Heroes In Uniform (76 page)

Read Heroes In Uniform Online

Authors: Sharon Hamilton,Cristin Harber,Kaylea Cross,Gennita Low,Caridad Pineiro,Patricia McLinn,Karen Fenech,Dana Marton,Toni Anderson,Lori Ryan,Nina Bruhns

Tags: #Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes from NY Times and USA Today bestselling authors

Winding her arms around his sturdy neck, she broke the kiss to stare up into his deep, dark eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You miss me?”

My God, that hat on him. He was a dark and dangerous cowboy commando, the snug shirt molded to a powerful body that could dish out pleasure or pain in equal measure. He was straight out of her hottest fantasies and it was so hard to comprehend that he was all hers. The past five months since her last visit home when she’d gone overseas again had been almost unbearable. “More than you’ll ever know.” True to his word, he’d waited for her through the rest of her previous deployment and the entirety of this one. She loved him even more for that.

One side of his mouth tipped upward and he arched a dark eyebrow. “Talk is cheap. Prove it.”

She tugged on the brim of the Stetson, unable to wipe the smile off her face. “Oh, I will later, handsome.”

He led her out to a shiny new black Ford pickup and drove her to the restaurant to meet her parents for a long breakfast. By the time it was over, she was more than ready to get to her cabin and spend some quality alone time with Wade, naked.

“So, you said you had a surprise for me?” she said as he drove down the highway.

“I do.”

She couldn’t get over how different he looked without the beard. Younger. His face all hard angles and planes. She was looking forward to exploring every inch of it and the rest of his body with her hands and tongue. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.” A secret smile played around his mouth but he didn’t say anything else.

Leaving it for the moment, she filled him in on everything that had happened since their last Skype call eight days ago. Ace, Ryan, Jackson and Honor were still over there. That Night Stalker pilot, Liam, was as well, but whatever had broken them up had hurt Honor so badly she’d kept her distance from him ever since she’d found out he had returned to active duty after being wounded in that mission last March.

Erin stopped talking when Wade took an exit two miles before the one to her parents’ ranch. “Where are you going?”

“Someplace I want you to see.”

Her surprise? She tried to puzzle out what it might be as they drove away from the highway and south to the rolling ranch land. At a driveway marked by a bright red mailbox, he turned up it and a tidy, two level log house came into view. The property was beautiful and well maintained. “What’s this?” she asked him.

Wade parked in front of the house and killed the engine. “Come on.”

She hopped out and followed him up the front steps, excitement flaring through her. Fishing in his hip pocket, he came up with a key and handed it to her. “Open it.”

She smiled, took the key and pushed open the front door. “Ohhh…” It was beautiful. Dark wood, tall windows and what appeared to be a newly renovated kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

“Barn’s out back, and there’s a creek about a half mile to the south. You can see it from the master bedroom window upstairs. Property’s twenty-five acres.” He walked up and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Whaddya think?”

She turned, realized she had her hands on her cheeks. “Is it ours?”

“If you love it, it is.”

Oh my God.
A lump formed in her throat. “It’s beautiful. Oh, man, I love it. But how can we afford it?”

“I’ve got plenty socked away in investments. My cost of living was pretty low when I was living in Afghanistan all those years,” he said dryly, “so I’ve got enough saved up. And my new salary’s not too shabby, either.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Seriously? We could have this?” She was already mentally decorating the place and imagining her in the kitchen while the kids—a boy and a girl, because she was certain Wade was meant to have a daughter as well as a son—sat at the island and did crafts or homework.

“Yeah,” he said with a grin, bending to nuzzle the sensitive spot just below the edge of her jaw, making her shiver as a tidal wave of heat roared through her. “Want to check out the master bedroom?”

“Later,” she managed, grabbing him by the shoulders to kiss the hell out of him.

Wade groaned and seized her by the hips, lifting her as he walked her backward and set her atop the island. Erin wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing the hot glow between her thighs against the ridge of his erection. She grabbed the halves of his shirt and yanked, sending buttons flying.

He laughed against her mouth and cupped her bottom to bring her up even harder against his groin, then shrugged the shirt off. “Sure you don’t want to christen the bedroom first?”

“No, later,” she repeated on a gasp as he reached beneath her T-shirt to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing over a hard nipple. “Right now I want you to strip down and do me right here on this island.” Her heart pounded at the thought of feeling him inside her again after so long. Just looking at him made her want to jump him, but knowing he’d waited so long for her and had planned all this as a surprise…

All of her dreams were coming true, and all because she had him. Now he stood there before her in nothing but his Stetson and a pair of jeans. She licked her lips in anticipation. Damn, she’d never get tired of that view.

Wade reached up to push the Stetson off but she stopped him and shook her head. “Nuh-uh, cowboy. The hat stays on,” she ordered, and dragged him back down for a scorching hot kiss.

 

 

—The End—

About the Author

Kaylea Cross

 

 

NY Times
and
USA Today
Bestselling author Kaylea Cross writes edge-of-your-seat military romantic suspense. Her work has won many awards and has been nominated for both the Daphne du Maurier and the National Readers’ Choice Awards. A Registered Massage Therapist by trade, Kaylea is also an avid gardener, artist, Civil War buff, Special Ops aficionado, belly dance enthusiast and former nationally-carded softball pitcher. She lives in Vancouver, BC with her husband and family.

You can visit Kaylea at
www.kayleacross.com
. If you would like to be notified of future releases, please join
her newsletter
. Direct link:
http://kayleacross.com/v2/contact/

 

 

Additional Books by Kaylea Cross

 

DEADLY DESCENT
(Bagram Special Ops #1)

 

TACTICAL STRIKE
(Bagram Special Ops #2)

 

LETHAL PURSUIT
(Bagram Special Ops #3)

 

 

 

 

CRUISIN’ FOR A SEAL

 

 

by Sharon Hamilton

Cruisin’ for a Seal: Chapter One

 

 

N
avy SEAL Mark
Beale searched the buildings and shops along a quaint Italian street barely wide enough for one very small car. Hitching up his jacket against the cold wind only accentuated the chill in his bones. He knew what it was. Grief.

He would not find her face anywhere in the restaurant and shop windows, or hear her voice up above in the shuttered apartments.

The rest of his band of brothers were having drinks by the inlet, admiring sailboats and catching conversation with some of the colorful seafaring population of Savona. The team guys had brought their wives and girlfriends because they would be deploying within a month, and not coming back was always a possibility. It gave the ladies some quality one-on-one time with their mates, memories to last a lifetime if it came to that.

He liked the melodic ebb and flow of the Italian language, grateful he couldn’t understand a word. It somehow reassured him that life went on, that his life would go on, even though they’d laid Sophie to rest four months ago.

He hadn’t known her well. When his former roommate and fellow SEAL, Nick Dunn, introduced them, Nick’s sister Sophie was in the last stages of cancer, but he instantly recognized that she would have been perfect for him. And he could have rocked her world, given half a chance.

After she died, Mark went into a self-imposed exile. Just seemed hard to be in the company of men and their life partners. Life partners who were getting married. Having babies. Not that he wanted the whole world to grieve with him, but the constant interruption of happier things only added to his dark mood.

He’d also tried to hook up with girls he’d previously enjoyed, but even that hot sweaty sex had lost its appeal. He just wasn’t into it, and the girl usually felt terrible afterwards, just like he did.

He was a shell of his former self.

His LPO, Kyle Lansdowne, was concerned about him. He kept an eye out for all his men on SEAL Team 3. Kyle had a keen eye for when something wasn’t right. If a guy didn’t go out drinking, spend time with the ladies, or had an especially sensitive streak with the smacktalk among Team members, it was cause for concern.

In this case, Kyle had reason to be concerned. Mark had seriously considered just checking out completely.

He decided to sit, have a cappuccino, and watch the passersby. A pretty brunette with long, long, well-toned legs and wearing high-heeled camo boots, got his attention. An older woman who could have been her mother joined her. The two took a table next to him and the Italian flowed all over his body like a gentle rain.

The coffee was delivered to him and he nodded his thanks without speaking, not wanting the ladies to identify him as American. Not that it would make any difference, of course, because he had no intention of talking to them.

The heart-shaped design in the foam on top of his cappuccino rammed a fishhook to his chest. He stared down at it for a moment with a pang, but welcomed the creamy taste, and the shot of caffeine gave him the jolt he needed.

His eyes drifted from the cluster of pigeons dodging scooters and pedestrians to the table next door. The younger woman slipped off her black raincoat, revealing an ample chest delicately restrained by a stretchy black dress that came down low in a dangerous V. She held her water glass in long, elegant fingers with short, red nails. A colorful charm bracelet danced on her small wrist.

Mark followed as she lifted a glass until it mated with her full, red lips. Her large brown eyes darted in his direction, and then she looked back at the woman who shared her table. But then she smiled. He knew that smile was intended for him, just as he understood his dick was interested for the first time in three months.

The Italian language was luxurious. No other way to describe it. An Italian love ballad was playing somewhere down the arched tunnel between the piazza and the homes of the locals above. He didn’t know the words, but loved the feeling it imparted to him. He understood some of the words, like amore. He wouldn’t have tolerated this sappy show or sensual drifting before tonight, but he was caught in a fantasy that the lady was rubbing the glass against her bottom lip for him, as she sucked the ice cube she held in her left hand, popping it inside and out of her lips, wrapping it in her pink tongue.

She smiled at her companion, and he wanted to lick the dimple that dared to peek at him from her left cheek. He knew she’d taste good. He knew just a drop of her juices on his tongue would send him places he’d missed. His little head had the pompoms and the little cheering section going. Was already nekked with the young lady with the big tits and the beautiful, full, red lips. His fingers had already found how her silky inner thighs quivered under his touch.

What the hell are you doing?

She was a pleasant fantasy, and if he was completely honest and thought she might understand him, he’d thank her for the brief respite, since it was becoming a burden to remember Sophie in past tense. Sophie dead and buried in the ground.

This beautiful, seemingly full-of-life woman with the flashing eyes and healthy smile had, for the first time in months, distracted him from the heaviness in his chest.

He wanted to meet her, to actually do some of the things playing in living color inside his head. And, yeah, he was a dog. He was a dog about to embark on a cruise from Italy to Brazil with some of his best buds. He’d never come back here to Savona, and would never see her again. Perhaps that’s what piqued his interest in her after all. In less than twenty-four hours he’d be gone, leaving her behind.

The older woman left amidst a flurry of kissing the way the Italians do it. He recognized the “Ciao, Mama,” as confirmation this was indeed her mother. She took her place back at the little table and finished her cappuccino.

He got up and left some coins on the table, then made the mistake of looking over at her. He gave her a crooked little smile. She’d have to be completely insane not to pick up on the fact that he found her attractive. She arched one eyebrow as he admired her rack. Okay, to be perfectly honest, he was actually imagining what they’d look like released to his hands.

He was normally the gentleman with these types of hot women, when he didn’t know anything about them. It wasn’t proper to admire another man’s lady, and this one was too fine not to be attached. So he closed his eyes by way of an apology and then looked back at her with a small shrug, as if to say Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.

She did the wrong thing. She rose slowly, tilted her head and blew him a kiss with those red lips. The flirtation was delicious. She slung a yellow Gucci bag over her shoulder, stepped up next to him, slipped her soft arm around his and snuggled against his ribs.

She said something in Italian. Mark was stunned. His legs felt like lead, unable to move as she unexpectedly squeezed her body next to his. He could feel her full breasts pressing his willpower to the breaking point. His arm suddenly became the second most sensitive of his body parts.

She was holding him close, but leading him, as if he was reluctant. “Si, si, si…” and then something he couldn’t understand. Well, hell, he was kinda reluctant, because he really didn’t know where she was taking him, but for some reason he followed along anyway.

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