To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (8 page)

Beyond that? She wasn’t sure anymore.

What about Dante?

She glanced at the side of the stage as she lowered the mic and waited for the band to join her. She could count on her SEAL for another lesson and, hopefully, another orgasm. But after that he had a job to do. And it was more important than anything she’d sing on this stage.

Chapter Ten

Dante sat on the edge of the hotel bed in his underwear and stared at the door to his Utah hotel, hoping the woman he’d been hired to protect would knock and demand a Navy SEAL combat lesson at two in the morning. If his team could see him now, torn up over a woman he’d known for a handful of days after he’d sworn off playing fast and loose with his heart…

But this is different.

Why? He barely knew her. Sure, she had a way of drawing truths out of him, like if he still loved his cheating ex and why he refused to quit serving his country. But that didn’t mean he could trust her.

Does it matter if I do?

They both knew this was a dead end. She had enough on her plate, entertaining crowds night after night and supporting her family. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy their remaining lessons. Hell, she might even learn something in the process. Though he sure as shit hoped her manager would hire decent security after he returned to the teams. He didn’t want to think about Chrissie facing another knife-wielding fan while trying to decide if she should hit hard or haul ass.

But I can’t keep her safe forever. I can’t follow her forever.

Still, he could have her tonight. He could leave her with another skill and maybe something more—
if
she made the trip across the hall and knocked on his door.

He flopped back on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Logic demanded that he face facts. She was probably asleep. She wasn’t coming tonight, which meant he wasn’t, either. He was done stroking himself to a half-assed orgasm while picturing America’s country sweetheart. He wanted to feel her, touch her, and make her scream his name as she came.

“Tomorrow I’ll offer her a lesson,” he murmured to the empty room. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose. If she shot him down, well hell, he’d be back where he belonged soon enough, far away from a world filled with songs about trucks, beer, and shit—sex.

…

Chrissie opened the door to her suite and found the hallway empty. Finally. She’d been checking every fifteen minutes for the last hour. First, she’d spotted her mother leading her dad to their shared room next door to hers. And she’d quickly pulled her head back into her room. She would welcome her father in the morning. Right now, she wanted to give her parents space.

And she didn’t want to explain to her father why she’d changed out of her pajamas and into a pencil skirt, heels, and button-down white shirt. Sure, she wore shorter costumes during her concerts. This disguise probably wouldn’t have the same heart-attack inducing effect of the schoolgirl outfit she’d ordered for a future “combat” lesson.

But if she left her room wearing fake glasses and tight-fitting business clothes in the middle of the night and told her family, her manager, or even one of her band members that she was sneaking out for a training session with the SEAL down the hall, they would jump to conclusions. And if they found out, her manager would want to use the relationship to promote her upcoming music video. Her mother would wish to discuss the pros and cons of her starlet daughter dating Dante. As for the rest of the band, she didn’t care if they assumed she wanted more than a hand-to-hand combat session, that she wanted to seduce her bodyguard.

But she wasn’t ready to share her relationship with Dante. This was for her. It wasn’t a publicity stunt or a way to further her career. And it wasn’t up for discussion, not with her manager or her mother. She just wanted to slip into the make-believe world where nothing, including her career and her family, could intrude.

So she’d waited. Now, at two in the morning, the corridor was clear. Her hotel room door clicked shut behind her, and she rushed across to Dante’s door.

She knocked once and…nothing.

“Dante,” she hissed, and knocked a second time. She heard footsteps and hoped he would let her in soon. She raised her hand to knock a third time as the door swung open.

“Chrissie?” He blinked as if shifting from asleep to alert and ready for action—and oh my. He was wearing his bright white undies. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She placed a hand on his bare chest. Her fingers tangled with the dark hairs as she pushed past him and slipped into his room. “I’m ready for my next SEAL lesson.”

Dante closed the door and turned to face her. He placed his hands on the elastic band of his white underwear. On another man, the tight white underpants might appear silly.

But he looked like Superman. Or maybe super SEAL.

“You got all dressed up in the middle of the night to learn how to defend yourself again?”

She pressed her thighs together at the sound of his stern tone.

“Not just defend,” she said, trying for bold. But the words came out breathless and so heavy with wanting that she might as well have worn a T-shirt with the words “Take Me Sailor” in red sequin letters. “I want to learn how to attack, too.”

Tension rippled through his body. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight. And now you’re going to seduce me again?”

She nodded. “This time, I’m going to succeed.”

“Maybe. But not here,” he said, walking past her. “We need more space.”

He left the narrow hotel entryway and headed for the bedroom. And she followed. His room mirrored hers. A king-size bed dominated the space flanked by tan nightstands. To the right, a door led to the bathroom. Unlike the five-star hotel that hosted their four-night stop in Las Vegas, one night in Utah didn’t come with a suite upgrade for her or her bodyguard.

He walked over to the bathroom door and pulled it shut. A full-length mirror stood on the other side. Then he headed for the foot of the bed. “Come over here. Stand in front of me and face the mirror.”

“Should I change first?” she asked as she followed his instructions.

His lips brushed the nape of her neck. “No. You look great like this. What do you call this one?”

“Librarian.”

“Next lesson, remind me to teach you about blending in.” His hands moved to her hips. “I don’t think Utah’s librarian population is roaming hotels in the middle of the night dressed in tight skirts.”

“Do you know a lot about Salt Lake City librarians?” she challenged. She kept her gaze fixed on the mirror. In the reflection, she saw his lips hovering over her skin. Just a little bit lower and he’d be kissing her.

“No, but I have some experience with male fantasies,” he said.

“I wear disguises for privacy,” she said. “So no one will recognize me.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. He lowered his mouth to her neck and gave her a gentle nip with his teeth. “And sometimes you wear them for me. You could have crossed the hotel hallway in your sweats.”

“Yes.” She gasped and raised her arms, reaching for him. She wanted to touch him, to reach back and draw his mouth down to the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Not too high,” he said. “You’ll want your hands positioned in front of your face for this lesson. We’re going to practice punching.”

She lowered her arms and formed her hands into tight fists. “Like this?”

“That’s a start,” he said, running his hands up to her waist. “The important thing is to twist from the waist.”

“Twist from the waist. I can do that.”

“Let’s try jabbing your right fist across your body,” he said.

She executed the movement as his hands guided her waist into a twist.

“Not bad,” he said. “But you dropped your left hand. This time keep it in front of your face for protection. Now try again.”

She performed the same move. This time, his hands moved higher, gliding up her sides and over her white button-down shirt to her rib cage. His index finger brushed her breast, and she moaned into the punch.

“Careful you don’t get distracted while trying to fend off your opponent,” he murmured.

“But you—”

“Try again,” he said firmly. “First a right jab and then a left. Picture someone you want to take out standing right in front of you. Like that jerk who’s still singing in your show.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Jared,” she said. “I asked Mason to fire him, but he claimed we couldn’t find a decent replacement for the same salary.”

“Honey, I’m not jealous. I know how to kiss you.” He pressed his lips to her neck as if offering proof. “Now, jab.”

She threw one punch after another. Her first looked on target. And her second. But by the third, her instructor’s hands drifted lower, moving over her hips. She felt his fingers pulling at her skirt. And the fabric rose, brushing against her bare legs.

Her arms stilled and lowered.

“Don’t let down your guard,” he warned. “Keep jabbing.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded as he lifted her skirt higher.

“Testing to see if you can work with distractions. Most fights happen in crowded places. Lots of noise.”

“Pulling up my skirt doesn’t cause a racket,” she muttered, out of breath from punching the air.

“Just wait.”

His hands glided over the top of her black silk panties, which were visible in the bathroom door mirror now that he’d pulled her skirt to her waist. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic band, and he didn’t stop until he’d found her clit.

“Keep punching,” he reminded her as he drew a small circle over the bundle of nerves.

“I…” She stepped her feet apart, offering him access as she halfheartedly threw another jab. Her hips began to rock toward him.

“Focus,” he whispered as his other hand released her waist. She felt his fingers in her hair pulling at the pins. He tossed them to the ground as her long locks tumbled over her shoulders.

“I can’t,” she said, reaching behind her. She pressed her palms into his bare thighs and clawed at him, begging him to move forward. He guided her hips back, using the hand still buried in her underwear and teasing her mercilessly. She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her.

“After you come,” he said. “I’m going to bury myself inside of you.”

“Tonight?” she gasped as he quickened his circles, pushing her closer and closer to the big
O
finish line.

“Tonight. But first, I’m going to strip you out of this costume.” He growled. “I like your disguises. But I’ve decided that when I take you, when I let you seduce me—”

She let out a laugh that transformed to a moan. Her plans to seduce her big bad alpha SEAL consistently ended in failure—and orgasms.

“When I fuck you,” he continued, his voice raw and open, “I want you. Not a sexy maid or a wild librarian. Just
you
, Chrissie.”

She came hard and fast. Her fingers dug in to his legs and she let out a low, guttural sound. If he were an opponent, she would have lost this round. But she didn’t care.

Slowly, the pleasure ebbed, and she opened her eyes. One look in the mirror and she saw the heat in his gaze.

“Your turn,” she said.

“Our turn,” he corrected.

He released her and stepped back. Keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror, she saw him move to the foot of the king-size bed. He sat on the edge with his feet planted on the floor and his palms flat on the bedspread. Even free from the tension that rippled through his muscles when he was poised to defend or fight, he looked bigger and better than any man she’d ever seen.

A SEAL. The best of the best. Stronger… Harder…

But also a man.

“Time to kiss the librarian disguise good-bye,” he said.

“Are you sure?” She thought back to that first night when he’d worked around the French maid outfit. “I could keep the skirt on and we could pretend—”

“That I found you in the stacks and wanted to beg you to forgive my overdue fines?” he said. “Not tonight, honey. I want you, not the show you put on for the rest of the world.”

But plain old Chrissie from Florida, the girl drowning in grief and fear for her family—that girl wouldn’t have a clue how to seduce a SEAL. “I’m not sure that girl belongs in this bedroom,” she murmured. “Trying to talk you out of your underwear. She doesn’t have experience luring a…a man like you into bed.”

“I’m already on the bed, honey. But if you’re going to join me, please do it because you want me, not my job or the thrill that comes with bedding a SEAL.”

“No, it’s not like that. I do want you,” she said firmly. She reached for the buttons on her shirt and began freeing them one by one. As her fingers moved, she kept her gaze fixed on him.

That first night, when she’d brazenly walked out of her bedroom in a maid’s outfit, she’d been looking for a treat. One night with a SEAL. She’d craved the fantasy and the escape. But tonight, she wanted Dante, the man who looked at her as if she was enough. He didn’t need the sequins and the number one hits. He wasn’t here for her music.

Plus, he was leaving soon. This wasn’t permanent. She didn’t need to find a way to work his crazy schedule into hers—and wait for the moment her career poisoned their relationship.

“Chrissie?” he asked mildly.

Her fingers stilled on the last button. “You know this doesn’t go beyond our lessons?”

He nodded. “I know. But honey, the way I see tonight, it’s like jumping out of a helicopter. If you pause and think long and hard about all the things that could go wrong, or where you’ll land, like in the middle of the freaking ocean, you’d never jump. And you’d be missing out, because the fall is worth it.”

That look in his dark eyes? That hunger when he spoke about falling through the sky? It felt real and solid like the lyrics to her songs. The man on the bed wanted
her
, not the fantasy. He wanted to take the leap with her regardless of where they’d end up.

She pulled her now-unbuttoned shirt free from her skirt, stripped it off, and tossed it aside. Then she released the clasp on her bra, drew the straps down her shoulders, and tossed it in the other direction. “Sorry, I’m not giving you much of a show.”

“When a beautiful woman starts taking off her clothes, I’m not stupid enough to critique her method,” he said, his gaze fixed on her bare breasts. “This isn’t part of your lessons, honey. Because trust me, I’m going to make damn sure you have the skills to fend off an attacker fully dressed.”

She reached for her skirt, still bunched at her waist, and wrestled with the zipper. “So I don’t have the ‘How to Striptease In Front of the Bad Guys’ lesson to look forward to?”