Pleasing Her SEAL(23)

"Better than okay," she whispered, and then gave him a hint, drawing  back and slamming back against him, forcing him deep and hard inside her  body.

"Harder," he agreed, and then began a rough, satisfying rhythm that  made her entire body hum with the pleasure of him. He drove in and she  rose up to meet him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as they  pressed together. He pounded into her in a primal beat and the orgasm  surprised her, coiling through her body in a burst of electric white.  She wrapped arms and legs around him, burying her face in his collarbone  as he pumped once more, twice, and then followed her over that glorious  edge.

* * *

"WOW," SHE SAID, flopping back on her pillow. "That was amazing. You're amazing."                       
       
           


       

"You stole my line." He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He'd mussed her up good.

She grinned, a big, happy, wow-we-really-just-did-that smile that he  wanted to see again today, tomorrow and fifty years from now. Hell.

"I'll wait while you come up with something," she murmured.

She'd be waiting awhile. It seemed she'd knocked all the words right  out of his head. What they'd shared had been fantastic, mind-blowing and  slightly kinky sex. If it had been any better, he'd be dead. He could  handle whatever she threw at him sexually. The adjectives? Not so much.

So instead, he draped an arm over her waist, just in case she had any  thoughts of hopping out of bed and making a run for it. He never quite  knew where he stood with Maddie. Maybe she'd change her mind about their  vacation hookup.

About them.

Not that there was really a them since he was dating her under false pretenses, but the fantasy was an awesome one.

Running his fingers over the tattoo on her hip, he thought about the  words she'd chosen to ink into her flesh. More than a catbird. He'd seen  plenty of tattoos. It was practically obligatory to get one after a  tour of duty, and this must have taken hours. It was a serious  commitment. Since the last time he'd gotten her naked, reading hadn't  been number one on his to-do list. He'd settled for admiring the  delicate flowers swirling over her hip bone and around the ornate line  of text. Nothing simple for her.

"You ever going to tell me the story behind your tattoo?"

She patted him sleepily on his chest. "You distract me when I'm naked."

He traced the words with his finger. "Spill."

"You're so sure there's a story?" she scoffed.

Yeah, he was, so he stayed silent. Sure enough, she sighed and kept on talking.

"It's part of an Ogden Nash poem," she said.

"I guess I should ask you who you were thinking of when you got your  ink." Not that he really wanted to know. He'd rather run his fingers  over her ink-over her bare skin-instead of thinking about the other men  who had undoubtedly shared her life.

"Myself," she said, surprising him. "There's no guy out there with a matching poem, if that's what you're asking."

He wanted to crush her against him, to give her another kiss. Hell, he  was seconds away from volunteering to get ink with her, despite his  dislike of needles.

"Why this poem?" He brushed his fingers over the words. They meant something to Maddie.

"The poem's about love," she said softly. "About loving more than other  people hate. Ogden Nash was all in when it came to loving. I like  that."

He should back off, should let go of his Maddie fantasies-because,  whether she admitted it or not, that poem announced in indelible ink  that she was holding out for love and forever, and he simply wasn't the  man she thought he was. Hell, he wasn't even a real chef.

"Do you have to go?" Her fingers twisted in his dog tags.

"Not yet," he said, gazing down at her and tenderly stroking his thumb  along her cheek. "But soon. I have an early-morning work call."

He knew he had to let go of her, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment. One more kiss, one more night, he decided.

He'd never had a lover like Maddie, so willing to try anything.  Possibly everything. There was shit you didn't do, didn't ask for. Shit  you sure as hell didn't expect.

"Okay," she mumbled drowsily, already drifting off. Too much champagne, too much sex.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, feathering kisses against her  hair. It was stupid, since she was already out, but he wanted to do it  even if he had no idea why. She'd wanted sex and he'd given it to her.  Emotions weren't supposed to be part of their date night, particularly  when he hadn't been up-front with her. And it wasn't as if he was some  big feelings expert. He'd only had the one lover, when he was just a  kid, and she'd been his wife. He'd screwed that up.

Everything since then had been sex, but he hadn't been shooting for any  kind of world record-or any kind of relationship. Sometimes, if he got a  little too lonely or the woman was a little too pretty, he started to  wonder what-if. He didn't have to wonder with Maddie. She was downright  beautiful inside and out, and it was that inside part that made him  regret not having met her under better circumstances, in a time and  place where he wasn't shipping out and wedded to Uncle Sam.                       
       
           


       

Not that he minded his current circumstances, since he was curled  around her naked body, right after she'd served up the orgasm of the  century. Hell, part of him wanted to grab his cell phone, text the guys  and ask if they could believe what had just happened. Which probably  meant he should surrender his man card on the spot, but Maddie had been  amazing. They'd been amazing together. Which would just make getting up  and leaving her alone in bed that much harder.

Yeah. He was pretty much screwed, and not in the good way, either.





10

MADDIE OVERSLEPT, WHICH was Mason's fault. First he'd done all those  crazy things with the Popsicle, then he'd loved her until she'd fallen  asleep. She probably should have been embarrassed that he'd worn her out  but, hey, it had been in the best possible way. She looked forward to  doing it again.

Unfortunately, the man in question had slipped out at some ungodly  hour. If she'd been back home, she'd have been just going to bed, and  instead he was getting up. When she'd protested-and, admittedly, she  hadn't been all that coherent because dark o'clock was her  conversational nadir-he'd brushed a kiss over her forehead and said the  magic incantation. Work.

So what if she already felt a gnawing ache at his absence and missed  the feel of his warm, strong arms around her? Don't be ridiculous. You  have plenty of work yourself. With her time on the island winding down,  she needed to wrap up the rest of her blog entries. She'd covered the  villas, the food and the romantic cocktails. Today was wedding day,  except, when she finally woke up early in the afternoon, she had a  message from reception telling her that the Guzman party had canceled  and wouldn't be getting married after all. Unfortunately, no other  nuptials were scheduled for today or even for the rest of the week.  Which meant she was SOL unless she could find some faux stand-ins.

The island was quiet and nearly deserted when she stepped outside.  There was plenty of sun, though, so her shots would come out. Julieta  had wanted a sunset ceremony and the day was perfect for that. She'd  shot the other woman a quick sympathetic email. She didn't know what was  up, but she hoped Julieta was okay and that Mr. Guzman hadn't broken up  with her right before the wedding. Or maybe the bride-to-be had gotten  cold feet, their private plane had broken down or any one of a dozen  other reasons that still left Maddie in the lurch, looking for a  replacement couple.

Unfortunately, she kept mentally casting Mason as the groom, which  wasn't a good thing. He was like the fish she didn't get to keep and had  to throw back. Sex with Mason had been out-of-this-world perfect. Who  knew Fantasy Island could live up to its name? Or that her stoic chef  would be so very, very good at role-playing? He made her feel like the  center of his universe-that elusive, intangible something she'd craved  watching other people's weddings. She'd never met a guy who would do  anything for her, up to and including Mr.  I'll-Buy-You-Lobster-And-Break-Up-With-You.

Things seemed different with Mason. She was different. Sure, the sex  was awesome, but that wasn't all. He listened to her. And, underneath  his tough-guy exterior, he was one big sweeter-than-candy marshmallow.

She trudged over to Ashley's villa and banged on the door. She needed a  model, and Ashley was a pretty single girl. When her friend didn't  answer right away, she banged again.

"Is there a fire?" Ashley pulled open the door, looking slightly  disheveled. She wore a gray tank top and cotton shorts that revealed how  seriously toned the woman was. She was also barefoot, her nails pink  with white polka dots.