

  He swallowed. His lips parted. You kiss me like you did that night in the jungle and then we make love right here on the floor.

  He cleared his throat. “If your lower arms are pinned, you stomp as hard as you can on the top of his foot, even kick back to hit his shin. But the top of the foot has a lot of little bones and it hurts like hell.”

  Ready to put more distance between them, he let her go and stepped away. “Remember, go for the knee or the top of the foot, and then run. Kicking those areas will keep the guy from being able to chase you. Your goal here is not to actually bring him down, but to do just enough to get away. You strike, and then you run, okay?”

  “Got it. Strike and run.”

  “That’s enough for a first lesson. Want something to drink?” He went to the fridge for a couple of bottles of water. Maybe he’d pour one over his head. Or splash it on something lower. “When you get back, find a gym or a dojo and practice regularly.” He handed her a water.

  Nodding, she took it. “I will.”

  They both sipped their water in silence.

  “Clay?”

  “Yeah.” He finally refocused on her face.

  She stared at him, rolled her lips in and then bit the bottom one.

  Wow, those lips.

  She moved closer. Another step toward him.

  Agitation seized his gut.

  With a wince, she squeezed her eyes shut. “What if an attacker has me pinned on the ground?”

  Had the kidnappers tried to assault her? He wanted to hit something. Hard.

  She needed to be able to defend herself. And he wanted to make sure she could never be hurt again. But how could he be sure she would feel safe when part of him—in fact, most of him—wanted her himself? There was no way he could show her these moves without her knowing exactly what she did to him.

  In his mind, he heard the quarry’s strident alarm-bell buzzing—the signal for danger. His lips flattened. “Lie on your back, arms above your head.”

  8

  WHAT WAS SHE DOING?

  Gabby contemplated telling Clay she’d changed her mind.

  Panic, post-traumatic stress and sleepless nights had led to some terrible decisions on her part lately. Like running away from her life just because she’d had a few scary incidents. Like using those incidents as a flimsy excuse to track down a guy she barely knew. And now here she was trying to seduce said guy.

  Clay was scowling, looking, even out of uniform, like the hardened soldier she’d first met in the jungle. Confident. Unwavering. A man to be reckoned with.

  She might have thought she was coming to see him in order to feel safe. But if that was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth. Now that she was here—in the presence of Clay’s hard-muscled, tight T-shirt and jeans-clad body—she knew exactly what she wanted.

  She wanted him. She wanted to finish what they’d started back in that jungle in Paraguay. And she thought—hoped—that he wanted the sam
e thing. She definitely felt something—some...spark between them. And that spark encouraged her.

  Terrible decision or not, Gabby dropped to the floor, flipped onto her back and laid her hands on either side of her head. Her stomach was turning somersaults, or maybe it was a place slightly lower.

  With a quick flick of her wrist, she yanked the band from her ponytail and shook out her hair. His gaze followed her motion. He was watching her with a banked hunger in his eyes. But banked embers could be coaxed into flames.

  He dropped to all fours and positioned himself over her, straddling her waist. She felt a moment’s shock, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. She wasn’t afraid. Never afraid with Clay.

  “If a guy has your hands pinned.” He leaned forward and lightly clasped her wrists, but his eyes lowered to her chest. Her nipples tightened. She wanted to beg for his touch. When she took a breath, her stomach rose against his hard...zipper.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as he lifted his gaze to her face. “You can still throw off an attacker. First, raise your knees and plant your feet wide.”

  Obeying his instructions, her thighs snugged up against his butt.

  “Now, move your left wrist away from your head.” He demonstrated extending her arm all the way out and how, because he was gripping her wrist it caused him to pitch forward and to her left. “See? That throws me off balance because my hand goes out from under me.”

  “Oh, cool. Let me try that again.” With his fingers still encircling her wrist, she replicated the move and he fell forward a second time. Now they were chest to chest. With only the thin cotton of their shirts between them. His hardness pressed to her softness. Everywhere.

  She took a deep breath and licked her lips. His eyes were a whiskey brown. His lips... She wanted to lift her head and catch them with her own. Just to see if they were as supple as they looked.

  She understood that she had to go back to her apartment and deal with her life. She wasn’t expecting till death did they part. But before she returned to reality, at the very least she wanted a kiss. One last kiss from him when she wasn’t covered in mud, filth and bug bites. Just to see if kissing him was as all-consuming as she remembered. She raised her head...

  He straightened abruptly, moving her wrist back beside her head. “That was good.” At least his voice was raspy. “Now, when you throw me off balance, raise your right hip to shove me off.” He bent over her and encircled her wrists in a tighter clasp, his face grim.

  She waited a heartbeat, and then tried it.

  It worked and he pitched off to her side. Emboldened, she rolled on top of him, grabbed his wrists and shackled them to the floor.

  His eyes flared, and then narrowed. But he didn’t fight her.

  Before he could, she took his mouth in hers. She refused to lose this moment to timidity.

  After a stunned second he returned her kiss, his lips moving over hers, nipping, sucking, tasting.

  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. She was no longer holding his wrists. Somehow their fingers had entwined. As weird as it seemed, Gabby thought the rest of her life might be determined by what Clay did next... Then with a gruff moan he rolled again, gathered her up in his arms and kissed her, hard and ravenously.

  Needing to touch him, she clasped his jaw, tangled her fingers in his hair. She was drowning in the feel of his mouth on hers, taking and giving, plundering, teasing inside with his tongue. She started untucking his T-shirt from his belt and inching it up his back, running her palms over the hot, bare skin on either side of his spine. She wanted to feel him everywhere, feel his skin against hers, and their clothes were so in the way.

  His lips moved down her jawline to the hollow of her throat, kissing, licking. His rough beard scratched her. When his mouth reached the edge of her V-neck she cried out her encouragement and squirmed beneath him. Her shirt had to go. And so did his.

  Impatient, she yanked his T-shirt up over his head and he lifted away long enough to finish pulling it off and tossing it. While he did that she grabbed the hem of her shirt and had barely gotten it off before his mouth landed at the edge of her bra, pressing kisses between her breasts.

  Before she could do it herself, he’d reached behind her to unsnap her bra, and they tussled to see which one could drag the straps down her arms faster before he suckled one hardened nipple.

  She gave a tiny yelp. The sensation of his teeth scraping one tip and then the other was a pleasure more intense than anything she’d ever felt. As his hands and mouth caressed her breasts, all she could do was feel, and all she could feel was a desire so powerful it overwhelmed her.

  With a wet pop, he let go of her nipple and spread openmouthed kisses down her stomach. One hand still clutched her breast, but the other was sliding under the elastic of her sweatpants, tugging them down along with her panties as he stroked her hip, then her butt.

  She lifted her hips to him, offering him whatever he wanted. “Clay. I’ve wanted this—wanted you, ever since that night.”

  He stilled, his mouth open on the sensitive skin inches below her naval. His warm breath tickled in harsh puffs as he panted above her. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, righted the waistband of her sweatpants and pushed up to his knees.

  Wait. No. Don’t get up. Gabby almost said the words out loud. But she could tell by the set of his jaw it would’ve been a waste of breath. He avoided her eyes as he got to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. “This was a mistake.”

  Bam. Sucker punch to the gut. She lost her breath, didn’t know where to look. Her nipples were still wet from his tongue. As he turned away, she reached for her shirt so she could cover her breasts. Her vision tunneled and she barely heard him mutter something about being back in a bit as she ran for the bathroom.

  * * *

  WHAT HAD HE DONE?

  Clay paid for the Chinese food, grabbed the brown paper sack and slid behind the wheel of his SUV.

  Geez, he’d almost taken Gabby’s virginity. Good thing he’d snapped out of it. One more minute and he’d have had their pants off and taken her right there on his living room floor. Not a great place for a lady’s first time.

  And he definitely wasn’t the right partner for a lady’s first time either. She was no teenager. If she’d waited this long, sex must be important, must mean something more to her than scratching an itch. She deserved more than a quick romp with a virtual stranger. And that’s all tonight would’ve been.

  She was just scared right now. Not thinking straight from all the crap she’d been through. And he sure wasn’t about to take advantage of her post-trauma vulnerability.

  But now he had to face her after the way he’d left things... Not his finest moment.

  The sun was sitting on the horizon, leaving the sky a murky twilight when he returned to the apartment, got to his door and turned the key in the lock. No lights on inside. “Gabby?”

  No answer.

  He flipped on the overhead light, but didn’t see her. Had she—? Alarm subsided as he stepped in and caught sight of her curled up on his couch. She’d fallen asleep.

  She must’ve crashed hard because neither the light nor his boot steps had woken her.

  Guilty and relieved at the same time, he stuck the food in the fridge and grabbed a beer, then stood drinking it while he studied his troublesome guest.

  His chest ached watching her sleep. He didn’t think it possible but she looked even more innocent with one hand tucked under her chin, her long dark hair mussed over her face, her lush mouth open. He was going to have a hard time getting that image out of his head. Not to mention how she’d looked earlier, her large pinkish-brown nipples, shiny from his mouth, or how her dark skin had smelled of gardenias, how she’d writhed beneath him.

  Face it. The time he’d spent away, willing his body to cool off, had been a complete waste. He clenched his
fists to keep from dragging her into his arms.

  She mumbled something and fidgeted, and he remembered how she’d talked in her sleep that night in the jungle. Stalking to his bedroom, he yanked the comforter off his bed and dragged it back to spread over her. She snuggled in deeper.

  She was so sweet, lying there quietly. If he didn’t do something to make sure she was safe, he might not be able to let her go home in the morning. And he had to get her out of here.

  Turning away, he pulled out his cell and dialed Neil. The least he could do was have a security system set up in her apartment. When his buddy’s voice mail answered, Clay left a message. “Hey, Barrow. I need a favor. Call me when you get this.” He stared at her again. First thing tomorrow he’d deliver her to the train station.

  Gulping his beer, he headed for his bedroom.

  He needed another beer. But first he’d take a long, cold shower.

  * * *

  THE FIRST THING Gabby realized as she slowly awoke was that her left hand was asleep. The second was that she had actually slept long enough for something to go numb.

  The third thing she realized, as she opened her eyes and her brain snapped fully alert, was that she wasn’t in her bed.

  “I told you. I can’t get away right now.” Clay’s voice.

  Gabby focused beyond the sofa pillow her face was smashed against and saw Clay standing in front of the living room window, speaking on his cell phone. Even with his profile silhouetted against the window’s blinds she could tell he was scowling.

  “Don’t lay that guilt on me. It won’t work. I’m not coming, all right?”

  Who was he talking to? Whoever it was inspired a deep-seated resentment in him. Or perhaps it was the subject matter. Either way, Gabby could hear the bitter anger in his tone.

  “Look, there’s nothing I can do. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He clicked off and swung to face Gabby.

  Their gazes met and she blinked. The sheer physicality of him made her stomach dip. He wore running clothes and his T-shirt was damp in the center of his chest. He’d been jogging, presumably. A morning person, then. Whereas she could easily sleep for several more hours. How long had she been asleep, anyway? And wasn’t this Sund—