At Her SEAL's Command (SEALs of Roseville, Book One) (7 page)

R
eya finished
her morning call and typed a few notes into the system. Then she emailed the roasted chicken recipe to Baby. She hoped they’d stay in touch.

The next item on her to do list was to call Becky and beg to stay with her. Her time at the Marriott had been lovely, but she couldn't afford it forever.

Picking up her cell, she saw a missed text.

D
inner tonight at my place
?

D
ylan's message
made her breath catch. It'd been four and a half days since she'd heard anything from him. In a past life, aka before he'd made love to her, that amount of time would have been just the beginning of his radio silence and she’d learned to live without a word for months on end. Between his training and his deployments she'd spent almost her entire adult life waiting for him.

She was tired of waiting.

I
'm free for lunch
.

S
he smiled
and nodded as she keyed in her reply. Why should she let him dictate everything? And while she didn't have any big dinner plans, she was probably going to be checking out and moving to a new guest room soon. Or finding a cheaper place to stay until she left for Switzerland.

His reply was almost immediate.

G
reat
. I'll see you soon.

T
he words made
her heart flutter. Then, a second later, another message popped up.

I
can't wait
to see you Reya.

S
taring at her phone
, her heart squeezed. His words seemed so genuine. Well, at least, the words read that way. Truth was, she couldn't wait to see him either. But she still wanted to know about his life as a Dom.

Sometimes she worried that she'd built him up in her head. At least with Teo, she talked to him often enough that she felt connected even when he was halfway around the world.

What did she say back? She didn't want him to expect her capitulation in every instance but he’d reached out and she saw that as a good sign. Maybe he was ready to talk.

Deciding that she was over-thinking everything, she put the phone away and forced herself to get back to her work. Lunch time would be there shortly and she'd worry about that then.

Which was easier thought than done. She spent the next forty five minutes alternating between organizing project details and conversing with the client and daydreaming about Dylan.

It was really a sanity saving measure to get into her car and head toward Mabel's house. She sent him a text before she left the parking deck.

Twenty-five minutes of lunch hour traffic later, she pulled up to the curb. A potted hydrangea filled one corner of the stoop.

That must have been Perseus's doing. Reya had to admit, the man did good work. Fast too. And she certainly didn't mind seeing him slave away, shirtless, in the backyard. Not that she'd ever admit it.

Dylan met her at the door. As usual, he took her breath away. Instead of his usual work clothes, spattered with paint and dirt, he was freshly shaved and clean. A whiff of aftershave welcomed her.

“Hey.”

He stared at her for several moments, a sweet smile blooming on his face. Then he waved her inside.

The carpet in the living room was gone, revealing old oak flooring. It needed a good polish, but otherwise was lovely.

“You’ve been busy.”

Nerves made her jittery. Everything was different now. But aside from the explanation she wanted, Dylan would always be her friend. At least that’s what she told herself as she stood there awkwardly in the living room. He’d gotten rid of some of the old furniture too, and two new chairs sat against the far wall.

Was he staying or staging?

“Yeah.”

“It's looking good.”

“Thanks.”

While his hands were hanging loose at his sides, she got the impression that he needed, wanted to touch her. It was in the way he leaned toward her, his fingers moving ever so slightly.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Funny how they'd talked a lot over the years, as much as possible, she supposed, and yet, she felt like there was still so much to say. Still so much she needed to hear. So she nodded.

“I made lunch and the patio table has a fresh coat of paint.”

“Wow.”

“Don't be too impressed, I had help.”

“Still... you're really getting this place ready to sell. I'm sure it'll go quick.”

“I'm keeping the house. For now.”

“Oh?” She followed him through to the kitchen. Right away she noticed the new brushed nickel knobs she'd recommended. As kitchens went, it was old and extremely outdated. He'd been waffling with painting the cabinets a neutral color.

Baby had agreed that new knobs were the least of what the kitchen needed.

“I’m staying in Atlanta.”

“That’s great.” Genuine pleasure rushed through her. He’d wanted to be settled for several years, had talked about what he’d do when he got back stateside on a permanent basis. She’d consistently prayed that he would make it home alive and in one piece.

“I'm happy for you,” she added.

“Joe's offered me a job. There's a firm out in Salt Lake that's looking to expand their security team to the east coast and they want Joe to head the office.”

Impressive. But then, Joe seemed like a great leader. He was quiet and studious and seemed detail oriented.

“What would you do?”

“Whatever they need. Bodyguard services, maybe a regular security detail.”

They gathered the plates, sandwiches, a bowl of chips and bottles of water. He opened the back door for her and even though he'd done that dozens of times, she was still charmed by the gentlemanly gesture.

Lola used to get hot under the collar when a man would open a door for her, saying she could do it herself. But to Reya, she knew she could open doors herself, the fact that a man wanted to do it for her, showed his respect for her. But she'd stopped trying to explain that a long time ago.

“So you're taking it then?”

As he'd said, the wrought iron patio set on Mabel's old concrete patio had been repainted and looked almost new. The tattered old cushions she remembered were long gone and several pots full of petunias dotted the cozy outdoor space. Ancient oak trees along the back of the yard provided a bit of much needed shade. The June heat was getting hotter by the day.

She was switching to sun dresses in the lightest material she could find.

“That depends. What do you think I should do?”

He was asking her if he should take the job? She frowned as she sat down and served them. It was automatic and she noticed the way he watched her hands. Settled into his chair, the corners of his mouth had turned up ever so slightly.

“Your opinion is important to me; it always has been.”

“Then I think you should do what you want.”

His brows rose. She handed him a plate and took a seat next to him.

“What I want is to pull you onto my lap and kiss you.”

His words made her skin chill and a shiver ran over her shoulders as she imagined him doing just that.

“I thought—” she licked her lips “we were talking about your job offer.”

“We're talking about everything Reya. Even if I don't take that job, I'm still staying in Atlanta. I've hardly spent any of the money I made over the years. My investments have done well.” He toyed with a potato chip, flipping it back and forth between his fingers as if it were a poker chip.

She swallowed, remembering exactly how those fingers had tormented her nipples. He was so damn tempting. His words, his actions, every movement of those sinful lips. It was as if he'd been created just to drive her wild, to make her heart flutter and her girly parts tingle.

And they were tingling.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“About the job?” He nodded.

She took a bite of the turkey sandwich to buy herself time. “Will it be dangerous?”

In the scheme of things, she wasn't sure she wanted him to add another dangerous job to worry about. Even if she took the job her boss had offered in Switzerland, she'd worry about Dylan and Teo. It was a given in the same way moms worried about their sons on the police force, the way sisters worried about their fire-fighter brothers, the way that army wives worried. That little thought in the back of your mind that kept you praying day in and day out for their protection and safe return.

“Not nearly as dangerous as my job with the SEALs.”

She nodded, breathing easier.

“Would it make you happy?”

That was the other thing she worried about, more so with Teo. He spent so much time brothering her, she wondered if he'd ever find true happiness.

Dylan glanced out at the yard as he ate and she knew he was mulling over her question. Had anyone ever asked what made him happy? She was a firm believer that no amount of money, responsibility or fame could make up for happiness. Which is why she loved her job so much.

The job in Switzerland was scheduled for five months and she knew she could keep the crew on track. But there was always scope crepe, clients adding small requests that snowballed outside of the original project agreement, and that could delay her return.

“I'm not sure,” Dylan said finally.

“Don't take it unless it makes you happy, D.”

“You're right.”

He finished off his sandwich and downed the last of his water.

“The backyard is looking nice,” she said, changing to a safer subject. “A far cry from a few weeks ago.”

“You mean when you couldn't walk through it?” he asked with a wry grin.

The fact that she could see all the way to the back fence was a plus. But he'd added small shrubs to the old beds. One day, the grass would be thick and lush and this wouldn't be a bad haven from the craziness of Atlanta.

“The garage is next on my list.”

Mabel's car had been sold shortly after her death, but according to Dylan, it was full of old stuff and needed repairs. Reya hadn't been inside but she could see that the door needed replacing and so did some of the old wood siding. She wouldn't be surprised if termites had decided to move into the humble abode.

“I don't think your truck will fit,” she said. His Ford was almost bigger than the garage.

He smiled as if she'd just complimented him on the size of his cock.

She laughed. Men and their toys.

“Your car will fit,” he said casually, staring over at the old white structure.

Her breath caught.

“You finished?” he asked, before she could reply.

She glanced down at the remaining chips on her plate. “Yeah.” Her appetite had left her.

“Good. Come inside and ask me whatever you want.”

Her brows lifted and her eyes widened. Ask him anything? Boy, that left a lot of ground open.

If she'd thought her nerves had the better of her half an hour ago, she felt like a live wire right now. But he stood and held out a hand to her. His body language told her to trust him, which she did. She always had.

She placed her palm against his and let him pull her up. Hand in hand, they left the dishes and walked into the house. It felt good to be touching him again but she couldn't let herself get used to it yet.
Not yet, Reya.

In the living room, he took a seat on the old sofa and she settled next to him. His beautiful blue eyes stared at her openly, not the least bit shuttered or evasive.

“What does being a Dom mean?”

It’d been the single burning question she needed to know the answer to. She’d had plenty of time to simmer over the last few days and her research hadn’t soothed her fears.

While the idea of sex toys and a little bondage seemed appealing, she was absolutely, completely, without a shadow of a doubt never going to do knife play or choking. She had enough scars and suffocation without taking it into the bedroom.

“For me, it meant being in charge of a woman’s pleasure.”

Despite her reluctance to ever enter another relationship with a control freak, she felt her pulse quicken at his words.

“You mean control.”

“I’m an extremely visual person, Reya. I love nothing more than a woman in beautiful lingerie…or silk ribbons.”

Her brows rose at that. She’d seen a few examples of ribbon play and she had to admit, the intricate designs displayed on a woman’s skin were incredible. Stark and sexy, almost like a tattoo but she’d be willing to bet that the ribbon felt so much nicer against the skin.

“It’s not about controlling my partner. It’s about worshiping her, controlling her orgasm, taking her higher and higher until she just can’t go any farther…and then letting her tip over the edge.”

Her breath came in short pants and her breasts flushed. The tender flesh between her thighs tingled and she felt a flush of moisture gathering there.

His words, the sincerity on his face, were seductive.

“Carlos introduced me to the lifestyle because I needed to learn to control myself. And after joining the SEALs, I needed to be in control of something. I’m not going to lie to you, honey. There’s a power exchange.”

Reya took a deep breath and held it. There was that word. He must have seen the panic in her eyes because he closed a warm hand over hers. The connection stalled her wayward thoughts.

“It’s not at all what you’re thinking, at least not for me. I controlled the scene; I never controlled the sub’s life. That’s not who I was, that’s not what I ever wanted.”

“Did you have a sub? A regular one?”

He nodded. Another stab of jealousy slashed her. All this time she’d been waiting for him to notice her, to see that she wasn’t the chubby fifteen year old anymore and he’d been tying some other woman up.

Dylan squeezed her hand when she tried to pull it away.

“Early on, not recently. I was out of the country too much.”

“Have you ever hit a woman?”

“I’ve spanked women.”

“What about—” she swallowed, “whips?”