Claiming Her SEAL(15)

That was the only reason he nodded when she asked him to take a walk  down the beach. He shouldn't. He should be sending her away but lacked  the fortitude apparently. Five minutes. Then he'd tell her-again-that  she should go find a nice doctor or lawyer and leave a guy named Dexter  to contend with his demons solo.

As they strolled past the boulders marking the end of the resort  property, the sudden silence stretched and he asked, "Why didn't you go  back to your room with Rachel?"

Duh, obviously she was waiting for him, and that fact should not be  making him grin like an escaped mental patient. But after the triumphs  of the afternoon, and the genuine joy of sharing something with her that  tugged at him so deeply …  well, he was only human, much to his chagrin.

The essence of Emma called to him in an elemental way. It was so strong because she was so wrong for him. The ultimate paradox.

"We have unfinished business, you and I," she said and blinked those  baby blues. "I seem to recall we struck a deal. If I held my head under  the water, you'd strip for me. I'm here to collect."

His tongue went numb and nearly slid down the back of his throat as his  whole body vibrated with the promise of her hot eyes trained on his  crotch as he slid off his board shorts. "Uh, yeah. Um-"

She laughed. "I'm just kidding. I wasn't going to hold you to it. But if you wanted to, I wouldn't stop you."

His erection did not instantly subside, and it was getting a little  painful. He should be making his excuses and exiting stage left. Right  now. "I'll, ah, take that under advisement."

"I really wanted to thank you. You're a good snorkeling guide, and I  appreciated the extra attention when you should have been working. Those  other people paid good money for their excursion, and I monopolized all  your time."

"Nah." His ears went hot at the sincerity in her voice. "They were in good hands with Jace. He could do that spiel blindfolded."

"You're good friends," she commented with no question mark at the end of it. "How long have you known each other?"

He shrugged. Was it that obvious that he'd been working side by side  with Jace for longer than he could remember? "A while. Four, five  years."

"Huh. I didn't have the impression you'd been doing this excursion gig  that long." She glanced at him. "Seems like you said you ran your  company with some other friends. I've never seen them. Do they work at  other resorts?"

A code-red alarm went off in his head. This wasn't a random drive-by thank-you; she was fishing. For what?

"Duchess Island resort is our only contract." He kept his voice light  because he couldn't figure out why she'd tripped his radar and until he  did, they were just talking. "We all have a day job too, which pays our  bills. Boats and equipment and stuff are expensive. So the six of us  work on a reef restoration project run by a private company. Some days  Jace and I take the scuba shift, and the other guys run the excursions.  Depends on the day, our mood. A lot of factors."

He was babbling. Which was usually the opposite of how he handled a  woman fishing for tidbits he hadn't shared on purpose. Yet another  reason he should be saying sayonara. Emma had spelled danger from that  first moment he'd seen her testing her will against the surf and not  backing down, yet he'd ignored the sound of conscience screaming at him.  He'd invented excuse after excuse to let her keep drawing him back into  her orbit.         

     



 

"That sounds nice. I don't have many good friends. Just Rachel. I lost  contact with most people after …  well, anyway." Her voice had taken on a  wistful quality. "How did you all meet?"

"We served together in the navy. In Iraq," he said flatly.

And that marked the first time he'd uttered those words aloud to a woman since Malika. This occasion wouldn't end any better.

"You were in the military?" The surprise in her voice told him everything he needed to know.

"Three tours." He couldn't help the frost that had crept into his tone.  Didn't want to help it. She'd started this fishing expedition. She  should have considered more thoroughly what she might hook with her  bait.

"That's fascinating." She wheeled around to face him and the walk part  of this encounter seemed to be over. "Did you see any action?"

"This is not a date. We're not getting to know each other over drinks.  If I wanted to advertise the highlights of my military career, I would  have put them on my Facebook profile."

"Dex." Her throaty voice held a hint of amusement. "I'm just curious  about you. If you don't want to tell me, you say, Emma, butt out."

"I thought I just did."

Instead of decking him for being such a jerk, she laughed, and it tugged  a small smile from somewhere in the depths of his miserable soul.

"Touché." Her blue eyes locked on his as she reached out to caress his  shoulder with her slim fingers. "So what do you talk about on a date  then?"

His shoulder burned under her touch. He leaned into it ever so slightly  because he couldn't stop himself from responding to her, from seeking  more. From recalling the way she'd kissed him so eagerly last night in  the moonlight, and how desperately he wanted to keep moving toward her.

In his current state, the slow simmer of attraction had a bite of temper  mixed through it, and the resulting experience for Emma would not be  very pleasant. He had a tendency to be punishing when his mood veered  into territory more suited for violence than sex.

She didn't know any of these things about him, and the less she learned, the better.

"I don't date."

Dating had far too many implications that he didn't like. Such as an  expectation that there might be more dates in the future. He'd never  spoken to a woman postencounter, not since Malika. Not since he'd  learned that the world was very unforgiving of the bodies that littered  his past.

"Dex." She cocked her head. "Where do you go when you withdraw? In the  water, you're a different person, more open and happy. I'd like to get  to know that man and spend some time with him. This guy," She slid her  palm to his chest and tapped it once with her forefinger. "Has a bad  attitude and tendency to foist his assumptions on me, and I don't like  it."

His temper slid off a cliff, and he tried to grasp it, digging in before  he lost it completely. "You should go back to your room now. You're  playing with something you don't understand."

"But I want to. That's the point."

She huffed out a little noise of frustration, but the rise and fall of  her chest drew attention to her peaked nipples, which betrayed her  constant state of arousal.

The simmer under his skin began to percolate the longer he internalized  her desire. It wasn't fair that she was allowed to have such a simple,  unvarnished reaction to someone she found desirable, and he'd been  constantly forced to temper his.

Story of his life. Maybe it was time to invite someone else into his hell.

"You think you can handle it?" he challenged as he deliberately leaned  into her palm, deliberately dropped every last internal barrier he  employed to keep his beast under control.

"I think I proved today that I'm stronger than you thought." Her blue  eyes glittered with something he couldn't look away from. "You didn't  think I was going to get in the water, but I did. Maybe I can handle  more than you seem to assume."

And maybe she could. The thing she didn't seem to understand was that he  didn't want to be the kind of man who would force her to. He'd tried to  send her away, and that hadn't worked. Obviously he needed to pull out  the big guns.

"You're pushing, Emma, and I think it's time to give you a taste of what  happens when you shove open that door and barge in without permission."

Lightning fast, he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her up  against him. Those peaked, hard nipples ground into his chest, exciting  him. A growl rumbled in his throat as he wound his hand through her  hair, snaring the locks with his fingers. Once he had a good grip, he  pulled, exposing her throat to his ravenous gaze.         

     



 

Pale, immaculate flesh begged for his mouth, and he didn't hold back.  Fastening his lips to her skin, he tasted. His lips molded to her skin,  suckling it, violating it, marking it. She gasped under the onslaught,  but didn't pull away. Oh, no, his little mermaid pushed closer, sending a  trail of heat down his back with her hands.

Clearly he hadn't done enough to make his point. He ran his tongue along  the column of her throat, up to her ear, and still he wanted more. He  guided her face toward his and took her mouth in a hard, relentless kiss  that was more instructional than it was passionate.

She needed to learn what he was capable of.

Her lips were pliant under his, open and inviting, and he groaned as her  sweetness exploded on his tongue. Deeper. It wasn't a choice, but a  primal need that he suddenly couldn't control as she scrabbled at his  back for purchase with her fingers, as if she was just as overcome as he  was.