To Dare a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (5 page)

Chapter Seven

W
here are your hands?

Natalie pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes as she sank to the ground. Where were her hands? She’d slipped one into her sweatpants and under the band of her plain black underwear.

Lying in bed and listening to his words, her underwear hadn’t felt like one of the six basic pairs she’d bought on sale at the grocery store. Rubbing up against her as she’d pressed her legs together and fought her body’s response to Jack’s naughty words, her underwear had felt like a silky high-end creation designed for sex.

Silk.

Her imagination recreated the scene Jack had described—the back room of her bar, the steel table, her arms restrained by silk…

Her finger slipped inside, filling her as her thumb pressed against her begging clit. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted so much more. She wanted the mysterious SEAL from the story. Except it wasn’t a faceless stranger binding her to the table. It was Jack, holding her down and claiming control.

No!

She swallowed a groan as she withdrew her hand from her wet, needy body. The thought of being tied up—that shouldn’t leave her headed for an orgasm. She didn’t want that—to give up control. Not to anyone.

“Natalie?” Jack called through the door. “I’m here, darlin’. If you need—”

“Where are
your
hands?” she demanded.

She heard a chuckle followed by movement on the other side of the door. The wooden surface at her back pushed against her. No, she wasn’t letting him in—

“I’m right here,” he said, and she realized he wasn’t coming inside. He was leaning against the door. His position probably mirrored hers, his back to the door, looking out into the dark room. “With my hand around my dick, thinking about the sexy bartender from the story, her legs spread wide on the table.”

Oh God, yes.

She could picture his hard, thick length, his hand gliding up over the tip, drawing back down. He would know how fast to move his hand as the story played out in his imagination.

“Take off your pants,” he ordered. “Do it, Natalie.”

She heard the hard edge to his voice. But she didn’t obey commands. She set the rules. No one told her what to do.

“Please,” he added.

That one word was all she needed. He wasn’t taking control from her. It was still her choice. It was still up to her to decide where they were headed. And she
knew
what she wanted.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants, drawing them down and taking her plain black underwear with them. She kicked them aside and waited.

And nothing. She could hear him breathing through the door. Maybe he was too far lost in the fantasy, seeking release. And she should do the same, closing her eyes and picturing Channing Tatum or some other ripped movie star at her mercy. She didn’t need to wait for his instructions.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

The sound of his voice, those words… She mentally slammed the door on the beautiful movie star she didn’t want or need right now. She drew her knees up, planted her feet on the bathroom floor, and heal-toed them further and further apart.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, moving her hand between her splayed limbs, feeling the slick, very real reminder of how her body responded to Mr. Prince Charming. And maybe here, alone in the motel bathroom, with the locked door between them, she could give in to the need, to the fantasy. “Do you still have your shorts on?” she asked.

“No,” he growled. “I’m sitting out here bare-ass naked. And I swear, I’m going to come pretty damn soon. But I want you with me. So tell me, what do you need to get there?”

“Talk to me,” she said, running her hand over her belly and between her legs. Her finger circled her clit, teasing and taunting her closer and closer. But she didn’t want to go there alone. “What would you do if I let you in?”

“I’d watch,” he said.

The door shifted at her back. Was he trying to break in? She’d turned the lock. But he was a SEAL. The cheap motel bolt wouldn’t keep him out.

“Jack?” she whispered, slipping two fingers inside. It wasn’t enough to fill her, to take her over the edge. She swirled her thumb over her clit, moving in earnest, racing toward the end. “Tell me more.”

“I’d fall to my knees between your legs and watch your fingers move.” The door shifted again. He was lifting his hips, she realized, thrusting his cock into his own hand. And oh God, that image—

“Jack!” She’d never been closer to begging, and this man wasn’t even in the room with her. He wasn’t touching her. And dammit, he wasn’t inside her.

“I’d memorize every touch, learning what made you wet and what drove you wild,” he said. “Because next time, it will be my fingers inside you. Darlin’, I’ll tie those hardworking hands of yours behind your back, and I swear you will beg—”

“I never beg,” she shot back. But the image of her hands tied, her body at his mercy…

Five more seconds and she would be lost. Mind, body, and soul dominated by pleasure.

“Come now,” she demanded, fighting for control—of him, of the imaginary scene, of herself.

“Not without you,” he growled.

“I’m—” She flicked her clit one last time, closing her eyes, picturing that girl tied up on the bathroom floor, at his mercy, under his control. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

Her head hit the door as her hips lifted off the floor, seeking more from her hand. And then she was falling head over heels into an orgasm. And this one had a name.

“Jack,” she screamed. “Jack, Jack, Jack!”

J
ack pictured her smooth skin as he came. He imagined covering her stomach, her thighs, marking her as his. It was primitive—and so fucking hot.

“Natalie,” he groaned.

“Yes?” she said, her voice wavering over the one word.

He took several deep breaths as his pleasure receded, then finally answered her. “Next time, I’ll be on the other side of the door,” he vowed.

“I dare you to try. You’re not going to win the bet. And this—tonight—what happened, it doesn’t count.”

“No,” he said, pushing to his feet. He reached for his boxers and used them to clean himself up. “No, it doesn’t.”

Being in his bed—or hers—meant bodies touching, lips kissing, him buried inside her. He wasn’t going to claim he’d won because she’d touched herself while he told her a story.

He headed over to his rucksack and tossed his used boxers to the ground. Then he reached inside for a new pair. He didn’t plan to tell anyone about tonight. Oh, he’d let them know when he won the bet all right. But tonight—with a door between them—did not count as a victory in his book. And as a rule, he didn’t share the intimate details of every sexual encounter with his brothers, or his teammates.

And this? It felt more personal than most of his relationships. She’d listened to him, really listened, and that had pushed them both over the edge. He’d never experienced anything like it with anyone else.

Of course, he could count his past relationships on one hand. Two. He’d dated two women for longer than a week. But he’d spent most of that time deployed with his team. And in both cases, the distance proved to be too much.

“Is the light still off?” she called through the door.

“Yeah.” His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to easily move around the room.

“I need you to climb into your bed and stay there,” she ordered. “Let me know when you’re there, and I’ll come out.”

“Natalie—”

“And close your eyes,” she said. “I need you to keep your eyes shut tight.”

He opened his mouth to object…and closed it. He wasn’t the only one shaken by what they’d shared through the bathroom door.

He headed for the bed and followed her instructions as if they’d come straight from his commanding officer instead of the woman he planned to claim. And when he did claim her, he’d do so on his terms. Hearing her reaction to the scene he’d spelled out tonight, he had a feeling Natalie just might let him claim control.

Chapter Eight

“I
need you, Jack.”

The black-haired beauty repeated those words over and over as she straddled his legs and wrapped her hands around his dick. Looking him in the eyes, she lowered her mouth, bringing her lips closer and closer—

A hand smacked his arm and Jack opened his eyes quickly, taking in his surroundings. He was riding shotgun in Natalie’s car. Outside the window, desert stretched for miles beside the highway. And the 100-pound dog snored in the backseat.

“Did you hear me, sleeping beauty?” Natalie said. “I need you to smuggle Mufasa into my room when we get to the hotel. Use your super SEAL skills.”

“Unless you want your dog prepped to jump from a helo or go on a diving mission, I don’t think my training will help,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You can jump from a helicopter, but you can’t get a dog into a hotel?”

“Of course I can get him in. But—”

“Thank you,” she said. “We’re getting close.”

Damn if she wasn’t determined to challenge him at every turn. He could find a way to smuggle her dog into the hotel. But he had a feeling she could, too. It didn’t take BUD/S training to sneak past hotel security. Unless she had more important things to focus on…

“Decide on the perfect favor for the bachelorette tea party?” he asked.

Earlier, after Natalie had sent him out for coffee and food—clearly ready and willing to take advantage of every opportunity to boss him around—they’d hit the road. Two miles into the drive, while he was busy daydreaming about the take-no-prisoners gleam he’d witnessed in her eyes when she’d ordered him to handle the checkout, she’d started debating the merits of different favors for the tea. He’d tried to wrap his mind around the idea of a bachelorette party in Vegas that involved fine china and civilized conversation instead of strippers. And sometime after that, he’d slipped into a combat nap.

“Chocolate body paint,” she said, her voice ringing with triumph. “Nothing else combines my sister’s favorite things—chocolate, art, and well, now Cade.”

And oh sweet Jesus, why had he fallen asleep? Had he missed an entire speech on the pros and cons of edible sex toys? Because damn, that was one conversation he wanted to have—with her.

“If I can find it. I should have time to shop after the poolside meet and greet,” she said, changing lanes and exiting the highway toward Sin City’s infamous Strip. “Now tell me about your plan to get Mufasa into the hotel.”

“We’re going to fast rope down to the helicopter pad on the roof. I don’t want to risk landing the bird. And I think your pup can handle it. Right, boy?”

Jack glanced at the backseat. Mufasa lifted his head off his paws and let out a bark.

“Jack,” she said. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ll make it happen,” he said. “I promise. Now tell me more about the body paint.”

N
atalie scanned the Greek god inspired pools. Columns, fountains—the setting for her sister’s wedding weekend meet and greet was like the adult Disney version of antiquity. A long, narrow pool ran through the center of the space. Smaller, circular pools stood at each end and featured an enormous fountain in the middle.

She studied every statue as she walked by on her way to the cabana reserved for her sister’s party. Dionysus. Dionysus. And oh look, another statue of the drunken party god. There were almost as many replicas of the Greek god as there were bars.

She paused on the other side of the narrow, central pool from the cabana and watched the other guests talking. She spotted Lucia in a black one-piece suit. The 1950s style complemented her sister’s curves. Two women—a tall, willowy blonde and a plump brunette—chatted with her. Lucia’s coworkers from the hospital. Natalie had met them once but had already forgotten their names. She’d have to ask before the bachelorette tea party.

How did I end up here, the maid of honor in Lucia’s Vegas wedding to my best friend?

She’d been looking out for her little sister for as long as she could remember. When their parents had died, she’d shouldered her grief and Lucia’s. She’d tried to look out for her sister when Lucia announced her plan to pick up a man in Vegas for one wild night. Natalie had sent Cade. And now she was here, ready and willing to celebrate the beginning of her sister’s happily ever after.

But the closest I will ever get to a fairy tale ending is a dirty-talking SEAL on the other side of the bathroom door.

Jealousy threatened, but she pushed it away. Lucia deserved a happy ending after everything she had suffered. Still, she couldn’t escape the hollow loneliness that bubbled up in sharp contrast to Lucia’s bride-to-be glow. Just like she couldn’t ignore the fact that for a fleeting moment last night she’d felt connected to someone too—the man on the other side of the bathroom door.

She shoved that thought aside and focused on why she’d endured the disastrous road trip in the first place.

“I can do this. I can be a damn good maid of honor,” she whispered as she stared at the fountains and ran through her mental wedding weekend checklist.

1) Buy chocolate body paint

2) Wear the world’s ugliest pink dress while my best friend marries my sister

3) Have sex

Before last night, the third item on her to-do list would have ranked below
take on extra shifts at the bar
and
go to the dentist
. But the fact that she’d experienced her first orgasm in mixed company since—crap, she couldn’t remember the last nameless face from sixteen months ago. Whoever Mr. Last Time was, he couldn’t compete with listening to Jack describe a fantasy. Not Jack’s touch. Or his cock—

Across the pool, by the columns leading to the cabana, Jack turned away from Cade and Ronan. He looked right at her and smiled. She was tempted to smile back. Instead, she bit her lip and offered a scowl. He raised an eyebrow. His handsome features, perfect for this godlike setting, seemingly lit with amusement.

This man…

He could make her laugh, make her cry out with pleasure, make her crazy—and he could destroy her controlled life.

And he turned her on. That’s why “have sex”—with someone
other
than Jack—had moved up her to-do list. She needed to find someone else to drive her wild for a few hours and erase the physical need. And it wouldn’t be Jack. She wanted a man she could control, who wouldn’t lead her straight to wild and passionate. A man she could add to the relatively short list of Mr. Last Times and then forget about in the morning.

If she’d learned anything from their impromptu stay at the motel, it was that Jack Barnes was not that man. She’d been fighting to escape the memory of what they’d done, how he’d made her feel as she’d sat on the bathroom floor screaming his name—connected, wanted, desired. Dammit, she’d felt closer to him than the last man she’d slept with and quickly forgotten. And Jack had inspired that connection despite them coming on different sides of the bathroom door.

Lucia stopped by her side, having left her coworkers chatting with a man Natalie didn’t recognize. “Most women smile, maybe drool a little, when they see a team of shirtless SEALs by a Vegas pool.” Her little sister shoved a drink into her hand.

“I know,” Natalie said and accepted the beer. Lucia had to know Natalie would hate the fruity umbrella drink her sister had designated her “signature cocktail” for the long weekend. “I’ve seen it happen.”

Back in Coronado, Natalie had on occasion visited the beach with Cade. She’d grown accustomed to the wide-eyed stares. A hard-bodied Navy SEAL in board shorts, his muscular chest tanned to perfection, drew longing looks, especially from the bikini-clad population. And sometimes Jack tagged along. She’d seen him without a shirt, his suit riding low on his hips. But she’d never wondered about the hard length hiding behind his shorts.

Until today.

Every time he walked past her, greeting friends and teammates, her gaze drifted south. She’d felt his cock through his clothes. And last night, she’d listened as he’d stroked himself. But she’d never seen him naked—

“It was horrible, wasn’t it?” Lucia asked. “The drive. With Jack. I’m so sorry you were delayed overnight, stuck with him. I know you two don’t get along.”

“It was fine,” Natalie said firmly.

“You’re staring at him as if you can’t decide if you should order a hit or do it yourself,” Lucia said. “I could have Cade talk to him—”

“No.” She didn’t need Jack spilling the down and dirty details of what happened last night to her friend. Though she trusted Cade to shut Jack down the minute the conversation crossed the line. Her best friend had zero interest in hearing a play-by-play when it came to Natalie’s sex life. Cade respected the fact that she was a big girl capable of handling herself.

“I know Jack has a crush on you,” Lucia said.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “We’re not in high school anymore.”

And “crush” doesn’t begin to describe Chief Jack Barnes’ wicked fantasies.

“Call it whatever you want,” Lucia said with a wave of her hand. “He wants you in his bed.”

Because he bet his brothers and teammates he would sleep with me.

Natalie bit her lip. She wanted her sister focused on the wedding, not Jack’s stupidity.

“He can try all he wants. It’s not going to happen.”

“If you need any help thwarting his attempts—”

“No. You’re getting married on Saturday. I know I haven’t done the best job of being your sister.” Natalie turned and looked at Lucia’s damaged face. Red scars ran across her right cheek. If Natalie had been home that night, maybe their drunken foster father would have taken his anger out on her instead of her sixteen-year-old sister. Lucia had been the sweet one, the child eager to fit in with their new families. And then there’d been Natalie, who’d given each new family a hard time, rebelling against the control virtual strangers exercised over her life.

“You’re improving,” Lucia teased. “And I’ve forgiven you for sending Cade to watch over me.”

Natalie arched an eyebrow. “I have a pink atrocity in my hotel room that makes me wonder. But if you want me to wear the Terrible Tutu I’ll do it. I’m here for you. It’s your job to enjoy all the parties and get ready for your big day. Don’t worry about me. I have a plan for handling Jack.”

She could win this bet without her sister or her best friend rushing to her aid. She’d bring Jack to his knees—maybe she’d even tie him up—and then walk away. If she could push him to the point that he was willing to jerk off on the other side of the bathroom door, she could easily drive him out of his mind with a series of Sin City dares.

He thought a bedtime story would break down her defenses? She’d trump that. Before Lucia walked down the aisle, Jack would be ready to admit defeat. He’d wave the white flag of surrender and walk away.

And maybe in the process, she’d steal a glimpse at his cock and lock the image away in her mind. Anything more—a touch, a taste—from the charmer who fantasized about black silk ties was impossible.

“What’s your plan?” Lucia pulled free from her arm. “I love you. But Jack is one of the guys looking out for Cade when he’s deployed. Please don’t piss him off too much.”

“I won’t.” She scanned the pool area. A crescent-shaped pool stood at the far end. In the center, another large fountain shaded the swim-up blackjack tables. Perfect. “I’m just going to challenge him to a little friendly competition.”