Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction / A SEAL's Surrender / A SEAL's Salvation / A SEAL's Kiss

It wasn’t a very elaborate plan, but sometimes simple was best.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Just a weather report,” he said, tapping the screen. “It looks like it’s going to snow.”

“Ha-ha.” Giving him a narrow look, she got stiffly to her feet and, after taking a second to bend in half and touch her toes, she crossed to the bank of radios and monitors and peered at the message.

“A weather report? Seriously?”

“SOP is to check in every two hours. A weather report is a simple message to use. If it was somehow intercepted, it says nothing. And it’s always good to know the weather.”

He couldn’t tell if she was buying it or not. That was the trouble with Alexia. Half the time, she was an open book, easy to read and ready to share. The other half made him feel like an untrained schoolboy trying to talk to his first girl. Clueless and inept.

“Well, at least the navy has a handle on the weather,” she finally said.

His shoulders relaxed and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He didn’t want her worrying. Which would be fine if it was because her worrying would make the mission more difficult. But he knew that wasn’t why. It was because he hated the idea of her suffering in any way.

Cade was right. He had a problem.

“Ready for some hot chocolate?” he asked, doing what he always did when faced with a problem. Taking it down one step at a time.

“Sure.” She glanced at the now-blank screen again, then followed him over to take her seat at the table. “Can I help? It seems like you’re always cooking for me.”

That’s because with the exception of the field rations they’d just had, he’d ended up eating a bit of every meal off her naked body.

Don’t go there, he warned himself. His imagination didn’t listen, though. As he heated the water to mix with powdered milk, his brain threw out a dozen or so images of the way Alexia had looked covered in plum jelly. Or in cream sauce. Or in soapy bubbles that slid, slow and thick, down her bare breast. The tip beaded in pouting delight, just waiting for his tongue.

“Shit,” he muttered, shaking the splash of hot water off his hand. Focus, dammit. He removed the pot of boiling water from the burner, dumped the white powder in and stirred.

“You’re making a mess,” Alexia said, tilted almost sideways in her chair so she could see what he was doing. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

Blake looked down at the table. The burner was sizzling with specks of watery milk. Powder pooled around the pot like mounds of snow. He’d stirred so hard that the back of his hand looked as if he had white freckles.

“Here,” he said, pushing the pot, spoon and chocolate powder toward her. “Have at it.”

Needing to move, wishing for action—any action that didn’t involve Alexia’s naked body—he strode over to the monitors to check the display, then to the tent flap, pulling down the pseudocurtain and looking out.

It was still white.

Go figure.

“Did you want some?”

Some of her? Oh, yeah.

“No. Thanks,” he added, trying to soften the bark. He glanced back to see she’d poured half the mixture into a tin cup. She held up the pot, looking at him questioningly.

He really needed to get a grip. This was just an adrenaline-induced loss of control, combined with seeing someone he’d been obsessing over. No big deal.

Time for phase two of his plan. Get her the hell to sleep.

He crossed the tent, reaching for the pot. Their fingers brushed. He wanted more. He was desperate to touch her again. Even if it was only her fingertips or her hair. He still had dreams about that hair. She’d brushed it back into some twisting rope, the red glowing in the soft lamplight. He remembered the feel of her hair in his hands, trailing down his body. The silky feel, the sweet scent.

In an instant, he went from soldier to man.

Horny, turned on and ready to rock, man.

“How is it?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Surprisingly good.” She sipped again, then arched one brow. “Are you sure you won’t have some?”

“I’m still full from dinner,” he said. And desperate for more space than the small tent allowed. “But you must be exhausted. Why don’t you finish your drink, then try to get some rest.”

“I was hoping we could chat.” Her smile was sweetly mischievous, making Blake want to howl and beat on something. She was supposed to be overwrought. Not cute, dammit. He’d never had to fight off all these sexual and emotional needs while he was on duty before. And couldn’t say he was liking the new experience much.

“Chat? About what?” he asked.

“I thought we’d talk about why you were assigned this mission. If hand-holding isn’t your usual thing, then what is?”

“I’m the radioman. Communications, languages, they’re my usual things.”

“That’s kind of funny,” she said in a tone that didn’t sound as if she was enjoying the humor. She stared into her cup for a second, then met his eyes. “We’re both communications specialists.”

She stopped there, as if she were standing against the door between now and then and wasn’t sure she wanted to open it.

“And you think we didn’t communicate,” he said, figuring they had to step through the door sooner or later.

“You think we did?” she asked.

Her tone wasn’t challenging. It was simply curious. He wondered if she’d burned through her supply of negative emotions. He’d seen it before. It was like watching someone hit rock bottom, so they operated in an emotional vacuum. It wouldn’t last. But as chickenshit as it was, he sure hoped they were picked up before she tapped into a new supply.

He hesitated before responding, though. There was a good chance she still had plenty of mad tucked away in there. And despite his wanting distance between them, this was a damn small tent to be sharing with a pissed-off woman. Still, he could only answer honestly.

“I thought we communicated just fine. We were focused on one thing, and we got our wants and needs across to each other pretty damn well.”

Something flared in her dark eyes. Interest. Heat. A dangerous curiosity. Blake braced himself. But as quick as it’d flamed, she banked it. With short, deliberate moves, she set the cup on the table and got to her feet.

“It just hit me how exhausted I am. I’m going to go ahead and sleep.”

He didn’t let the relief pour in until she’d climbed onto the cot, still fully clothed, and covered herself with the thermal blanket. To help her along, he dimmed all the lights.

“Good night,” he said quietly.

She didn’t answer for a second. Then, her voice a sigh, she said, “’Night. And thank you.”

11

BLAKE LISTENED to Alexia’s breathing. As if he could coax her into relaxing, he breathed along with her, slowing, soothing. After a few minutes, he knew she was asleep.

That’s when he let himself relax.

He should sleep. The perimeter alarms were on. If anything heavier than snow crossed them, he’d know. Still, he hesitated. He didn’t trust Alexia’s safety to machines.

For just a second, he let his frustration at being on this side, tucked away from the action, pound through him. He wasn’t made for sitting it out. Not even with a beautiful woman.

His watch set to ping him in thirty minutes, he forced himself to sink into the cot. Eyes closed, he tried to put everything—especially the woman sleeping three feet away—out of his mind. If he wanted to keep her safe, he had to be in top form. To be in top form, he needed sleep. He wouldn’t sleep if he was imagining her naked except for those leather combat boots.

It was the boots that did it. He focused all his attention on those, and slowly felt himself sinking into a doze. He was a breath away from sleep when he heard something.

He jackknifed up and flew from his cot. He pulled a sobbing Alexia into his arms.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he soothed, brushing the damp tendrils of hair off her face. By the lights of the monitors, he could see the terror in her eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Hold me,” she begged, wrapping her arms so tightly around his waist, his breath shortened. “Don’t let me go. Don’t let anything happen.”

“I’m holding you.” To back up his claim, he ran his hands up and down the back of her thick sweater.

“Hold me tighter. I’ve never been so scared, Blake. I close my eyes and I can see him again. See the glee in his nasty rat face as he threatened me. He promised to let his men do horrible things to me.”

Fury pounded through him, racing past frustration and damn near knocking out his control.

“You’re safe,” he told her again, brushing a kiss against the silkiness of her hair.

He didn’t know if it was because she needed the assurance of seeing his expression, or if it was a reaction to that kiss. But Alexia peeled her cheek off his chest and leaned back. Just far enough that they could look into each other’s eyes. Feel each other’s breath on their faces. Blake knew he should get up. He was on duty. He was sworn to protect her. Hell, her father had handpicked him to keep her safe.

Every reason—and there were a lot—that he should get the hell up and away from her crossed his mind.

He looked into her eyes, the dark heat there calling to him, touching something in his heart that he couldn’t resist.

“Just letting you know ahead of time, this is a huge mistake and I’m sorry,” he said.

Her brow furrowed, but before she could ask what he meant, he kissed her.

* * *

IT WAS LIKE WAKING from a nightmare and finding herself safe, cocooned in pleasure. Like coming home. As Blake’s lips sank into hers, Alexia felt right for the first time in months. His mouth was so soft, so sweet. His body so warm and hard as his arms enfolded her and held her close.

She wanted more. Needed him with a desperate, clawing need. With him, she was safe. With him, she was whole.

Her mouth moved under his, their lips sliding together then slipping apart. At his touch, the tension and terror that had gripped her fell away. At his kiss, the horrified images of the last four days dissipated, like smoke.

He was heaven, pure and simple. It was as if nothing could scare her, nothing could hurt her as long as he was close.

Slowly, he released her lips and pulled away. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, trying to keep him from moving, from leaving.

“You were crying,” he said, his fingers gently wiping dampness she hadn’t even realized was streaked over her cheeks before sliding along her hair to cup the back of her head.

Well, that was hot. Nothing sexier than sobbing in your sleep. Alexia frowned, her shoulders drooping, right along with her sexual bubble.

“That’s why you kissed me? Because I was crying?”

He hesitated. She could tell he was debating. The easy way, or the truth. She should make it simpler for him. After all, the man had rescued her from a stinking lunatic. But she wanted more, she wanted...well, hard. Him hard. Better yet, him hard inside her.

“I kissed you because I couldn’t resist,” he said, his fingers now sliding into the braid at the back of her head, loosening her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that made her want to purr. “I shouldn’t have, though.”

The tension that had been building again started to fade. Joy bubbled up, filling her smile with a little extra sparkle. Excitement started growing again as the hope of sex, and yes, those incredible fingers, worked their magic.

“Why not?” she whispered, her hands roaming his back, delighting in the play of strong muscles beneath his shirt. Her reasons why not were a mile long.

Better to focus on his reasons instead. That way she could brush them aside and get on to the good stuff.

“Because you’re you and I’m me.”

“Ah.” Alexia couldn’t help it. She laughed. “That’s succinct.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He gave her a serious, peering-all-the-way-into-her-soul kind of look instead.

“You’re the admiral’s daughter. I’m a SEAL. You’re looking for a transparent, open relationship. I live in the shadows. You’re the victim under my protection. I’m charged with the mission of getting you home safe.”

As if his words had flipped open the tent flap, the chill of reality crept over her. Alexia’s fingers stopped caressing his back, then slowly fell away.

Looked as if their lists were pretty similar after all.

“Well, those are some solid reasons,” she acknowledged quietly. How could she argue with her own justifications? If they both had them, they were even more rational than just her making them up in her own head, right?

Alexia sighed, wishing she could go back to believing that she was overreacting.

On his face she saw the same frustration, the same reluctance that she felt. He eased away.

She shivered, her body instantly missing his warmth. She wanted to pull the blankets around her, but doing so would mean he had to move. And sex or no sex, she wanted—needed—him close for as long as she could keep him.

“Yeah. Good solid reasons why we should keep things smart,” he said, sitting upright. He shoved one hand through his hair, making it stand up in short spikes, and gave Alexia a stiff smile. The only reason she was able to smile back was because she could see that stiffness echoed in his tented fatigues.

Her breath caught in her chest, adding to the surreal buzzing she heard in her head. It was like standing, starving, outside a bakery, staring at a window display of her very favorite, most decadently delicious pastries. Or in this case, cannoli. Her eyes traced the ridge of his pants and she corrected that to jumbo cannoli.

“Smart is good,” she agreed absently.

“Smart is necessary,” he told her, his words a little more clipped than usual. He was only saying them because it was the right thing to do, she realized.

“We’re two intelligent, mature adults who know how to control our urges.” Her fingers traced a design on his thigh, reveling in the corded muscles she could feel, even through the heavy cotton of his pants. Slowly, as if she was sneaking up on it, her fingers trailed closer and closer to the ridge of his impressive erection.

His gaze narrowed, eyes calculating. As if he was figuring out just how to turn this to their advantage. Their naked advantage.

“Just because there’s this thing with us,” he said, waving his fingers back and forth between them as if there were an electric field there, “that doesn’t mean we have to give in to it.”

“Of course not,” she agreed with a strained laugh, her nipples aching and heavy as every breath brushed them against the thermal fabric of her shirt. “We’re not animals, after all.”

“Nope. Not animals,” he agreed, his eyes locking on her sweater-covered breasts, heating. Making her nipples tighten even more. “We know better than to get into something that we’ve both clearly accepted is bad for us.”

“So bad,” she breathed, her eyes lifting from his crotch to meet his slumberous gaze. “So, so bad.”

“So we’re having wild, uncontrolled animal sex, right?” he asked, his hand reaching out to hover over—but not quite touch, dammit—her aching nipple.

“Oh, yeah. Hurry and get your pants off,” she ordered, saving time by yanking two sweaters at once over her head. When her face cleared the fabric, she saw that Blake had pulled off his long-sleeved T-shirt and was unlacing his boots. What was with military footwear? she wondered, wanting to cuss at how long it took. Clearly, whoever designed it didn’t have fast sex in mind.

For the first time since they’d met, Blake showed a lack of grace as he hopped on one foot, trying to untangle the mile-long laces on his snow boots.

Wanting to hurry him along, Alexia took a deep breath and yanked her thermal undershirt over her head. Braless, since she’d thrown out everything she’d been wearing in that hellhole, her torso was instantly covered in goose bumps.

Until Blake’s gaze, hot and intense, warmed her like a caress.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed.

Then he lost his balance and toppled onto the other cot.

The crash was deafening.

She paused, her pants unzipped and her hands on her hips to shove them down, and met his eyes.

Desperation turned to laughter. Her gaze still locked on his, Alexia clapped her hand to her mouth to try to contain the chortles. But when he grinned, she couldn’t hold back.

Giggling, she pulled the blanket over her nudity and shifted into a sitting position to peer at Blake. Already on his feet—gotta love that physical conditioning—he was pulling the cot back into an upright position.

“Are you okay?” she asked as soon as she got control of herself.

“Yeah, but the cot’s a little worse for wear.” He kicked at one of the legs with his stocking-clad foot to indicate the bent metal.

“Oops.” Alexia wrinkled her nose at the damage.

“Can’t say I don’t know how to show you romance,” he told her, still smiling.

“Well, one of us was definitely swept off their feet.” Then she hesitated. Without the haze of his sweet rescue of her from her nightmare, or the reckless desperation that had pushed them toward fast-and-furious sex, they were left with... What?

A choice.

Alexia’s gaze fell to the plain black wool blanket she’d wrapped herself in, her fingers twisting then untwisting the hem.

She felt, rather than saw, Blake drop to his haunches next to her cot. Slowly, after taking a fortifying breath, she lifted her gaze to his.

He was so damn gorgeous. Blue eyes so warm, so inviting, and a mouth that was sexy whether he was smiling or frowning. Sexiest on hers, though. She could see the patience in his gaze. The comfortable acceptance that this was her choice.

It’d been so hard to get over him last time. She’d shoved her feelings about him, her wishes and regrets and longings, all into a box in the back corner of her mind. Then she’d pretended it didn’t exist. All but the anger. That, she’d held on to. Used as a weapon to beat down any thoughts she had of maybe peeking into that box.

This time, though, she wouldn’t have that anger. This time, she couldn’t blame him for anything that wasn’t his fault, as she had before.

This time, she was accepting him exactly as he was, completely aware of his loyalties. If they had sex, this time she was one hundred percent responsible for her choice. For her feelings. For whatever happened next.

Alexia’s fingers shook a little as she stared into his eyes. There, she saw acceptance, appreciation and a heat that went deeper than passion. A heat she couldn’t resist. Terrified, but unable to do otherwise, she dropped the blanket and opened her arms.

Blake gave an appreciative moan, traced his finger around one areola, then the other. Looking as if he was about to partake in the Fountain of Youth, he leaned forward to sip delicately.

Alexia’s own moan was high and breathless.

Then he moved. Rising to his feet, he stood like a warrior god of old, his broad shoulders tapering in a golden line down to his slender waist. His cock jutted proudly over thick, muscled thighs. Unable to resist, Alexia lifted herself to one elbow and leaned forward to blow lightly on the straining tip of his erection.

It jumped, as if coming to attention.

She slanted him a wicked look, then leaned closer to run her tongue around the velvety head. His fists clenched at his hips, but he didn’t move. Didn’t try to take control.

“Yum,” she murmured before taking him into her mouth, sliding her lips on and down the hard length of him. His fingers splayed, as if he was going to grab her, then he fisted them again. As a reward, she sucked, hard, just the tip, and made him groan out loud.

“My turn,” he insisted, lowering himself to the cot and sliding over her body. “Otherwise you might not get yours.”

“Oh, I’ll get mine,” she guaranteed, her bare feet skimming up the back of his hard thighs before she dug her heels into his butt and pressed her aching core to his erection. “You’re going to give it to me.”

“Yeah. I’m going to give it to you all right.” His teasing smile was the last thing she saw before his mouth covered hers. All it took was the touch of his tongue against hers and Alexia went crazy. She needed him. All of him.

“Now,” she demanded.

“I’m not done,” he said with a strained laugh as his fingers slipped between their bodies and down her belly to cup her curls.

As soon as he touched her swollen clitoris, she shattered. Stars burst, heat exploded. Her entire body convulsed, trembling with the power of her orgasm.

He moved like lightning, thrusting into her with a low, animalistic growl that turned her on even more. He took her hands in his, dragging both their arms over her head. Their eyes locked as his body rose over hers. Excitement swirled, deep and low in Alexia’s belly. Every nerve ending was electrified, raw with pleasure. Blake arched his back, then slid into her again in one deliciously slow thrust.

Her body contracted around him, reveling in the feel of his hard length as it moved in, out, in. Slow. So slow she could count her heartbeats between thrusts. So slow she wanted to cry from the pleasure of it.

He pulled her hands higher. Alexia gasped, arching her back against the pressure. She shifted onto her heels. The angle change meant the length of his cock now slid against her G-spot, that electrified, pleasure-charged sensor sending tight, tingling spirals of pleasure up, higher and higher in her belly. Blake bent his head, taking the beaded, aching tip of her breast into his mouth. The spirals climbed higher, grasped tighter.

Her breath came in pants now. Passion swirled, gripping her. Her body tensed as he teased her nipple deep into his mouth, then sucked. When the edge of his teeth scraped along the sensitive flesh, she exploded.

She wanted to close her eyes. To escape into the decadent ecstasy as it washed over her, pulling her deeper and deeper into delight.

But Blake wouldn’t release her gaze. Like a magnet, he held tight, forcing her to let him watch her orgasm, to see all the way into her soul as she let go.

As she exploded. Her body, her emotions, the very core of her being all laid bare to him as passion took over. She whimpered at the power, unable to do anything but feel. And it felt incredible.

Slowly, drifting like a downy feather, she floated back to earth. Her heartbeat was still so loud in her head she couldn’t hear a thing. But awareness was returning to her body. A body that was still shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure, like mini-orgasms rippling through her.

And no wonder.

Blake was still inside her. Still moving, slow and steady. Building, tantalizing. Teasing her with his control.

Time to shift the balance of power, she decided.

She reached up, threading her fingers through his short hair, and pulled his mouth to hers. Her kiss was sweet at first. A gentle thank-you for the delectable orgasm.

Then, as he sank into it, she took it deeper. Her tongue stabbed, her teeth nipped. He stiffened, the smooth rhythm of his thrusts shifting. Jerking.

Alexia let go of his hair, pushing against his shoulders. Then, in a move that made her grateful for her thrice-weekly pilates class, she gave a big push, and switched positions so she was on top.

“Yum,” she whispered.

A wicked smile played about his kiss-swollen lips and he gave an appreciative nod. “Yum, indeed.”

He angled his body so he was half raised, his head leaning against the wall of the tent, his hands cupping both her breasts. Holding them in position for his mouth.

Alexia wrapped her legs around the back of his hips, her heels digging into his butt.

Then she set the pace.

Fast. Intense. His face tightened as he drove into her.

“Now,” he demanded in a low, guttural tone. His face drawn taut, his muscles tense, he stared into her eyes.