Hot SEAL, Taking The Plunge (SEALS IN PARADISE)

by Teresa Reasor

  “I’ll call when I return from Washington,” Jack said as he opened the car door.

  She nodded.

  “You’re nothing like your mother, Rylie.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? She felt the need to defend the woman who had given birth to her, in spite of remembering very little about her. “If she was such a disappointment to you, why did you stay married to her?”

  He looked past her at the house, where the whine of a saw came from under the portico, his expression blanked, hiding his feelings. “It was impossible for me to accept failure.”

  She wasn’t surprised by that reply.

  “Stay safe while I’m away.” He slid behind the wheel.

  “I will. You do the same.”

  Disappointment pressed a heavy hand against her chest when he backed the vehicle out. He wasn’t going to apologize to her. The sting of the injury he inflicted would slowly ease, but it would never truly heal. Eventually she’d cave in and forgive him because he was her father, but things would never be the same between them.

  Her eyes stung with tears when he threw up a hand and pulled away.

  She took a moment to shore up her composure, then went back inside the house to finish going over the progress with Melissa.

  *

  The two of them wandered through the house to take a look at where some of the French doors had been installed and the repair work completed. “Your father has never visited you on a site before?” Melissa asked.

  “No.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit he had no interest in what she did. “He’s very busy and travels back and forth to the East Coast several times a year.”

  “He’s very charming.”

  Charming? Perhaps to a woman he wasn’t kin to. “He’s been a widower for a long time. My mother died when I was six.”

  “And he’s been alone all this time.”

  “He was an active duty SEAL until he either had to transition to another way to serve or get out. He chose to move up in rank and move on to another job with the Navy.”

  “You must be very proud of him.”

  She was, despite the tension between them right now. “Yes, I am.” A sudden idea occurred to her. Or perhaps it had already occurred to Melissa. “He dates on occasion, but there hasn’t been anyone steady in a while. I’ve always believed he’s alone too much of the time. And now he’s not flying off to war zones…he’s not deploying for six or eight months at a time.”

  “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  “Yes, it was. I had my Gammy Stewart, his mother, to take care of me, but she died two years ago.” That still hurt every time she said it. “I’m still in touch with my mother’s family, too, and I see them now and then.”

  “But it’s mostly just the two of you?”

  “Yes. But I have my own apartment. I need my own space as much as he does.”

  Melissa Bryant was perfect for Jack. She was strong, independent, rich, and she wouldn’t put up with any of his shit. There was just a tiny hope for some payback too, when Rylie took the bull by the horns and said, “If you’re interested, I can give you his number.”

  Melissa smiled. “That would be nice.”

  CHAPTER 16

  ‡

  Fuck! The hot water felt incredible. He stood in the shower for close to an hour to wash away the sweat, grit, and sand. He’d been too eager to get home to bother cleaning up before leaving Camp Billy Machen.

  Eric stepped out of the shower, dried off, and tucked the towel around his waist, swiping at his wet hair with another towel while he punched Rylie’s number into his phone.

  Hearing her voice and knowing she was only fifteen minutes away made him grin. “I’m home. Come over and I’ll order something for dinner.”

  “Love to! I’m on my way.”

  He pulled on briefs and cargo shorts, a casual button-up shirt, combed his damp hair, and brushed his teeth. The scruff he shaved off before deploying had gradually grown back into his usual short beard and moustache in the two weeks he’d been out in the desert.

  He wandered into the living room.

  If anyone had told him he’d someday darken the doorway of a furniture store to shop for pillows…he’d have denied it. But after he added a few of the items she suggested, the apartment did look more like a home.

  He tried out the ottoman and had to admit it was more comfortable than propping his feet on the coffee table. The rug he’d chosen was masculine but still gave the room, as she said, small pops of color.

  He forgot about everything but her when he heard her knock. He jerked it open and for one second the two of them looked at each other. They reached for each other at the same time. She felt so good against him. His arm curved around her, bringing her in as close as he could get her. He kissed her long and hard.

  When he pulled back to look into her eyes, her cheeks were flushed and she smiled. “You’re very good at that.”

  He chuckled. “A natural talent.” He closed the door and stepped aside so she could get the whole effect of the room.

  “You’ve been shopping.”

  “Just a little.”

  “It looks great. The rug is just right, and so are the pillows. And you bought an ottoman. Every guy needs an ottoman. It looks like a home. Your home.” She rested a hand on his chest.

  “I suppose it does.”

  “And you even hung some pictures.” She wandered over to the wall to read the commendations. “How many deployments have you been through?”

  “Nine.”

  She remained silent for a moment, then turned to search his face. “Why didn’t you want to decorate before?”

  He wanted their time tonight to go another way, but he couldn’t ignore the question. “When my mom died, there wasn’t any family to take me. I was passed from one foster home to another. I couldn’t have a lot of stuff because I had to leave it behind when they moved me, so I learned to travel light.”

  When she remained silent, her expression carefully composed, he rushed on.

  “I don’t need much because I’m not here a lot, and if I have to move…it’s just easier.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Three years.”

  “How long do you expect to stay in the Navy?”

  “I have another eleven years to make my twenty.”

  “Do you plan to transfer to the East Coast?”

  “No. I like it here in San Diego. And so far the head shed seems to think I’m where I need to be.”

  “You don’t have to have a lot of stuff to be comfortable. But it won’t hurt you to have a pillow to rest your head on if you want to take a nap on the couch.” She gestured to the pillows. “Or an ottoman for you to rest your feet on while you watch television. You deserve some comfort.”

  That was the issue. He’d never believed he deserved anything, because no one wanted him. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to leave that behind.

  He ran one finger along the curve of her cheek. Rylie made him want to be a part of a home and a family—something he’d been searching for his entire life. She created comfortable homes for a living. She knew what home meant.

  But was building her own home what she wanted, too?

  “I think all this suits me. While you were here before, you steered me toward something….”

  “Masculine, colorful, streamlined.”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  He grabbed her up and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. With his hands cupping her ass, holding her up, he strode down the hall to the bedroom and hit the overhead light switch with his elbow. “I’m hooked on these afternoon delights. I’m going to need a whole lot of delight to make up for the two long weeks I’ve been gone.”

  “I’m so glad we’re of the same mind.”

  He laughed as he tumbled down on the bed with her.

  Her dark gaze trailed over his face in a way that sparked a need, a hunger for more than just sex. Whe
n he lowered his mouth to hers, she fed that need with a tenderness he hadn’t expected. When she turned to press him back, he followed her lead. She unbuttoned his shirt to lay a row of soft kisses along his jaw to his ear. Her breath sent pleasurable chills trailing along his skin. Her teeth scraped the muscle that sloped from neck to shoulder, and he bit back an oath as he grew painfully hard and said her name like a prayer instead.

  He sat up to unbutton her blouse and freed her from it and her bra. His hands actually shook as he caressed her breasts. She pressed him back again so she could kiss and lick her way from his chest down to the waistband of his cargo shorts. Seconds seemed like minutes before she got the zipper down and freed him from his briefs.

  She held him in her hand, lightly stroking. When she lowered her mouth over him, the hot, moist pleasure dragged a moan from him as the need for release surged.

  While she slipped off the rest of her clothes, he rolled a condom over his erection, and when she straddled him, he was more than ready for her.

  They both inhaled deeply as she lowered herself over him. He grasped her hips as she moved, at first slowly, then more feverishly, and he was right with her. She nearly sent him over the edge a half dozen times, but now he embraced the orgasm that rushed up to fling him over it now.

  In the aftermath, her heart hammered against him as hard as his own. The sweet weight of her was both a pleasant burden and a comfort. He stroked the soft, smooth skin of her back until her breathing eased to normal.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone of your own, Eric.”

  “Me too.”

  “Why did you choose the Navy and the SEALs?”

  “I worked with a Marine who became a SEAL. He owned the landscaping business I mentioned before, and he was a good guy. He was older but could still work some of the younger guys into the ground.

  “He loved to tell me about the SEALs: the discipline, the action, and the travel. I didn’t have anyone holding me back, so I enlisted as soon as I graduated from high from school. I turned eighteen after boot camp. Then it took me a year to get my shot at the teams. I couldn’t believe I got the chance, but when I did, I laid everything on the table, and I made it.”

  “Did you call the man you worked with to tell him you made it?”

  “Yeah. Reed was proud of me and wished me luck.” His throat tightened with emotion and he cleared it. “He called to check on me every so often.”

  “Have you kept in touch?”

  “He died two years ago in a VA hospital in Arkansas. Cancer.”

  Her arms tightened around him.

  “Is that where you’re from? Arkansas?”

  “Yeah. My last stop there was Little Rock. My birth certificate says I was born in Bentonville.”

  “I’ve never been to Arkansas.” She raised her head to look down at him. “Would you ever want to go back?”

  He looped her hair behind her ear. “No. There’s no one left there I’d want to see.”

  She nodded. She eased away and rolled over onto the bed beside him. When she sat up on the edge of the mattress, the bare, feminine curves of her back, hips, and buttocks fired him back up again. Her hair hung dark against her creamy skin.

  “I need a drink of water. Would you like one?” Rylie asked as she scooped his shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

  “When I can sit up long enough to drink it, I’ll want one.”

  She laughed. “I’ll bring you one.” She slipped out of the bedroom and down the short hallway.

  He rose and went into the bathroom to deal with the condom and clean up. He peeled the condom free—his stomach knotted in shock. The damn thing had broken. Shit! Surely Rylie was on birth control.

  And what if she wasn’t?

  He didn’t exactly know how to feel about that.

  *

  Rylie got two glasses from the cabinet, her heart quaking. The tears she held back earlier, when Eric had told her about being a foster child, welled up and streamed down her face. She grabbed a paper towel to stem the flow, but they kept coming.

  She had to break things off with him. She couldn’t cost him any more than what he already lost. He deserved so much better than she’d given him.

  She couldn’t be responsible for him losing his team. They were all he had.

  But she loved him, too. Two long weeks apart had convinced her of it.

  She had to figure out some way to protect him. But what actions could she take if her father started harassing Eric? Or threatening his career?

  There had to be a way!

  She needed to think of someone she could contact if she suspected Black Jack was pulling strings.

  She splashed cold water over her face and dried it with a paper towel.

  “We may have a problem,” Eric said from the hallway.

  His tone gripped her attention. Had he somehow found out? It would almost be a relief if he had. “What is it?”

  “The condom broke.”

  Rylie shrugged. “I’m clean, you’re clean, and I’m on birth control. It’s okay.”

  CHAPTER 17

  ‡

  1905 P.M. TODAY

  If he hadn’t already thought it, he’d think it again. If the world depended on men to birth babies, civilization would come to a dead halt—with his blessing.

  He’d seen people in pain, but this was torture. In his position behind Rylie, with his arms around her and supporting her, he felt every contraction and every breath she sucked in. It had been too late to administer another epidural, so she was fighting overwhelming pain with every push. As her muscles strained, he held his breath with her, his abs tightening every time in sympathy and support. Twenty minutes of pushing seemed an eternity.

  Rylie’s hair hung wet and limp around her face. With each push her whole body shook.

  “One more push, Rylie. I see the head,” Dr. Kelly cheered Rylie on. Throughout the whole process she’d been like a major league catcher calling the plays. All she needed was a catcher’s mitt.

  He didn’t think he could bear to watch Rylie struggle much longer. “You can do this, babe. It’s almost over. One more push.”

  Rylie seemed to collect herself and push back against him as she strained. The baby’s head came out and the doctor finally moved to rotate him and free his shoulders. She had him out and on Rylie’s stomach in a few seconds. When the doctor suctioned his mouth and nose, the baby let out a brief cry.

  Rylie wrapped him in the gown that barely covered her and cradled him against her, skin-to-skin. The doctor continued to work, kneading Rylie’s belly and doing whatever else was needed after the birth. Eric kept his attention on Rylie and the baby, feeling a little queasy now things were a little calmer. Rylie’s breast looked like a soft place for his son to rest his head. He’d rested his head there a few times himself.

  One of the nurses whisked in, “Here, Mom, I’ll clean him up, weigh him and bring him right back.” She picked up the baby with a gentle efficiency of long practice. “Why don’t you come watch, Papa?”

  Eric eased out from behind Rylie. Exhaustion had left her pale, her hair hung limp around her face, and her lips were chapped, but she had never looked more beautiful to him. He kissed her forehead, her lips. “You did great.”

  One nurse ran a medical checklist while the other wrote everything down. “He’s a butterball, Pop. He’s eight pounds, six ounces and twenty-one inches long, which is in the upper ten percent for normal length and weight for a newborn.”

  They were attempting to distract him from the process Rylie was going through while they cleaned her up and changed her gown. He quickly turned away when the doctor started stitching her up in places he didn’t want to think about.

  The nurse used a lancet to draw a blood sample from the infant’s heel and the baby wailed like she’d broken his heart. She cleaned him, put a diaper on him, and wrapped him up like an eggroll. When she placed the squalling infant in his arms, he got his first good look at his son. A fine fuzz of dark hair co
vered the top of his head. After a few moments of rocking, he quieted, and his blue eyes squinted at Eric with a who the hell is this? intensity. Eric found himself grinning like a fool.

  He turned back to Rylie to find her studying him, much like the baby in his arms. “What are we going to name him?”

  *

  Exhaustion tugged at her. She’d thought of a hundred names, but hadn’t set her heart on any of them. She thought he might want to name the baby after himself. “Pick out a name that means something special to you, and I’ll pick one, and we’ll combine them and see how we feel about it.”

  After the medical staff got her settled. Eric brought the baby to her and she gathered the infant close.

  “If you’re going to breastfeed, you could encourage him to nurse,” the nurse said. “It will release a hormone into your system that will help your body recover from the birth.”

  During the birth she hadn’t had time to feel awkward. Fighting the pain and trying to push their child out and into the world had taken all her resources.

  Surprisingly, after all that, this small thing seemed somehow more intimate than some of the other moments she and Eric had experienced together. Possibly because her breasts had served a totally different purpose for Eric. She unfastened the snap at the shoulder of her gown and eased it down. With only a little encouragement, the baby latched on with an eagerness that caused her to jump. When he began to suckle, a sweet feeling of love and connection infused her. She looked up at Eric.

  He was watching the baby with such a look of tender fascination. Tears burned her eyes.

  “I couldn’t have done this without you, Eric.” Which was true. When she was in terrible pain, he offered his strength. When she hadn’t thought she could push even one more time he urged her on. An uncontrollable shaking started in her extremities and worked its way up her body.

  Eric pulled up the blanket the nurse had folded at the foot of the bed and covered her. “You’ve had a lot of adrenaline storming through you while you were in labor and delivering the baby, and the shakes are probably because it’s starting to bottom out. You’ll want to sleep in a few minutes.”