Daring Her SEAL (14 page)

“Where are we going?” Since the airport was out, she was open to suggestions. As soon as they stepped off the dock, she sank ankle-deep into a shockingly cold puddle. Lovely.

“Dixie, we're stranded on an island with a Category One storm headed toward us. I'm not hosting a welcome party on the dock.”

11

T
HE
WIND
SLAMMED
into the villa and the walls shook. It felt kind of like they were camping in a kid's fort, and someone had decided to kick the blocks over.

Ashley nudged him. “Thank you.”

He had no idea what she was thanking him for, so he shot her a questioning look. They were cozied up on the bed together. After checking out the other buildings on the island, he'd decided that their villa wasn't such a bad place to wait out the storm. They were in the center of the island, and there were storm shutters to pull over the windows. The public areas he'd checked out already showed signs of flooding, and at least they were dry here.

He nudged her back. “For what?”

“You want me to spell it out?” She made a face, but must have figured out that he was genuinely clueless because she laid it out for him. “You're pretty amazing in action. If I had to get stuck on a teeny-tiny island in the path of a hurricane, you're a good man to get stuck with.”

Wow. He hadn't seen that coming. She liked his body, but he knew that was a temporary thing. So they had awesome chemistry—but she hadn't admitted to anything else. And now she blindsided him with her approval? It figured. Ashley wasn't the kind of person who liked to chat about her feelings. She was tough, and she focused on the job. That was just one more reason why she'd made such a fucking amazing honorary SEAL.

“You're not too bad, either,” he said gruffly. While he'd gathered supplies and storm-proofed the villa, she'd gone online and sent up a distress flare. Plenty of people now knew they were stuck on the island, so help would arrive just as soon as the wind and the waves died down some. And he was willing to bet SEAL Team Sigma wouldn't wait that long. Ashley had “accessed” the National Hurricane Center's servers too, and then backdoored her way into the systems of the reconnaissance aircraft flying into the heart of the storm. He'd pointed out that the data from those flights was close to real time, but she'd wanted “to see shit” as it unfolded. If the hurricane itself had been a piece of software, she'd have been inside it and reprogramming it to do what she wanted.

Sexy as hell.

“Sweet talker.” She punched his arm lightly, and he caught her fingers in his.

The power had gone out an hour ago, taking their internet access with it, but from what Ashley had seen—and he was not asking how she'd gotten access to those servers—the storm was actually no longer on a course to broadside Fantasy Island. It would probably pass several hundred miles to the west, and they'd get one hell of a storm but not much else. The wind beat at the roof, and Ashley looked up.

They'd both agreed that candles were too much of a hazard, so even though it was only midafternoon, they were all but sitting in the dark. If shit hit the fan and conditions got worse, he'd laid out a backup plan. They'd make a run for it to the restaurant and take shelter inside the walk-in cooler. He'd considered that spot earlier, but the restaurant had a palapa roof that was undoubtedly halfway to Belize by now, plus there hadn't been enough time to empty the cooler. Spending a day or three surrounded by rotting meat and produce wasn't anyone's first choice.

On the other hand, he knew exactly
who
was his first choice.

To hell with it.

He had all the time in the world right now, so it was time to put his plan into action. He patted his pocket. He'd do this. Here she was. And here he was. He'd spent a lifetime planning like hell—then acting on instinct when he'd put the plans into motion and he was live on the battlefield. Everything in him said that he'd be a fool to let Ashley walk away from him. From
them.
What they had together was too good to let it end just because their time on the island was coming to an end.

He rolled onto his side because he needed to see her face for this. “You want to get married for real?”

“Are you crazy?” She stared at him as if he'd lost his ever-loving mind, and that wasn't the reaction he'd been going for.

“I'm serious.”

“Pull the other one.” She grinned at him. Clearly she didn't think he was serious, so he pulled out the little black box from his pocket. He'd ducked into the resort's jewelry store because a palm tree had already knocked the door in, and he'd figured maybe there was a back room or some kind of walk-in safe where they could take shelter. He hadn't found that, but he had found a ring. Hell, he'd even charged it to the room, leaving an IOU. He was one hundred percent, completely legit.

“Open it.” He nudged her hand with the box, and she took it automatically, thumbing open the lid.

He'd liked the ring on first sight. It wasn't some big piece of bling, because that wasn't the kind of woman his Dixie was. The little sign had claimed it was a conch pearl, but he'd just seen pink. A pretty pink stone shaped kind of like a quirky jelly bean in the middle of all those flashy little diamonds. It was pretty and bold, and he kind of wanted to buy one for each finger.

She slammed the lid shut. “You can't do this.”

He certainly could. He flicked the box back open.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

She looked away. “No.”

“That's it? Just no?” he said slowly. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to be sliding that ring on her finger, and then he'd had high hopes for happy-engagement sex. She shoved the box at him, and he took it automatically. “You got a thing against the institution, or is it just me you have a problem with?”

“You think you're Freud now, and I should tell you all about my lousy childhood and my daddy issues?”

Whatever worked for her. The ring winked up at him, kind of a
fuck you
now that he thought about it. He snapped the box shut, and shoved it into the bedside drawer.

“You're hot. We're stuck here.” She ticked the reasons off. If she kept going, she'd run out of fingers before she ran out of steam.

“Those are reasons
not
to marry me?” He wasn't sure how he'd gone from having
I love you
on the tip of his tongue, to jonesing for a knockdown, drag-out fight, but that was Ashley and him. They were the relationship equivalent of those super-balls you got for a quarter from the machines by the grocery store's front door. They had highs and lows and plenty of bounce between the two extremes. Love her. Hate her.
Love her.

Naturally Ashley wasn't done enumerating his shortcomings. Nope. She was just getting going, even though the wind and the rain pretty much meant she had to yell to make herself heard. Not a problem either, for her.

“You should be just a hot SEAL I want to have angry sex with. My head says
hey, fuck buddy!
But I just know my body's going to start releasing all these chemicals, and the next thing I know, I'll be bonding with you and then I'm going to be thinking about you, wanting to keep you. No, thank you.”

His entire body tensed. “How's that a bad thing? I just volunteered for a lifetime deployment with you, babe. Keeping me is exactly what I want you to do.”

Same way he wanted to hang on to her.

Despite the near darkness inside the villa, he could see the look of pity she shot him. “For a day, a year, forever—it doesn't matter because you, Levi Brandon, aren't keeper material.”

“I don't get a say in this?” Because he really thought he should.

“You can't help what you are,” she said, and then she patted his chest like he had some kind of terminal illness. “I've seen your kind before. You're darn cute, and tons of fun, but you don't know how to stick. You'll be off—first on another mission, then just somewhere else. That's the way it goes.”

The hurricane meant he couldn't prove her point and slam out. Probably he should be down on his knees thanking a higher power for that rain out there, but right now he was pretty damned confused.

“So I've got a terminal case of the stupids, and you're also condemning me because you think I'm a good-looking guy? That makes no sense, Dixie. Sure, SEALs don't have the best track record when it comes to love and marriage. We're out in the field for months at a time, and that leaves you at home. But I can tell you one thing. If you're home, I'm
coming
home.”

* * *

L
EVI
B
RANDON
HAD
asked her to marry him. Voluntarily and without a gun to his head. Guess that made today a
when pigs fly
kind of day but she had a hard time believing he was serious. The man had a new girlfriend every other week, and yet he was waving a ring in front of her face? Whatever he was smoking, she wanted some. If she'd learned one thing growing up, it was that marriage wasn't a happiness guarantee. Exchanging vows made laundry. It made a great big to-do list, and “great” didn't mean “awesome,” “really fun,” or “let's do this again!” Marriage worked because the two people in it both wanted to give something to each other, and the only thing Levi seemed to want to give her was carnal pleasure. And one hell of a gorgeous ring.
Why can't we say yes?
That had to be her girl parts talking, and not her head—or her heart. He couldn't possibly be The One because she had standards—and he was a player. Levi Brandon hadn't met a woman he wouldn't sleep with. She might not settle for less than perfection, but he wouldn't settle
down
.

“Tell me why you're really mad,” he said forcefully, and her tempted ignited.

“You forced me to come here. You threatened to sabotage my career if I didn't come along for the ride. Now I'm stuck on an island, and I'm about to miss my interview and blow my chance. And you want me to believe you're ready to commit and settle down with me? The only way a guy like you
sticks
is if he's handcuffed in place.”

He winked at her, and she got even madder. Why did guys do that? “Babe, if you want to play bondage games, just ask me.”

And she could guess which one of them got to play tied-up victim. “I could kill you and dump your body. Blame it on the storm.”

He shrugged. “I'm too pretty to waste?”

Oh, that did it. She stomped over and rummaged in the gift basket the resort had provided. She was pretty sure she remembered a particular toy they'd included. It was childish, but she didn't care. She had a point to make.

“Don't play games with me,” she snapped.
Bingo
. The resort had included a very pretty pair of bright purple handcuffs. Presumably they'd intended for her to be the one tied up, but a lesson in gender role reversal wouldn't hurt Levi.

“Jesus, Dixon.” Guess she wasn't
Dixie
anymore. Good. He could keep his stupid nicknames. “I asked you to marry me. I didn't say suck my dick.”

And this was reason one million and sixty-seven why they weren't getting married. “Do you have to be so crude?”

He slouched against the pillows. For a man who'd just been turned down, he didn't look too devastated. “Do you have to walk around with that stick up your butt all the time?”

“Here's a hint,” she told him, striding back toward the bed. “The next time you ask some woman to marry you? You don't follow up your proposal by telling her she's uptight and unattractive.”

He opened his mouth, but she didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. Mother Nature apparently agreed with her because something toppled over outside the villa with a bone-shaking crash. When the roof didn't cave in, she decided it was probably a palm tree biting the dust. Levi leaned forward, clearly on high alert, and she took advantage of his distraction to snap the cuff around his wrist.

He jerked. Poor baby. “What the hell, Dixon?”

“I'm making a point,” she said sweetly, fastening the other cuff around the bedpost before he could pull away. “You claim you know how to stick. I counter that this is the only way you'd stay put with one woman.”

12

H
E
WAS
GOING
to paddle her sweet butt.

If she wanted to play kinky games, he'd do the choosing, thank you very much. He eyed the handcuff. Not that a plastic toy would stop him for long.

“Smile for the camera,” she crowed, and his head snapped up just in time to meet the bright pop of Ashley's flash. That was less okay, but since he sincerely doubted she had an internet connection, he had hours if not days to scrub the picture. The storm pinning them down wouldn't be over for a while.

She paced up and down, giving him a piece of her mind. He listened for the first three minutes, but then the speech got old. He'd heard it all before from her. He was an irresponsible, pussy-loving adrenaline junkie who wouldn't recognize a good relationship if it reached up and bit him on the ass. Yeah. He'd been working on that when she'd gone crazy on him. He yanked on the cuff, but it held much to his surprise. Guess the resort hadn't skimped on its hardware. Its
purple
hardware.

He interrupted the itemized list of everything that was wrong with him. If he waited for her to finish, the sun would come out first. “You gonna at least give me a paperclip?”

“Sorry. Office Depot's closed due to a hurricane.”

Had he thought he was incapable of feeling? Because he recognized the feeling flooding him right now, faster and harder than the storm water pounding through the resort. She didn't get to be the victim here, and he didn't have to be the bad guy.

To hell with it. He could break the bed, his wrist or the handcuffs.

“You attached to these?” He shook his wrist at her. If the cuffs were her extra-special Fantasy Island souvenir, he could be convinced to go for the bed.

She smirked. “You're the one who's attached.”

“Watch me.” He slammed the handcuff down on the bedpost forcing the lock open. Too bad all of life's little problems couldn't be solved so simply.

Ashley threw up her hands. “Is that how you fix everything? An application of brute force?”

“You talk too much.” He lunged off the bed for her. She shrieked and took evasive action, but where was she gonna go? Hurricane outside. Him inside. He knew the moment she considered opening the door and abandoned the plan, because his Dixie had never, ever been stupid. Snaking an arm around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed. Followed her down.

“You got anything to say now?” He was pissed off, his wrist ached from the he-man stunt and apparently she thought he was nothing more than a pretty face attached to a convenient set of muscles. Well, too bad for her. So he wasn't good at talking. Or feeling. Around her he was developing a whole new set of skills, even if he was still better at coming in hot and blowing his target up. Not proposing marriage to a woman who apparently didn't even like him much.

Or at all.

When his feelings had decided to come back from their vacation, they'd come back with a vengeance. Fuck if he could sort them out. It wasn't like emotions came with a preloaded label maker.

“Are you ever serious?” she hissed.

“Let's find out.”

* * *

S
HE
'
D
WONDERED
ONCE
what Levi would be like if he ever got really, thoroughly pissed off. Staring up at his fierce face, she realized she was about to find out. He rolled, pulling her beneath him, and came down ruthlessly on top of her. He wasn't worried about giving her his weight. When her breath rushed out in a harsh gasp, he just grinned and gave her more. She didn't know if he wanted to see how much she could take, or if he had some other point to prove, but he pinned her in place without even trying.

She couldn't identify what she saw there in his eyes. He'd asked her to marry him, but that had been a joke. Or what he thought she wanted to hear. Anger? Hurt?

She didn't know, but she did have the feeling he was about to tell her. He hadn't used words like
love
and
forever
, but then, neither had she. In fact, she had pretty much cut him off the minute he'd produced that pretty pink ring of his. She sucked at relationships, she decided ruefully. She shouldn't be allowed anywhere near this man, particularly not this close, because all she could think about was getting closer. And naked.

She'd definitely take naked.

“I asked you to marry me,” he growled.

Good lord, was he going to keep harping on that? She was sympathetic to the embarrassment factor, but he hadn't really meant it. They both knew that. “You've got to let it go.”

He shook his head slowly. “Babe, I don't have to do anything, and you're not in a position to give orders.”

Because he had her squashed into the mattress? Being bigger wasn't everything, and she opened her mouth to say so.

“Nuh-uh,” he whispered roughly, lowering his mouth until it brushed hers. She shut up fast. “You don't get to tell me how I feel.”

“Yet you proposed to me.” She wriggled her hands free and slapped them against his chest. The man was about as moveable as a wall. If the room did cave in, all she had to do was hold this position, and she'd be fine. His hard head could take the brunt of everything, from bad weather to flying palm trees.

He braceleted both of her wrists with one hand. “Did you even think about saying yes?”

Not waiting for an answer, his mouth slanted over hers. A kiss? Not hardly. More like a brand or a mark of possession. Her SEAL felt territorial and she shouldn't have enjoyed it half as much as she did.

“No,” she said, wrenching her lips from his, only half meaning it. “You popped the question, and then I popped out an answer.
You
were the one who got all pissed off.”

“You didn't think I meant it,” Levi said, moving his mouth from her throat to her ear. He bit the lobe none too gently and she bucked. Was that supposed to feel so good? His tongue laved the mark he must have put on her, and that felt even better. The man had her all screwed up and she resented it. “I'm gonna put words in your mouth, same way you put them in mine, except at the end you get a chance to plead innocent. You believe I'm a player, the sailor with a girl in every port.”

It was true, wasn't it? “I've worked with you,” she pointed out. “I've posed as your girlfriend. You're a busy man, Levi. You probably have to buy condoms in bulk. I don't think you've ever thought about settling down with one woman, and I'm not your type.”

“So this makes you an expert on how I feel?” He settled himself in the cradle of her thighs.

“Make yourself at home,” she muttered. The man had no limits.
And you like it.

He gave her more weight, as if that was some kind of punishment. “Answer the question.”

“Yes.” She rocked up against him. Lying still like a virgin sacrifice wasn't something she was good at.

“And that's why you turned me down?”

“Pretty much.” Because otherwise, on the surface of things, he kind of did look like a keeper man. He was sweet, hardworking, and as a US Navy SEAL he spent every day in bona fide hero territory. Not only did he pull a paycheck, but he made their nation stronger, safer. Maybe he fostered kittens and pulled old ladies out of burning buildings, too.

He shook his head. “And now you're stuck with me in the middle of a hurricane. Your timing sucks, Dixon. What if you hurt my feelings so badly that I pitch your pretty ass out of here, and you have to find a new hidey-hole?”

“You wouldn't do that.”

“What makes you so sure?” His mouth drifted down her neck, trailing fiery kisses along her throat.

“Because you're a decent guy,” she admitted. It was true. Sort of. Mostly. “Except when you're deliberately being an asshole.”

It was important to be fair. And he really didn't appear to be interested in being decent
or
an asshole at the moment. Instead he gave her more kisses. More heat. She felt her lips moving feverishly beneath his, liquid heat flooding her core. Apparently the man
could
kiss the anger right out of her. If she'd planned on sticking with him, that would have been cause for concern.

He pulled back and winked at her. “Are you sure I'm nice?”

“I'm not omniscient, but I've worked with you for months. You're a US Navy SEAL and the other guys on the team trust you. So do I really think you'd stick me outside in the middle of a storm?” She smiled sweetly at him, hoping she looked more in control than she actually felt. “Not a chance. Hell, even if it was just sprinkling, there's a better chance you'd sprint to fetch me an umbrella.”

“Because I'm that goddamned nice,” he growled. Really? Because there had been absolutely nothing wrong or nasty about her answer.

“Pretty much.” He pressed down, then up, and she sighed. Good lord, the man really did know how to turn a woman on. Maybe she should stop complaining about all the practicing he'd done. Then he stopped moving. She cracked an eye to discover why and saw a muscle in his jaw tick. He still looked thoroughly pissed, which made it all too easy to imagine him kicking down doors in some foreign country and then storming inside to clear a room of hostile insurgents. He'd get the job done. Honestly, it was sexy as hell.

Which had to explain what she said next.

“Can we stop talking and move on to having sex?”

His eyes glinted dangerously. “Babe, you really don't want to push me right now.”

And see? That was their second major difference of opinion, right there.

“Why not?” she taunted. “I've got a bed, a hot SEAL and all the time in the world because I'm stranded on a deserted island. What else am I going to do?”

His hand whipped upward, her arm followed and there was a click. He'd cuffed her to the bed. Wow. Somehow she hadn't seen that one coming. She yanked her arm, but the damned thing held even after his earlier cuff-slamming act.

He gave her a tight smile. “I didn't break it, Dixie. Just forced it open. The lock still works.”

Crap. She bucked, but he was already sliding off her. He reached for the utility knife on the bedside table. “Useful,” he observed and the blade flashed before she could even catch her breath. Cold metal slid down her chest and over her stomach.

“Don't you dare—” Red flag to a bull. The blade sliced through fabric.

“Don't
what
?” Oh, Mr. Big Bad SEAL didn't like
that
. Boo-fucking-hoo. Her clothes were probably sitting on the tarmac at Belize International Airport, and he'd just destroyed her last outfit. If anyone got to be pissed here, it was her. Not done with her yet—thank God—he pulled her shirt and bra open. The knife disappeared, tossed somewhere, and he yanked down her shorts and panties. She went up in flames, anticipation flooding her. The storm pounded outside, and all the anger and fear and adrenaline needed some place to go. Why not take it out on Levi?

“Don't stop.” She slapped her free hand around his erection. “You volunteered to make this mine, so consider this a trial run.”

“You said no,” he growled.

Semantics. But he rolled off the bed and jerked his shirt over his head. Five seconds later his pants hit the floor.

“Condom,” she demanded.

“Absolutely.” They both knew he was clean, because he'd just had a physical and she didn't doubt he was careful. He rolled on a condom, fisting himself in a vise that looked tight enough to hurt, but he groaned, and damned if that didn't sound like a happy noise.

“And now I'm saying yes,” she snarled. “So hurry up.”

He lifted her hips, kneeing her thighs apart. She rocked back, wrapping her legs around his hips. No way she was letting him take her. She'd be getting her own piece of him, making him hers for the moment. He eased back, then drove forward, and she lost her breath. There was nothing gentle or easy about Levi. He slammed himself home, pushing deep until his hips were sealed against her pussy, and they were both breathing hard, like they'd just run a race and were headed neck and neck for the finish line. He didn't beat her. Not now, not today.

“Is that all you've got?” she taunted him.

“Not. Even.” He pulled back, thrust again and each brutal drive shoved her higher, further. He was rough but oh, God, the pleasure was right there along with the burn, and she'd never felt this alive before. The wind howled outside, the villa shook and she wanted more—more Levi, more inside her to fill up the empty place she hadn't realized she had. She needed him, and he delivered.

“Don't stop.” Shoot. That came out more whimper than demand.

He curled the fingers of one hand around hers. The other cupped her butt, lifting her for his next thrust. She was spread wide-open, legs cradling his hips. Each thrust drove her into the mattress and it felt so fucking good. The raw burn of him branded her from the inside out as he pounded his way home. This was what she'd needed, what she'd craved. When she came it was rough and hard, her body clenching down on his, holding on and not letting go. This was powerful on a whole new level, and when he followed her over the edge, with her each step of the way, it was pretty damn perfect.