HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) Page 11

  But she couldn’t strip it off. If she did, he’d know she was humiliated.

  “Forget I said it,” she said in a rush.

  He blew out a breath. “Dammit, Christina—which is it? You want more or you want me to forget you said it? And how’s any of this supposed to make me believe that you know what you want, that you aren’t just reacting to what happened today? Being so close to a bombing—that’s pretty intense shit. Makes people do things they might later regret.”

  “I don’t regret you. I never regretted you. I regretted I wasn’t ready—maybe I’m ready now.”

  “And this is precisely the kind of shit that makes me think you aren’t.” He held up a hand, silencing anything she might have said in response. “It’s bullshit, babe. You don’t know what you want, and I’m not getting sucked in by those pretty eyes this time.”

  He pivoted and walked out the door. Christina’s feet were glued to the floor. She wanted to follow him, call out, demand he come back. But she did none of those things. She sucked in deep breaths—angry, hurt, sad—and told herself she deserved every bit of what he’d said. She deserved him walking out on her, the way she’d walked out on him.

  This wasn’t love, but it still managed to hurt a whole damn lot.

  Remy strode down the hall, down the stairs, and shoved his way outside. He was pissed—at both her and at himself. At her for jerking his chain and at himself for, well, walking away when she wanted to reestablish relations with him.

  He snorted. Reestablish relations. As if they were a fucking country at war like Qu’rim. As if they had to sit their diplomats down at a table and work out a solution.

  No, the solution would have been to sweep her up and take her mouth in a hard kiss. And then the solution would have been to shove her jeans down and robes up, free his cock, and sink deep within the heaven that lay between her legs.

  Jesus, he was an asshole for even thinking such a thing. And he was pretty much a red-blooded man for thinking it too.

  He stopped and shoved a hand through his hair. Then he turned and looked at the door he’d just walked through. He could go back. He could still kiss her. Still push those jeans down…

  “Lose something, Cage?”

  He whirled, cursing softly as he spotted Camel leaning against the wall, one leg bent at the knee, foot against the cement.

  “My motherfucking mind,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Oh yeah? Surprised to hear you still had any of it left. Thought we’d all lost our minds when we signed up for BUD/S.”

  “Eh, you love it and you know it.”

  “Yeah.” Camel straightened, stretching his arms skyward. “Be glad when we’re out of this one. Hate seeing Christina Girard in this mess.”

  Something very like jealousy pricked Remy’s soul. “She knew better than to come here and she did it anyway. It’s her own fault.”

  Camel blinked. “Maybe so… but I still hate it. Girard’s a good guy. Must be driving him crazy that his sister’s out here and he can’t help.”

  “That’s what we’re here for.”

  “Still, if she were my sister…” He cleared his throat. “Kinda glad she’s not though. She’s a hot one, isn’t she? If you like them with their noses in the air.”

  Something ugly was beginning to stir inside Remy’s gut. “You think she’s stuck-up?”

  Camel scratched his cheek. “She’s nice enough, I guess. But she doesn’t say much, does she? Sits there looking at you as if she’s better than you—not saying she thinks that, but she looks like she does. Snooty, as my mother says.” He shrugged. “Still, I’d like to get into her panties. Wouldn’t say no if she asked.”

  Remy’s head was pounding by now. He wanted to punch Camel’s lights out, but he also knew it was just normal guy talk. Camel had no way of knowing that Christina was Remy’s.

  Jesus… she was his.

  He felt like he’d been zapped by a lightning bolt. Nothing worked for a long moment as he stood there processing everything. Christina was his. He wasn’t finished with her. He had no idea where this was going or if he was about to commit a huge mistake, but he wasn’t finished yet. He was about to dive out of an airplane and pray there was a parachute attached to his back.

  “Dude, you okay?”

  Remy snapped his gaze to Camel’s. “Yeah, fine.” He glared. “Christina isn’t going to ask you to get into her panties. And you aren’t trying, got that?”

  Camel held up both hands. “Easy, brother.”

  “Woman’s a lady,” he growled. “Not a skank you met in a bar. Just because she doesn’t say much doesn’t make her stuck-up. It just means she doesn’t have a lot to say. Or maybe she’s an introvert, you ever think of that? Not everyone’s comfortable around strangers.”

  “Whoa, man, all right.” Camel’s eyes were wide as he regarded Remy. As if he couldn’t believe the ferocity in Remy’s voice.

  Yeah, Remy knew he sounded crazy right about now, but he couldn’t help it. He was in the grip of something. And it wasn’t just about Christina. Roxie had been quiet. Sweet and tender, with wells that ran deep. She’d fallen for the wrong man because he’d known how to get behind the walls she’d built—something Remy blamed himself for because Eric had been his friend. Eric learned what he needed to know about Roxie, and then he’d gone in and manipulated her. He’d used her insecurity against her, kept her by his side even when she surely knew she needed to go.

  That’s what abusers did. Remy knew that now. He wished he’d known it then. Jesus, what he wouldn’t give to go back in time and beat the hell out of that son of a bitch before he ever got his hooks into Roxie.

  “Look,” Camel was saying, “no insult intended, okay? She’s Matt’s sister. She’s family. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of family.”

  Remy’s pulse pounded. “Yeah, I know it. Look, I gotta go back inside. Need to get my armor.”

  He turned and went through the door, up the stairs he’d pounded down, retracing his steps. When he got to the opening to Christina’s room, he stopped just inside it. Her head came up, her eyes widening.

  “Remy? Did something happen? What’s wrong?” She got to her feet, looking pale and frightened.

  He cursed himself for scaring her.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Except that everything was. She shouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t want her the way he did.

  “Why did you come back?”

  He strode over to where she stood, but he didn’t touch her. He held her gaze for a long moment, watching as her pupils dilated. Her gaze slipped to his mouth, and he knew she was thinking the kinds of things he always thought when he was with her. Bodies entwining, naked skin, so much heat and need, wet tongues—and an even wetter pussy taking him deep.

  They were combustible, he and Christina. No idea why, but they were. Desire was never far behind when he was near her.

  “Because I had to,” he said.

  She reached out carefully and palmed his cheek. “I missed you,” she said. “It’s crazy, because I hardly know you. But I really missed you.”

  He put his hand over hers, then ran his fingers up her arm, cupped the back of her head.

  “I missed you too.”

  And then he did what he’d been dying to do from the moment she’d opened her hotel door. He dragged her into his arms and kissed the daylights out of her.

  18

  How joy could suffuse a soul when danger was all around, Christina didn’t know. She only knew it did. Remy kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers, demanding she give him everything.

  She cupped his jaw in both hands. He had several days’ worth of scruff that scraped over her chin and upper lip, and she didn’t much care. It felt far too wonderful to kiss him. Presently he gentled the kiss—and then he pulled back, breaking the contact.

  For a brief moment, she thought he might be about to leave her there and take off again, but he ran a thumb over her lower lip, pressing it until she moaned.


  “This is not the place,” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t care. We’re alone, and I need you.”

  He took her by the wrists, gently, when she tried to wrap her arms around him and pull herself closer. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d pushed her away earlier. This time he was tender, regretful.

  “Not doing this here, Christina. I need you in a bed, not on a sandy sleeping bag in a room with no door.”

  It made sense, and yet it worried her too. She didn’t know what had changed his mind, but she knew he could change it back again with little warning.

  “A bed could be a long way off,” she whispered, her heart aching. Her body ached too, but that was because it hadn’t gotten what it wanted—him, deep inside her, taking her to heaven and back.

  “It’s a chance we have to take.”

  She hated that he wasn’t going to give in to what they both needed, but she knew he was right not to. It was still early, the sky still pink at the edges, but the light was growing stronger by the minute. There were sounds outside in the courtyard—including a rooster, oddly enough—but nothing much inside yet. Though there soon would be as people woke and wanted breakfast. No telling who would wander past the room then.

  He led her over to the sleeping bag and sank down on it in a sitting position, pulling her with him. Then he leaned against the wall and tucked her against his side with his arm curled around her. She snuggled against him, hardly believing this was happening and yet so damned glad for it too.

  She put her arm over him, around his waist, and just lay there breathing him in. “I’m glad you came back, Remy.”

  “Me too, cher.”

  They didn’t speak for a long moment.

  “It seems awkward to ask…,” she began. “But what have you been up to the past six months?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, just a bit awkward. Let’s see… went on about five missions, took a couple of weeks off and went snorkeling in the Keys, ate some donuts, worked out, visited my mother…”

  She waited for what he didn’t say—that he’d had a few dates. But of course he wasn’t going to tell her that. And yet she wanted to know. Desperately.

  “Did you, um, go out with anyone?”

  He hesitated. “A couple of times, yeah.”

  A sharp pain stabbed her in the heart. “I guess I have no right to feel any kind of anger over that. But I do.” Why was she always so damned honest with him? No wonder she’d run away—he made her spill her guts simply by being who he was.

  “No, you don’t have a right to be angry.”

  Her eyes stung. He traced a finger over her cheek, tucked her hair behind an ear.

  “I didn’t take any of them home, Christina. I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

  Her heart thudded as she pushed herself away from him so she could see into his eyes. He was gazing at her evenly, and she knew he wasn’t lying. Or maybe her confused and crazy heart just wanted to believe he was being honest. She was no authority on when a man might be dishonest, after all.

  Oh God, this was why he was dangerous…

  “Is that really true?” she croaked.

  “Yeah, it’s true. I get why you’d think otherwise, but quite honestly, there hasn’t been a lot of time—missions take a chunk out of the days and weeks, and we’ve been on several. Not to mention I spent a lot of time waiting for you to answer the damn phone.”

  “You are almost too good to be true, Remy Marchand.”

  “Tell me about it.” He grinned, and she laughed because she couldn’t help it.

  “Seriously, in six months you could have gotten an entire stadium full of women to take off their panties for you.”

  His expression sobered. “Yeah, well, the older I get, the less interested I am in casual sex with strangers. I want to like the person I’m with. I want to know her and be interested in who she is outside the bedroom.”

  Whoa damn, her heart was really flipping in her chest now. “Like I said, too good to be true.”

  “What about you? Any dates? Any dudes whose asses I need to kick?”

  She laughed. “No dates. No dudes. Unless you count my ex-husband, who recently decided he might have made a mistake and wants to try again.”

  His eyes nearly bugged out. “What the fuck? Seriously?”

  “Yep, seriously.” She hadn’t been able to believe it herself, but she knew Ben wasn’t exactly regretful or missing her. He missed the life he’d had with her, the respectable one where he was on his way to a political career. He’d blown that when he’d had butt sex in a public bathroom, but for some reason he now believed he could get it all back if only she’d forgive him and pick up where they’d left off. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was cracked in the head.

  “So what did he do, text you his regrets and ask for another chance?” He sounded as disbelieving as she felt.

  “I blocked him a long time ago, so no. He came to my place.”

  Remy’s arm tightened around her. “He fucking came to your house?”

  “Yes.” She’d been so surprised to see him through the peephole that she’d opened the door and gaped. Ben had looked like a whipped puppy. He’d asked to come inside. Against her better judgment, she’d let him.

  “And?”

  Christina blew out a breath. Why had she even mentioned Ben? Because she could feel the tension in Remy’s body now, and it was harshing the mellow she felt from curling up against him.

  “He came inside, said his piece, and I asked him to leave.”

  His fingers went under her chin, tipping her head up so she had to look at him. “You let him inside your place? What happened when you said no to him?”

  She shrugged. “He was pissed, but he went.” She put a hand on his wrist, stroked his skin. “It’s nothing. He hoped I’d be lonely or desperate enough to try again, I guess. But I’m not—and I’m not ever going to be. That ship has sailed.”

  He continued studying her, searching her gaze. He seemed… disturbed on some level. She wasn’t sure why.

  “You’re sure he didn’t threaten you?”

  Christina blinked. “Threaten me? No. I mean he wasn’t happy that I wouldn’t consider getting back together, but he didn’t threaten me. He was angry, of course. He thinks that if we get back together, we can spin his infidelity and he can still have the political career he wants. He thinks he can be elected governor of Louisiana with my family name to help him—and then he thinks he’s got a shot at the presidency someday.”

  Ben had rambled a bit about legacy and destiny, but he hadn’t been back since she’d told him to get lost. The entire encounter had made her uncomfortable, but Ben wasn’t dangerous. Just narcissistic as hell.

  “If he shows up again, you are not letting him in—and you’re calling me. Got it?”

  She wanted to huff and tell him she was a grown woman and could take care of herself. But she liked the way he took control and told her what she needed to do. Not about everything—God no—but about Ben? Yes, she liked it. It made her feel special. Protected.

  And if that wasn’t politically correct, then she didn’t care. Sometimes it was sexy when a man took charge. It was also sexy when he knew how to give up control too.

  “And if you aren’t in town?” she said, lifting an eyebrow. Knowing it would get a rise out of him.

  He gritted his teeth before he answered. “You’ll call Matt. Or Mendez. Don’t think the colonel wouldn’t do something about it.”

  She thought of Colonel Mendez and suppressed a shiver. Yes, that man was untouchable. Hard, cold, and lethal. She didn’t really know him, but that was her impression based on the few times she’d been around him. Matt idolized him, so that was a good sign in her opinion.

  “But if Ben ever tries anything, Christina—you call the police. Don’t wait, don’t call one of us first. Don’t even think that he’s harmless or it’s all a misunderstanding. Call someone.”

  He said it so fiercely that she knew i
t was important to him. What she didn’t know was why. “Don’t worry, Remy. I’m not stupid. I’ll call someone if he comes around again—and if he crosses a line, I’ll call the police.”

  He nodded, but he still looked fierce. “Good.”

  She put a hand on his cheek and stroked his whiskers. She couldn’t help but touch him now that she seemed to have the right again. She wanted to touch him in so many places, but that wasn’t happening just yet.

  “Can you tell me why it worries you that Ben came to see me?”

  She didn’t think Remy was concerned she would actually get back with Ben. If he was, then he didn’t know her at all. But his fierceness and protectiveness seemed to indicate that he feared for her safety.

  But Ben wasn’t violent and never had been. The fear, if that’s what it was, was groundless.

  Remy leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. She thought he might not answer, but he breathed a sigh and rolled his head back and forth on the wall.

  “I had a twin sister,” he said in a low voice. “Roxie. She was sweet, gentle—and she had a boyfriend. My best friend, in fact.”

  He opened his eyes and she nearly gasped. The pain she saw there was stark, deep. She found his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back. She knew this wasn’t going anywhere good. He talked about his sister in the past tense, for one thing. Then again, maybe she was wrong, maybe everything was okay—

  “He was an abuser. A sneaky, quiet, subversive one. I never saw it happening. Had no idea. I don’t think anyone in our family did.” He sucked in a breath. “Roxie tried to leave him. He begged her to come back. But I think she was determined for once. So he waited for her one night and shot her on the steps of my parents’ house when she came outside.”

  “Oh Remy.” Her heart pounded.

  “She died six days later. He’s in Angola for life.”

  She put her hands on his cheeks and pressed her mouth to his. She didn’t expect it to help at all, but she wanted him to know she cared. He dragged her into his lap and kissed her back, his mouth firm and demanding on hers. He’d said this wasn’t the place, and yet she could feel his control slipping, his body hardening…

  “Cage? You in there? Oh shit—”