Hero Hair (The Real SEAL Series Book 2)

by Rachel Robinson

  He clears his throat and looks over my head. Flicking his gaze back to me, he asks, “It’s the third date?”

  I grin. “Do you know what that means?”

  Eyes narrowed, he pulls me against his body, cradling the side of my face in his large hand. Macs has fire in his eyes, desire so wild and feral it causes me to lose my breath.

  “Where?”

  “Not the sidewalk, please,” I reply, widening my eyes. I have to say it. I can’t read him right now and if he really wanted to take me on the sidewalk, I’m not sure I could stop him.

  After kissing me on the lips long and hard, he leans to my ear. “I need you. I’m desperate for you.”

  I want him too. “My apartment? I mean, I can’t promise my mom and Charlotte won’t meander in at some point, but we can be quick?” I hike my thumb behind my shoulder. “I feel like I’m propositioning you right now.”

  He shakes his head. “I want you for longer than that. It’s third base. I need to take my time.” He looks up at the tall buildings surrounding us, his gaze feverish. “A hotel?”

  I step out of his arms. “A hotel? Seriously? I’m not a prostitute, Macs. I was just making a joke about propositioning. Ha. Ha. You know?”

  He can’t be serious with a hotel.

  “I never said you were. Normal people go to hotels, too. You don’t have to be a lady of the night to frequent the fine establishments.”

  I shake my head. “I’d rather be quick at my house. Or…we could go to your house?”

  Macs looks at me in a way he hasn’t done before. You’d think I’d suggested a visit to a proctologist. He’s met my mother. I assumed we were past this. I understand his need to keep his private life private, but this is a normal occurrence in a real relationship. Why can’t we have it in our fake relationship?

  “I brought you into my home,” I add on.

  He shakes his head. “That’s different. You bring all of your…men there.”

  I scoff, pulling out of his arms. “I have to go, Macs. Call me later?”

  He grabs my bicep, his grip loose. “No, no, no. Are you sure we can’t go to a hotel? I know there’s one several blocks over. I can drive us.”

  Do I give in? I want his body, but I want his respect more.

  “Call me,” I repeat. My voice waivers, but he’s too wound up to realize I’m on the fence. I’m seconds away from being his call girl. He’s a complete one-eighty compared to how he was in front of my mom and Charlotte. “Yeah?” I ask, prompting him to make up his mind or just freaking agree to call me later so we can get on with our lives.

  He’s still staring at me, like I’m a freak on display. I have nothing to be self-conscious about, and I still find myself running my hand through my hair and smoothing my lips together, back and forth.

  “Fine,” he growls. “I’ll drive.”

  “Fine what? You’ll call me?” I smile at him.

  His scowl doesn’t budge. His eyes narrow even further through his irritation. Macs bites his bottom lip. “We can go to my house. My living room,” he explains. “Not my bedroom.”

  I jump up once and clap my hands together. “I’m so excited!”

  He grunts and furrows his brow. Stepping back into his space, I lean up on my toes and put my lips against his. I’ve wanted to kiss him since he sucked his full pink lip into his mouth. His lips move against mine and he takes me against his solid body immediately. His hard length presses against my stomach and the anticipation is almost too much.

  “No sex,” I say. It’s more of a question, even though I know we’ve played by the rules this far and he won’t mess it up now.

  Looking around, he makes sure no one is looking before he readjusts his bulge, then he takes my hand and leads me to his car.

  I text my mom and let her know that Macs and I are grabbing some dessert and I’ll see her at the apartment later. Charlotte texts me thirty seconds later. She’s obviously still with Viola. Third date, Tay. You know what that means? She follows up with a smiley face. I should be a real bitch and ask her to explain, in detail, what it is I’m allowed to do.

  Instead, I text back, Everything but sex?

  Macs is busy driving. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He’s zoned into it like I’m not even sitting next to him. I watch him while he’s busy with traffic. I try to remember the last time I was with a man as beautiful as Macs. It’s been a while. I’d have to break it down by sections. A body as perfect as Macs’? That one is easy. Moose. A face as attractive? I’m not sure I’ve ever been with a man with a face quite like Macs’, but maybe one other. He was a bronzed professional surfer. He had blue eyes and the most defined, sculpted chin I’d ever seen. He was an awful lay. He called me “dude” after he came on my bed sheets. Now that I’m thinking about it, that makes him sort of awful. I decide he shouldn’t make any of my best lists for that reason alone, his Adonis chin be damned.

  Everything goes. NO penetration by penis. Because you’re so prolific I’ll add, no penetration by penis in ANY holes. Charlotte’s text is more graphic than I expected.

  Don’t call it that. It’s a cock. I reply to her message right away, making a noise of disgust. Any holes would imply he can’t put his cock in my mouth hole. Allowed, right? I smirk.

  “What are you groaning about over there?” Macs asks.

  I jump in my seat a little bit. I looked away four seconds and he’s already tuned into me.

  “Penis. It’s such a horrible word,” I tell him.

  He laughs, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s frustrated.

  “When is the last time you’ve had sex, Macs?” I ask, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

  He swallows, and then works his jaw.

  “It’s been a while?” I ask. This realization makes me giddy even though I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to be excited he hasn’t banged any other chicks recently, but I already know I will be.

  Charlotte texts back that blow jobs are permitted, even though she’s sure my mouth is on it right now.

  He releases a drawn-out sigh. “Before you,” he whispers.

  “You’re such a liar,” I clap back.

  “I don’t lie about sex, Teala. I committed to this.”

  My heart skips a beat. I let my mind replace the word this with you.

  “It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex since age sixteen.”

  Silence fills the car as I weigh my response. “I get the commitment to holding up our charade, but why not have sex on the side?”

  We’re on a long stretch of road without any other cars around. He glances over at me. “That would be too easy. I thought you knew me at least a little bit by this point. Challenges are sort of my thing. I committed to our pseudo relationship and maybe part of me was curious about how it would be if it were real. Not that it is real,” he explains. “Make no mistake of that.” His voice doesn’t sound so sure.

  “Of course it’s not. I mean, you did just have lunch with my mom and give me an orgasm by dry humping me against my bedroom window. What’s real about that?” I retort. I watch his face. The corner of his lip quirks. It feels real. He knows it. I know it.

  “I need a distraction for the next five minutes,” he says. “That’s how long until we get to my house. I might explode,” he says, wincing as he readjusts his hard-on.

  I giggle. “Do you trust me?” I bite my lip.

  Macs furrows his brow as I lick my lips and circle my mouth with my pointer finger. His eyes pop open wide. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, the question should be do I trust myself.” He rubs his hands on the leather steering wheel up and down. “Go. Do it,” he says—the quickest decision that ever came to fruition. He leans his seat back using the buttons on the side panel of his door.

  I unfasten my seat belt and bend over to start working on his button and zipper. His shaft is pressing against his jeans uncomfortably. I pull it through the fly of his boxer briefs. It’s just as large as it fe
els through his pants. It’s silky, with veins and a robust head. I do have a good comparison, so when I say his dick is beautiful, it is. Wrapping my hand around his girth, I watch his face. It’s a mask of determination and lust. His fists flex around the steering wheel, causing a cracking sound.

  “Suck my dick,” he says. “Suck my fucking dick,” he repeats. Everything below my belly button turns to mush.

  Typically I’d object to his order, but I’m so turned on. He’s waiting for me. I’m the only one. Right now at least. Even if it’s just for now, he is a monster of desire, and I can’t wait to see exactly what he can do with every part of his body. I lick the tip, swirling my tongue in small circles. At first contact, Macs groans, a guttural noise piercing the air in the cab of the car. My core clenches in response to the primal noise.

  I let my mouth work down the shaft a bit before I start pumping my hand at the same time. I pull away to look at him while I keep working my hand up and down. The corner of the center console digs into my stomach, and I readjust my positioning.

  “I’m sort of good at this. I figure I should warn you in case you think you’ll be the hero here,” I say.

  He smirks, his eyes now so hooded I think I may combust from the desire I see there.

  “I’m always the hero. Now suck my dick. I’ll tell you if you’re too good.” He’s playing. He has no clue how dangerous I am. Not in this regard.

  I shrug, sliding my hand up around the head of his cock and all the way back down. My spit is lubricating and it’s running dry, so I bend over and, using precise aim, I let a mouthful of spit fall on the tip of his dick. He moans. I suck and use my hand at the perfect speed. My lips shield his softness from my teeth and I work him into a complete and utter frenzy. When I sense he’s getting too close, I back off with my hands and lick the underside up and down in long strokes. Macs is bucking his hips, trying to get me to swallow him whole. I wonder how long it will be until he releases his grip from ten and two and pushes my head with one hand. It’s only been a couple minutes and Macs is tapping out. Not tapping my shoulder to let me know he’s coming, actually moaning that I need to stop before he blows his load all over the Italian leather interior.

  He’s breathing in huffs and puffs blown out of his mouth at an erratic pace. I lean up, wipe the string of spit from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, and retreat to my seat.

  “FUCK!” Macs yells, a huge smile on his face. He slams his palm on the steering wheel. His eyes widen. “You suck dick like a goddamn professional. We were joking about it before, but fuck. Can I lock you in my closet?”

  I laugh. “I should take offense to that, but I’ll run with the compliment. You’re not locking me anywhere.” I shake my head.

  His grin is wide and confusing. When he looks over at me it’s like he’s viewing me for the first time. “What the hell are you, Teala Smart?”

  I grin. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m mostly your worst nightmare.” I tilt my head in the direction of his cock, still ramrod straight and begging for more attention. “Want more?”

  “Fuck!” he yells again. He shakes his head, still grinning like a lunatic. “We’re almost home,” he says, readjusting his dick so I can’t see it anymore. My face must fall, because he responds, “Baby, you can have so much more of that. However much you want. All of it. Anytime you want. Let me park the car. If I thought I could safely get us there and come down your hot fucking throat, I would have let you continue. I think my whole body was buzzing.” His eyebrows are raised and his dimples are on full display. “Jesus, your mouth.”

  He rubs a palm down the front of his unzipped jeans. “And we better do it fast before I get blue balls again. God, I want to come in you so badly,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I’m more than a mouth, you know?” I should have downplayed my skills. This always happens.

  His dimples disappear. “I know.” It’s a simple response, but it insinuates so much more. “Trust me, I know.” He pulls into a long driveway.

  His house is beautiful. It’s a ranch style home with landscaping and lots of tools and sawdust out in the front patio. He parks in front of the two-car garage and explains that he has so many projects going on this weekend with some friend named Tahoe, he had to use his garage to prep. He usually parks his vehicle in there otherwise.

  His sexual excitement turns into something else as we approach his front door. He starts talking faster, explaining why certain things are the way they are even though I never asked. He avoids looking at me as he pulls out his key. It hangs from a Louis Vuitton key chain and holds nothing else but the fob that starts his car. He pushes the door open and motions for me to walk in first. You can taste the hesitance in the air. I feel like he’s going to push me out of his world at any moment, decide it’s a horrible idea to have me in his life now that coming down my throat isn’t on the forefront of his mind. Because that’s all I’m truly good for. I’m almost sorry it’s the third date because after this he’ll be less and less enthralled until we have sex and then he’ll be done with me.

  “I want you to know how much this means to me. I don’t let people in my world,” he admits.

  I hear his keys hit the table in the entryway as I look around. It’s beautiful. Even in the dismantled state it’s in, I’m able to see his vision. The ceilings are high and everything is open. The walls are a crisp white and the furniture he does have is tasteful, expensive. The scent of sawdust and new paint is overwhelming. I wrinkle my nose.

  Macs is watching my face. “What? What is it?” He cranes his neck to see my line of vision.

  I see a door down the hallway. It’s closed. “It’s beautiful. I love the entrance.” I point to the glass doors that open to the beautiful California view. “The eau de construction is strong, that’s all.” Facing him, I place my hands on his strong shoulders. “You’re pretty awesome with your hands,” I say, hoping the compliment will lighten the mood. It doesn’t. His eyes dart to the closed door and then back to me.

  He swallows. “Want something to drink? I have beer or water.”

  I raise one brow. “It’s the middle of the day. Beer?”

  “I’m feeling real squirrely right now, so I hope you don’t mind if I have one.”

  He leaves me for the fridge, pops the top off a brown bottle, and downs it in several gulps, his head tilted toward the ceiling. When he finishes it, he stares at me, unblinking. I press my lips together and wait for him to say something.

  “Maybe I’ll have one more,” he finally says. He does. Then he looks at me again, like my face holds the answer of what comes next.

  I laugh. “This is ludicrous. If you have to get drunk I shouldn’t even be here.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not getting drunk because you’re here, Teala. I’m getting drunk because of what it means.”

  “Still want to have our third date?” he asks, pulling his T-shirt up to expose his abs. He bites the dark, cotton fabric, like men in fashion magazines do. With his abs flexed he poses so casual, so fucking drool-worthy, so over-the-top, and he gets away with it. He tosses the shirt onto the counter, with his tongue caught between his teeth.

  I blow out a breath. It’s as hot as a Channing Tatum movie. More so, actually, because I can touch this body, can do whatever I want with it. “How am I supposed to say anything but yes when you don’t play fair? You’re over there with your goddamn abs and dimples and precision stripping skills.” I motion to his body.

  “Babe, you played dirty first. Your mouth is like a fucking dirty poker game. One you’ll win every single time.”

  I wrinkle my forehead. “Thanks, I guess. Third date?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

  “Let’s go to my bedroom.” He rushes me then—all muscles and stolen breaths in between teeth and kisses. “It does smell like work out here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Macs

  My heart might explode out of my chest. It’s pounding with so much adrenaline I’m no
t sure how to control it. Honestly, I don’t want to control it. She’s in my arms and her lips are mine and I’m opening the door to my bedroom. It’s like I’m Indiana Fucking Jones and I’m opening the door to the room filled with riches beyond my wildest dreams. Teala is in my space. She doesn’t look around when I let her feet touch the floor, though. Not like I would. I’d need to study every single detail first. She doesn’t know what this means, has no clue of the magnitude of what’s happening. Hell, what’s already happened.

  She’s warm against my body, and I can’t tear my gaze from her mouth. Her perfect fucking mouth that does things I never knew were possible. I kiss her. Just once. Hard and furious because I want to taste her now that she’s in my bedroom. Does it feel differently? It doesn’t. It feels just as surreal.

  She sucks in air and looks at me with this “fuck me” smile and eyes only for me. I’m not sure what made me take her here. I could have talked her into a hotel room by her apartment. I saw it on her face. I could have bended her to my will. She wants this as much as I do.

  I want her here in my space. In my world. In my fucking bed. I want her. Not because I haven’t fucked in a while either.

  Because sometime while we were playing pretend something shifted.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” she asks, eyes wide and cheeks blushed.

  I point to the side of my room where a set of white double doors lead through to my bathroom. She waggles her brows, then spins on her toe.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I watch her walk, her workout pants leaving little to the imagination. The curve of her ass is exceptional. She kicks off her sneakers.

  “Just a quick shower,” she explains.

  I tell her where I keep my extra towels and with a shark-like smile, she closes the door behind her. The lock doesn’t click.

  “No clothes when you come out,” I yell, cupping one hand beside my mouth.

  She doesn’t respond, but she laughs. She rolls with anything. I pace the floor, running a hand across the side of my bed to smooth the covers. I scratch my head and lay a wide palm across my stomach. I do twenty pushups as quickly as I can. The shower turns on and I close my eyes.