Ruined by the SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 2) (11 page)

She wanted to ask him about it, ask him to explain it to her so she’d understand, but she had to be honest with herself—she wouldn’t hear it. Wouldn’t hear anything
past, “this all has to go.”

So she didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer.

They stuck to what the plantation once had been, and the island’s history in general. She told him more about her friends and how they were sisters from other misters.

Mick teased her that for a French girl, she didn’t have much of an accent, and she explained about her years away at university in California.

“I can’t believe
that for years we were only an hour apart, and the universe never put you in front of me,” he said quietly. They were in the hammock together, their legs tangled up. He was stroking his fingers up and down her bare arm, and the late morning heat was making her drowsy.

“Maybe our paths crossed,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.

“I would have remembered you.”

“Maybe Fate didn’t want us to
meet until now.”

He was silent then. Well, she wouldn’t take it back. She felt strongly about him, separate from any drama over the property. She was drawn to him and it wasn’t just sexual. If he didn’t feel the same way, better to know that now before her heart got too attached.

It might already be too late.

“You believe in fate?” He settled his hand on her waist. Big and warm. Solid. Sure.

“I actually hate to think about life like that,” she admitted. “My dad died when I was a teenager—a car accident—and ever since, the idea that life events are destined to happen makes me want to cry.”

“I get that. I’ve seen a lot of awful shit. I’d prefer not to think it’s part of a master plan.”

“But…” She snuggled closer. Their breathing patterns had matched up, slow and lazy, and she felt
his chest rise and fall with her own for a few beats. “I don’t know. There’s something different about the good things in life.”

“Like they’re special gifts and should be appreciated?”

“Yeah.”

He kissed her forehead. “I do appreciate whatever or whomever put you in my path, Cara Levasseur. I appreciate the hell out of that.”

~

M
ICK
HAD
A
SERIOUS
FUCKING
PROBLEM
. He was pretty sure he
was falling hard and fast for a woman whose heart he was about to break.

Cara’s history lesson had completely dismantled his cocky perspective on what they should do to Villa Sucre. But it wasn’t his estate, and he knew his best friend too well to hope that Will would be similarly swayed.

If anything, Will might even be annoyed that Mick had let a woman get under his skin. Could he choose Cara
over his only viable career option? Would she want him, broken and unemployed?

And all of this was a stupid place for him to let his head wander when he hadn’t slept for shit the night before and was enjoying a perfectly amazing mid-day nap with a gorgeous woman in his arms.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she talked about restoring the plantation to its original
beauty. Open it to the public as a museum.

Not that she’d ever get that opportunity—the more he thought about it, the clearer his picture became of what had happened. Someone, probably an intern, had sent a letter to the Historical Society based on an earlier will. Then they’d forgotten to retract that letter, or maybe the intern had kept that oops to themselves.

Either way, there was no reason
for Mick not to believe that his letter—the more recently dated one—was accurate. It was the only inheritance Will had received from his grandmother. Surely the old woman wouldn’t have forgotten to give her grandchildren something? Or if she had, she’d have realized the error and corrected it.

Will was blood. That trumped a charitable donation.

It was just a matter of time until Cara had to
face the fact that she’d lost the estate.

What would she do then? She obviously had a lot riding on this project—so much so that she’d moved in to maintain a claim of possession.

A stab of fear gripped his heart. Would her job be riding on it, too?

He couldn’t do that to her.

Fuck.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” she asked, her voice jarring him back to the hammock and their cuddle.

“Stuff.”

“The same kind of stuff I asked you if you wanted to talk about last night?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk now?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “We’re grown-ups, right?”

“You more than me, probably.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He was silent for a long while. She didn’t say anything else. Finally, he opened up, just a little. His voice caught on the words and it took a few tries to get out.
“I don’t have a lot of prospects, Cara.”

“Mmm.” She rubbed his chest, then down to his belly. “That’s a scary place to be.”

“You know about that, maybe?”

“A bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, that’s life, right?” Another sigh, and she stretched her legs out as far as she could, making a satisfied sound as her toes brushed his. “I’ve got a friend. Arielle. And her father’s a successful businessman,
but…he’s mixed up in some stuff. I don’t know what. Drug smuggling, maybe. I hope not, but he comes and goes, disappears sometimes without warning. It’s stressful for her. Meanwhile my mom and I have cream tea every Wednesday afternoon at the hotel where she cleans rooms. So who am I to complain about what I don’t have?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” At least he hadn’t meant to.

“Oh, no…I know that.
I just mean…maybe this isn’t what you thought you were getting down here. But maybe it could be good anyway? No matter which way it goes?”

“Would you still…” His eyes were hot and scratchy. Fucking emo bullshit. He squeezed her hip, then palmed her ass. The teenage boy deep inside him gave him a fist bump. It wasn’t whether or not she’d still want him. Fuck that noise. It was his job to be worthy,
no matter what. “Yeah. It could be real good. I’ll land on my feet, kitten. Don’t worry about me.”

~

S
HE DID, THOUGH, AND EVEN AFTER HE FELL ASLEEP,
she thought about their conversation over and over again, looking at it from all sides.

When he started snoring lightly, she slipped out from under his arm and lightly twisted her way out of the hammock.

Inside the house, she found her phone
and plugged it in. Then she pinned a note to Mick’s shirt say that she’d gone into town, and went in search of dinner supplies.

And condoms.

After hitting the market and the pharmacy, she swung past Daphne’s boat, but her friend wasn’t home. Arielle would be at the school for another hour at least.

Cara chewed on her lower lip. She needed to tell her friends that the situation had changed.
That Mick wasn’t anyone’s enemy, and surely they could find a way to…

But she didn’t know how to finish that thought

She wasn’t sure what they were going to do after today.
Today’s
plan, though, was to get Mick out of whatever funk he’d slipped into. With condoms. And her mouth. Whatever other part of her body might please him, too.

When she got back to the plantation, Mick wasn’t in the hammock.
The lunatic had found a ladder from somewhere and he was on the roof, slowly moving around, stopping occasionally to poke at the shingles.

“What are you doing?” she hollered, shielding her eyes as she stared up at him.

“Checking the roof damage from last night,” he called back. “Why?”

She held up the box of condoms. “No reason.”

“I can’t tell what that is,” he said, planting his hands low
on his hips. “But if it’s condoms…”

“It is.”

“I’ll be right down.”

She braced the bottom of the ladder, and as soon as he hit the ground, they were kissing.

And laughing.

She tipped her face up to the sun as he spun her around, his mouth on her neck and his hands…everywhere. This was good. This was very, very good.

“Hammock sex?” Mick mumbled as he slipped his hand inside her t-shirt.

“No,” she panted.

“Bed?”

“Too far.”

“Tent?”

“Too stuffy.” It was muggy and humid, the damp of the storm lingering in the air. “Upstairs.”

Mick stopped her as she turned to go inside. He pressed the hard, flexing bulk of his front against her back, and she shivered. “What’s upstairs?”

She grinned. “The most amazing balcony…I haven’t shown it to you yet.”

There were two balconies, actually,
one stretching across the front of the house, matching the full length of the verandah below.

But in the back, there was a smaller one, off what once had been the master bedroom. Empty now, like all the other rooms in the house, it seemed nearly as cavernous as the ballroom below.

The balcony, however, was small, covered, and had the most amazing view of the ocean.

“You’ve been holding out
on me,” Mick rumbled behind her.

“You going to punish me?” she whispered, glancing back at him.

He shook his head slowly as a feral grin curled up his face. “Not my style, kitten. I prefer sweet rewards.”

“Oh yeah?” She turned and moved all the way across the balcony until her back touched the thick wooden railing. She dropped the condom box to the floor, spread her arms wide and gave him a
coy look. “What do I need to do for a reward?”

He braced his hands on either side of her hips, his feet set wide too, and somehow managed to loom over her without really touching her. Sure, his arms brushed her waist, his legs glanced against her calves as she shifted restlessly in the cage of his body and the railing, but it wasn’t enough.

It was a cruel tease.

He gazed down at her, his eyes
crawling slowly over her face. “Tell me what you like. I’ll reward honesty.”

“I…” Her skin was too hot. She wanted to feel his eyes and his hands and the wind on her flesh. “I like to be naked.”

“I like you to be naked, too.” He dropped one hand to her waist and rucked up her tank top. "You have the most gorgeous skin."

"Take it off…please.” She was begging, and he’d just touched her belly.
He was so, so good at this.

“I don’t think so.” He dropped the fabric of her shirt and ran his knuckles up her torso, between her breasts. When his fingers got to the neckline, he hooked over it and tugged it down. “Pretty bra.”

She didn’t say anything as he worked her shirt beneath her breasts, then continued his lazy exploration of her skin with the tips of his fingers. Along her bra cups.
Over her collarbone. Up her neck and into her hair, until he found just the right spot to hold her head, and then he kissed her.

He said he liked to reward, but this felt punishing. Pent-up feelings poured out of him. Maybe he wasn’t punishing her so much as them, together, for causing such a complication when he wanted nothing of the sort.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, commanding her
to take him. At the same time, he worked his hand into her bra, squeezing her breast almost to the point of pain.

Almost. Not quite.

No, it didn’t hurt in the least.

“More,” she gasped against his mouth. He fondled her more roughly, giving her an edge that made her thighs ache. “Yes…”

“God, Cara, you feel so good.”

She let go of the railing and tugged at his clothes, needing to touch him
the same way he was touching her. “I want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

“I want you, now. I want you inside me.”

“We’ve got all night.”
 

She groaned as she found his erection, hard and ready. She stroked him twice, then spun around, pushing her shorts to the floor as she spread her legs. “All night is for rounds two and three.”

Slow and controlled, he took off her top, then unhooked her bra and
replaced the satin cups with his hands for a fleeting second before he released her.

She sagged against the railing as he leaned down and grabbed protection, then stood and wrapped himself around her from behind. “Your wish is my command.”

He kissed her shoulder, her neck, scrapping his teeth along a spot behind her ear she had no idea made her wet, but it did now. Then he squeezed her hips,
lifting her onto the tips of her toes as he slid his sheathed cock between her legs.

“Don’t tease me,” she gasped as he rubbed the tip against her clit.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Feel that? Feel how hard I am for you? If you’re not wet enough, that’s gonna hurt.”

“I’m ready.” Jeez, she was whining now. But she wanted to feel him— “Oh.”

“Okay?”

“Ahhhh…” She tried to breathe. Wow, he
was
big.
He’d just worked the head inside her, but she was already stretching around him to the aching point.

“It’s the angle,” he said, his voice strained.

She shot him a look over her shoulder that she hoped was equal parts accusing and appreciative. “Pretty sure it’s your size, not the angle. But don’t you dare stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He bent his legs and tugged on her hips, lining them up
a bit better. And he sank in another bit.

“Oh, yes.”
Yes!
She swallowed her next moan and closed her eyes as he worked himself in and out, in and out, until he was all the way in.

Blissfully, achingly, solidly inside her.

Mother of…
 

His mouth touched her back again, her shoulder, as he folded over her and started moving. His hands crept up her front, stroking her belly, then settled on her
breasts, cupping and squeezing the hot, achy flesh.
 

He had her trapped, pinned for his pleasure, and he was giving just as much as he was taking. His thrusts were steady and strong, making her cry out as he heated her up, making her stretch for him. It felt like he was tunnelling deeper and deeper into her body, discovering erogenous zones she’d never experienced before.

The G-Spot? Check.

The magical, mysterious sweet spot a bit further back? Oh, yes. In both directions.

The blindingly good rub against her cervix? More, more, more of that.

“Your accent gets stronger the closer you are to coming,” he said in her ear, his own voice thick with lust.