SEAL Firsts Read online

  He should have taken off last night, just left, but that wasn’t the way to treat a lady, and Christy was that, with every luscious inch of her. Could a man be blamed if he wanted to spend just a little more time in her arms? Christy had obviously felt a connection. Hell, he’d felt the connection too. But that was before common sense took over and he realized he’d made a huge mistake. He had to face the music and fix it. It would be hard, but it was up to him to do the right thing.

  He’d gone to see her at the realty office three days ago just to say he was sorry. But when he saw her fingertips touch the flowers he’d brought, he’d lost his head and asked her out to lunch. What did he do that for?

  You know better than to get involved. You don’t do “relationships.” You get in and get out before they get too attached.

  He shook his head. He was indeed a dumb ass. Was he still mourning the most important woman in his life? Could that be why he had such a hard time staying away from Christy? Was he that damaged, that out of control?

  His mother died when he was fourteen. She had cancer. The disease had spread quickly and she was gone within weeks, despite the surgeries that tried to stem the tide. He’d told himself this meant she didn’t suffer too much. At least, not until the end. But the speed with which the cancer overtook her didn’t give young Kyle time to pull together his feelings and say a proper goodbye. It remained an unfinished chapter, an open wound.

  Kyle knew he had been the light of her life. He remembered her laugh, how intently she would watch him and cheer at his soccer and baseball games. She was there when he was discouraged. Still, he felt somehow responsible for her cancer, and he would have done anything, even traded places with her to stop it.

  He’d wanted for nothing, although it was clear his father resented having to work so hard and complaining about the expensive traveling tournaments, special camps, coaching, and expensive equipment. His mother ran interference, but young Kyle heard the arguments behind closed doors at night. She was devoted to him, almost at the cost of her failing marriage. Kyle’s older sister, just one year his senior, was totally boy crazy and working on getting herself a fast ticket out of the hell that was their family.

  He couldn’t remember a single game his father went to—couldn’t remember him ever being even slightly interested in what Kyle was doing. He would come home in a sullen mood and would say nothing at dinner except to pepper the conversation with his irritation, regardless of his wife’s attempts at conversation. His father would drink wine until he fell asleep in front of the TV. After that, he’d go off to bed early. Some nights when Kyle stayed up to do his homework, he’d get a gentle kiss from his mother before she turned in for bed, but he’d hear her softly cry herself to sleep. It broke his heart.

  Light was beginning to shimmer, a deep purple on the inlet. He liked the view of Coronado from this side of the island. It gave him a different perspective on his life in the Navy. He looked at the cold outlines of the destroyers in the early morning light and took strength from the cold, gray shadows they cast on the murky inlet.

  The machines and hospital stays his mother had undergone scared him. He was afraid she would never open her eyes again each time he visited her, especially toward the end. She insisted she was getting better, but he could see that was a lie. He realized that nothing he could say or do could protect her, and she slipped away one evening while he was out of town at a soccer tournament. She’d made him promise to go. Told him she’d be stronger the next time he saw her.

  She died alone. In the dark. He’d been told of her death on a cell phone call from his father. He’d been sitting on the second seat in a Suburban, driven by one of his teammate’s moms, surrounded by seven other sweaty kids.

  The bastard couldn’t even wait until I got home to tell me in person.

  That night Kyle didn’t say a word to anybody. He stared out at the rest of the world going by, resentment making a home in his chest. How could everything go on just like nothing had happened? He knew he would never heal this loss. She’d been the only one who’d believed in him.

  Things changed at home after his mother’s death. There were no more camps or elite sports teams. Kyle focused on his studies and worked hard to bury the love for his dead mother and the ache of her leaving him. His father became even colder and more distant, and they rarely talked. Kyle hung out at the library or with friends who didn’t play sports. It was a bitter year, and just as he was beginning to feel some hope for the future, circumstances conspired against him.

  Kyle had met a nice girl, Judy Dobson, and had asked her to the prom. She was crazy for him, which annoyed Kyle sometimes. But she was a good girl—the pretty one everyone else overlooked because she wore huge, thick glasses. They were going to ride with his older sister and her current boyfriend, but at the last minute, his sister wanted to go alone with her date. Kyle suspected they were going to skip the dance altogether and get a motel room.

  He and Judy had barely gotten to the dance when the police arrived, telling him his sister had been in a life-threatening car accident. Kyle spent the rest of the night in the emergency room, in his tux. A friend took Judy home. She’d wanted to stay, but Kyle wouldn’t have it. He and his dad sat across from each other all evening, except for the times when his dad snuck out to the car to drink. They spoke not a word.

  Near dawn they got the bad news. His sister was dead.

  Kyle thought maybe his father would stop drinking, maybe start taking care of himself and pull things together. But that wasn’t in the man’s nature, and his father retreated further into his alcoholism.

  And now Kyle hadn’t talked to him in six years. He considered his dad dead.

  At eighteen, the week after he’d graduated high school, Kyle reported to Indoc and joined the Navy, with an eye on trying out for the SEALs. His mom had wanted him to go to college on an athletic scholarship, but that wasn’t in the cards. The Navy took him without any promises, and then he got his chance. One out of ten thousand was the odds of being allowed to try out for the Teams. But Kyle got his spot. The Navy became his new family, and it served him well.

  Armando was in that famous class that almost was a complete washout. Out of the 190 men that started, only twelve graduated. Of the twelve, four were officers, which was unusual. He and Armando were the only ones without a college degree, but they scored higher than the rest academically. They were closer than brothers.

  They would gladly die for each other. That got battle-tested during their first deployment in Iraq when they survived the battle of Fallujah. Their unit ran into more than 259 Tangos in a narrow street that wasn’t anything more than an alleyway. They were being shot at from all sides, including above. After the mounted guns ran out of ammo, they used their personal assault weapons. And when those ran out they resorted to their sidearms as they scrambled to a safe spot until the extraction team could get them out. A few good men died that day. A record number of the enemy had been killed, and the SEALs would be up for some medals, which would be awarded in private. His friendship with Armando, forged in steel, would be with him forever.

  So now he’d let this beautiful young thing into his world. She had no idea what she was getting into and deserved way more. What in the hell had he been thinking? He had to stay focused on finding Armando first. This had to remain his number one priority. Besides, his getting her involved in this mission was dangerous for her too.

  How in the world could he have been so stupid?

  Christy awoke and felt the bed cold behind her where a warm male chest had been. Being alone this morning, after yesterday’s love making, scared her. She should have been able to start her new day in his arms, where she hoped she would remain until her last breath.

  She sat up, naked and a little sore in wonderful places, still groggy from little sleep. Then she smelled coffee, and that made her feel better.

  He’s still here.

  She rose and put on the flowered kimono-type robe her mother had left her and
cinched the sash that brought back wonderful erotic memories. Fluffing up her hair, she looked in the mirror and yes, she looked like “the wreck of the Hesperus,” as her mother would say. Mascara pooled under swollen lower eyelids, which covered faintly bloodshot eyes. Her stomach twitched, as if starved for food. But it wasn’t that. She was in love. That new, wonderful feeling that came when she met someone special and the whole world became a possibility instead of an obstacle course.

  And Kyle loved her too. He didn’t say it, but she knew he did. Just remembering those kisses emblazoned on her flesh last night in the moonlight made her wet. God, she’d fallen hard for this guy. She was normally slower to make a judgment about dating someone, but here she’d hopped into bed with him several times in three days. This relationship had started off as a safe lunch, but had become so much more.

  Half the time they were having unprotected sex. She was never this casual with her body. Was she being foolish? Was her unbridled passion going to get her heart broken again?

  She hoped not, but it wasn’t going to change one iota of the way she would play it out.

  God, it would hurt so bad, this one. He’s so perfect for me.

  She put her hair up in a ponytail and stepped into her oversized ivory tumbled granite shower. It was what she loved best about this beautiful condo her mother had left her. She soaped off, used the shower wand to softly stimulate the swollen lips of her sex. It felt good to be exhausted, to have been covered with his hard body, have him breathing and groaning in her ear as he took her. He liked to make love with her hands above her head, the sash forming invisible handcuffs. He’d press her palms to his and wouldn’t let her move except to wrap her legs around his slim waist and arch to receive him, to let him plunder her again and again. And whenever she’d opened her eyes, he was watching her, as if the look on her face was what fed him and made him the man he was.

  Am I up for a man like this? Can I be the woman he needs?

  She knew, remembering the first time they had been together, when he tripped her to the ground and immobilized her with her own pantyhose, that he was not going to be an easy man to love. He was complicated and secretive. Would she be able to keep him satisfied without getting herself hurt? Was she strong enough for this?

  Drying off with the oversized fluffy white towel, she felt courage and hope for a beautiful new today. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but today she could be the woman he needed. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself. And she didn’t want to ponder the “what ifs” any longer.

  Showtime. She splashed on a little French cologne, brushed her hair back into a clip, donned her sexy silk robe, then put on light pink cherry lip gloss and a tiny bit of mascara. She could face anything after a shower. Well, almost anything.

  When Christy walked into her living room and saw him out on the balcony, bent over her railing, fully dressed, sipping a mug of coffee and looking out over the inlet, she knew today was not going to be a continuation of yesterday’s lazy bedtime caper. There was something hard about him she couldn’t identify. His armor was in place and locked down.

  God help her if he said they were moving too fast toward a relationship he wasn’t ready for. Would she have to play the casual game, pretend it didn’t matter? She’d heard all those excuses before, after the dinners and the dating, after the mating dance of a first kiss and the first fall into deep, dark, uncharted waters. Passion plays, all of them. Then came all the reasons why it wasn’t the right time. Half the time, she was the one doing the leaving. And of the ones who had left her, if she were to be honest with herself, she was secretly happy for the ending.

  But this one, the one with the strong back and straight shoulders, with that tight little ass so clearly delineated for her as he bent over and searched the water and harbor below like a hawk looking for prey, this one would hurt her.

  Big time.

  “Hi,” she said in her best Marilyn Monroe voice. He turned to face her and she let the tie to her robe slip loose. She twirled the smooth silk with her fingers and saw the flame in his eyes, a slight flush of his cheeks perhaps at the memory of her hands bound above her head. The flowered silk parted and she stood like a deer in the forest, caught in a ray of sunlight, unable to move.

  His gaze traveled down her body, focusing on the triangle at the juncture between her legs, and then worked back up to her lips. He smiled, as though he remembered pleasant things about the night before. But he was holding back. It would have warmed her heart if he’d grabbed her, just picked her up and made love to her anywhere. But his restraint was dominant over his desire. She saw just the faint flicker of something burning in his eyes when he swallowed.

  “Good morning.”

  His words were soft, but efficient. And he didn’t come to her.

  “Can’t a girl get a morning kiss?” She toyed with him enough to get a reaction, but not the one she was hoping for.

  “Sure,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. Then he grabbed her hand and tugged her inside, closing the sliding glass door behind them. “We have to talk, Christy.”

  So here it comes. The big talk. Is this the part where I want to throw myself over the balcony, where he can watch me die as he tells me he never meant to cause me pain?

  She wondered why she saw so much blood and gore. Or was it rubbing off him and onto her? Was this his legacy, what he would bring to her life? She inhaled and tried to steady her nerves, prepared to face whatever he was going to dish out.

  “Am I allowed to have coffee first,” she delivered in her most sultry voice, “or do you normally continue to keep your prisoners up, sleep deprived, and without the aid of caffeine?”

  He came over to her, but she slipped away and quietly darted to the kitchen, padding in her bare feet with the ridiculous hot pink toenail polish. She felt like crying, realizing it was such a stupid color. The happy pink was out of place this morning.

  He rounded the corner. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Oh?” she said as she rummaged for some cream in the refrigerator. “You need a fill up or are you done with this pit stop?” She held up the pot after pouring coffee into her half and half.

  “It isn’t a pit stop and you know it.”

  “I see. Well then, sailor, suppose you tell me exactly what it is,” she said as she looked over the top of the steaming mug, into his eyes that weren’t afraid to stare right back at her.

  “I’m not sure I can do this. Or, what I really mean is, I’m not sure I’m any good at this.”

  So, he’s not used to begging. She knew he was trying hard to cover up something. She liked it better when his control waned.

  “Oh, sure you can. Just say thanks for the hot sex, Christy. Maybe we can do it again some time. That sort of thing…”

  She turned and took her next sip of coffee so he couldn’t see the tears breaking free and running down her cheeks.

  Christy heard the flinch and his instant reaction toward her. He slipped his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking inside the delicate silk with a soft brushing sound like leaves in the fall as he spooned her back into his stunning chest she hadn’t had enough time to study, and whispered, “It isn’t like that, and you know it.” His voice was soft, but urgent.

  His fingers massaged her breast as his tongue traced along the curve of her earlobe, driving her crazy for him again. In spite of it all. Even if it was going to be the last time she’d ever see him, if he asked, she would fuck him silly and make him think about her and wish he’d stayed.

  Damn the man. It was going to hurt. Maybe this one would be lethal.

  She set her coffee down on the countertop and turned to face him straight on. The side of her robe had brushed open and her naked body was against his fully clothed one. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her neck, then her mouth. She was unbuttoning his fly, finding his erection. She was a woman without pride, on a collision course with a man who was practiced at getting in and out without being noticed. Well, she’d make him
pay. She’d make sure he never forgot how much she needed him and how good it felt to be inside her.

  She nudged a toe behind a cabinet door and stepped up to sit on the counter while he dropped his pants to his ankles. She pulled his T-shirt off and spread her palms against his smooth, warm chest. She let her knees drop to the sides and he urgently impaled her. She lay back among the clean dishes and glasses, which she knocked to the side. He mounted the countertop and pressed down on her. Dishes were falling, breaking. A glass shattered as it hit the floor, but he didn’t flinch and he certainly didn’t have any intention of stopping. He rode her, obsessed with something raging inside him.

  He brought both his thumbs to bear down on her nub and she thought she would go insane with pleasure.

  “Oh, Kyle. I…” She bit her hand to keep from saying the words. She wouldn’t tell him she loved him, because he wasn’t going to tell her that either.

  It was over quickly, except that she was still vibrating from the deep thrusting. He pressed his shaft against her insides and came in huge explosive grunts, as if his climax would never end. She was already rubbed raw and perhaps lightly bruised inside from his ministrations the night before. She quivered like a puddle in an earthquake.

  “This is not a pit stop,” he whispered as he bit her earlobe.

  She wanted to believe him. Deep down inside, she thought that she could.

  “But…?”

  “I need this…maybe too much.”

  “Is that possible, Kyle?” She looked into his blue eyes and thought she could see his pure white soul. But it was terrorized by something dark that she could not see.

  Another glass fell to the floor. She laughed at the fact that this was going to be their last time and he was breaking her things. He’d fucked her on the countertop, of all places. No one had ever done that. “That’s one way to get out of doing dishes.”

  He pulled up his pants with one hand and carefully lifted her up off the counter, then brought her to the living room couch, saving her delicate feet from harm. But she was disappointed he did not bring her to bed. She’d been right. He was leaving, after all.