Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (11 page)

She giggled, that little tinkling laugh again. As he tried to ram inside her, she slipped to the side, blocking his entry. He looked down at her with a frown.

“What’s going on, Liz?”

Her wicked smile told him she was still into their sexual romp. But there was something else on her mind. He glanced at the red ribbon, and she smiled again. Grabbing it, he wrapped it around her wrists she’d presented to him, as he kissed her pressure points on the undersides, licking the little blue veins just under the surface of her skin. He finished the lashing with a bow on top.

He pulled her arms over her head, her chest now fully exposed to him. Her beautiful tummy undulated, her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Her hips writhed forward and back, and then her knees bent as she showed him her sex. The invitation was wide open. Positioning himself between her pink petals, he thrust easily inside her, even though he felt twice his normal size and was stiff as a board.

He’d been rooting deep, riding her pliable body, lifting her knees over his shoulders so he could have full access to her lovely channel.

“I have a confession to make, Jameson.”

He was beyond thinking. He pulled her shoulders by positioning his arms underneath her upper body, yanking her down on him as he pressed until he could go no further. Then he remembered she’d said something.

“You sure talk a lot.”

“You like it when I talk.”

“I like it when you talk dirty about…things. I’m not used to these conversations when I’m fucking you.”

He immediately increased the intensity and speed of his hip action. She grabbed the rail and moaned.

“Shhh. You’re gonna wake up Charlotte and I don’t want her to see my ass…” He started to laugh, and she joined him.

“Fuck it, Lizzie. You wanna talk? Let me just fuck you and then we can talk.”

He was pumping furiously, her breasts bouncing all over her chest. She was grinning at him, teasing him. “Fuck sake, Lizzie, okay, tell me.”

“You promise you won’t be angry with me?”

“No, sweetheart.” He could barely get the words out. Her muscles had clamped down on him, and he was losing the battle to resist spewing. “How could I ever be angry with you?”

He hoped she’d drop the subject so they could finish, so he could take her again in the shower afterwards, like they liked to do. His precious minutes with her were slipping away. Charlotte would be up soon, might even be waking now. There were only six more days until he’d be gone. He wanted more minutes, hours if he could, feeding her with his love, making her come under him. It was something he needed to feel, like the air he breathed.

They were at the edge, their orgasms timed to explode simultaneously. She opened her mouth, and he was right there. No words were going to spoil this wonderful mating. He belonged here, inside her. This was the only thing that mattered right now. He felt his balls tense as the familiar spasms began, matching hers. Her fingers were fluttering, bound and struggling to find the bedframe beyond the soft pillow. She found the rails, gasped as her body began to shake, receiving his seed.

Then she said in a whisper, “Thinking about you up on stage, all those women wanting to have you between their legs like this, when they can’t, makes me hot.”

If he hadn’t already been spewing, it would have stopped him cold. His moan was helpless, unbound. He worried she’d think he was in pain. Was he regretting his past? Perhaps that was it.

“I wish,” he said as he held himself, filling her with everything he had, “You were my first.” He chanced a quick look at her, hoping he hadn’t said something she would not like. Her smile warmed him, the sweat on her forehead telling him she worked hard at her love for him, that it also consumed her like it consumed him. His thumbs rubbed the beautiful sweat from her hairline. He kissed her there, and then all along the side of her face, finally ending up commanding her mouth.

He arched up when the long kiss ended, their bodies beginning to settle, breathing slowing down.

“None of that makes any difference to me, Jameson. We found each other at the right time. Just the right time. You’ve been loved well, and you bring that to my bed. I may not be your first, but I’m damn glad I’m your last.”

‡

C
harlotte came running
into the bathroom while they were toweling off. They both were discreet, covering themselves for her little eyes.

“Mommy. I made you breakfast!” Charlotte announced.

Lizzie looked at Jameson, who shrugged, indicating he knew nothing about it. She bent down to speak with her daughter eye to eye. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. What did you make?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh good, I love surprises. Thank you, Charlotte. Mommy and Daddy are going to get dressed, and we’ll be right out, okay?”

Charlotte turned and ran barefoot to the kitchen.

Lizzie stood up, hands on her hips. “This your doing?”

He kissed her, taking her into his arms, making her drop the towel, as he dropped his. She crossed her wrists behind his neck, loving the feel of his powerful body against hers. The sessions this morning had satisfied her fully.

“No, darlin’. This is all on Charlotte. I have no idea. Should I check?”

“I don’t smell anything burning.”

“Well, only thing burning here is my love for you, Lizzie.” His hands massaged her butt cheeks. She placed her fingers over his lips and then stood on tiptoes to kiss him.

“Thank you, for last night and this morning.” It was something she would sorely miss and only a week left to partake of everything he had to give her.

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

They got dressed quickly. Lizzie knew she’d not been able to fully tell him this morning what she thought of Thomas’ phone call.

“We have to talk about Thomas and Nashville.”

“Nothing to talk about. I told him no.”

“Why did he want you to come out there?”

“Believe it or not, looks like he’s got a deal in the works.”

They walked to the kitchen. On the table were two bowls filled with corn flakes. The bowls came from the dishwasher, as she obviously couldn’t reach the cabinet, and the dishwasher door was left gaping open. But the cereal was in a lower cabinet, which she apparently could open.

“I can’t reach the back of the coffee maker, Daddy, so you’ll have to do it.” Charlotte’s stool was parked at the counter.

Lizzie and Jameson darted a look at their K-cup maker. Coffee grounds were all over the countertop. Jameson lifted the lid on the machine and there was an overfilled red plastic coffee receptacle which popped open when the lid was opened.

“Charlotte, you got it pretty damn—darned good, sweetheart. You’re amazing!” Charlotte beamed and took her place at the table.

“Daddy, can you bring us some milk?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He handed the first coffee cup to Lizzie. “There you go, compliments of your daughter.” He stroked her shoulders as he walked to the refrigerator, retrieved the milk carton and sat it on the table.

The paper napkins were folded in half, just like Lizzie liked to set the table. Charlotte got the fork and spoon reversed, but the knife was on the correct side, and the blade was facing the dish, which was proper. Lizzie couldn’t get over how smart and observant Charlotte was.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You did a marvelous job,” Lizzie said as she sipped her extra black coffee. Jameson brought his to the table when it was finished.

They held hands, and Jameson said grace.

Lizzie tried to make it feel like a normal morning breakfast, but the dawn of their days together was weighing heavily on her, and she knew Jameson felt the same way. In fact, she knew the entire community was quietly handling the stress of the goodbyes, the things that hadn’t been completed, or planning for events that would unfold while they were away. Several of the SEAL wives were newly pregnant, hoping their men would be home in time for the delivery. Several others knew they’d be handling things alone. Children needed braces, some of them would be attending new schools in the fall or leaving for in-laws’ homes to pass some of the time during their father’s deployment.

Everyone dealt with it differently. They checked in with each other every day, and anything that looked out of place, anything that needed to be handled or could fly up and become an emergency, was anticipated as best they could and solved.

There was a large beach picnic planned for Saturday night which had become a tradition. The children especially loved those get-togethers, since they knew the other kids on Kyle’s team like their own family. Indeed, they were family in nearly every way but blood. The wives were best friends, counselors and role models to each other, and practically nothing escaped the sharp eyes of Christy Lansdowne, who was their LPO Kyle Lansdowne’s wife. Part of her job, in addition to being a liaison between her husband and his Chief and others, was to make sure anyone who needed something special got it, even if they didn’t ask for it. She always paid most attention to the wives whose husbands were on their first deployment, especially after the terrible ordeal with Zak on his first.

So Christy had called and made sure Lizzie, Charlotte and Jameson were coming. She also asked Jameson to bring his guitar.

Charlotte was put in the bathtub for her first bath of the day, while Lizzie and Jameson straightened the kitchen and cleaned up the extra corn flakes and coffee grounds.

“I forget how incredibly smart she is, Lizzie. Her little brain is working overtime.”

It was true. It warmed Lizzie’s heart that he noticed. “While you’re gone, I’m going to see if I can get her into a pre-kindergarten reading summer camp for a month up in Santa Rosa. Would you mind if we went up there?

“I think that would be great. Where will you stay?”

“I wanted to stay with Nick and Devon. But I haven’t asked them yet. Amy told me about the camp, and after meeting Charlotte, thought it would be perfect timing for her.”

“I think it’s fantastic. You could learn about the winery business a little too. Give you a little free time as well.”

“It would be nice.” She had finished the dishes, turned on the washer and leaned against the cabinet. Jameson had just emptied the contents of a dustpan into the trash. “So, now about Thomas.”

“Like I said, Lizzie, nothin’ to talk about.”

“He’s got a record deal. He’s finally made it. Don’t you want to celebrate with him?”

“You know that’s not my lifestyle anymore, honey.”

With his long arms holding the broom in one hand and the red dustpan in the other, his jeans tight and his tee shirt stretched across his pecs, rolled up sleeves barely fitting over his enormous biceps, he was the kind of sexy that could be on a magazine or book cover. But he was no fantasy man.

He’s mine.

She approached without looking at him, hearing his inhale as she tucked her fingers into his waistband and pulled him the rest of the way to her. She took the dustpan and laid it on the countertop and he leaned the broomstick nearby. His hands went where they belonged, on her ass.

She palmed her way up from his hard, flat abdomen, over his bulging pecs and then laced them together behind his neck. “Jameson, is it possible you could sell a song this weekend to one of those guys?”

“The record producers?”

“Yes.”

“Possible. But honey, I lived like that every weekend, every audition, every time I opened for someone. There was always that chance. Someone said something nice about me, and then I was expecting that call that never came. I was desperate to get a deal, Lizzie. I don’t want to live that way anymore. Even if Thomas paid my way, I just don’t belong there anymore.”

“But you’re not, Jameson. You have a completely different life now. We’re part of your life. And you have the SEALs. This is just a goodbye. A farewell. And who knows, maybe you could make a few dollars, right? Does that happen like that?”

“It could. But there’d be things to sign, and how would I record something that quick?”

“What if they only want the song?”

He remembered the song he’d started, and yes, he gave it to Thomas to see what he could do with it when he went off for his qualification for the SEALs. But it was still his song. Could he sell just his song without him being the one to sing it?

“I should be singing it. Those songs I wrote, I intended to sing them myself.”

“Is that how it’s done? So no one ever sells songs to other stars and they become hits?”

He knew she was right. “Fuck no. A lot of stars wrote tons of songs and sold them before they got discovered. But you have to decide whether you’re a singer or a songwriter.”

She placed her palms against his cheeks. “You’re both. And you’re also a SEAL. A father and a husband. But what you aren’t is a traveling country western star playing in bars and spending his time on the road. That you’re not. But being a SEAL, and my husband and Lizzie’s father, you can still write songs. Good songs. Go see if you can sell one or two. Celebrate with Thomas, and then we’ll have a couple of great days before you leave.”

He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs because he needed to find his balance. This was totally unexpected.