You Were Always Mine (7 Brides for 7 SEALs Book 1)

by Cerise DeLand

  Were those sensations anything he could trust? Instincts he could trust were one thing. Facts he could rely on were another. Facts began with how comfortable he was with her, how ready to share himself without hesitation or editing. In her company for so few hours, he still knew without a doubt that he wanted her, wanted inside her, all the way into her soul so that she’d never let him go. Never want to.

  God knew, he didn’t want to let her go anywhere without him. And the fear that he had to leave her soon gutted him.

  “Another beer?” he asked when the waitress approached.

  “Think I’ll switch to a soda for now.”

  He held up two fingers to the waitress. He was on stand-by and couldn’t do a lot of alcohol. Plus, he wanted all his faculties clear to sing well…and to see what happened after that.

  “How did you find this place?” she asked him.

  “I used to come here years ago when I was in high school. They’d never card me and that struck me as just fine. Back then it was a jazz bar. Now they bring in famous jazz artists for Sunday brunch. I know the owner, and I still like jazz but don’t have the lungs to sing it.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.” She winked and looked around at the other patrons. “There are quite a few ladies here tonight. They’re gonna be all over you, Reardon. I’ll sit here, be a good girl, and wait while they pet you.”

  He snorted. “I won’t give them the chance.”

  She nodded toward the front window. “You may not have any choice. From where I sit, you’ve got a fan club already. Even without your uniform.”

  Following her lead, he saw a group of five women at a far table, all dressed for the prowl. He reached out and covered Abby’s hand with his. “I’m not interested in them.”

  She seemed to hold her breath as she locked her eyes on his. “Makes two of us.”

  “At home,” he said, deciding he had to venture into this topic, “is there someone you’re dating?”

  “No one.”

  “Why not?”

  She pursed her lips and peered at him. “No one I care for a lot. Never has been. In fact, I wonder sometimes if I just don’t fit with anyone.”

  You fit me. I felt it last night, forged to you, chest to toe. Clearing his throat, he cast her an incredulous look. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  He tsked. “Regrettable.”

  Laughing, she cuffed him. “Yeah, I know. Getting up there, aren’t I?”

  “I find it hard to believe no one made a grand play for you.”

  She tipped her head, a winsome curve to her full lips. “I could say the same for you.”

  “You could, but I’m in a different profession.”

  “One that makes love and marriage an impossibility?” she asked with an air of regret.

  “Those sound like Terry’s words,” he told her.

  “They are,” she replied while Nick played with her fingers. They were long, elegant, and warm.

  “I doubt you know this, but I think he may have talked himself out of a good relationship.”

  She cocked her head. “That is news. When?”

  “I figured you knew nothing about her or you would have mentioned her before this. He met her just before your folks passed away and the mission where he got burned. Their affair was hot and heavy—and serious. But when he recovered enough to communicate with her, he emailed her and told her there was no future for them.”

  “Do you know if she’s gotten in touch with him?” Abby inched closer.

  “No.” Nick bit his lower lip. “I hate to blow a confidence. But I thought you should know.”

  “Does she even know he was injured?”

  “I doubt it, Abby. I think he wanted her to be free. He thinks he’s damaged. Plus—”

  “What?”

  Well, he had stepped in it. Now he had to clean up his mess. “All I know is that they had a few dates, one of those things, quick, love at first sight.” He watched her reactions to his words carefully because what he said applied to him and her as well as Terry and Catrina. “It was unbelievable to him that things could move so quickly.”

  Abby nodded, her magnificent amber eyes saying a thousand endearing things about her brother’s relationship. “I understand. About him. And us.”

  He clutched her hand tighter. “I’m not a believer in lightning striking.”

  In the dim light, her eyes seemed to melt into pools of rapture. “But it did.”

  He slid his chair closer to hers, and in the dark corner, he brushed his lips across hers. She felt as soft as an angel. “We should take our time.”

  She moved into the crook of his arm. “How much time would you like?”

  He nuzzled her ear. “A very long time.” Forever.

  “Until you sing a song, at least,” she said against his ear, her hand easing around his jaw and up into his hair. God, he wanted her hands on him. All over him. The way it should be. Always had been.

  The last words shook him up. He drew back, tense, disturbed by how relentlessly he was driven to pursue her, how badly he needed her in bed and soon. “I’ll sing,” he said because he didn’t have any other words that made sense. So he raised his hand to the man who controlled the machine and the speakers.

  Then he left Abby in her chair. He had to get away from her, or he’d haul her out of here like a caveman. That way would be disaster. And he had to ensure no tragedy befell this weekend. None.

  Nick wasn’t crazy about the lyrics he was about to sing. The words to Love Me Tender were blatantly seductive, plaintive, pleading. And while they were the ones he knew best of Presley’s repertoire, they were the most endearing. Given the range of his baritone, he had no other choices. So he sang as best he could without the damn prompter and to the sighs and cheers of the throng of patrons in the bar.

  At the end, he hopped down off the makeshift stage, threw three twenties on the table to pay the bill and grabbed Abby’s hand. In his rush, he could hear her behind him, her sandals clicking on the cement.

  “Wait, wait, Nick! Please!”

  He whipped around, and she was in his arms. Easy as pie. So there. All his.

  He scooped her up and carried her to the edge of the sidewalk.

  “You run too fast,” she chastised him, her arms going around his waist while he set her down. “I can’t keep up. But I want to.”

  “I said I wouldn’t rush you, and here I am, running your legs off.”

  She pressed her lips to his, a butterfly’s kiss. “I’m loving the rush.”

  I’m loving you.

  She plastered herself to him, chest to waist to stomach to thighs. “Why would I think I am safer here with you than anywhere else on earth?”

  “You’re not safe from me at all, baby. I want you with a giant ache that isn’t sweet or logical or even ethical.”

  Sadness drifted into her lovely eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “You told me you needed a long courtship. I can’t give it. Never could. But now I’ve most likely got less time than ever at Dam Neck and yet…” He crushed her close, his lips to her forehead. “I don’t have the will to let you escape me or this.”

  She ran a hand up along his jaw and into his hair. “I don’t want to escape.”

  He caught his breath. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Now is all we have.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to kiss her like the world was on fire.

  Someone whistled.

  A couple of guys guffawed.

  She broke away laughing. “Let’s go before they throw pennies at us.”

  He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find words to honor how deeply he cared for her, or to ennoble what he was about to do with her.

  Make love to her, yes. That was what he prayed he could do with more tenderness than he’d ever wished to share. How could he find the means, the moves, the words to assure her that was what he intended?

  They reached the lobby,
breathless. He punched the button for the elevator, and the doors swished open. No one else was in there, and suddenly, Abby was in his arms, curled around him, one leg up along his hip, her face pressed to his chest, her palm against his ribs, and her other arm tightly wrapped around his waist.

  He shook—silly boy—melting against her like hot wax. His arm circled around her. His lips buried in the crown of her hair. His cock grew rock-hard and his eyes squeezed shut. He was going to have her, take her up in a long slow climb to Heaven, and he prayed he had the patience and the talent to make her sing with the fulfillment she deserved.

  The doors fell open, and he led her down the hall in quick strides. Digging out his key, he jammed the plastic in the lock and watched for hours, it seemed, until the little green light blinked. He thrust open the door with only seconds now to wait to hold her, possess her, impress her, claim her as his alone.

  He pulled her inside. She was laughing, her head thrown back, her lush lips open and inviting.

  He pushed her to the wall, cupped her sweet face, and put his open mouth to hers. “I’m going to kiss you until you can’t talk, can’t think, can’t move.”

  She mewled, her lips brushing his in hot invitation. “Do it.”

  Groaning, he kissed her hard. Kissed her fast. Kissed her once again. “It’s been a long, long time,” he told her and had no idea why. “I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you.” And that was the truth. That did make sense.

  “I know. I thought about how you kissed me last night,” she said, her voice a wisp of seduction, her hands busy pulling out his tee from his jeans and unbuttoning his fly. “I want more of that. More of anything you can give me. Need you. God, Nick, I need you.”

  “Makes two of us.” He ran his hands over her breasts while he kissed her again, sweeter, softer, hotter than before. He grabbed the edge of her halter and the skimpy thing came up and over her head easily. His eyes strayed to her bra. His cock twitched at the sight of transparent black lace and large rosy nipples, peaked like diamonds. “You are so lovely. How am I so lucky to have you?”

  “What’s good for the goose, honey, is good for the gander.” Her hands praised his body as they ran over his ribs and hips. Then she sank one hand inside his jockeys.

  Jesus. His eyes closed. Her palm was scorching hot, and she stroked him just the way he liked, as if she had loved him this way for ages. But that wasn’t so. They knew each other only a day. Hours.

  He kissed her, claiming her lips with a reverence he summoned from some errant part of him. She sighed as if she dissolved into him. This was the way he needed her, boneless, mindless, heavenly. “I want you with me, climbing all the way. Let me do this. Let me take you there.” He removed her hands from his cock and balls and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  But his cock found his own clever way between her thighs. He smiled as he nuzzled her throat because she was so hot, so torrid for him that her trousers were soaked. God, he was going to have a wonderful time fucking her, loving her, and doing it all again.

  He flicked open the button of her waistband and pulled down her zipper. Then he sank to his knees, and there, he praised his lucky stars that he was tall enough to face her hips. He grinned and tugged at her trousers. Down they slid, and he had a gorgeous view of frilly, white, lace panties and her dark muff. She was waxed, a trim little runway of hair over her swollen mound. A beauty, even here.

  He pressed his lips to her pubic bone and the hollow of her thigh. He spread her leg to one side and sank against her skin. Musky and moist, she smelled like a naughty angel. He licked the skin at the edge of the silk, and she bucked. He stuck one finger inside the crotch of her pretty panties, and his finger was covered in cream. Oh, she oozed for him just as he was certain he did for her.

  Christ, he wanted her here. On the floor. But that was so wrong. He hooked his fingers in the edge of her lace and let the thing slip to the floor. Her pussy was beautiful. Her lips heavy, her hair curly. He tipped her hips back, just enough to let him glimpse how swollen she was.

  “Pretty baby,” he crooned, inserting one finger along her slit, drowning in her juices, finding her core, retreating, and discovering her clit. He rested his head against her skin. He was going to get lost in her.

  Perhaps he’d known that. Had he? Yes, when he saw her in the airport, he’d sensed that she was his destiny, his irrefutable future.

  She shivered, and he leaned forward to roll her folds open and kiss her taut little nub.

  She trembled and sank to her knees on the floor in front of him. “You can’t tease me like that.”

  “No teasing. Preparing you for great things to come.” He winked.

  She chuckled, her palm covering his cock. “I won’t have any problems.”

  “I’m loving you the way you should be, always.”

  She curled her other hand around his neck and put her mouth to his. “Show me.”

  He led her to her feet where she stepped out of the puddle of her panties and trousers. He took her across the room where she laid down and spread herself out, sensual as a nymph.

  In the pale moonlight washing through the sheers, he let his eyes adore her. She seemed too good to be real, to real to be his.

  “Come here,” she whispered, her fingers beckoning. “I’ve waited for you long enough.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nick stepped out of his shoes, tore off his clothes, and crawled onto the bed and over Abby. She didn’t move, so breathless from watching him move in the moonlight. He was a stunning creature, made of bone and muscle, silken hair and glowing eyes. A man any woman would beg to make her own. A lover who would be hers for tonight and maybe tomorrow.

  “I’m almost afraid to make love with you,” she confessed when he hovered over her and bent to brush his lips on hers.

  “Why’s that?” He skimmed his torso over hers, her nipples beading, her core gushing with desire for him. “I promise not to hurt you.”

  She sank her fingers into the rich glory of his hair. “I know you won’t. I mean that I…well, I haven’t had any fabulous lovers. I’m not sure I know enough to be your equal.”

  “You assume a lot, sweetheart.” His eyes went wide while he laughed, the brush of his chest hair on her nipples zinging through her like sparks of fire. “God knows, I want to be the best man you’ve ever had. I’m almost paralyzed with the challenge.”

  She undulated beneath him, his rigid cock teasing her. “One part of you isn’t paralyzed.”

  He snorted.

  “And that’s one part I want.” She hid her face in his chest while they both chuckled. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  He tilted up her face, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Say whatever you want. I’m yours. You’re mine.”

  She hugged him with all the strength in her. “I have a feeling I’m never going to forget this night.”

  “Do you have to?” His face strained with a sadness that hollowed her out. “I don’t want you to.”

  She started to speak, but words failed her.

  “And if we’re going to do this, I have to leave you and get protection.”

  She nodded, grateful he remembered when her mind was ablaze with no thought but desire.

  He rolled away and returned quickly, sliding in beside her and wrapping her close. He moved between her legs, his thighs spreading hers with a measured ease that allowed the cool air to chill her and permitted him to sink forward, inside her, where, despite the cool friction of the condom, heat scorched her from the inside out.

  He paused, hesitant, looking down at her with a frown. “You okay?”

  Why wouldn’t she be? She met his gaze. “Sure. Why don’t you think so?”

  He undulated and with the sensuous move, she closed her eyes. “I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.”

  She hummed in satisfaction. “You have me now.”

  He drove inside her again and held. “And now?”

  “Oh, yeah.”
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  With his warm palm, he stroked her from throat to belly to core. He drove his fingers through her hair, found her clit, and circled, round and round. Filled with fire, she arched against him. The thrill of him petting her consumed her, coiled her tighter, drove her higher into a world of bright golden light.

  “Abby,” he breathed her name, the sound reverent as he repeated it and sank further and further inside her. With each pulse, each drive, each claiming, he became all men to her. All men kind and tender, all sweet and witty, all…and yet, only him. Singular, unique, a man she could claim and keep. A man she understood and revered.

  A man who was a sensual creature, bold and rough, grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around him while he rocked her with a rhythm that tore gasps from her lungs. Sounds of joy sprang from her lips. Had she ever known any man like this? Never.

  “Nick,” she called his name as he increased his tempo and took her to a new plane of delight. “Nick, this is—”

  His eyes were beacons, seeing inside her soul. “Say you’ve never had a man like me.”

  “Never.” It was true.

  “Say you’ll never find another.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

  “Abby.” He kissed her savagely. “Have only me.”

  “Only you.” Yes.

  He pushed her legs up around his neck and drilled more deeply inside her.

  She lost her breath, his possession wanton and total, her body swollen, craving a release that only he could give. With another stroke, she clutched his back, her nails in his skin, crying out as the ripple of fulfillment roared into a wave of slick, pounding, rapturous pleasure. She clung to him as the tide took her. He groaned, arching up and driving more deeply inside her. Smiling, gasping for air, she pulsed in the quaking delight of their union.

  She fell back to the mattress, her body wrung, but her nerves electric. This was making love. This was the way it should be. Could be all the time.