Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction / A SEAL's Surrender / A SEAL's Salvation / A SEAL's Kiss

Oh, so he thought he could resist, did he? She gave a wicked grin. And clenched him again, this time swirling her hips against his.

The move sent yet another orgasm spiraling through her, her clitoris quivering, her breath rasping in and out.

That’s all it took to send him over.

He thrust, hard, out of control. Intense, pounding pleasure poured through her as he gave a low moan, his body shaking as he poured out his climax.

Alexia’s head dropped against his shoulder, her thighs trembling too hard, muscles too liquefied to keep them wrapped around him any longer. So she let them drop, her toes sinking into the soft sand. She felt as if she’d run a marathon while having a deep-tissue full-body massage and eating herself into a chocolate coma, all at the same time.

Pretty damn incredible.

Blake shifted, just a little, making the sand beneath her feet cave in a few inches. The sounds of music, of the partyers’ voices, carried on the night air, dancing just above the surf.

Suddenly, awareness poked its sharp fingers through the fog of sexual delight. Made Alexia aware that she was practically naked, although her dress kept her modesty intact. That she’d just had three screaming orgasms with a virtual stranger, on a public beach, with a bevy of other strangers just yards away.

Holy cow, what had she been thinking?

Where had her good sense gone?

And why did she know, without a doubt, that given the chance, she’d do it all over again? What did that say about her? And, suddenly going all girlie, she cringed and wondered what Blake thought about her actions. Other than gratitude for one hell of a fine ride.

Cold, even though the temperature hadn’t changed, she stepped out of his embrace. Unable to look at him, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and made a show of looking around for her underwear.

“Well, I guess you showed me,” she said, her words as shaky as her laugh. She would have pushed her hands through her hair, but between his fingers earlier and the sea air, she knew she was probably already rivaling Bozo in volume. So she settled for twining her fingers together.

Alexia jumped when his hands closed on her upper arms. She automatically looked into his face, meeting his gaze. Warmed by the calm affection in his blue eyes, she felt a little of the tension drain away. Why was she ashamed? Healthy sex, between two consenting people? She gave a mental eye roll at the sudden, silly and totally not-her inhibitions that’d taken hold.

And wished like crazy that the eye roll was enough to make them go away.

Blake let go of one of her arms, reaching up and rubbing his thumb over her lips. A gentle caress quickly followed by an equally gentle kiss. When he pulled back, she sighed.

“I’d say we showed each other,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a promise or declaration. It probably wasn’t even meant to be a reassurance. But she felt as if it was both. A promise that he didn’t think less of her and the reassurance that he’d stepped just as far outside his normal as she had.

“I guess we did.” Her smile was about as big as her lips would stretch, but still not even close to how large and bright the bubble of joy inside her chest felt. “I suppose you should get back inside and meet that friend?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, anxious to hear his response. He didn’t make her wait long.

“Nah. We can go inside and have another drink if you’d like, though.” He didn’t sound excited. But he didn’t let go of her, either, so she took his lack of enthusiasm to be for the drink, not the company.

Alexia took a deep breath. She’d told herself one night. And she’d already proven that she wasn’t a chaste good girl who required a ring—or hell, even dinner—for a sex romp. So there was nothing to stop her from grabbing on to her entire night.

“Did you want to go back to my place?” she asked. “I just have to call a cab.”

His lips shifted, a slow, sexy smile curving his mouth. The kind that lit up his eyes and made her want to hug him close because he was so damn cute.

“I’ve got my truck.” He let go of her and reached into his pocket, handing over her panties. “You might want these, though. I held on to them so they wouldn’t get all sandy.”

“Aren’t you the gentleman,” she teased, gratefully taking the tiny scrap of silk.

“You know it. And I’d like to think the only abrasions you’re going to have on your thighs are coming from my whiskers.”

Alexia’s breath caught. Her heart danced. And her body—which should be sexually satisfied enough to last for weeks—did a giddy little cheer.

“Then let’s see how soon we can make that happen,” she said, wriggling into her panties, then holding out her hand.

When he wrapped his fingers in hers, she began the mental chant one night, one night, one night.

One helluva night.

5 (#ulink_565baf52-fe0e-5b26-8833-cf715b4dd50d)

EVERYWHEREBLAKELOOKEDwas desert. Weapons fired around him, shots flaring like fireworks, bright and loud. Their quick in-and-out rescue had taken a left turn. Not a problem. SEALs were always prepared. He radioed in to report the ambush while Phil and Cade pulled the rocket launcher out of the pack.

“Knock knock.” Phil grinned.

Blake jackknifed into a sitting position. One fist rose in fury, the other slapped to his hip for his sidearm. But his hip was naked.

Just like the rest of him.

Shuddering, he swiped his forearm over the sweat trickling off his brow and took stock.

Naked. In bed. Sexy female body curled in the sheets next to him. Sunrise was peeking through uncurtained windows. Other than a long dresser and a stack of moving boxes, them and the bed, the room was empty.

Alexia’s condo. Where he’d been for two incredible, sex-filled, erotically intense days. He turned his head. She was splayed across the satin sheet where she’d collapsed after their last round. Facedown, vivid red curls curtaining her face and shoulders, so only a hint of her rose tattoo peeked out, she was totally zoned. Given that they’d slept maybe a sum total of six of the last fifty-two hours, he wasn’t surprised.

But he was grateful.

Wanting air, needing space, he carefully slid from the bed, grabbed his jeans and left the room. He skirted packing boxes, still lined and neatly labeled against the living-room wall. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d just moved from New York. Most of her stuff, except a few large pieces of furniture, was still packed.

He was pretty sure she’d been here a week or two. Wouldn’t most women have hit the boxes, hung the curtains, filled the space with doodads by now?

Not that they’d talked much, but he’d got the impression during one of their between-sex rest breaks that she wasn’t in any hurry to settle in. Why? Missing New York? Not a fan of the California sun? He knew she’d lived here before, but not when. What’d made her leave? Was the job going to be enough to keep her here this time?

And why did he care so much?

Caring, wanting to know she’d be here long-term, curiosity about her past, her present, her future. Those were all off-limits. Bad ideas for a man who played Russian roulette for a living.

He crossed the cool living-room floor, his feet silent on the Mexican tiles, around the dining table and into the nook of a kitchen. A coffeepot, a single pan and a pair of wineglasses were all that were visible. He skipped the glass and stuck his head under the faucet, letting the cold water wash away the remnants of nausea his dream had caused.

He hadn’t used sex to numb the memories, but if he’d been the type to do that kind of thing, it sure as hell hadn’t worked. He shook the water off his hair, grabbing a paper towel to dry his face, and stared out the small window at the smaller garden beyond. Bright tropical-looking flowers bloomed, innocent and welcoming.

He felt happy and alive and filled with the weirdest sort of contentment with Alexia. She made him laugh. Watching her the few times she’d slept had filled him with a scary sort of peace. Her body was a wonderland, one he wanted to explore and lose himself in over and over again.

He didn’t belong here.

He didn’t do relationships, for one. And even though she’d made sounds like she wasn’t looking for one either, she was the relationship kind of woman. Or maybe just the kind of woman who meant relationships to him.