Daring Her SEAL

by Anne Marsh

  “Are you ever serious?” she hissed.

  “Let’s find out.”

  * * *

  SHE’D WONDERED ONCE what Levi would be like if he ever got really, thoroughly pissed off. Staring up at his fierce face, she realized she was about to find out. He rolled, pulling her beneath him, and came down ruthlessly on top of her. He wasn’t worried about giving her his weight. When her breath rushed out in a harsh gasp, he just grinned and gave her more. She didn’t know if he wanted to see how much she could take, or if he had some other point to prove, but he pinned her in place without even trying.

  She couldn’t identify what she saw there in his eyes. He’d asked her to marry him, but that had been a joke. Or what he thought she wanted to hear. Anger? Hurt?

  She didn’t know, but she did have the feeling he was about to tell her. He hadn’t used words like love and forever, but then, neither had she. In fact, she had pretty much cut him off the minute he’d produced that pretty pink ring of his. She sucked at relationships, she decided ruefully. She shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near this man, particularly not this close, because all she could think about was getting closer. And naked.

  She’d definitely take naked.

  “I asked you to marry me,” he growled.

  Good lord, was he going to keep harping on that? She was sympathetic to the embarrassment factor, but he hadn’t really meant it. They both knew that. “You’ve got to let it go.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Babe, I don’t have to do anything, and you’re not in a position to give orders.”

  Because he had her squashed into the mattress? Being bigger wasn’t everything, and she opened her mouth to say so.

  “Nuh-uh,” he whispered roughly, lowering his mouth until it brushed hers. She shut up fast. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

  “Yet you proposed to me.” She wriggled her hands free and slapped them against his chest. The man was about as moveable as a wall. If the room did cave in, all she had to do was hold this position, and she’d be fine. His hard head could take the brunt of everything, from bad weather to flying palm trees.

  He braceleted both of her wrists with one hand. “Did you even think about saying yes?”

  Not waiting for an answer, his mouth slanted over hers. A kiss? Not hardly. More like a brand or a mark of possession. Her SEAL felt territorial and she shouldn’t have enjoyed it half as much as she did.

  “No,” she said, wrenching her lips from his, only half meaning it. “You popped the question, and then I popped out an answer. You were the one who got all pissed off.”

  “You didn’t think I meant it,” Levi said, moving his mouth from her throat to her ear. He bit the lobe none too gently and she bucked. Was that supposed to feel so good? His tongue laved the mark he must have put on her, and that felt even better. The man had her all screwed up and she resented it. “I’m gonna put words in your mouth, same way you put them in mine, except at the end you get a chance to plead innocent. You believe I’m a player, the sailor with a girl in every port.”

  It was true, wasn’t it? “I’ve worked with you,” she pointed out. “I’ve posed as your girlfriend. You’re a busy man, Levi. You probably have to buy condoms in bulk. I don’t think you’ve ever thought about settling down with one woman, and I’m not your type.”

  “So this makes you an expert on how I feel?” He settled himself in the cradle of her thighs.

  “Make yourself at home,” she muttered. The man had no limits. And you like it.

  He gave her more weight, as if that was some kind of punishment. “Answer the question.”

  “Yes.” She rocked up against him. Lying still like a virgin sacrifice wasn’t something she was good at.

  “And that’s why you turned me down?”

  “Pretty much.” Because otherwise, on the surface of things, he kind of did look like a keeper man. He was sweet, hardworking, and as a US Navy SEAL he spent every day in bona fide hero territory. Not only did he pull a paycheck, but he made their nation stronger, safer. Maybe he fostered kittens and pulled old ladies out of burning buildings, too.

  He shook his head. “And now you’re stuck with me in the middle of a hurricane. Your timing sucks, Dixon. What if you hurt my feelings so badly that I pitch your pretty ass out of here, and you have to find a new hidey-hole?”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “What makes you so sure?” His mouth drifted down her neck, trailing fiery kisses along her throat.

  “Because you’re a decent guy,” she admitted. It was true. Sort of. Mostly. “Except when you’re deliberately being an asshole.”

  It was important to be fair. And he really didn’t appear to be interested in being decent or an asshole at the moment. Instead he gave her more kisses. More heat. She felt her lips moving feverishly beneath his, liquid heat flooding her core. Apparently the man could kiss the anger right out of her. If she’d planned on sticking with him, that would have been cause for concern.

  He pulled back and winked at her. “Are you sure I’m nice?”

  “I’m not omniscient, but I’ve worked with you for months. You’re a US Navy SEAL and the other guys on the team trust you. So do I really think you’d stick me outside in the middle of a storm?” She smiled sweetly at him, hoping she looked more in control than she actually felt. “Not a chance. Hell, even if it was just sprinkling, there’s a better chance you’d sprint to fetch me an umbrella.”

  “Because I’m that goddamned nice,” he growled. Really? Because there had been absolutely nothing wrong or nasty about her answer.

  “Pretty much.” He pressed down, then up, and she sighed. Good lord, the man really did know how to turn a woman on. Maybe she should stop complaining about all the practicing he’d done. Then he stopped moving. She cracked an eye to discover why and saw a muscle in his jaw tick. He still looked thoroughly pissed, which made it all too easy to imagine him kicking down doors in some foreign country and then storming inside to clear a room of hostile insurgents. He’d get the job done. Honestly, it was sexy as hell.

  Which had to explain what she said next.

  “Can we stop talking and move on to having sex?”

  His eyes glinted dangerously. “Babe, you really don’t want to push me right now.”

  And see? That was their second major difference of opinion, right there.

  “Why not?” she taunted. “I’ve got a bed, a hot SEAL and all the time in the world because I’m stranded on a deserted island. What else am I going to do?”

  His hand whipped upward, her arm followed and there was a click. He’d cuffed her to the bed. Wow. Somehow she hadn’t seen that one coming. She yanked her arm, but the damned thing held even after his earlier cuff-slamming act.

  He gave her a tight smile. “I didn’t break it, Dixie. Just forced it open. The lock still works.”

  Crap. She bucked, but he was already sliding off her. He reached for the utility knife on the bedside table. “Useful,” he observed and the blade flashed before she could even catch her breath. Cold metal slid down her chest and over her stomach.

  “Don’t you dare—” Red flag to a bull. The blade sliced through fabric.

  “Don’t what?” Oh, Mr. Big Bad SEAL didn’t like that. Boo-fucking-hoo. Her clothes were probably sitting on the tarmac at Belize International Airport, and he’d just destroyed her last outfit. If anyone got to be pissed here, it was her. Not done with her yet—thank God—he pulled her shirt and bra open. The knife disappeared, tossed somewhere, and he yanked down her shorts and panties. She went up in flames, anticipation flooding her. The storm pounded outside, and all the anger and fear and adrenaline needed some place to go. Why not take it out on Levi?

  “Don’t stop.” She slapped her free hand around his erection. “You volunteered to make this mine, so consider this a tria
l run.”

  “You said no,” he growled.

  Semantics. But he rolled off the bed and jerked his shirt over his head. Five seconds later his pants hit the floor.

  “Condom,” she demanded.

  “Absolutely.” They both knew he was clean, because he’d just had a physical and she didn’t doubt he was careful. He rolled on a condom, fisting himself in a vise that looked tight enough to hurt, but he groaned, and damned if that didn’t sound like a happy noise.

  “And now I’m saying yes,” she snarled. “So hurry up.”

  He lifted her hips, kneeing her thighs apart. She rocked back, wrapping her legs around his hips. No way she was letting him take her. She’d be getting her own piece of him, making him hers for the moment. He eased back, then drove forward, and she lost her breath. There was nothing gentle or easy about Levi. He slammed himself home, pushing deep until his hips were sealed against her pussy, and they were both breathing hard, like they’d just run a race and were headed neck and neck for the finish line. He didn’t beat her. Not now, not today.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted him.

  “Not. Even.” He pulled back, thrust again and each brutal drive shoved her higher, further. He was rough but oh, God, the pleasure was right there along with the burn, and she’d never felt this alive before. The wind howled outside, the villa shook and she wanted more—more Levi, more inside her to fill up the empty place she hadn’t realized she had. She needed him, and he delivered.

  “Don’t stop.” Shoot. That came out more whimper than demand.

  He curled the fingers of one hand around hers. The other cupped her butt, lifting her for his next thrust. She was spread wide-open, legs cradling his hips. Each thrust drove her into the mattress and it felt so fucking good. The raw burn of him branded her from the inside out as he pounded his way home. This was what she’d needed, what she’d craved. When she came it was rough and hard, her body clenching down on his, holding on and not letting go. This was powerful on a whole new level, and when he followed her over the edge, with her each step of the way, it was pretty damn perfect.

  13

  DIXIE FELL ASLEEP after sex. Uncuffing her from the bed, he pressed a quick kiss against her wrists and tucked her against his chest, making a mental note to tease her about the falling-asleep thing later. Couldn’t have too much blackmail material when you had a woman like that in your life. Temporarily, he reminded himself. As soon as the storm passed and Belize got its act together, they’d get divorced or annulled or however folks stamped an expiration date on marriages down here. He didn’t get to keep her.

  About an hour later, the wind died down. Since he was itching to take a look, he got out of bed, pulled on his boots and headed for the door. There might be more storm coming, but he’d be quick. The paths around the bungalow were inches deep in water, and it looked as though half a jungle had been spread over the concrete surfaces. He debated moving up to the lobby, but their roof looked good, and the bungalow’s position would likely protect it from the worst of the wind.

  Ashley padded out behind him. He told himself her coming out here wasn’t a good thing. He needed her inside where it was safer.

  He turned his head and looked at her. “You’re gonna get wet.”

  Undeterred, she slid arms around his waist. “Nothing sweet about me. I won’t melt.”

  Something in his chest lurched. Sank toward his stomach or his knees. He had a bad feeling it might have been the heart he didn’t think he possessed. His Dixie was plenty sweet despite her tough-girl exterior.

  “Not true,” he said gruffly, ignoring her muffled snort of disagreement. Didn’t matter what she thought—just how he felt.

  “Storm’s not over yet,” she said finally, backing away from their moment.

  She wasn’t wrong—he could feel the wind picking up, the rain beating down on their palm tree canopy with renewed strength. Safest spot now was inside. He swung her up and dropped her over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” She swatted at his butt.

  “Don’t teach me your kinky habits, Dixie.” He strode back inside, pausing just long enough to secure the door before he dropped her on the bed. She stared at him a moment, then laughed.

  “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you?”

  “Secret’s out.” He scrounged up a towel, because her feet had gotten wet chasing him outside and that was another thing he could fix. She let him, which was as gratifying as it was surprising, although when he’d finished, she grabbed the towel from him and ran it over his arms.

  He watched her for the next few minutes as the storm roared over them with renewed vengeance. She was nervous. She hid it well, but with each crash of the wind against their bungalow, she jumped. Since he couldn’t promise it would all be over soon, he rummaged in the gift basket for a distraction. Even he wasn’t ready to tackle the Purple Monster, but Truth or Dare? Yeah. That might work. Returning to the bed, he set the flashlight he’d retrieved from his bag down in the center.

  He flicked her on the nose. “Budge over.”

  “You want to play board games?” She eyed the little box in his hand. She’d pulled on his T-shirt for her porch reconnaissance, but otherwise she was naked. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have complained about nudity—hell, he was all for it—but if they had to evac, clothes would be preferable to no clothes. On the other hand, he had a go bag ready by the side of the bed, and so far the worst of the storm appeared to be avoiding Fantasy Island. Maybe he could take a chance.

  He tossed the box at her. “This isn’t just any game. It’s a test.”

  She caught the box and promptly dropped it on the bed. “Not interested.”

  “You’ll like it.” He was sure of that.

  Of course, his Dixie had to be the world’s toughest audience. “Convince me,” she ordered.

  “You get to make me spill all of my deepest, darkest secrets.” He turned the flashlight on the box so she could read the label. “You’re a female. Aren’t you supposed to be into that?”

  She snorted. “I thought you were an open book. Have you been holding out on me?”

  He grinned at her. “Only one way to find out.”

  A particularly strong gust of wind pounded on their roof and she jumped visibly. Yeah. He needed to fix that. Scooping an arm around her waist, he pulled her back between his legs and wrapped his arms around her. She made a soft sound and relaxed into him. One problem solved.

  “I’ll even let you go first because I’m such a gentleman.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she opened the box and thumbed through the cards.

  “I’m not sure you’re supposed to read them first.” He’d admit that he didn’t know the rules to Truth or Dare: The Married Version.

  “Quality assurance check, Brandon.” She grinned and plucked a card out of the very back. “Truth. Do I act more like your mom or your dad? Oooh. Freudian.”

  Okay. So a game wasn’t his best idea. The Purple Monster looked more and more user friendly by the second.

  “Maybe we should start with dare.” He reached around her and grabbed a card. “See? This one challenges me to act as your sex slave for the next fifteen minutes. That one would be way more fun.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’m more interested in hearing an answer. You picked the game, so don’t bitch if you don’t like the question.”

  “Gotcha.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist and blew in her ear. As though he didn’t mind in the slightest if she poked every sore spot in his psyche. “Mom.”

  “Ewww. Really?”

  “You want me to compare you to my dad? He was Marine Corps tough to the end, and he didn’t have a good-looking bone in his body.”

  “Not a SEAL?”

  “Nope. I was a disappointment to my old
man.” Joining the Navy had been one more way to flip his dad off. Give the man almost what he wanted—but not quite. Levi had been lucky that the Navy turned out to be the perfect fit for him.

  “What was he like? I don’t even know where you’re from.” Her brow got that adorable little crinkle again, like he was a puzzle she needed to solve. He ran a finger over the crease.

  “I’m from San Diego. You know that.”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “That’s where you’re based. Where did you grow up?”

  “Here, there and everywhere. My dad was a master sergeant and we moved from post to post every eighteen months.”

  There’d been plenty of families like his. You lived in base housing, went to base school with the other kids. He’d climbed on more tanks as a boy than he had jungle gyms. On the upside, he’d gotten to fire an M16 when he was eight and that had to be every little boy’s dream come true. And the moving about hadn’t been so hard. Sure, he realized now that there hadn’t been a whole lot of money, although none of them had ever gone hungry even if there had also been plenty of days when his mom threatened to put a brick on his head to stop him growing out of his clothes.

  “Was it hard?” She sounded genuinely curious, so why not tell her?

  “Like trying to live your life on a plane bucking in the wake of a fighter plane,” he admitted. “The new place and new school wasn’t so bad, but my mom had to hold everything together. She was a strong woman, but she and my dad fought. He’d leave for missions, and we’d be left behind again. My mom wasn’t a fan of his missing every milestone, picnic, and play.” He stopped, not entirely sure why he was telling her this. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand and for a moment he just let himself enjoy. “Pictures couldn’t make up for what he’d missed. He was a good man and I respected the hell out of him, but it’s hard to be close to someone who’s never there, no matter how good the reasons. Some people made it work. Others got divorced, had affairs, or fought like they were auditioning for a reality TV show.”