by Anne Marsh
She tilted her hips, cradling his dick against hot, damp skin.
“I said wait,” he growled, because if she kept sliding herself along the length of him, he was done for.
She rocked against him, pretty brown eyes meeting his as she smiled. Slowly. She knew exactly how to tease him. “And I said now.”
“Maybe we should play a game.” And just to make his point, to tease her back, he slid himself over the seam of her red thong. She felt so damned sexy, laid open beneath him and trusting him to make this good for them both. She twined her legs around his, meeting his next stroke with an erotic promise that worked a groan from him. Killing him.
“I’ve had my appetizer. Now it’s time for the main course.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching up against him in blatant demand.
“Pick out a drink,” he said and she leaned up and bit his lower lip. Jesus.
“You passed on Sex on the Beach. I’m not sure you deserve another choice.” She didn’t move her hands, though.
“Try me.” He didn’t bother disguising the rough note to his voice. She got to him, undid him in the best possible way.
She paused a beat, but the delicate furrow between her brows said she was clearly thinking. Sort of. He gave her another long, slow glide, the heat of her searing him through her panties. “I’m not sure if I can come up with anything that’s not completely pornographic.”
Could you be any more perfect? “Pornographic works really well for me right now,” he rumbled, meaning every word of it, and her smile got wider.
“Kiss on the Lips.” She stared at him, challenge written all over her lovely face. Maddie had a mouth made for kissing, so he leaned down and covered her lips with his. He wasn’t sure what came next in this game, had no damn clue if he was being honest, but being skin to skin with her answered some deep-seated need he hadn’t even realized he had. She kissed him back, her soft, supple mouth devouring his as hungrily as he took hers. Mine. The possessive thought came out of nowhere, but it felt good, too. He accepted it, let it go for later as he lost himself in their kiss.
“That’s good.” She sounded breathless when he lifted his head, her heels rubbing against his back. “I think I deserve a reward, which means you should definitely get naked.”
That sounded like a good plan. Letting go, he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head.
“Maybe you could make it a really, really big reward?” Her gaze slid to his belt. “And lose the pants?”
Perfectly happy to make her happy, he stood up and stripped off his boots and pants, before shoving his boxer briefs down his legs. When he looked up, she still had her arms stretched over her head and she was raking her eyes over him appreciatively. “Do you have another drink for me?”
She licked her lower lip. “Silk Panties.”
“Maddie.” She was killing him.
“Take my dress off,” she said huskily.
He groaned, not sure when he’d lost control of what was happening. Her dress was made out of some kind of silky material. She skimmed her hands down her arms, taking the straps with her. The bodice clung to her breasts through a miracle or some feat of feminine engineering he sure appreciated. Impatient, he tugged and the fabric began to slide down.
The strapless red half bra she wore matched her thong. It ended just above the soft rise of her belly and it had to be the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, his Maddie framed in red. He could have admired her for hours, but she’d given him permission to touch, and a good soldier knew how to take orders.
“Beautiful,” he said roughly, filling his palms with her gorgeous curves. She gasped and wriggled, and he also knew how to take a hint. He cupped her through the satin, brushing her nipples with his thumbs as he tasted her skin, skimming his lips over her cleavage and learning every sensual inch of her.
Bringing her hands down, she started to work the hooks at the front with an endearing eagerness. There was no missing the aching desire in her gaze, or the way her brown eyes all but ate him up. She didn’t hide the way she felt for him, and her openness was sexy as hell.
“Nuh-uh.” He pulled her fingers away. “This is my present and I’m unwrapping it.”
“The best way to open a Christmas present is by tearing the wrapping paper off,” she protested, but she let him wrap her fingers around the headboard.
“Stay like that for me, sweetheart.”
“Mason—” His name on her lips undid him. Full of need and heat—and the humor and life that was quintessentially Maddie. Her eyes danced as she watched him. Teased him some, because that was his Maddie. She didn’t hold back. She was so damned irresistible, moving against him, trying to hurry him up when he planned on taking every minute, every hour she’d give him.
He pulled the sides of the bra apart, brushing his thumbs over her nipples before pulling the dress down her legs. She spread her legs wider, rocking against him.
“How much do you like those panties?”
“I’m happy to sacrifice to a good cause.” Another wicked cant of her hips convinced him that waiting was overrated. Whatever she’d give him, he’d take.
He tore the panties off her, pushed his fingers into her wet folds and found heaven. She felt so damned good that he let out another groan because this welcome was all for him. He explored her with his fingers, tracing each fold, each sweet, sensitive spot until she was bucking against his hand, her fingers tightening on the headboard as her eyes closed and she rode his hand with complete abandon.
“Mason.”
“Shh. I’ve got you,” he promised. She let go, trusting him to make this good, and he’d die before he disappointed her. When she cried out, shattering in his arms, he pulled away briefly and fished the condom from his pant pocket.
Her eyes flew open. “Now,” she whispered. “No more excuses.”
Hell yeah. He could do that. He pushed inside her with one smooth, hard stroke, not stopping until he had nothing more to give her. Pulled back and slammed forward, hot pleasure streaking through him.
“Again,” she beseeched, her hips rising up to meet him. So he did it again. And then again and again, until she was shrieking his name, the headboard abandoned as she dug her nails into his back and hung on as if she really, really liked what he was doing.
Or liked him.
Yeah. That was good, because he liked her a whole hell of a lot, and her body pulled him closer, clenching, tightening as if she’d never let go, and it was perfect. Heaven, really. Fuck him, but he never wanted to be anywhere else but here with her and, when she came, chanting his name as if it was the passport to some magical happy place, he grinned like an idiot and followed her over the edge, right there with her.
After he’d pulled out and disposed of the condom, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, breathing her in.
“Maddie?”
She muttered something, collapsing bonelessly against him, and he brushed a kiss over the top of her head, earning himself another wispy sigh. He, on the other hand, felt as if he could get up and run. Climb a mountain. Assault a beach or maybe two.
He pressed a second kiss against her hair, because why stop at one? “You were perfect.”
“You’d be the perfect boyfriend if you’d just shut up,” she mumbled.
* * *
“GIVE ME AN INCENTIVE,” he said roughly, his mouth against her hair. “Make my night for me.”
“My own day’s been pretty perfect so far,” she admitted.
Mason was...well, okay, he was perfect. The cherry on her awesome-day sundae and even better than dessert after a month of dieting. He wasn’t in any rush, simply patient and there. She wanted that every day. Okay. She also wanted it every night, and just possibly every minute. Somehow hot vacation sex had become a relationship, and she definitely didn’t want to lose him
when their time together on Fantasy Island came to an end. But she didn’t have to, did she?
She exhaled, and ran her hands up his bare chest. The holiday fling had been out of her comfort zone, and look how that had turned out. So she could do this, too.
“Marry me?” She smiled and grinned at him. Live large. Be brave. “Say yes.”
She couldn’t look away. She had to see his face, watch his reaction as he processed her impulsive question. A few days of getting to know Mason wasn’t much compared to a lifetime of marriage, but she didn’t need another year or ten to know Mason was one of a kind. He was bedrock and safety and a good guy, through and through. Fifty more dates wouldn’t make her know him any better than she did now.
* * *
MASON HADN’T SEEN this coming.
So he had to ask. “Say that again?”
She stared at him as though he was speaking Greek, when he was the one clearly experiencing hearing loss, but then she repeated her question. “Marry me? I know it’s quick and we haven’t known each other all that long, but when something’s right, it’s right. Right?” She frowned, her words picking up speed and tumbling out. “I love you.”
Normally, he had some idea of what to say. He wasn’t a dating virgin—wasn’t any kind of virgin—and he had, after all, been married once, even if it hadn’t worked out. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the look on Maddie’s face. He had no idea how she managed to look both bold and tentative at the same time, but she did. He liked her a whole helluva lot. Maybe even loved her. But he’d been dating her under false pretenses and for a matter of days. He’d led beach assaults that had taken more time than they’d had together.
She plowed on though, clearly undeterred by his silence. Instead of waiting for him to say something—and he honestly had no idea how long it would be before his brain unfroze and started giving orders to his tongue again—she walked her fingers up his chest, stopping with her fingertips pressed against the spot between his ribs.
Then she opened her mouth and he knew he was finished. “I’ve got you in my heart, Mason Black, so I’m hoping you’ve got room for me right here in yours.”
He didn’t deserve a woman like her, and that was the truth.
“Maddie—” The hopeful look on her face about killed him. Damn it. She’d fallen in love with his cover story and she needed to know the truth. She wanted to marry him. She’d believed every word he’d given her, and now she thought he was her Mr. Perfect. Shame flooded him. There were lines no man should cross, and he’d driven the emotional equivalent of a fucking Humvee over them.
“Maddie—” He said her name again, but finding words to come next was hard.
“Oh, my God.” She froze on top of him, smile fading. “You’re telling me no.”
“It’s not that.” It was precisely that.
“Are you married? Am I an idiot? Of course I am.”
That almost made him choke. “You’re not an idiot.” Because that honor went to him. How had he possibly thought any of this was a good idea? He’d had sex with her...and now look where that had gotten them.
Into bed and then into a huge heap of trouble.
His first response to her proposal was a hell no. He couldn’t handle being married again. He could admit that to himself. As a SEAL, he’d trained to never accept less than his personal best from himself, and his first marriage had been an epic failure. He’d made promises to love and honor forever, but his forever had lasted a lousy eighteen months.
“It’s me,” he said, and her lips tightened. Now that he had his shock dialed back, her proposal was actually kind of sweet. Fantastic, too, if he was being honest.
Except he didn’t do honesty, did he? Any more than he did marriage.
“Are you trying to check all the boxes in the breakup-speech-clichés list?” She stared down at him, her face a mask of embarrassment and hurt. She didn’t move, though, and he wondered if she even knew her thighs were gripping his hips. She flushed angrily, her eyes taking on a wet sheen. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, sad or a combination of both. God. What if she cried?
“I’m not married,” he said carefully, uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. Because if he was lucky enough to have a woman like Maddie as his own? There was no way in hell he’d cheat on her. “I’m divorced.”
Maddie’s mouth flew open, and he could practically hear her playing mental Ro Sham Bo to pick the first question to ask.
“I don’t want to discuss Bethany,” he said, right as his pager went off, recalling him to their base camp for immediate deployment. Fuck. Seriously? Uncle Sam had the worst timing ever. Surely whatever needed to be blown up or assaulted could have waited a couple of minutes more. “I have to go.”
She glared down at him. “So that’s it? That’s the best you can do? I don’t even merit the ‘honey, I work for the CIA and now I have to go’ excuse? Because it’s actually okay to just say ‘no, thank you’ to a marriage proposal.” Hitching in a breath, she swallowed hard. “In fact, the thank-you is entirely optional and could be replaced with something else.”
Yeah. He had no problem imagining the alternatives running through her head. She shoved off him. Unfortunately, he should have shifted her off his dick before he told her the truth. While he sucked in a pained breath, she shot upright.
“I just proposed to you.” She looked horrified. At least she didn’t look as though she was going to cry anymore. And he...still had no idea what to say, not that she was waiting around for him to explain. She bolted out of the bed, and that was his cue to get up and go to work. Her bed. Her heart.
Her rules.
12
I threw my first wedding yesterday! Okay, so it was more of a dress rehearsal, because no one was actually getting married, although I did score some awesome pics for you all. Mr. Fantasy Fodder came out to assist, seriously upping the hot-scenery quota while he helped set up the bridal arch. Weddings are a good look for him, and let’s just say that the man knows his way around a palm tree...and he’s a 12 out of 10 on the kissing scale. You all voted for Sex on the Beach in our last poll, and who says I can’t take direction? I did my best to get busy on a palm tree, and let’s just say that, while it was kinky awesomeness, our strategic retreat to the bedroom was a wise move. I’ve got palm-tree burn today!
—MADDIE, Kiss and Tulle
THE ENTIRE SEAL team had assembled on the beach by the time Mason reached base camp, geared up and ready for the Zodiac that would land in five minutes. It was a quick, rough ride out to the waiting Navy vessel, and then they would board a Black Hawk and fly forty minutes inland to the jungle compound the Marcos brothers had built on the Belizean mainland. Which gave them approximately thirty minutes of ground time to get in, search for Santiago Marcos and get out. Not that he had anything or anyone to rush back to. Not anymore.
He had no business thinking about Maddie when he was on a mission, but she was stuck in his head and under his skin. Would she miss him? Sure, things had ended about as badly as they could, but he’d never worried about the people he left behind. He had his family back in California, but they had lives and families of their own. They’d miss him, mourn him, but he wasn’t part of their everyday lives and they’d go on just fine without him. For that matter, so would Maddie. Maybe he’d been fooling himself, thinking what they had was love. He’d simply gotten caught up in the whole Fantasy Island thing and had turned a few days of sex into a relationship.
But, as stupid as it sounded even in the privacy of his head, this thing with Maddie had felt like a possibility. Not just a hookup, but a chance for something more. Clearly, she’d been thinking along the same lines, given the proposal that had come popping out of her mouth. And the stricken look on her face when he’d turned her down still gutted him. He’d hurt her when that was the last thing he’d want
ed to do. But accepting was out of the question. Full-time relationships and SEALs didn’t mix well, although he liked to think that his older self could handle things better than the eighteen-year-old kid he’d been. Of course, Maddie thought he was a chef. She had no idea he wasn’t baking bread while she recovered from their marathon sex sessions. If she could see him now, face paint camouflaging his skin, geared up to assault a drug lord’s jungle compound, she’d probably KO any possibility of the two of them taking things to the next level.
The Zodiac flew over the calm surface of the lagoon, coming in fast and hard. The nose ran up on the sand; the SEAL at the motor easing up just in time to avoid beaching. Spray kicked up as the boat came to a temporary halt.
Gray signaled the go and Mason joined the others in running across the sand. Levi ran like a damned gazelle and not like a man with fifty pounds of explosives strapped to his back. Lips peeled back, Levi’s eyes lit up as his adrenaline started pumping. His buddy lived for this shit, and the chance to blow Santiago’s hidey-hole up would be the cherry on the mission sundae. They piled in, grabbing on to pontoon lifelines as their driver reversed hard and took them out to sea.
Eight minutes later, they approached the waiting Navy vessel. The Black Hawk waiting on deck was their ride. Sigma Team would be one of two six-man squads. Gray had brought a replacement for Remy and, after a quick round of meet-and-greets, they piled into the chopper and lifted off. Once they were outbound, they went over the forecasts, running through the expected weather, sunrise and tide times.
Gray passed around a photo of Santiago for a double-check of their target and Mason committed the face to memory. Santiago’s picture was followed by more pictures of known bodyguards and house servants. Like the rest of the team, he’d already memorized the descriptions of who did what. Santiago wouldn’t escape capture by pretending to be someone he wasn’t, and the SEALs wouldn’t accidentally take down the wrong man.
