Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance (5 page)

His hands moved to the hem of her dress, inching it up over her thighs in increments until he’d revealed the lacy barrier of her underwear, lying flush against the divine curve of her behind.

A low growl of desire escaped him – and in that moment, he forgot everything except the raging desire he had for a woman he was supposed to despise. She arched against him, her fingers sliding through his hair as she moaned against his mouth. It was as if no other man had ever touched her. She was like putty in his hands…and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman felt so goddamn good against him.

As his fingers curled into her bare behind, she whimpered, her breath falling hotly against his mouth.

And then, a low buzzing punctuated the lust that clouded both of their minds.

Owen paused for a moment, frowning against the soft mouth he was currently absorbed in. The buzzing came again, low and pronounced. It was his phone. He’d tucked the device in the pocket of his jeans and forgotten about it. A quick glance at the time revealed that he had gone way over his allotted appointment. He’d be willing to bet money that Sean was calling him to ask how his appointment went.

Owen lifted his mouth from Genevieve’s for a brief moment to reach for his phone. “Gimme a minute.” He murmured huskily, before lowering his eyes to take in the caller ID. He’d been right – it was his CO.

Only at this particular moment he didn’t feel very inclined to want to answer the phone. Owen exhaled a heated breath as his raging erection pulsed. He tossed his phone on the sofa beside him before looking up at the woman in his lap once more, desire coursing through his veins. “Now…where were we?”

Chapter Three: Chemistry

She must have absolutely lost her mind.

From the moment Genevieve had first laid eyes on Lieutenant Owen Sinclair, she’d known he’d be trouble. It wasn’t because she worried about the man himself. She’d dealt with her fair share of difficult patients. No…it was the fact that the man towered over her, making her feel small even at her lofty five-ten, and that he appeared to be one long, strong column of solid muscle. Every woman in the waiting room had been fixated upon him – almost certainly since he’d entered. Emily, the receptionist, had fallen all over herself, and every other patient present in the waiting room had drooled over the man when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And why not? In his worn-in leather jacket, dark wash jeans and a dark t-shirt pulled taut over the muscles of his broad chest, he was absolutely mouthwatering – just as she’d feared. She’d known the man would be quite the soldier from his file – but seeing him in the flesh was another matter entirely. He’d made her feel…small. Feminine. When the man had first come through the entryway to the offices to shake her hand, it had been one of the most intimidating events of her adult life.

When was the last time she had even contemplated the feelings he’d roused in her? Months…years? As far as Genny was concerned, she could push aside any and all evidence of her libido until she had time for it….but, to be honest, she almost never had time for such dalliance. Despite her policy on such things, however, her mind seemed to have no problem with painting decadent pictures of the lieutenant without a stitch of clothing on at the forefront of her mind when they were supposed to be having a session.

She, the queen of professionalism, was having issues reigning in her rampant sex drive with a particularly difficult patient. Attraction aside, the man fairly radiated the distaste for doctors that he’d professed was part of his personality the moment he’d gotten her alone. He was a rough character, with a deep, growling baritone that sent shivers down her spine and made her thighs clench.

Damned convenient when she was supposed to be psychiatrically assessing him.

In all her years of practice, Genevieve had never been more tested than when Lieutenant Sinclair had told her that she was attractive. That was the last thing she needed. It was enough trying to reign in her own hormones when the man smelled of heaven and dark spice; and atop that, she could tell that any progress she made with him was going to be a fight. She’d worked with his type before. Wary of doctors, with no desire to speak for fear that they would somehow inadvertently reveal their own lunacy.

There was nothing about the lieutenant that might suggest that he had lost his mind. There were, however, dark circles under his eyes that spoke of lack of sleep, and a rigidity to the way he carried himself that suggested that he never let his guard down. Both were classic symptoms of PTSD – but she didn’t mention any of this to her patient. Genevieve didn’t dare. She knew how much of a trial it must be for him to simply walk into the office. Instead, she learned about him by the important aspects of his life – mainly, his dog, Eddie.

The lieutenant was a nurturing soul. That much was evident in the fact that he’d adopted a puppy when he himself had been struggling to return to the world he’d once known. He hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own misery that he had overlooked what he’d perceived to be a creature in need. Men like Sinclair always felt the need to help those in need – it was why he’d come as far as he had. Why he’d been a Navy SEAL, why he’d been charged with the safety of each and every man who had followed him on covert missions.

But while Sinclair seemed perfectly content to deal with the woes of his dog – and to attach himself to the animal selflessly, he was also using the animal as a censor. As long as he concentrated on Eddie, he didn’t have to concentrate on the issues that plagued him. This was, of course, one of the main reasons why Genevieve wanted to meet the dog. It was clear from the way that Sinclair spoke of the canine that he adored him, but to see the way he acted around Eddie would be another matter entirely.

Genny would have liked to say that it was that particular issue that had been principal in her mind as she’d brought the session to a close. In truth, for the entire duration of the time that she’d been speaking with Lieutenant Sinclair, she’d tried not to think about the corded strength of his arms – the broadness of his shoulders and the fullness of a mouth turned down in a constant frown.

It was quite the ordeal – working on analyzing a closeted vet as she simultaneously questioned herself. Stella would probably flip a lid if she discovered Genevieve had taken a patient she was so obviously attracted to – but it was a bit late for such things at this juncture. She’d already signed all of the waivers and begun to hear the man’s story. She was already involved.

And the young psychiatrist had thought she was doing a pretty stand-up job of keeping her hands to herself where her new patient was concerned – at least, until he’d kissed her.

How the hell had she allowed such a thing to happen? She’d watched him draw closer to her – seen his hands reaching out to cup her face as his head lowered ever nearer to hers. She should have pushed him away. She wasn’t some green new doctor who didn’t know the boundaries between patients and personnel, and it wasn’t as if she’d never been tested before.

But, somehow, with Owen, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d fallen into the commanding feel of his mouth against hers. She wouldn’t have been able to draw the strength to refuse him if she’d tried. From the moment she’d locked eyes with the man in the waiting room, the heat between them had been nigh unbearable. Every time his green eyes locked with hers, heat flared through her body to pool at the crux of her legs and she had to keep from trembling at the tide of lust that consumed her.

At least, until he kissed her.

Then, all bets were off.

The man didn’t coax her – didn’t ease her into the gesture. No, his mouth was firm against hers – he demanded her body’s compliance with every thrust of his tongue past her lips. This was a man used to getting what he wanted – and never in her life had Genny experienced a man who took – who dominated her shuddering form the way this man did.

When he pulled her into his lap, not a single protest rose to her mind. She was letting her patient put his hands all over her when anyone could come knocking on the door and she hardly cared. All she knew was that she needed more.

Faster…Hotter…

When she should have shoved out of his arms – when his fingers peeled her skirt upwards to expose her underwear before palming her behind possessively – she merely moaned, clinging to him. She could do nothing else. It was as if the man had turned her into his willing slave; and at that juncture, Genevieve didn’t think that she’d be so opposed to him tying her up and having his way with her – but then, the moment had been shattered.

The lieutenant’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound jerking her back to reality, and the full weight of what Genevieve had done began to overtake her.

Shit
.

She had never been one to curse, but she could hardly come up with a better term for the situation she found herself in. She was in the Lieutenant’s lap, pressed against the hard column of his chest – with something much harder and more insistent between them.

Dear God, she must have lost her mind.

She had never done anything like this with a patient – she was practically the poster child for maintaining the boundaries of space between patients and doctors. As emotionally involved as she sometimes became…she never got…
physically
involved. Not like this.

In the moment it took her to catch her breath – Owen checked his phone, frowning, before tossing it aside onto the sofa next to them. “Now…where were we?” When his heated green gaze turned back to her, it took every fiber of Genny’s being not to simply melt against him and let him resume his slow, thorough seduction.

Instead, she tried to regain as much dignity as she possibly could, sliding from the man’s lap as she lowered the skirt of her dress back to its proper place. Her cheeks flaming, she smoothed the mussed curls that Owen had tugged from their bun before dropping back into the chair opposite him. Heated blood rushed through her veins, and her body cried for succor.

But this….this wasn’t the way to answer it.

At her patient’s inquiring glance, Genevieve cleared her throat. She had no idea how she was going to recover from this, but she was damn well going to try. “I’m…I’m sorry, Owen. Please forgive me.”

He blinked, staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Forgive you?” His voice was still hoarse with want, his large body tense against the sofa. “What the hell for?”

“I shouldn’t have let you do that…I shouldn’t have allowed things to go so far.” She took a steadying breath, trying not to remember the intimate feel of his mouth against hers – how hard his body had been between her legs. “This…this was a mistake.”

With a frustrated sigh, the man before her ran a hand through his dark hair, a frown cutting through his features. “Christ, Doc. It wasn’t your fault. Why the hell would you-”

“I’m still at fault.” She cut him off lowly – pointedly. “I’m a doctor, and you’re supposed to be my patient.”

“Let’s be real,
Genevieve
.” When Owen spoke again, his words were sarcastic – cutting. “If I was your patient, that shit wouldn’t have happened. I know how this goes. I come here a few times, you work your way into my past and my fears…and you try to fix me. I can tell you now that it’s not going to work. Especially not when I want you so goddamn bad I’m willing to take you right in the middle of your office.”

His words sent a thrill of arousal down her spine, making her ache at her very core. Even as he ignited the flames of her desire, however, the man stood, his expression severe. “This was a mistake, and I’m sorry to have wasted both of our time.”

Genevieve watched, utterly nonplussed, as the immense man yanked the door open to stalk back down the hallway and out of sight.

In the moments after he’d gone, she was assailed by all manner of emotions. Guilt, disappointment, relief, longing – but most of all, she felt as if she’d failed. Dr. Bradley had referred this one case to her because he had thought she’d be able to help the man where no one else had. Instead, she’d merely ended up on his lap, wanting him inside her more badly than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life.

Christ…what the hell was wrong with her?

“Dear God, Genny. You can’t be serious.”

Wincing, Genevieve gazed up at Stella as she sipped from her strawberry daiquiri. When she’d mentioned to her friend that she had something urgent that she needed to speak with her about, of course, Stella hasn’t hesitated. She’d been right there when Genny wanted to vent about Dr. Kant in the wake of Spencer McAvoy’s death, and now, here she was again.

Only this time, the news Genevieve had to share was of a decidedly different nature.

“He
kissed
you.”

Genevieve’s eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the image of Lieutenant Owen Sinclair yanking her into his lap to mold his mouth to hers in the most devastating way. Though she’d been trying all afternoon to convince herself that what she had done was wrong – that she could lose her job, let alone her peace of mind, she couldn’t bring herself to forget the way he’d held her.

Like he
owned
her.

“I
let
him kiss me, Stella.” The two women were in a bar they often frequented after work, and with the volume of the music and other patrons around them, they were free to speak in relative privacy. “I could have stopped him, but I didn’t.”