To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (4 page)

Chapter Five

Chrissie closed her eyes and pictured her brother—at five, at fifteen, at twenty-five, and at his funeral. She put her heart and soul into every performance. But tonight, she sang
How Do I Remember You?
for the SEAL standing on the sidelines. She let the memories of her brother wash over her. She shed tears, allowing them to fall onto her guitar. Because she wanted the man who’d kissed like a Vegas god to know that what he’d said earlier in the car—that her brother had died for a promise of freedom that so many took for granted—those words meant more to her than every dollar she’d earned from her number one hit.

And because I can’t risk revisiting his kisses while I’m on this stage—especially not while I’m performing this number.

She hadn’t written these lyrics to become famous. She’d needed an outlet. A way to express her grief.

“Thank you,” she said into the wireless microphone at the end of the number. The Las Vegas crowd roared its approval. “That song means a lot to me. Thank you for letting me share it with you.”

The audience continued to clap and cheer. Chrissie turned and glanced offstage. And spotted a redheaded SEAL wearing a black T-shirt and camo print pants that would never help him hide in Sin City standing by the sound console.

Where’s Dante?

But her band started the next song on the playlist. She forced her attention back to the stage. She was only a couple of numbers into her two-hour show. She needed to stay focused and give everything she had to her fans. They’d spent their hard-earned dollars on these tickets.

But after the show?

I’ll find him.

When she did, she wanted to return to that moment in the canyon when he’d kissed her. It had felt real. Aside from the heart behind her lyrics, nothing else seemed solid these days. And all of it, from her family to her label, required something from her.

Tonight, I want something for myself. I don’t want to sing about sex and lust. I want to experience it. I want to find out how he delivers on his promise of perfection.

She wanted one night with her very own Navy SEAL before she sent him back to California to focus on the job he loved. She’d mulled the idea over and over while preparing for tonight’s show. She couldn’t afford to fall for him. But she wasn’t a misguided Juliet who’d tumble into love after a perfect orgasm delivered by an all-American Hero…

Sure, it complicated things that Dante seemed to comprehend her passion and her drive in a way she suspected Romeo had never understood Juliet. But she was a grown woman, not a teenager. She could have a one-night stand without falling in love, especially because she knew he was leaving.

He didn’t belong in Sin City, protecting her from a nonexistent threat. He should be training, working on his knee, and getting ready to fight for freedom.

After they explored what would happen when he kissed her off-camera.

Two hours later, Chrissie stepped off the stage and marched over to her bodyguard. “Where’s Dante?” she demanded.

“He’s resting, ma’am.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is he okay? Did he reinjure his knee on the video shoot?”

“Nah, I think he’s coming to terms with the fact that the guys on the teams are going to give him hell for starring in a music video.”

Oh no, she hadn’t thought about how his teammates would handle the news of Dante’s performance in the shoot.

“I hope I didn’t get him into trouble with the Navy.”

“No, ma’am,” Ronan said firmly. “If the guys weren’t giving him hell about the video, they’d find something else. And he’d be the first to return fire, so to speak.”

“Boys will be boys and SEALs will be SEALs,” she said. “Or something like that.”

Ronan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Still, I owe him an apology.”
Perhaps a naked apology.

“He’ll be on duty later,” Ronan said. “If it’s all right with you, I’ve asked him to cover the overnight shift. He’ll stay out of your space. In the hall.”

“He’s planning to stand guard outside my room all night?” she said as they reached her dressing room. “That can’t be good for his knee.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ronan assured her. “The hotel won’t have the extra security in place for you to sign autographs tonight, so—”

“I always do autographs after a concert,” she protested, her focus returning to her job.

“I’m sorry,” he said firmly. “But the hotel doesn’t want to risk it without the added muscle. They’re nervous, too, after the incident in Phoenix. And I can’t say I disagree.”

“There are going to be a lot of disappointed fans,” she muttered as they reached her dressing room.

“That’s why I’ve asked Dante to keep a close eye on you for a few hours after the show,” he said. “If you want to go out, he’ll need to stay with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” she said as Ronan opened the door and walked into her dressing room.

“You friend Mason said you wanted to hit up the Vegas shops,” Ronan called as he searched the small room, which contained a makeup table, loveseat, and her wardrobe for the show.

“He’s my manager, not my friend,” she corrected, still waiting in the doorway. They’d gone through this routine earlier in the day, and she remembered the protocol. “And yes, I’m planning to shop. But I’ll call the stores now and have them send a few things up. I know what I want.”

Disguises that might catch the eye of his teammate. She had about zero experience with seduction. But she knew how to put on a show. She could only hope it was enough to tempt Dante away from his post in the hall and into her bed for the night.

One night and then tomorrow, I’ll set him free.

“I’ll let Raske know.” He returned to the door. “Your dressing room is all clear.”

“Dante Raske? Doesn’t sound very Italian.”

“His mom’s side is from Italy. But his dad was Scandinavian, I think. I met Mr. Raske once. Big guy,” said the six-foot-something wall of muscle in her doorway. “I’ll step outside and call my teammate while you change, Ms. Tate.”

She reached for her earring and began removing the back. “Tell Dante if he wants to stand guard, he can sit inside my suite. I won’t have an injured SEAL collapsing in pain outside my room.”

Ronan let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll let him know.”

“I’ll be fine out here.” Dante stood in the hall. If he walked into the country star’s hotel room, if he sat on her couch during his shift, Ronan would give him hell. And yeah, the rest of the team would hear about it.

Dante couldn’t manage an hour on his feet in a Vegas hotel.
Or
, if you’re heading out for a recon mission, bring a couch for Dante.

“I need you to come inside,” Chrissie said.

Dante mentally added a “me” to the end of her sentence. And no, he couldn’t walk into her hotel room. It was like walking into a battle he knew he’d lose. Hell, one he wanted to lose. Because even though he’d sworn off Vegas flings, he was pretty damn close to tossing that rule aside for a woman who should be off-limits—the star he needed to protect.

“Ma’am—”

“Call me Chrissie.” She took his hand. And even the promise of endless teasing from his fellow SEALs didn’t make him pull free from her hold. He followed her inside like a freaking lap dog. Because dammit, he wanted the chance to prove he could offer her a helluva lot more than perfect kisses.

She released him and walked over to the loveseat in the sitting area. “Make yourself comfortable. Since you’re here, you can help me with my disguises. Sit down, and I’ll be right back.”

Dante followed her request as if she’d issued an order. He sat and watched as she headed off to the bedroom. The door closed behind her.

What the hell am I doing here?

Yeah, he had experience with disguises. He’d spent months traveling along foreign borders dressed to blend in with the tribal warlords. He’d learned to mask his Italian features and walk, talk, and dress like the militants he’d been sent to take out under the cover of night. He’d snuck into their homes, looking like he was one of them, and wiped them out…

But this wasn’t the Middle East. And Chrissie Tate wasn’t on a mission to eradicate the people who wanted to attack America, Europe, and the innocent people in their own damn countries. When she emerged from her room wearing another awful wig, he’d tell her to skip the costumes and focus on listening to the people hired to keep her safe.

The bedroom door opened and Chrissie stepped out. “What the—”

He’d had enough training to school his expression, but damn, for a second he thought his jaw would hit the floor alongside the expletive he’d nearly tossed out.

She froze just beyond the bedroom door. “What do you think?”

I should run for cover, because in that outfit, you’re launching one Hell of an attack.

He stared at the French maid getup that looked as if it had been purchased in a store that catered to male fantasies. The low-cut, sweetheart neckline would make it pretty damn hard to bend over and clean without her breasts slipping out. And while the corset around her slim waist accentuated her curves, he’d bet most hotel maids would find them uncomfortable.

“The store forgot to include the stockings and heels,” she murmured.

“And the rest of the skirt?” he asked, his gaze heading south. The bottom half of her outfit stopped short of covering her panties, never mind her bare legs.

“You don’t like what they sent?” She turned around and offered him a view from the back.

Earlier, he’d run his hand over her backside while hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Now, he wanted to let his fingers roam under her skirt.

“I like it just fine,” he said. “But you might have a hard time blending in with the other maids.”

And I might have to kill any man who sees you like this.

Not that he had a claim on her. He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. But still…

“Ms. Tate,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. He wasn’t hauling ass out of here. Not a chance. Sure, he’d said no more flings. And he knew better than to get involved with the talent. But somewhere in the unwritten rules, there had to be an exclusion for sexy-as-sin French maid outfits.

“Chrissie,” she corrected.

He pushed himself off the couch and took a step forward. And she held her ground.

“Honey,” he said, because she was right. They’d moved past formalities. Still, he needed to be crystal clear. If she was toying with him, if this was her idea of punishment for the bodyguards she’d been clear she didn’t want watching her six, he needed to know before he moved another inch. “I need to know right now—what the hell are you doing?”

She inhaled and, for a second, he swore her breasts would spill over her top. Her cheeks turned pink, suggesting an innocence that was at odds with her outfit. “I want to find out if you meant what you said. If you can deliver perfection beyond kisses…”

Ah hell.
His words were coming back to bite him. He should have held back this afternoon. Instead, he’d allowed her passionate insistence that she understood his drive to serve, that she was on his side, not his ex-wife’s, push him to toss out an invitation to cross the line between professional and personal.

“So, I’m…” she continued. “I’m, well, I’m seducing a SEAL.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

She nodded, and her fingers toyed with her skirt’s indecent hemline. “That’s my plan.”

Everything about her so-called plan sounded like trouble. But the part of him that craved the risk that went hand-in-hand with jumping out of helicopters into the rough, cold ocean waves while wearing enough gear to drown, the side of him that went into hostile territory and chatted up the targets before eliminating them…yeah, that part buried his logic and demanded that he sit his ass down.

He took a step back and sank into the seat. “And just how do you plan to seduce me?”

Chapter Six

Chrissie summoned the courage that had pushed her this far. The man who lost control when he kissed her sat on her couch, waiting for her next move. If she walked over to him…

Her legs started moving, carrying her closer. He leaned back, his legs splayed and his right arm resting on the side of the sofa. He looked calm and in control, while her nerves ran in circles firing off different instructions.

Jump him.

Kiss him.

Run away.

Women probably threw themselves at him all the time. The man was a SEAL, the best of the best. Fearless. Brave. Heroic. Ripped…

She froze, her legs a few inches away from his. What could she possibly offer this man that would make him melt? At twenty-three, she’d nearly returned to virgin territory. She could win over her fans night after night with her words. She could appear bold, even brazen, on the set for her video shoot. But here? Just her and the SEAL?

“Don’t quit now, honey,” he murmured, his tone soft and surprisingly gentle. “You’re doing great.”

She searched his face for a sign of pity. After growing up with next to nothing and enduring the sympathy that often went with asking for assistance like free lunch at school, she had a low tolerance for those “poor little girl” looks. And she didn’t want pity sex. She wanted to win his desire.

But there wasn’t a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Behind his relaxed façade, she sensed a need that reflected hers. And she moved between his splayed legs.

Touch him… Take him…

She gave her instincts free rein. Bent at the waist, she placed her hands on his thighs. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she felt the tension ripple through him as she let him look.

Now tease him…

She ran her hands up his legs and brushed past the hard bulge beneath his jeans. “I’ll come back for that,” she murmured. “But first…”

She wrapped her hands around the hem of his T-shirt and drew it up. Her knuckles glided over his abs. And then, thanks to her years of dance training, everything from tap to the more elaborate choreography she learned for her concerts, she drew his shirt over his head while climbing onto his lap.

She straddled his legs, and her knees pressed into the loveseat cushions. Her skirt now decorated her waist, but he still kept his hands to himself.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his ear. “What are you waiting for?”

“An invitation.” He growled.

“Touch me,” she said. “Please.”

His hands wrapped around her hips and drew her close against him. He rocked his hips up into hers, and she felt her control slipping away. And the realization dawned on her as the feel of him, even through his jeans, sent little shockwaves radiating out from her core. He’d been holding back, because once he started, he might not be able to stop.

His hands slipped around to her bare backside. “A short skirt and thong underwear,” he murmured. “That’s a dangerous combination.”

His finger teased the thin strip of fabric running between her cheeks, pulling it up. The front of her panties drew tight across her clit. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to decipher the sensations. His hard cock pressing against her. The silk underwear. His fingers releasing the back of her thong and gently slipping it back between her cheeks…

“Tell me more,” he said. “What else do you want?”

He wanted directions? She opened her eyes and parted her lips. “You’ve already kissed me on-camera. Let’s see how you do when nobody’s watching.”

“I don’t need an audience.”

She was still sitting on his lap, but even though she was providing the roadmap, she’d lost control of her seduction. With a grin that told her he’d taken over and he knew it, he ran his hands up to her waist and drew her back. Then he lowered his mouth to the bare skin peeking out over her maid costume.

Her nipples grew tight with anticipation. But he obeyed the barrier set by her neckline, never allowing his tongue to dip below.

“I can take it off,” she murmured.

He lifted his lips off her breasts and met her gaze. “Not a good idea. You should never abandon your disguise in the middle of a mission.”

“Is that a Navy SEAL rule?”

“Right now, it’s
my
rule.”

As if he needed to prove he’d claimed control, he ran his hands down her bare legs and then guided her feet onto the loveseat beside him. “Plus, I like the challenge,” he added. “Now, be a good little maid and place your left foot on the sofa.”

“Dante—”

“Trust me,” he murmured, guiding her leg into place.

“Okay.”

He let out a low growl that hinted approval. His hands returned to her waist and drew her hips forward, toward his lips. Her left leg bent sharply and her right knee pressed into the back of the loveseat. The position felt precarious, impossible to maintain—

His tongue teased her through her panties, and she forgot about her legs.

“Dante,” she murmured. “What are you doing?”

“Be quiet and let me kiss you.” He drew her panties aside with one hand, and the other held tight to her bottom as if she might try to run away.

Never from this…

His tongue lapped at her, paused to draw circles around her entrance, and then dipped inside. Her muscles clenched in response, as if wishing to draw him in. But with her legs spread, she remained open and at his mercy.

“Later, I’m going to bury myself inside you,” he murmured, a promise to the wet, needy place between her thighs. “But not yet.”

His tongue glided up to her clit, and then he went to work. The hotel room, the crazy costume she’d ordered from the sex toy store in one of the Sin City hotels, her reason for being in Vegas…it all faded.

Oh God…so good…

Someone was moaning. It took a moment for her to realize she was making that low, needy sound.

“More,” she pleaded. She’d seduce him later. After. Right now, she wanted to ride his mouth until she claimed the orgasm that had eluded her in the canyon earlier. No one was watching them now. No one knew he was here. This—his mouth buried between her legs—it was just for her.

“Ahhh…”

She fell apart, could do nothing more than offer him one garbled sound after another. For someone who wrote pitch-perfect lyrics about life, love, and even sex, she couldn’t manage a single word.

“Hmm…” She groaned as the pleasure radiated upward, through her…everywhere. Her muscles relaxed into his grip, and her weight sagged against him.

“Easy, honey,” he murmured. “I don’t think anyone can maintain that position for long.”

She felt his hands on her, shifting her body. Somehow she’d pitched her upper body over her raised leg. He adjusted her until the loveseat was at her back. She closed her eyes and held tight to the overwhelming sense of well-being radiating through her.

Why had she waited so long for this? All of the stress—her tour, her family—it faded into the background. The feeling that nothing could go wrong as long as she stayed right here, that sensation dominated everything.

“You okay, honey?”

She heard the note of humor in his tone.

“Shh,” she murmured. “I want to spend a little more time with that orgasm.”

“Take your time. I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

…

“You’re still here.”

Dante blinked open his eyes as the hotel room lights turned on overhead. Then he pushed himself into an upright position on the cramped loveseat. And for the first time in months, another part of his body challenged his knee for “the biggest pain in his ass” position. His back ached from sleeping on the sofa that would barely accommodate a kid, never mind a SEAL who towered over half his teammates.

“I fell asleep,” he muttered, glancing at the kitchenette in her suite. This top-of-the-line Vegas room had to have a coffeemaker. He scanned the counters and found his target. He turned to the woman who’d tried to seduce him last night—before she’d passed out. “Mind if I make coffee?”

“You’re still here, and I woke up in my bed, dressed…” She waved at the bedroom door.

“I carried you in there.” He stood and headed for the coffeemaker. “I didn’t want to disturb you by taking off your disguise. And you know, if the bad guys showed up in the middle of the night, it might have proved useful.”

“You didn’t want to wake me up,” she said. “You didn’t want more, something for yourself.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” he said mildly. He pulled open the cupboard and found a basket of supplies including ground coffee, filters, and mugs.

She’d felt his hard-on through his jeans last night. And licking her until she came all over his face had only sharpened his need.

“But you fell asleep,” he said.

Enjoying your orgasm.

And for the first time since he’d run to her aid in the canyon, Chrissie Tate, America’s country sweetheart, had looked completely at ease. He couldn’t bring himself to disrupt her relaxed, peaceful sleep. So he’d carefully carried her to bed, and he’d tucked her in fully dressed just in case the act of stripping off that maid’s costume disrupted her slumber.

Then he’d visited her bathroom and taken care of his aching dick. And yes, he’d closed his eyes and pictured her spread legs hovering over his face while he came, but it still felt like the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the kitchenette’s tile floor. “Honey, seeing you in that maid’s outfit was enough for me.”

“But you didn’t—”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe someday I’ll ask you to return the favor and then pass out on you. But there isn’t a rule stating I need to come if you do, honey. Remember that, all right? You can add it to the list right below ‘kissing should never hurt.’ Even if it’s just practice.” He turned back to the coffeemaker. “Now, how do you like your coffee, Ms. Tate?”

“Strong,” she said.

He added more grounds. “Me too.”