Getting Hotter (14 page)

Miranda poured herself a glass of water before inching toward the doorway. “I should turn in.”

“Wait.”

His gravelly voice stopped her. Biting her bottom lip, she met his gaze, which flickered with something she couldn’t decipher. “What is it?”

“I want you.”

She briefly closed her eyes and counted to three. “Seriously, Seth, do we have to do this again? I
know
you want me. You’ve made that ridiculously clear since the—”

“Just let me finish,” he interrupted, sounding so frustrated she stopped talking midsentence.

Wrinkling her forehead, she leaned against the doorframe and waited for him to continue.

“I want you, and it’s making me act crazy, all right?” he mumbled. “I’ve never been rejected before, Miranda.”

An unwitting smile tickled her lips. No, she didn’t imagine rejection played a large part in his life. The guy was a supersoldier, built like a Greek god, with the face of a bad-boy movie star. Women probably lined up around the block for a shot with Seth Masterson.

“I understand why you don’t want to get involved.” He met her eyes head-on, his mouth set in a weary line. “And I’m sure I only make it worse with all my flirting and badgering and my attempts to bend you to my will. But I promise you, Miranda, if we do this, there won’t be anything complicated about it.”

Despite the frantic voice in her head begging her not to open this door, her curiosity won out. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’ll take you any way I can get you. I’ll take you on
your
terms, not mine.”

A laugh popped out. “Yeah, right. It’s always on your terms, Seth. That’s just the way you operate.”

“Not this time.” Conviction resonated from his deep voice and gleamed in his sexy gray eyes. “I relinquish control, baby. If we act on this attraction, you’ll be the one running the show. When you want it, where you want it, how you want it. The control is yours.”

Shock grabbed hold of her and sent her eyebrows soaring. She knew how difficult this must be for him—heck, there was no mistaking the reluctant crease in his forehead or the way he was white-knuckling that coffee mug. Oh no, he was not the kind of man who handed over the reins.

Her lips twitched with unrestrained amusement. “I’ll have total control?”

“Within reason,” he conceded. “In terms of the when and where, definitely. But the how?” His voice lowered to a smoky pitch vibrating with wicked promise. “I can guarantee that following my lead in the bedroom isn’t something you’ll find complaint with.”

Her sex constricted as a stream of dirty images deluged her brain. God. This man was pure temptation. How on earth was she ever going to resist him? When he looked at her with that burning-hot gaze and licked his bottom lip like he wanted to eat her up, she couldn’t think of a single reason
not
to sleep with him.

“The flood,” she blurted out.

Seth blinked. “What?”

“My apartment is a mess, you know, from the flood. I’m working two jobs, and we’ve got the summer recital coming up at the end of July, so I need to start thinking about solos and song selection and costumes. My life is a big ball of stress right now,” she confessed, though the reminder was more for her sake than his.

“All the more reason to welcome some no-strings, stress-busting sex into your life,” he pointed out with a grin.

“No strings,” she echoed.

“Not a single one.”

She swallowed. “And it’s on my terms?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I…don’t know.”

She didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to change her answer—or her mind. She wasn’t the kind of woman who jumped into a situation without giving it slow and careful consideration. Once upon a time she would have thrown caution to the wind and dived headfirst into an affair with this man. These days, she didn’t have the luxury of spontaneity. She had her kids, her job, her livelihood to consider.

“I need to think about it,” she said quietly. “I won’t agree to anything until I’ve had a chance to think.”

After a beat, Seth released a ragged breath. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “Good night, Seth.”

With that, she left him in the kitchen and hurried down the hall, heart pounding, sex throbbing, hormones yelling at her for having the audacity to demand time to
think
.

Sighing, Miranda entered the guest room and resigned herself to the fact that, like Seth, she probably wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

“Yeah, so this is probably a major faux pas, but…dude, how much does naval intelligence pay you?” Dylan called in the direction of the hallway Aidan had disappeared into a few moments ago.

As he waited for the other man to return, he gawked at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and wondered if O’Connor and the others were aware that Aidan was living it up in the land of luxury over here.

Located in downtown’s Marina District, Aidan’s east-facing condo offered an unparalleled view of the San Diego skyline—that alone was confirmation of how pricey the place must be. The living room was furnished with two black leather couches, a rectangular glass coffee table, and an entertainment system that made Dylan drool. Even in his drunken state, he was able to fully appreciate Aidan’s digs and knew the rent must cost the guy a fortune.

“This is actually my dad’s place,” Aidan explained as he strode into the room wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants. “His architecture firm opened an East Coast branch last year and he decided to move out there, but he didn’t want to sell this place, so I’m subletting it.” Aidan grinned. “At a discount.”

Dylan shook his head in awe, admiring the electric fireplace and the French doors leading to the outdoor terrace. “Lucky you.”

“For real,” Aidan agreed with a chuckle. “Hey, did you still want that Advil?”

“That’d be great.”

“There should be some in the kitchen. I’ll grab you some water too.”

Aidan brushed past him and headed for the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a low wall with a “window” that allowed Dylan to watch the dark-haired man move around. His gaze lingered on Aidan’s chest—broad, sculpted with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Dude was in great fucking shape.

He tried to remember if he’d ever seen Aidan shirtless before. He must have—swimming at Matt and Cash’s place, on the beach…yeah, he had to have seen Aidan’s bare chest before.

So why did his mouth suddenly go dry at the sight of the guy’s washboard abs?

Dylan tore his eyes away. Clearly he’d had way too much to drink tonight.

“You sure you don’t want the stronger kind? I’ve got extra strength and the kind for migraines too,” Aidan said as he reappeared in the room.

“Naah, I’m good. The pills and a few glasses of water will do the trick. It’s what I always do to avoid a hangover after a night of boozing.”

When Aidan slapped a pair of ibuprofens in his hand, the guy’s fingers lightly brushed over his palm.

His groin tightened, cock jerking against the fly of his cargo pants.

Oh fuck. Not now. And not
this
man.

He gulped down the pills and chugged the water, all the while feeling the other man’s dark eyes studying him.

“What?” Dylan said in aggravation.

“You need to fuck, don’t you?”

He nearly dropped the drinking glass. “What?”

Aidan grinned, and a pair of dimples appeared. “I cock-blocked you tonight, man. Dragged you out of that alcove before you could finish up with the cute blonde from the dance floor, and I can only imagine how bad your balls are aching right now.”

Dylan relaxed. Right, the blonde. At the memory of Rachel—well, Rachel’s magical
mouth
—his dick jerked again. Well, at least the little soldier wasn’t discriminatory. Blondes, brunettes, girls, guys…didn’t take much to keep him happy. Some might even call him fickle.

“You win some, you lose some,” he answered with a shrug. But Aidan was right. He was definitely in fucking mode. Muscles tight, body primed for sex.

Another silence fell.

They exchanged a quick look, and Dylan could have sworn Aidan’s brown eyes flickered with heat.

Don’t even think about it.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I dragged you into the fight. I just wasn’t sure how far Masterson would go.”

“No, I’m glad you got me.” Dylan sighed. “Seth can be a total moron sometimes.”

“How long is his girl staying at your place?”

“A few days, I think. Maybe longer.”

“How old are her kids?”

“Six.”

Aidan chuckled. “Well, if you don’t feel like sharing a house with a couple of kids, you’re welcome to stay here for a bit. I’ve got a spare room.”

To his extreme disgust, his cock actually twitched again.

For the love of God, buddy, this is
not
happening. Chill the fuck out.

His lower body finally received the memo, much to his relief.

“Thanks, that’s good to know,” he said. “I’ll definitely consider it.”

“Cool. Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”

Dylan set off after Aidan, his gaze taking in the smooth expanse of Aidan’s sinewy back, the defined muscles that rippled at the guy’s every step. It wasn’t until he found himself mesmerized by the taut ass flexing beneath Aidan’s pants that he realized what he was doing.

Jesus. You’d think he’d been on the receiving end of a blowjob tonight, only to get interrupted right before he could ejaculate, and was now in a state of painful arousal…oh wait—that’s
exactly
what had happened.

Fuckin’ Masterson.

He wrenched his eyes away from Aidan’s ass and took a breath, deciding that it had now become imperative for him to jack off tonight.

Otherwise he might do something very, very stupid.

Chapter Nine

Two days. Two whole days, and not one word from Miranda about the conversation they’d had Monday night. Defeat wasn’t something that sat right with him, which was probably why Seth was being unnecessarily harsh on the punching bag at the moment.

He was in the garage, trying to distract himself from his continuous state of unfulfilled arousal by using every piece of exercise equipment. He’d already lifted weights, hit the treadmill, and used the chin-up bar, and now he was on the punching bag, sweat running in rivulets between his pecs and down his back.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.
He executed a series of jabs that made his knuckles throb, despite the fact that he’d wrapped them up. The soreness was the wake-up call he’d needed, the unspoken warning that it was time to stop. He couldn’t bust up his hands, not when he was scheduled to spend the day at the target range tomorrow mastering a new assault rifle the spec ops community was considering utilizing.

Breathing hard, Seth stilled the swinging bag. He unwrapped the white cloth from his hands, grabbed his bottle of water, and chugged it all in one gulp.

He’d just finished drinking when he heard the footsteps. Two sets of footsteps, both far too quiet to be Miranda’s, he realized in dismay.

Sure enough, he glanced over in time to see Sophie and Jason pop through the door that led from the kitchen to the garage. They scampered down the short flight of stairs and plopped down on the last step. Two pairs of brown eyes proceeded to watch him. One suspicious. One curious.

“What?” he said irritably.

“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked, that inquisitive gaze moving around the garage.

Seth reached for the towel he’d draped on the weight rack and patted the sweat coating his neck. “What does it look like, kid? I’m working out.”

“Why are your arms so much bigger than mine?”

He shrugged. “I’m older. And bigger. And I train.”

“Will I get as big as you when I get older?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

There. He’d officially met his kid quota for the day. Seth had promised Miranda that he’d be nicer to the rugrats, and he’d been trying his hardest to keep his word. For the past two days, he’d made small talk with the kidlets over meals, put forth an effort to answer the billion questions Jason hurled his way, pretended not to notice Sophie’s perpetual scowl every time she looked at him.

He’d been polite, cordial, respectful…and had that expedited Miranda’s thinking process in any way? Not at all.

Seth headed for the minifridge and got another bottle of water. He uncapped it, feeling the twins watching his every move. They disturbed him on a whole other level, those two. Especially Sophie, who was currently playing with the end of one of her pigtails and tapping one tiny ballet slipper on the wooden step.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” he grumbled.

She pursed her lips for a moment before answering. “I don’t like you.”

Her brother looked absolutely horrified. “Soph!”

“Well, it’s true! And you don’t like him too!”