Christmas with a SEAL

He could only feel, taste. Want.

Oh, God, he wanted.

Frankie’s arms wrapped around him, one across his shoulder so the champagne bottle she still held smacked him in the back. The other slid lower, her hand cupping, squeezing his butt.

Phillip wanted to reciprocate.

He wanted to touch her. To feel her skin beneath his palms, under his mouth.

But not here.

Somewhere private.

Because once he started, he wasn’t going to be able to stop.

He didn’t care whether it was lust alone or a temporary escape from the soul-deep exhaustion that had been eating way at him.

She was the answer to the question he couldn’t face.

A question that was tearing at his heart, cutting at his soul.

He knew the answer was temporary.

He didn’t care.

For one night, he wanted—needed—what she could give him.

Unable to resist, he backed her up against the elevator door, his hands diving into her soft cloud of hair, holding her head steady so he didn’t have to release her mouth.

He stabbed the call button, then lost himself in the delight of her until the doors slid open.

“Inside,” he said, guiding her into the car without taking his mouth from hers. He pressed her against the elevator wall as the doors closed, only letting go of her long enough to punch his floor number.

Their tongues danced, sliding over each other in the same seamless rhythm in which their bodies had moved to the music.

His brain was blessedly blank, all of his senses focused solely on Frankie. On how she felt. On how she made him feel.

Incredible.

Then she gently took his hand from her hair, sliding it down her face, over her throat. She didn’t stop until his knuckles were brushing the soft flesh of her breasts, just where her dress started.

Phillip barely bit back a groan, his fingers itching to touch more. To slip beneath her dress and feel her skin, to rub his thumb over her nipple and feel it bead beneath his flesh.

But they were in an elevator. And he was only three floors down.

Then Frankie shrugged, proving once again that her dress wasn’t fitted. The heavy fabric slid off her shoulder, the strap catching on her elbow.

And baring one breast.

He hated to leave the delicious haven of her lips, but he had to look. Just had to.

With one last slide of his tongue over her lower lip, he leaned back, his eyes dropping.

Holy hell, she was gorgeous.

Milky pale, with a glistening of freckles, her breast was full, the tip light coral, beaded and begging.

Unable to resist, he brushed the tip of his finger over her nipple.

Her breath caught on a whimper.

He heard a ding, vaguely realizing they’d reached his floor.

But he couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t resist rubbing the pebbled velvet again. He felt her breath catch against his lips and reveled in her reaction. Power, intense and gratifying, surged through him. Her fingers dug into his arms, kneading, then soothing.

He heard a vague ding again as he slid his lips down the slender length of her neck, breathing in her scent. Flowers and moonlight, sweet and mysterious. He wanted to lose himself in her.

“More,” she murmured, her hands shoving at his waist to get beneath his sweater. Her fingers were like fire on his skin, making him want things he’d never wanted before. Making him need things he’d never imagined.

“Much more,” she purred as his lips skimmed down her shoulder. His hand was on the strap of her dress, ready to push it down and feast, when he heard a loud bang.

Phillip’s lust cleared instantly, his body curving protectively over Frankie’s as his senses took inventory.

Elevator, hotel, Las Vegas.

His adrenaline leveled.

His lust surged.

Lust he wasn’t going to slake in a damned elevator.

Phillip wasn’t sure how they made it to his room without invoking any public-indecency laws. Of course, the laws for that kind of thing might be different in Las Vegas.

He had no idea how he found his key card; he didn’t remember getting it or opening the door to his hotel room. He just knew that in less than a minute after leaving the elevator, the room door was slamming shut behind him.

Frankie sauntered ahead, her swinging hips making her dress jingle.

“Champagne?” she offered, giving him a teasing smile over her shoulder and holding up the half-empty bottle.

“I’m not thirsty,” he said, stripping his sweater over his head and tossing it on the floor. “I’m hungry.”

She turned around, her eyes glazing over as her gaze moved across his chest. He liked her reaction. The way her pupils dilated, her breath quickened.

“What are you hungry for?” she asked, her words husky and low.

“Trouble.”

Frankie’s laugh rang through the room, the sound filling him with delight and a weird sort of joy. Instead of trying to figure out why, he ignored it. After all, there were much more interesting things to do tonight than analyze his feelings.

“Well, I’m the girl for you, then,” she said. Her smile was both cute and seductive as she set the bottle on the bedside table. Her eyes locked on his and she stepped forward. Not close enough for him to touch, and just far enough from him to make it clear that he was supposed to wait.

Phillip didn’t know if he could.

“Music?” Frankie asked huskily.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing and doing that little shoulder wiggle. “I’m kidding.”

He barely heard her words through the roaring in his head. Blood surging south, he figured.

Because her dress had finally finished the journey it had been attempting all night and hit the floor.

Leaving Frankie standing in a tiny pair of silver mesh panties and high heels.

And Phillip ready to explode.

3

FRANKIE WAS GIFTED with a vivid imagination and an active fantasy life. She’d imagined seducing Phillip a million times. She’d spent endless hours fantasizing about him seducing her. She’d dedicated countless orgasms to the cause.

She wanted this.

She’d been dreaming about it, hoping for it, planning for it, even.

Yet now that she was standing in front of Phillip in all her naked glory, she was trembling in her high heels. Part of it was unquestionably desire. But there, beneath the excitement, was fear. What if this didn’t break her creative block? What if she was doomed never to make anything original again? Or worse, what if the sex was so amazing, she wanted more? What if he was so amazing, he became more than a fantasy?

The closer Phillip stepped, the faster her pulse raced. But it still couldn’t keep up with the tangled thoughts speeding through her head.

So she did what any smart woman on a quest for pleasure would do. She ignored the fear and focused on the desire.

Which got easier the closer Phillip came. His green eyes were hot, his look intent as it roamed her body. Figuring tit deserved tat, her gaze shifted. Oh, baby, his shoulders were so deliciously broad. He didn’t have a bodybuilder’s physique; he was too slender for that. But his sculpted muscles were a testament to the physical demands of his career. His skin was pale gold, his chiseled chest covered with a dusting of dark hair.

Frankie’s fingers itched to touch it, to know if it was silky or crisp. She wanted to slide her hands over those arms and see if her hands could even fit around those impressive biceps. Her eyes drifted lower, following the trail of hair to his slender waist and, dammit, his slacks.

She wanted him naked. She wanted to see if the rest of him was as delicious as what she’d seen so far.

She raised her gaze to his face, ready to demand that he drop his drawers and put them on equal footing—nudity-wise.

But then she saw the look in his eyes.

He looked fascinated. As if she were the answer to something, something he desperately needed. Her breath caught, her heart clenching at whatever was beneath that look. Then he met her gaze.

“You’re like something out of a dream,” he murmured. He reached out, just one finger, and skimmed it over the curve of her breast.

Frankie barely kept from whimpering. She was pretty sure melting into an orgasmic puddle at the first touch would blow her sophisticated facade. Besides, she wanted more.

So much more.

Whisper soft, his finger traced a circle around her nipple.

Desire, sharp and needy, blasted through her, exploding in all the right places. She curled her toes to try to keep from falling out of her shoes.

Her breath came out in a surprised “Oh.”

How could such a simple touch feel so good in so many places? Her knees trembled, and she squeezed her thighs together to intensify the pleasure building in her core. She wet her lips. She’d planned to tell him what she liked, how she liked it. But she had a feeling that he’d find so many new ways to pleasure her, ones she’d never even imagined.

As if reading her thoughts and ready to prove her right, Phillip flicked his thumb over her nipple. Then, before she could even murmur her approval, he pinched it between two fingers, still rubbing with his thumb.

Desire spiraled in a tight coil, filling her core with wet heat. Excitement built as sensations bombarded her. His thumb was rough, his palm warm. Color exploded against her closed eyelids, the miniorgasm rocking her body.

She shuddered with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more.

She needed more.

Her hands raced over his body. He was so hard, so deliciously hard. Done waiting, she skimmed her hands over his rock-hard abs, delighting for only a second before grappling with his belt buckle and ripping at his slacks. They had to go. She had to feel him.

“Hurry,” she demanded, shoving his pants off his hips. She felt him kick them away, but didn’t have time to do more than suck in a breath before he had her against the wall. His hands gripped hers, pulling her arms over her head. His mouth raced over her throat, down her chest. When he sucked her nipple between his teeth, Frankie bucked against him.

Her fingernails dug into her palms as she strained against his grip, wanting to touch, needing to give him the same pleasure he was offering her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s crazy,” he muttered, pulling away. Thankfully not too far, though. Just enough for Frankie to see his face.

Her breath knotted in her chest. She tried to swallow, but it took her three attempts before air hit her lungs.

It wasn’t the idea that he would call it quits before they finished what they had started that made her want to cry. It was the look in his eyes.

There was so much pain in those green depths, and it was buried so deep that she wondered if he even acknowledged it. It tore at her heart, making her want to pull him close and soothe him. To offer her shoulder, to find a way to heal him.

But she knew he wouldn’t accept it.

Her goal tonight had been to heal her broken imagination. To use her fantasy as a key to reopen her creative doors.

Now all she wanted was to make Phillip feel better than good. She wanted him to feel incredible. So incredible that he forgot those secrets tearing at his soul. So incredible that he found peace.

So incredible that he never forgot her.

“Why is it crazy to feel good?” she asked, finally responding to his comment.

She saw the response in his eyes before he said a word. That rigid control of his was shoving aside the passion, replacing it with logic. Talk about crazy.

Frankie pressed her finger against his lips before he could voice his thoughts. She shook her head, giving him her sexiest look.

“You do make me feel good, Phillip. So good. The way you touch me, it’s getting me excited. Thinking about what’s coming next, it’s making me so hot.” She rubbed her finger over his bottom lip, her eyes locked on his as she stretched to brush a kiss over that lip. She arched her brow, then without warning, gave him a gentle nip.

He hissed. His fingers tensed on her hips, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push away from her or pull her closer.

She figured it was the least she could do to help him figure it out.

She moved her hand down so both palms were on his chest, circling, caressing.

“You want me,” she told him, sliding one hand lower to cup the hard length of him pressing against her thigh. “You can have me. All you have to do is let go. Quit worrying. Quit thinking. Just feel.”

Brows furrowed, he looked as if he didn’t understand. Had he never let go? Never let himself be free?

Suddenly desperate to give him that, Frankie ran her tongue over his lip. When his eyes glazed, she gave his lip another little nip, then sucked it into her mouth and soothed the flesh with her tongue. At the same time, she curved her fingers around his erection, squeezing gently as she rubbed her thumb over the velvety tip.

He growled, shifting so their bodies were pressed together, her hand trapped between them.

One hand tunneled into her hair, tilting her head, his tongue sweeping past hers to take over the kiss. Even as his mouth sent her reeling with desire, she was blown away by his tenderness.

His other hand swept down, his fingers skimming over her skin so softly that she shivered. He cupped her breast, gently weighing its fullness while teasing the tip. Heat curled tighter, wet and needy between her thighs.

Frankie wrapped her leg around his, curling her foot behind his thigh to pull him closer, to press her aching core against his heat.

Suddenly, before she even realized he’d moved, Phillip was kissing his way down her body. His hand still cupping her breast, he sucked one nipple into his mouth. Frankie gasped as pleasure shot through her body.

Then she stiffened, every one of her senses going on full alert as his fingers slipped along the elastic of her panties. She could still feel everything else he was doing, and it was all making her crazy with desire. But it was all going on in the background, while center stage was his hand, her panties and what came next.

She was pretty sure that it would be her.

His finger slipped under the silky fabric.

She held her breath.

Ever so gently, he touched her swollen bud.

Frankie gasped. Need coiled tighter within her.

She was so close, the edge of delight within reach. She could feel it, the key to everything she wanted, dancing there on the tip of his fingers.

But she couldn’t go over, couldn’t let herself. Not until she knew he was right there with her, free from those demons she’d seen in his eyes.

“Are you letting go?” she asked, her words coming in pants. “Are you feeling, just feeling?”

“I feel you,” he said, the words themselves as exciting as the feel of his mouth brushing over her nipple as he said them. “I promise the only thing in my mind right now is you. How you feel. How you taste. How much I want you.”

Frankie whimpered, not knowing how she managed to hold back the orgasm those words inspired.

“I want you to want me so much you can’t think at all,” she said, shifting the hand trapped between them so she could touch him again. As if anticipating her move, he shifted.

Sliding his body down hers, every delicious inch of him skimming her body on his way down, he dropped to his knees at her feet. His hand still worked her breast, even as he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder.

Frankie’s breath hitched as she anchored her shoulders against the wall, watching in fascination as Phillip pressed tiny kisses along her inner thigh. Each one a little higher than the other until he reached her throbbing core.

She wanted to watch. She needed the visuals for future fantasies. But the sensations were too overpowering.

Her eyes closed as his tongue swept along her bud, sipping, then sucking.

His fingers, one, two, slipped inside.

Moving.

Swirling.

Plunging.

“Go,” he demanded.

The command, the vibrations of his words against her flesh, the feel of his breath.

She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stop herself.

She flew over the edge.

Oh, wow.

Colors and shapes exploded behind her closed eyes, her head falling back against the wall. The climax pulsed through her in waves of pleasure. Her heart pounded so loudly, she could barely hear her labored breathing.

Wow.

When he let go, he really let go.

* * *

SHE TASTED LIKE AMBROSIA.

Healing, delicious nectar.

Phillip’s head swam with the power of their passion. He’d never felt this before. Never wanted to. The idea that one person could take over every sensation in his body, could command his complete attention?

He’d have said it was impossible.

But as Frankie trembled, her cries of delight filling his ears, Phillip had to admit, he’d been wrong.

“In me,” she panted. “I want you inside me.”

“Can’t.” His words were a grunt, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of her butt, his lips pressed to her silken belly as he breathed in her scent and grappled for control. “No condom.”

“Shoe.”

“I beg your pardon?” Phillip frowned, opening one eye to peer up at her to see if she’d bumped her head in all the excitement.

“My shoe,” she repeated. She didn’t look impaired, unless absolutely satisfied counted.

Phillip would have preened a little at the look on her face, but he was too confused.

“You want me to use your shoe?”

Frankie’s laugh was breathless and light, her hand curving over his cheek before sliding it through his hair in a way that was both exciting and comforting at the same time.

“They are sexy shoes,” she acknowledged. “And they have a tiny pocket under the ribbons.”

If he’d been fascinated by her before, he was now in complete awe.

His fingers skimming down the gentle curve of her calf, he curled his palm over her ankle for a moment before skimming his fingers lower to find the pocket.

“You have a condom in your shoe?” His laugh was a puff of warm air against her belly.

“Another in the other shoe,” she told him, finally lifting her head to offer a sassy smile. “Shall we put them to good use?”

Having been raised a gentleman, Phillip knew it’d be churlish to disappoint a lady. Especially one standing over him in all her naked glory.

In thirty seconds flat, he had her condomless shoes off, and her naked body on the floor beneath his. A part of him demanded that he slow down, carry her to the bed.

But he couldn’t wait that long.

“Now,” she demanded, in perfect sync.

“Now,” he agreed, sheathing himself.

Oh, God. Phillip thrust into Frankie’s welcoming heat. It felt like coming home, to a home he’d never known. A delicious home. A hot, wet home.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her heels pressed tight against the small of his back.

She met every thrust with a small cry.

She was on the edge.

Phillip wanted her to go over.

This time, he needed to watch her go over.

As if reading his thoughts, Frankie pressed both hands against his chest, forcing him to pause.

“Feel,” she demanded breathlessly.

She wet her lips, her eyes locked on his. Passion glazed her face, but her focus on him was laser sharp.

“Let go and feel,” she said again, her words tight.

What else could he do?

His body was bombarded with sensations. Every nerve was awake and focused on one thing: satisfaction.

Their eyes locked, Phillip slid into her again.

And out.

Feelings, those damned emotions he’d always hated, washed over him as if her words had called them up.

To avoid them, he focused on his body.

On the sensations.

He slipped his hand between them, flicking that tiny bud between her thighs.

Frankie exploded.

Her body gripped his, her cries sending him crashing over himself.

Holy hell.

His mind too blown to be of any use, he tried to take stock of his body. The orgasm had been so intense even his toes were tingling. His heart was still pounding, pulse racing. The echo of Frankie’s cries rang in his ears. He’d never felt anything like that before.

The desperate need clawing at him for more could be a potential issue, but he told himself he had enough command still to keep it under control.

Didn’t he?

Breathless, numb, he shifted to take his weight off her, but she wouldn’t let go.

“Not yet,” she murmured faintly. “Stay for just a little longer.”

Stay.

The temptation was overpowering.

For a second, Phillip relaxed against her again, the bulk of his weight on his elbows. Eyes closed, he rested his forehead against hers and tried to take it all in.

But he couldn’t find any parameters for what he was feeling that would make sense.

He’d fought in the war. He’d served in combat, parachuted from planes, faced crazed terrorists and been held captive by a sadistic son of a bitch with a needle fetish.

But he’d never been scared.

The thought of staying, though? Of wanting someone enough to believe in possibilities? Of caring about something other than his career?

That filled him with terror.

All of a sudden, he felt as if the walls had slammed in around him, trapping him in the dark.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Phillip pulled away, a little slower this time. He saw Frankie pout but didn’t stop. He got to his feet, frowning when his head did a fast spin. Too much alcohol, not enough food and intense physical exertion, he assessed.

That was why he was thinking crazy thoughts, he realized. Relief washed away the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling of fear.

It wasn’t some mythical emotion.

He was just slightly impaired.

Nothing to worry about.

And since it wasn’t...

His gaze roamed Frankie’s body as she lay there, one arm thrown over her eyes and a very big, very satisfied smile on her face.

His ego swelled a little knowing he’d put that smile there.

And now that he was sure he wasn’t delusional, entertaining the idea of emotions that didn’t exist, he could do it all over again. His eyes shifted to her full breasts, down the gentle indention of her waist to the full curve of her hips.

He wanted more.

And tonight, he was letting himself take more.

“Come on,” he said, lifting her into his arms instead of waiting for her to get up. He made sure to grab the second condom, too.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her words muffled because she was scattering wet kisses over his chest, even as her hands locked behind his neck.

“Shower.”

“Ooh, water sex,” she exclaimed, laughing.

Filled with a warmth, a lightness he was attributing to the champagne they’d drank earlier, Phillip grinned.

“I’m a SEAL. I’m damned good in the water,” he assured her, shifting her weight so he could start the shower. Not waiting for the water to warm up, he stepped right in, Frankie still nestled against his chest.

She squealed, burrowing into him to hide her face from the chilly spray.

Phillip laughed, delighting in her.

In the honesty of her reactions.

In the sweetness of her touch.

In the sexiness of her mouth.

In how he felt with her.

Free.

Swallowing hard, shoving aside the images trying to creep their way into this precious escape, Phillip pressed Frankie up against the shower wall. His mouth took hers, his hands sliding over her wet flesh.

His body, satisfied only a minute ago, demanded more.

His soul, at peace for the first time in months, demanded the same.

“Again already?” she gasped.

“I told you. I’m a SEAL. I’m damned good in water,” he said, just before plunging into her.