by Selena Kitt
She closed her eyes. "Flynn?"
"I'm right here, darlin'."
"I'm stuck," she muttered, mortified. She heard him shift behind her, then his hand slid over her hip, up her back, his long arm easily reaching her. He moved her hand out of the way and worked her hair free. The next thing she knew, both of his hands were clamped around her hips as he guided her out.
When she cleared the workstation, flushed, hot, and feeling as rumpled as an unmade bed, she looked up, watching with unabashed fascination as he unfolded from his squat to tower over her, all six-foot-four-inches of him, at least. He extended a hand to help her up, a gentleman as always. Something about their positions, her at his feet, small in comparison to his long, hard muscled frame, he in his crisp uniform with the officer stripes prominent on his shoulders, his entire commanding presence, made a tingle start between her legs. Not an unfamiliar sensation in the time that she'd known him.
She dismissed that thought purposefully, as she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Immediately, she began fussing with her dusty clothing, pulling down her skirt that had ridden up, adjusting her blouse where it had come untucked, and smoothing back the strands of hair that had come loose from its tie and were falling into her face.
He stayed her movements by taking her shoulders and turning her toward him. "Let's have a look at that bump, shall we?"
Standing so near, she trembled slightly as his long fingers bent her head forward and slipped off the elastic band holding her hair back. They began sifting through the strands while gently probing her scalp. She hissed as he came across the sore spot that had connected so solidly with the hard unforgiving oak.
"You've got quite a lump back here."
He angled her head further for closer inspection, bringing her nose in closer to his chest. She breathed in, letting the alluring scent of him fill her lungs. No cologne or fake fragrances for Flynn, only clean smelling soap and man. If it could be bottled, she'd bathe in it, wash her clothes in it, or better yet, her bed linens. The thought of his scent surrounding her while in bed ramped up the tingle. Now she had a full-blown ache going on between her thighs, which was dampening her panties.
It had been that way from the moment she'd first laid eyes on Flynn Dalton. She remembered it well, her insides jangling with excitement, never having seen a more stunning man in all her thirty years. It wasn't only his good looks that caught her eye—although Lord knows the man was handsome as sin—it was also the air of confidence and authority that surrounded him. Granted, working at a naval base dedicated to training new Navy SEALs, these characteristics were present in almost all the men she met on the job every day. She'd been long since convinced that God's gift, take no shit bad ass, and tough as freakin' nails were listed as required attributes on the SEALs application.
But Commander Dalton had been doled out an extra portion, getting two scoops of dominant alpha maleness instead of merely one, and his magnetism attracted her like a moth to a flame. She'd tried to curtail it, failing miserably. As a civilian, working as a systems analyst for a defense contractor in their virtual mission-rehearsal training lab, there weren't any hard-and-fast rules precluding them from dating, yet Cassie was a realist. That Flynn would look at her in more than a platonic way was a pipe dream, a hopeless romantic's fantasy, and a possibility beyond the realm of reality. He could have his choice of women and wouldn't waste a second glance on a short, pudgy, computer geek like her.
"The skin isn't broken," he murmured softly as he continued his inspection. "Some ice should reduce the swelling."
"It's fine, sir. Really."
She pulled out of his grasp and he let her go. As she lifted her head to look up at him, she caught the slightest flicker of a shadow cross his face. Was it something she did, or said? Her denial and refusal to accept help was something she intended to work on, for it had annoyed boyfriends in the past. All two of them.
Too soon, he took a step back. "Why didn't you ask for help, Cassie?"
"It was a simple power cord and I thought I could reach it. Unfortunately, I overestimated my T Rex arms." Her little joke fell flat, not inciting the tiniest spark of amusement in his usual quick to laugh personality.
"Don't denigrate yourself," came his low response. "And I'll expect a call for help next time rather than you taking a risk and hurting yourself. You have an island full of able bodied men at your disposal if you need something heavy moved. Got me?"
"I got you, Flynn. Thanks."
His stern expression softened with her agreement. "If you rattle your brains, imp, who will I spar with to pass the time while the men are busy running simulations?" It was a fact that he teased her often enough on the days he brought his trainees through her state of the art lab.
His eyes shifted to the control panel behind her, then to the glass windows and beyond to the lab itself. "That reminds me why I stopped in. Dive training ends next week and we move on to phase three; will you have the glitch in the new program worked out by then?"
"I hope so, but it truly has me stumped. I've changed out all the hardware that I can think of, the power cords included, although I doubt that's the cause. I have a call in to the designer. Between the two of us, we should be able to figure out if an error in the code is causing it to freeze."
"I have a class ready to come through at 0900 a week from Monday."
"I'll do my best to keep you on schedule, Commander."
His eyes, a stunning steely gray-blue, caught and held hers. "You'll alert me if you can't. If we fall behind, we might not make our graduation date and have to push back team assignments. I'll have to alert the commandant early if that should happen."
"Gary's appendix bursting was bad timing, and not being my program, it's taking more time to troubleshoot, but I'm determined to have you up and running by the start of class." She bit her lip, hoping she wasn't overselling herself. "At least I'm going to try."
A glint of amusement flashed in his gaze as a smile kicked up his lips on one side. "The girl genius stumped? I didn't think it was possible."
She bristled at being called a girl even in teasing. It had plagued her through her teens and twenties, and she thought by the time thirty rolled around, she'd be beyond the impression her small stature and button nose sent out. Alas, she was still carded to get into clubs and continued to be thought of as a teenager, or worse, a kid sister. She scowled, which the commander misinterpreted.
"I'm not blaming you, Cassie, but we do have to get this group of trainees up to speed on the new weapons system before they graduate." Then he turned to leave. "I'll let you get back to it, after you ice that lump on your noggin, of course." Another strongly worded suggestion that was an order he expected her to follow without question. At the door, he paused and turned back. "Lunch on Friday?"
Every other week like clockwork, Flynn brought in sandwiches and they ate on a grassy hill overlooking the San Diego Bay. He had asked her the first month she was here and she'd been thrilled. He was excellent company, quick-witted, and had a story for everything. Most involved some exotic setting he'd visited, which was fascinating for Cassie, who hadn't been out of California, excluding the trip to Tijuana that was a rite of passage for kids graduating from high school. Theirs was an easy friendship, even though, to her regret, it had never progressed much beyond lunch, laughs, and animated conversation. There had been an occasional ballgame or special event downtown, but she figured he was just being nice to the new girl at the base, surrounded mostly by men, and admittedly without many friends in the area as a transplant from where she grew up in northern California.
"You bring the cookies this time, imp." He then winked as he always did, and was gone.
As the door closed behind him, she exhaled a protracted sigh. She'd googled the definition of imp after the first time he'd called her that. There were many: a mischievous child, a brat, or a fairy creature. The endearment didn't lead her to believe he thought of her any other way than as a friend to tease, or worse, a kid siste
r. Either way, it had forced her to face the cold hard fact that she'd been relegated to the friend zone and should give up hope for her unrequited love of Commander Flynn Dalton.
* * *
His long strides carried him quickly out of the building and into the warmth of the July afternoon, the temperature well past the average mid-70s. The unusual heat had persisted during the past six weeks of combat dive training. Spending a transition week in weapons and tactical simulations would have given them a break before the grueling seven weeks of land warfare training. Instead, he might have to rearrange his entire schedule.
Ordinarily, he'd be ticked off, but after seeing sexy little Cassie Hardwick on her knees at his feet, looking up at him a bit dazed from the conk on her head, her big blue eyes wide and slightly off-kilter, he decided having another week to figure out how to stem his desire for the innocent computer nerd was exactly what he needed. A cynical inner voice cut through his thoughts, What's seven more days going to get you?
And it was true. He hadn't figured out how to quash his rampant hard-on before now, not in meetings, or while shooting enemy combatants in urban simulations, or while rigged out in the virtual reality equipment and infiltrating an enemy stronghold in the desert. He'd had six months to try, and his cock still jumped to attention like an untried, acne-riddled, horny adolescent whenever she was around.
Of course, his regular picnics with her didn't help, but he enjoyed the one-on-one time with her. During the past few months, she'd blossomed from the shy, soft-spoken girl she'd first been into an animated, charming young woman. And as she'd grown more accustomed to him, she'd eventually shed her cloak of shyness. Though to be around her, wanting her when he knew he shouldn't, truly made him a glutton for punishment.
His memory flashed on the tempting picture she'd presented as she wiggled and squirmed under the desk today, her snug skirt stretched taut against the curves of her perfect heart-shaped ass. Indisputably a self-proclaimed ass man, he put Cassie's as one of the finest he'd ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something for a well-traveled Navy man. In a side-by-side comparison, Cassie's booty would give J Lo's a run for its money. Enticing him for months, it was all he could do to keep both his eyes and hands off it.
Her delectable derrière was only part of her allure, however. There was also the way she blinked up at him behind the dark framed glasses she wore at work, and her long blonde hair that she wore in a high, sleek ponytail, a stunning contrast to her healthy, sun-kissed complexion that was directly at odds with her geek squad persona. She was an enigma, exuding naïve innocence that made him want to cuddle her close and protect her, at the same time he wanted to show her the big wide world beyond her computer screen. And beneath the beautiful head on her shoulders, sat a body that was made for sin. Killer curves everywhere, not just her fine ass. She had full tits, which she tried and failed to hide behind prim blouses, a narrow waist and rounded hips that were tempting as hell in her knee length figure hugging skirts, twice that in the snug-fitting trousers she wore on occasion.
This mixture of innocence and unintended sexuality made him wonder, if given the chance at having his hands on her voluptuous body, what he would do first. Turn her over his knee for tormenting him all these months, or spread her out naked beneath him and fuck her senseless? Either way, it would remain what it was, a fantasy in his head, for she was not his type. Outwardly, fuck yeah, she was perfect, but he liked kink and a rough type of play that would surely shock her down to her toes. Cassie was obviously a good girl and was much too young and innocent for him. After twenty years in the Navy, sixteen as a SEAL, multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and more special ops missions than he could begin to count, at forty, he was too hardened for such a bright eyed ingénue.
Besides, she worked for him, though not directly. Still, the contractors fell under the chain of command as guests at the base. He wouldn't ever want something between them to be misconstrued as coerced, the Navy taking a strong stance in recent years against sexual harassment. In addition, he was a firm believer in the philosophy of not shitting where you eat—ever. He'd seen too many workplace romances fall apart, leaving resentment, awkwardness, and inevitably, transfers or one of the parties quitting due to an untenable work situation.
Yes, Cassie with her lush tits and phenomenal ass would have to stay right where she was, a fantasy by night, and a platonic friendship by day, even if it killed him. As the hard proof of how much he desired her made his pants uncomfortably tight, he thought that it just very well might.
Chapter Two
Several video chats and conference calls with Gary had to occur before they identified the glitch and had the simulations up and running. Still, she wanted to test it thoroughly before the next training class. She'd contacted the captain and asked for volunteers, creating an evaluation and issues form for feedback. Over a dozen instructors and coaches signed up, also needing time with the new systems. Because of their rigorous schedules which included early morning and late nights when the dive training usually occurred, not to mention the numerous other classes and various drills, she left the lab open 24/7.
The Tuesday before class, she arrived a bit earlier than her regular start time and wasn't at all surprised to see three stations occupied. She had to admit that virtual reality had opened a whole new world of opportunity, putting the SEALs in combat situations without actual danger and with much less expense in the long run. The control room lights were off when she entered, so she took the opportunity to sit back and watch their performance on-screen.
One man, she noticed right off, needed many more hours in the chair to be considered proficient. The second man was putting on a good show, his percentage of neutralized targets high and his collateral damage minimal, but the third man, engaged in an urban assault mission, was off the charts accurate. In fact, she'd never seen scores that high before. The first man who failed his mission miserably, had stomped out in frustration, while the second, earning a commendable score, hung around to watch the one remaining. With bated breath, she did as well, seeing him take out one insurgent after another, while sparing the robed cleric that suddenly popped out of his house, and the Burka shrouded woman who came running from the market.
Out of curiosity, Cassie punched a code into the system override and upped the difficulty on his simulation. Targets and civilians came at him more quickly now, snipers appeared on rooftops, and IEDs exploded in the street. The computer even created a nondescript van which drove up in front of a crowded market. The SEAL at the controls quickly recognized the threat and took out the enemy, no less than a dozen armed men, as they emerged from the vehicle—without a single civilian injury. She was thoroughly impressed. So much so that when the simulation ended, she turned up the lights and rushed to congratulate the man.
She was rounding the platform on which he stood when he pulled off his headgear. It was Flynn. Thrilled for his success, she squealed, "HOOYAH!" and while practically bouncing with excitement, threw her arms around him in congratulations.
"That was fah-reaking awesome!" she gushed. "I've never had anyone score 99.8% on that urban sequence before. You are not human, my man!"
"Maybe you need to teach the class, Dalton," the other instructor joked, "rather than Miss Barely Legal - Legally Blonde here."
That effectively quashed her enthusiasm, having heard the comparison many times before. Petite, blonde, with blue eyes, her hair usually in a ponytail, she was often compared to Elle Woods, Reese Witherspoon's character from the movie, although Cassie's IQ was much higher, as was her cup size. It ticked her off most days, and today was no exception. She dropped her arms from around Flynn and spun on Avery Meyers.
Wide-eyed, she twirled her ponytail around her finger while speaking in a ditzy airhead accent that couldn't be mistaken. "Oh my God, Lieutenant Commander, you're like totally right." Then she leaned in, continuing with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Here's the thing, though, I'm not eighteen, not even close, which makes me way past legal
and you a complete bonehead." She then stomped away, too mad to see straight. Out in the hall, she paused to take a breath.
"Nice work, Meyers, you putz," she heard Flynn say with disgust.
"Sorry, man. I didn't know she'd be so sensitive. With an ass like that and a name like Hardwick, that most of the trainees change to Hard-dick, which I'm sure she is aware of, you'd think she'd have thicker skin."
A loud crash and a thud followed, then the commander's angry growl. "Shut the fuck up. She's a nice girl and doesn't need to be subjected to your crude attempts at humor. Got me, Meyers?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn't know you two were so close."
"She's a sweet kid, like a little sister. And close or not, no woman needs to hear that kind of bullshit."
"Right." To Cassie, his voice sounded strained and raspy, like he was choking. "Like I said, I'm sorry."
Another thud and more scraping sounds came through the open doorway, which was Cassie's cue to leave. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she went, having heard it from his lips once and for all. She was a sweet kid, definitely in the friend zone with Flynn, like a young, freckled face, braces wearing, tag along, little sister, as she'd expected. He'd come to her defense with Meyers the moron, but that's the kind of officer he was, a gentleman, and in her case evidently, a protective big brother. Footsteps in the room drawing closer sent her through the nearby supply room door in a flash. She stared at the knob without a lock and prayed it wouldn't turn as she heard him call her name. It didn't, and she breathed a relieved sigh when she heard them both leave a few minutes later. She lingered there for a while like a coward, long enough to regain her composure, not wanting anyone, especially Flynn, to see the telltale sign of her broken heart trailing down her cheeks.
* * *
That evening, she went to see Julie, an old college friend and someone who would always listen while Cassie poured her heart out. She also never failed to have a chilled bottle of wine at the ready, or Tequila and lime, if she were so inclined. When she opened the door and saw Cassie's devastated expression, she grabbed her hand and hauled her inside.
