Daring Her SEAL (15 page)

13

D
IXIE
FELL
ASLEEP
after sex. Uncuffing her from the bed, he pressed a quick kiss against her wrists and tucked her against his chest, making a mental note to tease her about the falling-asleep thing later. Couldn't have too much blackmail material when you had a woman like that in your life.
Temporarily
, he reminded himself. As soon as the storm passed and Belize got its act together, they'd get divorced or annulled or however folks stamped an expiration date on marriages down here. He didn't get to keep her.

About an hour later, the wind died down. Since he was itching to take a look, he got out of bed, pulled on his boots and headed for the door. There might be more storm coming, but he'd be quick. The paths around the bungalow were inches deep in water, and it looked as though half a jungle had been spread over the concrete surfaces. He debated moving up to the lobby, but their roof looked good, and the bungalow's position would likely protect it from the worst of the wind.

Ashley padded out behind him. He told himself her coming out here wasn't a good thing. He needed her inside where it was safer.

He turned his head and looked at her. “You're gonna get wet.”

Undeterred, she slid arms around his waist. “Nothing sweet about me. I won't melt.”

Something in his chest lurched. Sank toward his stomach or his knees. He had a bad feeling it might have been the heart he didn't think he possessed. His Dixie was plenty sweet despite her tough-girl exterior.

“Not true,” he said gruffly, ignoring her muffled snort of disagreement. Didn't matter what she thought—just how he felt.

“Storm's not over yet,” she said finally, backing away from their moment.

She wasn't wrong—he could feel the wind picking up, the rain beating down on their palm tree canopy with renewed strength. Safest spot now was inside. He swung her up and dropped her over his shoulder.

“Hey!” She swatted at his butt.

“Don't teach me your kinky habits, Dixie.” He strode back inside, pausing just long enough to secure the door before he dropped her on the bed. She stared at him a moment, then laughed.

“You're incorrigible, aren't you?”

“Secret's out.” He scrounged up a towel, because her feet had gotten wet chasing him outside and that was another thing he could fix. She let him, which was as gratifying as it was surprising, although when he'd finished, she grabbed the towel from him and ran it over his arms.

He watched her for the next few minutes as the storm roared over them with renewed vengeance. She was nervous. She hid it well, but with each crash of the wind against their bungalow, she jumped. Since he couldn't promise it would all be over soon, he rummaged in the gift basket for a distraction. Even he wasn't ready to tackle the Purple Monster, but Truth or Dare? Yeah. That might work. Returning to the bed, he set the flashlight he'd retrieved from his bag down in the center.

He flicked her on the nose. “Budge over.”

“You want to play board games?” She eyed the little box in his hand. She'd pulled on his T-shirt for her porch reconnaissance, but otherwise she was naked. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have complained about nudity—hell, he was all for it—but if they had to evac, clothes would be preferable to no clothes. On the other hand, he had a go bag ready by the side of the bed, and so far the worst of the storm appeared to be avoiding Fantasy Island. Maybe he could take a chance.

He tossed the box at her. “This isn't just any game. It's a test.”

She caught the box and promptly dropped it on the bed. “Not interested.”

“You'll like it.” He was sure of that.

Of course, his Dixie had to be the world's toughest audience. “Convince me,” she ordered.

“You get to make me spill all of my deepest, darkest secrets.” He turned the flashlight on the box so she could read the label. “You're a female. Aren't you supposed to be into that?”

She snorted. “I thought you were an open book. Have you been holding out on me?”

He grinned at her. “Only one way to find out.”

A particularly strong gust of wind pounded on their roof and she jumped visibly. Yeah. He needed to fix that. Scooping an arm around her waist, he pulled her back between his legs and wrapped his arms around her. She made a soft sound and relaxed into him.
One problem solved.

“I'll even let you go first because I'm such a gentleman.”

“Uh-huh.” She didn't sound convinced, but she opened the box and thumbed through the cards.

“I'm not sure you're supposed to read them first.” He'd admit that he didn't know the rules to Truth or Dare: The Married Version.

“Quality assurance check, Brandon.” She grinned and plucked a card out of the very back. “Truth. Do I act more like your mom or your dad? Oooh. Freudian.”

Okay. So a game wasn't his best idea. The Purple Monster looked more and more user friendly by the second.

“Maybe we should start with
dare
.” He reached around her and grabbed a card. “See? This one challenges me to act as your sex slave for the next fifteen minutes. That one would be way more fun.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I'm more interested in hearing an answer. You picked the game, so don't bitch if you don't like the question.”

“Gotcha.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist and blew in her ear. As though he didn't mind in the slightest if she poked every sore spot in his psyche. “Mom.”

“Ewww. Really?”

“You want me to compare you to my dad? He was Marine Corps tough to the end, and he didn't have a good-looking bone in his body.”

“Not a SEAL?”

“Nope. I was a disappointment to my old man.” Joining the Navy had been one more way to flip his dad off. Give the man almost what he wanted—but not quite. Levi had been lucky that the Navy turned out to be the perfect fit for him.

“What was he like? I don't even know where you're from.” Her brow got that adorable little crinkle again, like he was a puzzle she needed to solve. He ran a finger over the crease.

“I'm from San Diego. You know that.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “That's where you're based. Where did you grow up?”

“Here, there and everywhere. My dad was a master sergeant and we moved from post to post every eighteen months.”

There'd been plenty of families like his. You lived in base housing, went to base school with the other kids. He'd climbed on more tanks as a boy than he had jungle gyms. On the upside, he'd gotten to fire an M16 when he was eight and that had to be every little boy's dream come true. And the moving about hadn't been so hard. Sure, he realized now that there hadn't been a whole lot of money, although none of them had ever gone hungry even if there had also been plenty of days when his mom threatened to put a brick on his head to stop him growing out of his clothes.

“Was it hard?” She sounded genuinely curious, so why not tell her?

“Like trying to live your life on a plane bucking in the wake of a fighter plane,” he admitted. “The new place and new school wasn't so bad, but my mom had to hold everything together. She was a strong woman, but she and my dad fought. He'd leave for missions, and we'd be left behind again. My mom wasn't a fan of his missing every milestone, picnic, and play.” He stopped, not entirely sure why he was telling her this. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand and for a moment he just let himself enjoy. “Pictures couldn't make up for what he'd missed. He was a good man and I respected the hell out of him, but it's hard to be close to someone who's never there, no matter how good the reasons. Some people made it work. Others got divorced, had affairs, or fought like they were auditioning for a reality TV show.”

Ashley got a funny look on her face, as though she didn't know if she should console him or laugh. Yeah. He'd felt like that too many times himself. So it was time for another distraction. He plucked a card from the box.

“My turn,” he announced. And wouldn't you know...he'd pulled a dare card. He read it and grinned. “I'm supposed to provide oral satisfaction for three full songs. Any chance you've got the 1812 Overture on your phone?”

She smacked him, but then she let him kiss her, and before long the storm overhead was just the best kind of background music.

* * *

“S
TORM
'
S
PASSED
, D
IXIE
,”
Levi pressed his mouth against her ear causing delicious goose bumps in all sorts of places, and she debated pretending she hadn't heard him. She wasn't quite ready to end their stranded-on-a-desert-island adventure. But that was thing about reality—it insisted on intruding. Levi had commitments, and so did she. She couldn't hide in bed with him all day, no matter how much fun it was. Part of her wished she could coax him to stay, but that was another all-too-real fact. Levi wasn't the kind of guy who stuck. He rode in on his white horse—or on a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk—he fixed the problem and he left. He was good at his job, and she was certain he could prove his worth in a number of ways, starting with her lack of a decent sex life. But there was no denying that his first loyalty was to SEAL Team Sigma, or that he'd be heading back to base and back out into the field long before she was ready to be done with a relationship.

With him.

Outside the bungalow, things were quiet. The rain had finally petered out, and the wind had stopped trying to tear the roof off their hideaway. Bright sunlight filtered through the windows—Levi must have rolled back the storm shutters at some point because she could clearly hear the sound of waves crashing on the not-too-distant beach. The waves would be high, fueled by the storm. A good day for surfing.

Levi's proposal last night had been awkward, and she didn't know what to say now. He'd asked her to marry him—for real this time—and she'd refused. Then they'd had angry sex, followed by something else. Something she had no words or labels for, although she knew something good when it took her to bed. Finding out they might be married had been a huge shock, so she wasn't sure why or how the
will you marry me
words had ever left his mouth. But she figured he'd been trying to look out for her, to give her what he thought she needed.

At least once an hour he got that slightly panicked look in his eye that told her he was wondering what the hell he was doing. Here. Or with her. And then he'd get up and start moving, as though a little hard-core exercise or a change in scenery could fix his itchy feet. Thing was, she had the same doubts. Somehow they'd moved from being frenemies—at best—to being friends with benefits to...this. She didn't need him to give her a ring or flowery words. She just needed a little more of him, a few more minutes in his arms. Then she'd be able to get up and go back to her life, and he could stop panicking quietly.

Levi nuzzled her neck, skimming his mouth over the sensitive skin there. She loved the way his five-o'clock shadow teased her skin, just a hint of the rough and tough man lurking beneath Levi's surface. She liked that his arms were hard and that when he held her, he held her just a little too tightly and a little too close. All of that meant that the sound of a helicopter approaching overhead wasn't entirely welcome. She listened for a moment to the steady beat of the blades and wash of sound as the bird banked over the island and came about.

“Sounds like the cavalry's here.”

“Uh-huh.” Levi didn't sound like he was in any hurry to leap out of bed and flag down their potential rescuers. Was she supposed to leap up? To stay? And if she did, what then?

“Hey.” Levi nudged her, dropping a kiss on her nose. “Stop thinking so hard.” He tapped the crinkle on her forehead.

One of them had to think. They both needed to get up, get dressed and go meet whoever had just landed on the island. She needed to get back to the mainland and catch a flight to Virginia. If she was lucky, there'd be a commercial flight sometime in the next few days, and she might actually make her hearing on time.

Someone banged on the door. Hard.

Levi swung his feet over the side of the bed.

14

I
T
HAD
BEEN
all of thirty seconds since she'd had her hands on his large, toasty body, but she felt the loss keenly. Answering the door suddenly seemed a whole lot less important than dragging Levi back to bed and having her wicked way with him.

“Levi—”

“What?” He grabbed his pants and yanked them on without breaking his stride. She had no idea what she'd intended to say, and then the moment was lost entirely when Levi flung the door open mid-knock. An entire crowd of people stood on the bungalow's porch, all peering inside their room like they were some kind of zoo exhibit. While looking at Levi's half-naked body was still fun, the sexy factor now hovered somewhere around zero. She'd gotten her sex-in-public fantasy out of her system on the beach with Levi and had moved on.

“Nothing,” she said finally, although maybe he'd been talking to the assembled horde and not her, because various people all started talking at once.
Didn't realize you'd been left behind
,
grievous oversight
,
so glad you're fine
. Blah-fucking-blah. She wanted another day alone with Levi. An hour. Even five minutes. Not that she had any idea what she would have said to the man, but she was certain their time would have involved kissing. Among other things.

He leaned against the doorframe, and she wanted to leap out of bed and lick him from head to foot. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and he was barefoot. He was also rumpled, cut, and no longer hers. He turned his attention to their visitors. His wide shoulders blocked her view, but she counted at least five pairs of legs sticking out beneath rain ponchos. Two wore BDUs and steel-toed boots, which made her guess Belizean military. Two pairs of cargo pants. And one suit with a very nice pair of wingtip shoes. Unfortunately, her inner hussy wasn't interested in the sartorial details of their rescue party.
Slam the door. Come back to me.

Levi apparently didn't share her interest. He didn't act surprised to see their company, either. Or disappointed, reluctant, or otherwise unhappy. She definitely wanted to hold that against him.

“What's the plan?” Okay. So he was also more focused on leaving than on her. The weather hadn't entirely cleared up and rain gusted inside, painting him with tiny droplets.

The guy in the suit turned out to the resort's general manager, who had immediately commandeered the first available helicopter to fly out to the island and rescue them. Ordinarily, she would have applauded his efficiency. He was handling the logistics of getting them both off the island with speed and discretion, so now probably wasn't the time to ask for late checkout.

She got out of bed and padded over to the door. The manager ran through the new evac plan with smooth efficiency, Levi nodding along to each point. The
comp your stay, of course
part was good news, but it appeared they'd be riding out of here one at a time due to limited capacity in the chopper. Whatever. She waited for Levi to protest, but he didn't say anything.

The manager hesitated. “One more thing.”

“Shoot,” Levi said. He was back in Navy SEAL mode. She could practically hear the gears whirring in his head as he assessed the evac options and came to conclusions. Without consulting her, she reminded herself. She appeared to be playing best supporting actress in this script, or maybe she was just the scenery.

“We've just heard back from the Registry Office. They have no record of your marriage.” The manager kept his eyes discreetly pinned on Levi's face. It was like she was wearing an invisibility cloak. Or maybe the manager wasn't comfortable with the fact that she was wearing just Levi's T-shirt. It had to be obvious what they'd been up to.

She looked at Levi.

Levi looked back at her.

The man could make a killing at cards because he had a poker face nobody could read. Hooboy. But the wedding update was good news and better news. Wasn't it?

“So since you didn't sign an application and the license was for a different couple, resort management believes it's safe to say you're not married.”

Levi gave her another inscrutable look that she decided to interpret as
Let the celebrating commence
. This was what she wanted, she told herself. What they
both
wanted. She had a great job, a shot at an even better promotion, and a generally all-around awesome life. Adding a husband to the mix would be stupid. She didn't
need
a husband. She didn't even want one. Did she? Since she didn't want him to think she felt anything other than relief, she tugged him away and tossed him a conversational softball as she slammed the door on Fantasy Island's management team.

“You're rescued.”

“Excuse me?” He slid her yet another look she couldn't interpret. Maybe she should blindfold him in the interests of making him easier to understand. Just in case her two-word explanation had been that difficult to parse, however, she rephrased.

“You're still a bachelor. Not married in the slightest. Free to go about your business.”

She gestured toward the door she'd slammed shut to emphasize her point and get him moving, but he just stared. Apparently they were not on the same wavelength. Frankly, she had to wonder if they were even speaking the same language. They couldn't part ways too soon, and she needed to tell him that. Just in case, you know, he thought she'd miss him.

“And by the way?” She strolled back toward the bed. She'd definitely miss the mattress. It had been awesome.

“What the fuck do you want now?” he growled. Really? That was his idea of an answer? As far as husbands went, he sucked. If he ever planned on getting married for real, he should take communication classes. Read a self-help book. Grovel. Since she wasn't poor, future Mrs. Brandon, she didn't particularly care, but the man needed serious work.

“You didn't win our dare,” she reminded him, making her tone deliberately sweet as she stretched out against the pillows. The way his eyes flared, his mouth snapping shut, was satisfying. Really, really satisfying. He'd had sex. He lost. See? Everything was black-and-white again. “Your ass has been officially voted off the island.”

“Are you serious?” He dropped down beside the bed, his hands slapping down on the mattress beside her. The surprise on his face was kind of endearing, as if her little announcement had actually blindsided him. “You're holding to the terms of our
bet
?”

Um, yeah. Of course. She should have known he'd question her. When had Levi ever done anything she asked without challenging her? The man asked a million pointed questions, all intended to undermine her authority and whatever it was she was doing. If he ever agreed with her, she'd probably drop dead of shock.

She was tired—because someone had kept her up all night having sex. She was also pleasantly sore, close to ravenous, and unexpectedly cranky. He'd been a considerate lover, making sure she'd come. It was so freaking perfect it was unnerving. For not the first time she understood why he had women lining up to date him. No. Wait.
Date
wasn't the right word. Why couldn't he just be the total jerk she'd believed him to be? Why did he actually have to be nice? Booting him off the island was the only option she had, because otherwise she might be tempted to go for a second night. And absolutely nothing could come of that.

“You lost the dare,” she repeated with a tiny wobble in her voice. “I won. That means you leave the island. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Immediately leave the island and stay the hell out of my life.”

“That's it? We have sex, and you show me to the door?” He didn't look so
nice
now. Nope. Her SEAL looked pissed off.

“Seriously, were you expecting wedding bells to ring for real?”

She knew he was a player. Accepted it. Sure he hadn't said as much, but she knew how guys like him worked. They charmed the panties off a girl and then they bugged out the morning after. It didn't matter if she'd like to believe Levi felt differently about her and that his marriage proposal had been more than a random impulse due to their forced proximity. The only feelings he'd mentioned last night had been the familiar L word feelings—lust, lust, and more lust. And that had been what she wanted too. Coming out on top in their dare had been an unexpected bonus.

His jaw tightened. “Was this all a game to you?”

“I
thought
I was being blackmailed. If I'd known tropical island attendance was actually optional and not mandatory to prevent the release of certain incriminating photos at an ill-timed juncture in my career, I would have stayed in Virginia,” she pointed out. “I
thought
there was a good chance we were married. I
thought
I'd deal with the problem.”

“You weren't
thinking
last night,” he cut in.

“No.” He had her there.

“Did you have sex with me just to win a dare?” He sounded incredulous.

She gave him the once-over. Yep. He was just as gorgeous as he'd been the night before. “I don't think so.”

“How can you not know?” He was half-naked and rain-kissed from his trip to their front door. Too bad the no-sex rule was back in force, because she had an itch to trace one particular water drop that was inching its way past his dog tags and down his very sexy, very cut chest.

“Oh, come on. You didn't want to really be married.”

He looked at her and she felt her cheeks start to burn. Returning to bed had been stupid, and it gave him the advantage.

“Move,” she ordered, swinging her legs over the side. She spied her panties halfway across the room. Normally she'd...she had no idea what she'd normally do, because there was nothing
normal
about this. She stood up. He could either fall back or get stepped on. His choice.

“Jesus, Dixon. Don't have a heart attack.” Naturally he didn't move. God forbid
he
made the first move or offered a concession. She knew she wasn't being entirely reasonable, but when she looked at him, an unwelcome little voice in her head started up a whole chorus of what-ifs.
What if Levi stayed? What if they actually tried to work out their relationship? What if last night had been
more
than just sex?
She brushed past him and headed for the bathroom. He stood up and followed her.

Naturally.

“I'm using the bathroom,” she snapped, grabbing the robe the hotel had provided. “Get out.”

Naturally, he followed her. The man couldn't take a hint if it was tattooed on his mighty fine butt.

“I think we need to talk.” He closed the door—shutting them both in the bathroom. That was not what she'd had in mind, and she opened her mouth to tell him so. “This is my room, too.”

Now
he got territorial on her?

She dumped the contents of her toiletry bag out onto the counter, rooting around for her toothbrush. If she was getting rescued, she'd do it with minty fresh breath. Had they even used a condom last night? What if it broke? What if they
had
been married? Then they'd have fucked up their chances at an easy annulment. Literally. Squirting toothpaste onto the brush, she glared at him in the mirror.

“Out,” she snapped. “O.U.T. It's pretty damn close to I.O.U., which is what you do.”

* * *

H
IS
NOT
-
WIFE
jammed her toothbrush into her mouth and started brushing hard enough to scrape the enamel straight off her teeth. Apparently the hurricane hadn't dented her plans for oral hygiene. Maybe she had a dentist in her family tree.

“You're holding me to our bet?”

She rinsed her mouth from a bottle of water, spat and pointed the toothbrush at him as though it was a semiautomatic. “You held me to it.
Twice.
”

“You enjoyed it, too. You give an amazing lap dance.” He grinned, which was a mistake, because the toothbrush came flying toward his head. He caught it. Good thing it hadn't been the water bottle, because right now he'd had enough water to last him a lifetime.

“You had sex. You lose.”

“It wasn't that bad,” he said, and the situation in the bathroom shot to Code Red.

“You came. I rocked your world.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Could have been faking,” he suggested, and she snorted.

“Give the man the Oscar. Did you even consider the possibility that you would lose?” She held out her hand for the toothbrush. He considered hanging on to it—maybe Ashley would try to retrieve it herself?—but then gave in and tossed it to her.

“Not really,” he admitted. He'd been trained to win at all costs. Not having sex for a week hadn't seemed particularly challenging, although he clearly hadn't factored in the effect that Ashley had on him. Plus they'd been married, or so he'd thought. Married people had sex. It wasn't a big deal.

Ashley didn't look sympathetic, though. “So think about it now. While you pack.”

Grabbing a towel from the rack, he rubbed it over his damp chest. “You really want to get rid of me that badly?”

She froze. “Geez, Brandon. Put your clothes on.”

“Why?” He shrugged. “You've already seen everything I've got.”

“I don't need to see it again,” she snapped, but he noticed she didn't look away from the mirror. He was pretty sure she could see every inch of him, which he decided was encouraging.

Since he definitely liked the idea of her looking, he took twice as long as he needed with the towel. She finished brushing her teeth, and moved on to doing something to her face with some kind of white cream. Since she'd gone back to ignoring him, he moved behind her and snagged the jar when she set it down. Wrinkle cream. He examined Ashley's face.