HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (5 page)

C
hristina had thought
she knew what she was getting when she’d invited Remy into her bedroom. An orgasm or two, a romp in the sheets with a super sexy SEAL—she still didn’t understand how SEALs mixed with what her brother did since he was in the Army, but clearly they did—and the satisfaction of knowing she was still desirable.

What she hadn’t expected was how it was going to
feel
when he touched his tongue to her neglected flesh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had oral sex, but she remembered that it wasn’t something Ben seemed to enjoy.

Well, no shit, of course he hadn’t enjoyed it. It was a wonder he’d ever managed it at all.

But this, oh God,
this
was nothing like she’d ever had before. Remy Marchand spread her with his fingers and then licked her clitoris with the kind of skill that suggested he’d done a lot of this.

No, don’t think about that!

And really, it was impossible to think about anything except the way his tongue felt gliding over her. He nibbled and sucked and licked while she panted and grabbed handfuls of the covers in her fists. Every stroke of his tongue was torture—and revelation.

Oh, she hadn’t had nearly enough experience for this. She’d had lovers in college—well, okay, two. And then she’d had a couple of semiserious boyfriends when she’d moved to DC and gone to work at Girard Oil’s branch office here. And then there was Ben, which made a grand total of five.

Five lovers, and not one of them had
ever
made her feel quite the way she felt right now.

“Remy,” she gasped as her body tightened.

“Hang on, honey,” he murmured before spreading her open and curling his tongue around her clit again and again.

Christina saw stars that time. A wave of pleasure rippled outward from her sex, spread through her arms and legs, sizzled into her toes and fingers. She sucked in air, tangled her fingers into his hair, and held him against her as she rode his face to get precisely what she wanted.

He gave it to her. Every toe-curling, body-shattering moment until she was spent. Until she collapsed on the pillows and proceeded to feel embarrassed that she’d been so, well, forward.

Ladies weren’t forward. She could remember Granny saying that to her. Often.

But oh, how forward she’d been with Remy Marchand. Not just tonight but, well, all the time. So uncharacteristic of her—and yet it felt natural with him.

The sexy man in question crawled up her body, stopping to spend a little time on her nipples before arriving at eye level. He was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

And her heart gave a strange lurch in her chest that surprised her.

“Feel better?”

She closed her eyes and stretched. “I’m so relaxed I could go to sleep right now.”

His fingers slid into her body, his thumb skating over her sensitive clit, and she nearly came unglued.

“Not that relaxed, I’m guessing.”

His eyes sparkled in the lamplight and she blinked. Lamplight? She turned her head, surprised the lamp was still on. Ben always wanted the lights out. And maybe she had too, come to think of it. But she’d been so into Remy that she hadn’t even considered the light.

“Okay, maybe not,” she conceded. “What’s next, Cage?”

It was his turn to blink. “You know my code name.”

Yes, she did. Because she’d listened to every snippet of conversation about Remy Marchand since meeting him a little over a week ago. “It’s not a secret. You guys call each other things that aren’t your names. Besides, yours is easy. Cage for Cajun, am I right?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’d be correct.”

“They call Matt Richie Rich. Which I’m sure you know. But it’s not very original, is it?”

His gaze slipped down her body and her skin tingled. “Christina, baby, you’re babbling. Do you honestly care what your brother’s team calls him or doesn’t call him at this very moment?”

He had her there. She rolled her head from side to side. “Not really.”

“We can discuss names later… But first, either you tell me where to find those condoms, or I’m going back for seconds.”

Her breath hitched. “I don’t think either of those options is bad for me.”

“Or me. You taste sweet… and I love the way you moan when you’re coming, you know that? Such a proper lady.”

Damn, but he made her feel good inside. So warm and happy. Crazy. And probably just a temporary sensation due to the very out-of-character way she’d jumped into bed with a man she barely knew.

“My granny would be happy you think so, God rest her soul. She worked hard to make sure I became a proper lady.”

She reached for the drawer of her nightstand table and pulled out a box. She’d felt self-conscious when she’d gone into the drugstore for these the other night, but then she’d also thought,
What the hell?
A woman needed to be prepared these days.

Remy took the box with a wicked grin. “I look forward to making the lady scream before the night is through.”

Her heart jumped at the promise in those words. “I want to scream, Remy. I really do.”

He opened the box and ripped off a packet, tearing it and removing the condom. Tossing everything aside, he rolled it on, then settled between her legs again.

His fingers feathered over her cheek. “I suppose I could do this with a bit more finesse, but the truth is I want you too much to show restraint. You okay with that?”

Christina nibbled the inside of her lip just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “What precisely does that mean, Remy?”

“It means, honey, that I’m about to lose my fucking mind. That I’m going to push inside you and fuck you harder than I probably should—unless you tell me it’s too much, in which case I’ll go easy on you. Then I’m going to explode, and I’ll probably make some noise when I do. After that, collapse is likely—but only for about five minutes while I wait for the strength to do it all again.”

Oh, the things he said made her squirm—in the very best way. Her body was still languid from her orgasm, and yet she was unsatisfied too. She
needed
more.

A little pinprick of fear pierced the bubble of her happiness, reminding her it wasn’t a good idea to get addicted to this man. She couldn’t trust herself right now, couldn’t trust her heart or her head. Men were unhealthy for her long-term peace of mind at the moment.

Remy dropped his mouth to her neck, sucked the skin over her throat. “You okay with that, Christina? Or you need a bit more foreplay?”

She tugged on his hair until he lifted his head and looked at her. “If you give me any more foreplay, I may say something very unladylike.”

He laughed. “Oh honey, I definitely want to hear you say something unladylike. Lots of things, in fact. But yeah…” He pushed forward then, entering her in a long, slow glide. “I’d much rather get down to business.”

* * *

B
eing
inside Christina was every bit the heaven he’d hoped it would be. Her eyes dilated, her jaw went slack, and the grip she had on him tightened as she arched her body up to meet him.

Remy had to be still for a long moment just to regain his equilibrium. He’d fucked a lot of women in his life, been semiserious with one once, but he’d never felt quite like
this
before. As if the next breath he took had to happen with her beneath him. As if her not being there would be the end of him somehow.

It was crazy and unreal—and he didn’t fucking care how nuts it was. He only wanted to feel everything he was feeling right now for as long as he could.

He started to move deep inside her, drawing his cock out of her body and then pushing forward again. No matter that he’d said he was going to lose control when he got inside her, no way would he hurt her. No way.

Her legs wrapped high around his waist, her slim ankles resting on his back, and he reached down to cup her ass in one hand, lifting her even more.

“Oh,” she gasped, her eyes closing, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he whispered, licking that lip, sucking it between his teeth as he increased the pace.

“Yes,” she moaned into his mouth. “
Yes.
”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and she obeyed, her tongue slipping into his mouth and tangling with his.

Her lips were so sweet, her tits so perfect, her pussy a world of pleasure he was getting lost in. The control he’d held so tightly slipped until he was pounding into her faster and harder, until they had to break free of the kiss to gulp in air, until the world narrowed into a dark point in the distance he had to reach.

His release slammed into him like a hard crash against a concrete wall, taking his breath, his strength, his ability to form words. He felt Christina coming around him, her body gripping his tight, forcing more pleasure into the moment than he’d thought possible.

He poured his body into hers until there was nothing left, and then he rolled to the side, relishing the cool air where it hit his sweat-dampened skin. His throat was scratchy, and he knew it was because he’d shouted a stream of dirty words as he came.

He didn’t know what to say, hadn’t quite processed the gravity of everything he was feeling. This was more than random, emotionless fucking. But how much more? What else could it be when they barely knew each other?

He didn’t know, but he knew it was. He reached for Christina’s hand, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed. She squeezed back, but her heart didn’t seem to be in it. He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed at her. Her eyes were closed tight, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown, and that made his heart skip.

Dammit, he should have had more control.

“Baby, was I too rough? You okay?”

She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. And then she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes the way it had earlier.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She lowered her gaze. “Physically, I’m fine. I’m not sure about the rest.”

He tipped her chin up with a fist, searching her eyes. They shimmered and his chest tightened.

“Christina. Baby. It’s a lot to process, yeah?” He skimmed a thumb over her soft bottom lip. God, he wanted to nibble that lip. And then he wanted to get lost inside her sweet body again. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay? You need me to leave, I’ll leave. Need me to stay and hold you, I’ll do that too. Just tell me what you want.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Why do you have to be so wonderful, Remy Marchand?”

He grinned, hoping to ease her pain. “It’s the way God made me, honey. It’s part of the DNA.”

She laughed and the vise around his chest eased just a little bit. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish I’d met you a long time ago.” Her eyes were troubled. “I’m a little gun-shy about men now… not that we’re having a relationship or anything. I get that. But how do I know what I can handle? What’s safe?”

“Baby, if everyone knew that, nobody’d ever get their heart broken, would they?” He pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist, and he thanked God for that. “Let’s just take this a day at a time, okay? Tonight it’s you and me. Tomorrow is a new day. We’ll see what happens then.”

She burrowed her head against his chest. “Okay.”

Remy ran his fingers up and down her spine. He didn’t quite know how he was going to do it considering how skittish she was—understandably, of course—but he
would
convince her that she wanted to be his.

One shattering orgasm at a time was as good a place as any to start.

B
aq
, Qu’rim

Present Day

N
ightfall brought two things
, one of them beautiful and haunting, the other frightening. Christina awoke from her nap to the sounds of the Muslim call to prayer ringing from the mosques of Baq. She lay in bed and listened to the melodic words she didn’t understand, knowing that the citizens of Baq would be preparing to pray.

The second thing that had awakened her was the sound of gunfire and explosions. Christina sat up, her heart pounding as one explosion sounded particularly loud just then. The war was coming closer to the city.

She climbed from bed and pulled on her clothing—a light dress and sandals because of the heat. There was also an abaya and a hijab for her hair, but since she wasn’t seeing Sheikh Fahd until later, she didn’t put it on yet.

She grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. CNN International blared to life with coverage of the war in Qu’rim. Baq was supposed to be safe, but the fighting had taken a turn in the past few days and the rebels were close to the city now. The king’s troops were struggling to maintain their hold on the city, but the US State Department had ordered noncombatant civilians out of the country.

She knew that, and she had a flight out in the morning. Commercial carriers were still flying into Baq, but only during the daylight hours. Before she left, she needed to get Sheikh Fahd’s agreement on her proposal, which was why she had a dinner meeting with him in the hotel restaurant tonight.

She’d turned her cell phone off earlier because Matt wouldn’t stop calling her, but now she turned it back on and waited for the inevitable blowup. Yep, twenty missed calls and a boatload of texts.

M
att
: Chrissy, answer the goddamn phone.

Matt: Get the fuck out of Baq. NOW.

Evie: Sweetie, Matt’s driving me insane. Please call or text him. I know you’re fine because, well, I just do. But put the man out of his misery.

Matt: Screw Girard Oil. You’re more important than a fucking business deal.

T
hat last one
made her smile. This deal was important to Girard Oil, as they all were, especially in these days of low oil prices. Sheikh Fahd needed a place to sell his oil, and Christina wanted to be the one he sold it to. But if she couldn’t get the deal inked tonight, she was going home empty-handed.

Then she’d start working on the Russians while still trying to tempt Fahd long-distance. She typed in a quick text to that effect—well, not the part about Fahd and the Russians—and then went into the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup. Her phone dinged.

M
att
: Don’t ignore me like that again, C. I’m bigger than you, and I have no problem spanking your ass.

Christina: You just try it, Mattie. I have a knee and I know where to use it for maximum effect.

Matt: Just come home and we’ll pretend this never happened. Where’s your bodyguard, btw? The old man said he sent one with you.

Christina: He’s been sick since we arrived. Stomach bug. Poor guy.

Matt: I don’t fucking care if he’s dying. He shouldn’t leave your side for a second.

Christina sighed. Then she typed out,
They aren’t all like you, big brother. He’s a rent-a-cop, not an Army commando.

B
ecause while she
didn’t know precisely what her brother did, she knew it was pretty intense. Just like Remy.

And didn’t that name in her head just call up all sorts of memories and regrets? She’d only had one night with her smoking-hot SEAL lover, but it had been a pretty spectacular one.

You could have had more, girlie. He wanted more.

So had she, but she’d panicked. And then she’d run. She hadn’t stopped running either. But he’d stopped calling, which was what she’d wanted.

Or had she? Because damn, these past couple of months with no communication from Remy sure had felt lonely. And futile in a way. The day she got the formal divorce decree in the mail, she’d nearly picked up the phone and called him just to have someone to talk to.

Instead, she’d packed a bag and gotten onto a plane to Brazil where she’d met with some oil executives and pitched them a partnership with Girard Oil.

Christina sighed. This was her life now. Girard Oil. Travel and business. It filled the hours.

M
att
: If you’d told me you were going to Qu’rim, you could have had one of Jack Hunter’s guys.

J
ack was
one of Matt’s former teammates. He’d married pretty much the biggest pop star in the world, and then he’d gotten out of the military and started his own personal security business. She didn’t doubt Jack’s people would be more than competent.

C
hristina
: If I’d told you I was going, you’d have tossed me into your basement and thrown away the key.

Matt: Probably. LU. Be safe. Get home.

Christina: That’s the intention.

W
hen her phone
didn’t blow up with more texts, she breathed a sigh of relief. The television continued to blare dire news, however—and when another explosion rocked the city, Christina gasped as the hotel building shook. Her heart hammered as she ran over to the window and peered out. The sky was orange in the distance. Below the window, traffic snarled. Trucks piled high with people and their belongings sat in tangles while the drivers honked and yelled.

Christina lifted her phone and dialed. A man answered just when she was ready to give up.

“Yeah?”

“You doing better?” she asked Paul, the big dude who’d accompanied her from Texas when she’d stopped at Girard Oil HQ in Houston before leaving for this trip. She could hear the television in the background, and then it went silent.

“Somewhat. We need to get out of here, ma’am. The city is under blockade from the rebels, and someone just said the airport’s been cut off.”

Shit.

“All right, then what’s the plan?”

He was silent for so long that she rolled her eyes. Honest to God, Matt or Remy would have had ten backup plans already. Though, on the other hand, she needed to be fair to the guy. He was sick—but at least he had current information that she did not.

“We need to get a car. Get on the road. Drive to the next town where we can get a flight.”

Christina cursed silently. She
should
have called Matt before she’d come on this trip. She didn’t know what Jack Hunter’s guy could have done differently, but she had no doubt he wouldn’t have waited for her to ask what the plan was.

“The next town is a two-hour drive in decent conditions. In these conditions, I imagine it will take days,” she said.

“I don’t think we have much choice, ma’am.”

So polite, but he sounded a tad irritated with her right now.

A sudden thought occurred to her, and she almost wilted with relief. “Sheikh Fahd must have private transportation. I’ll ask him for a ride to Acamar or Dubai, or wherever he’s going.”

Christina wrapped up the call—Paul did not offer to accompany her to Sheikh Fahd’s penthouse suite, which she knew Matt would not approve of—and slipped the hijab over her hair. Fahd was modern enough that covering her hair instead of her entire body would satisfy him.

She tucked her phone into her purse and swung that over her shoulder, intending to head straight for Fahd’s suite. At the last second, she grabbed her briefcase. Maybe Fahd would be ready to sign the papers too. She could get him at a weak moment—like between explosions.

The thought amused her, which was a good thing right now. She knew Fahd was too shrewd to allow anything to derail him.

Christina jerked open the door and bit back a scream at the sight of a very large man with his fist raised to knock. He was at once familiar and foreign, and her heart pumped so fast she felt light-headed. He lowered his fist to his side.

“R-Remy?”

She hadn’t seen him in six months, not since that hot night in her bedroom, but her heart and body knew Remy Marchand even if she would rather they didn’t.

He didn’t look anything like he had the last time she’d seen him. He’d been wearing his henley and jeans, leaving her house after a hot night of sex and promising to call her later—which he had done, she knew, because she had the unanswered messages to prove it.

Now he was menacing. Tall and broad as always, but this time he was dressed all in desert camouflage, a mean-looking rifle slung over his chest, and sporting a helmet with what looked like a camera on the top. There was a mic curving around his cheek, and he wore a vest that appeared to contain ammo. There was also a gun in a holster strapped around his thigh and what seemed to be kneepads on his knees.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

His mouth—that gorgeous, sensual mouth that had taken her to such heights—curved down in a hard frown. “This is a fucking war zone, Christina. I’m rescuing your ass.”

She couldn’t help the hot flush of anger that rolled over her then. “I don’t need rescuing, thanks.”

He pushed into the room and shoved the door closed.

“Objective acquired,” he said into the mic. “Awaiting instructions. … Copy.”

When he looked up at her again, his expression was dark. “Afraid you do, sweetheart. The airport’s closed for business. The rebels have cut off the route. Soon they’ll have the airport in their possession—and that’s bad for us.”

Her heart was thrumming from so many things, but the one thing that seemed paramount was just how shocking—and confusing—it was to see him again. And not just see him, but see him as the badass warrior he really was. He’d been sweet and tender with her. Handsome, yes, but not dangerous.

This man was not sweet. He was a lethal combination of training and testosterone. More dangerous than anything she’d ever encountered.

She lifted her chin. “I’m on my way to see Sheikh Fahd. He has a helicopter. He’ll take me with him when he goes—”

“Wrong.”

He made her trip over her tongue for a second before she found it again. “He will. I’m going to see him now.”

She started for the door, but Remy stepped in front of her. His hand rested on the weapon slung across his chest, and he looked absolutely menacing as he stared her down.

“You can’t, Christina. He’s gone. Left about three hours ago, like a sensible sheikh. You’re on your own.”

His gaze was challenging. Superior. It made her want to punch him. And kiss him, God help her. “I have Paul.”

Remy’s gaze narrowed. “Who the fuck is Paul?”

His voice was like a whip between them, cracking hard against her senses. He was not a man to be toyed with, that was for sure.

“My bodyguard. He’s across the hall.”

“Across the fucking hall? Jesus.” He picked up the radio clipped to his vest and pressed a button. “Do we have a Paul on our list? … Well, we do now. Bodyguard. … Yeah, guess somebody overlooked him.” He glanced at her. “Paul who?”

“I…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“He’s across the hall from Christina Girard. … Yeah, copy.” He let go of the radio and gave her a hard look. “Call him and tell him to get over here. Now. You’ll have to leave your suitcases.”

“What? Why?”

“This ain’t a fucking vacation, baby. It’s an extraction. Take what you can carry. If you can carry a suitcase for miles through the desert, then be my guest. But nobody’s carrying it for you. Not even Paul, so don’t think of asking.”

Christina drew herself up, hurt, furious, and confused. Seeing him was doing a number on her senses. Knowing he was pissed at her only made it worse. “What makes you think I’d expect him to do that? Did I ever give you the impression I was spoiled?”

He snorted. “The impression you gave me turned out to be a lie, so what do I know?”

His words pierced her. Maybe she could have handled the situation between them better, but she hadn’t and there was no sense stewing in regrets. “Remy, I—”

“Save it,” he bit out. “Call the bodyguard. The time for talking is over between us.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she did as he said. She dialed Paul, told him to come to her room, and slipped the phone into her purse again. God, she’d fucked up so badly. She’d only been trying to protect herself when she’d fled town after that night, but clearly she’d done a rotten job of it because she wasn’t feeling safe at all right now.

She felt as bruised and battered inside as she ever had. Maybe more so considering she hadn’t given Remy the benefit of the doubt before deciding he’d betray her the way Ben had.

But after being burned so badly once before, how could she trust another man not to do the same thing? Ben cheated. Her father had been a serial womanizer until he married Misty Lee. Matt was devoted to Evie, but look how many years it had taken him to get his head screwed on right.

She just didn’t have room for that kind of drama in her life anymore. Besides, if she got a hankering for babies, she had her new nephews to play with. Cuter twins had never been seen on this earth, she was certain.

“Do you have any pants? Best to put those on instead of a dress.” Remy’s gaze settled on the abaya draped over a chair. “Wear the traditional clothing over everything once you’ve changed.”

She wanted to argue with him, but what was the point? He was right, he was in charge here, and arguing was stupid. Did you argue with the fireman who came to pull you from a burning building?

No. You also didn’t argue with the badass Navy SEAL who was trying to pull you from a war zone.

She went to her carry-on suitcase and took out jeans and a white button-down shirt. She didn’t really have all that much with her, nothing of importance other than her briefcase and wallet. She’d learned to travel light when on these trips, so losing her clothing wouldn’t be too terrible even if it was wasteful.

She slipped into the bathroom to change. When she was finished, her eyes glittered in the mirror as she lifted her head to stare at herself.