SEAL Forever (6 page)

Her fingers from her good hand and arm dug into the sheets, attempting to get traction as he caressed that most sensitive part of her. Over and over, his tongue played a magical dance that made her breath shudder out and her body crave more.

“Declan!” she begged, needing and wanting him to give her that final pleasure.

His tongue changed angle, lapping at her body in a rhythmic pattern that lifted her higher and higher until she felt herself on the pinnacle of such incredible pleasure, she never ever wanted it to end. And just as she was about to leap down, his fingers played over her body, lifting her even more as her climax climbed two more notches and she finally leaped, crashing down once, twice, three times in a climactic crescendo of joy.

He looked up at her, his body shifting seductively as he leaned over.

Tears streamed down her face. She'd never felt such intense pleasure. Her body was still alive with the energy and vibrations.

Tenderly, his fingers wiped away the wetness from her cheeks. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said, looking up at him with enormous wonder. “I've never experienced such…completion.”

He looked relieved. He smiled at her and gently kissed her lips. “Then hang on, Maura, because that is only the tip of the iceberg.” His body shifted away from her head, and she watched him move all the way down to her feet and her painted petal-pink toes.

Oh my goodness, she thought. The
tip
of the iceberg. What
was
she in store for?

He grinned at her like a man delighted with what he was about to do.

It was one helluva great morning, just like all the mornings Declan had spent with Maura for the past few weeks. Time passed quickly with her by his side.

He stepped out onto the balcony to breathe the fresh morning air. He'd never felt like this with anyone but her.

“Yo, Swifton, what's up?”

A voice from below caught Declan's attention. His eyes located the perpetrator and he waved. “McCullum, you jackass! What are you doing in this neck of the woods, Mac?” Declan leaned on the railing of the balcony and chewed the fat with his favorite Team THREE puke. They'd been close over the years and had hauled each other out of some tough jams. Now that Dan McCullum was Team THREE, Declan took pleasure in teasing the hell out of the man.

“Had some extra time. It's Aria's Ladies' Event. She's hosting the wives.” Dan wiped the sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve.

“Sounds like fun,” Declan said sarcastically.

The Chief Petty Officer laughed. “You'd think, but Aria's been panicked and is running through the house barking orders to anyone within earshot. I just dropped Jimmy off at a friend's house and decided to get some extra miles under my belt. I'm sure the walls can give her better answers than I can.”

Declan chuckled. “You want to come up?”

Dan checked his watch. “Another time. I need to make an appearance in forty-five. I'm pretty sure I'll catch hell if I look like this.” He gestured to his own sweat-drenched body in the ubiquitous yellow Navy shorts.

Declan nodded. “Probably right.”

“Rain check,” said Dan, turning around and taking off like a devil who had the Heavenly Host hot on his trail.

Declan shook his head. He didn't envy the man. Marriage and family were big steps, though Dan had seemed to adjust okay to it. His mind sped ahead. Maybe if he had someone like Aria. Nah, she wasn't his type. But Maura… He could see himself getting serious with her. The idea caught him by surprise, and that was a feat, for he was a man who had contingency plans for his contingency plans.

Spying Maura's notebook on the ground, Declan leaned over and picked it up. Paging through it, he was fascinated by the sketches. She had written equations and drawn figures in motion, jumping, turning, and twisting. Alongside each picture were notes explaining how high the jumps were, when to turn, and how to twist in a timely manner. Never in his life had he seen anything like this.
This must be for her parkour stuff.
Declan had been intrigued when she had told him about the gym and her parkour activities. She was definitely a woman who enjoyed physical activity and really seemed to have found her niche.

He closed the cover, walked the few remaining steps to her glass door, and knocked. When Maura didn't answer, he left the notebook on her patio chair and headed back to his own apartment. With one last glance back at her door, he smiled and headed in. The lady had certainly piqued his curiosity, and the more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know about her.

In his apartment, he stripped off his running shorts, throwing them into the open closet that contained his sack of sweaty laundry. The soothing earth tones of his apartment made it a real retreat for him, from the cream leather couch and mocha recliners to the warm, dark wall colors. This was his haven, surrounded by the stuff he'd collected through the years: ancient bows and arrows, books on strategies and languages, an assortment of framed handmade knives, and a large screen TV with a stack of his favorite movies.

He flipped on his CD player preloaded with The Who, the bass beat sounding in his gut. The band reminded him of his childhood, his mother playing the song “Behind Blue Eyes” and his three-year-old self learning to dance, mimicking her steps. He could still smell the honeysuckle thick in the air and almost hear the lilting sound of her laughter as they spun around in circles and did the box step. He always wanted to be her “little hero,” and he'd like to think she would be proud of him today.

It'd been hard having no one there to represent family at his BUD/S graduation so many years ago. Picking up the picture of her he kept next to the stereo, he studied her image. “I miss you, Mom.” He wondered what she'd think of Maura.

He put down the picture, the only familial object in his apartment. The rest of pictures consisted of collages from BUD/S training and graduation and places he'd been between missions.

Looking in the giant circular mirror—inlaid with real gold chunks dug up on a trip to Julian, California, and hanging in the hall near the door—he wondered what was next. Right now he was living his greatest dream, and he had done pretty much everything on his “frogucket”/bucket list, including making love to ladies in exotic, if not erotic, positions. Ahem, places.

A second alarm sounded from his phone. Damn, he was going to be late if he kept dithering and daydreaming. Work didn't stop, and he had a meeting with the CO this morning. Granted, it was two hours from now, but he had to prep.

He grabbed a coffee drink, popped the top, and took a long draw of the thick, rich brew, then headed straight to the shower. As heat pelted his skin, he smiled into the stream of the water. He was a SEAL, a Master Chief in Team FIVE, and dating a very hot lady. Life was good.

* * *

Spending hours and hours on paperwork was not Declan's idea of a good time. As he dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a navy blue solid silk Tommy Bahama shirt for dinner with Maura, Declan mulled over his day. He knew how important reports were for the brass and posterity as a whole—it helped Spec War trace the success or failure based on men, resources, terrain, difficulty, the enemy, etc.—but he knew he'd be thrilled if he could dump that side of his life for good.

The timer buzzed on his phone. He only had five more minutes before he was due next door.

At least he could spend the rest of this bland day focusing on Maura. He longed to wrap his arms around her again, to hear her laugh. And he was especially eager for the soft moans she made as she came. The way she looked at him, with a cross between slumberous exhaustion and complete satiation after they made love, did a lot for his ego.

She was so free in bed, with every emotion clearly written in her body language and on her countenance. He liked that. Most women hid such things…whether it was for control or for their own ease, he didn't know. Maura was honest, refreshing, and beautiful.

He scratched his chin. Damn, it was a little rough. Stubble was not a way to endear oneself to a female, especially to those tender female fleshy parts. He needed to make a pit stop to handle this.

As Declan took care of the stubble, he thought about how this woman had turned his world upside down in such a short time. Had it only been four weeks since he hauled her out of the ocean? SEAL Team had been his sole focus for so long—women had merely been a distraction—but Maura was becoming as much a priority as his work. He had to tread carefully. He didn't want to screw up a good thing.

Putting his wallet in his back pocket and his cell phone in his front, he checked to make sure he had his keys and headed out the door. He'd had the good sense to pick up flowers, and he scooped them up from the table near the front door.

Opening his door, he stepped outside, walked precisely five steps, turned, and knocked.

“Who is it?” asked the voice from the other side.

“The Roto-Rooter man,” he replied.

“Oh, I'm not decent,” said the female voice, laughing. “Just ignore my unkempt state.” The door opened and Declan's breath caught. Maura was a vision. She was clad in a skintight sea-green dress, and her eyes looked like the sea on a warm day. “Well, aren't you looking handsome? Are those for me?”

Declan had lost himself for a few seconds. He pushed the bouquet into her arms and pulled his libido together. He was acting like a lovesick teenager. He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The flowers are gorgeous. Let me just put them in water.”

He watched every move as she sashayed away, those hips beckoning him. He tilted his head to the ceiling.
Oh, good Lord, I'm not going to make it to the restaurant.

Maura came up to him and tapped her fingers on his chest. “Hey, I'm down here.”

Declan captured her gaze and was relieved to see that she was just as “inspired” as he was. They kissed, tenderly at first, and then it turned into something hotter, more delicious.

“No,” he said, pushing back from those sumptuous lips. “We have all night. Let's…”

“Go eat,” she finished. “I agree. I'm hungry.”

He rubbed his hand over her hip just as her stomach rumbled. “I can tell.”

She blushed. Those sweet cheeks pinked for him.

Smiling at her, he asked, “Do you want to take your vehicle or my Harley? We're going to the Brigantine.”

“If you hold me tight…your Harley. My mother had a Harley and I rode it for a while when I was of age.” She pointed to a leather biker jacket on the chair. She'd invested in a well-padded one just last week so that she could ride safely with Dec. Maybe she'd send for her old gear too. Mom would send it in a heartbeat. “Just don't stop too suddenly. Remember, I'm still sore.”

“Dislocated shoulders take a while to quit hurting, but in a few more weeks, that shoulder should be as good as new.” He picked up the jacket and held it so she could ease her arms in, and then he zipped her into the soft leather. Touching her chin, he tilted her face up to his and kissed her. “I have precious cargo. I promise, I will be very careful.”

Escorting her from the apartment, he locked the door for her and aided her down the stairs. He liked playing the knight in shining armor for her. Maybe it was the fact she didn't ask for it, or that he just enjoyed being with her so much. Regardless, he was pleased that she beamed…for him.

The ride to the restaurant was relaxing as they sailed down the Strand and made their way into Coronado. Traffic was heading the other way as duty stations released for the day, and the other side was bumper-to-bumper with vehicles. He and Maura zipped down pretty much unimpeded, admiring the beach and sea on one side and Glorietta Bay on the other. He pinned her arms under his, wrapping her even more tightly against his body to make sure she felt safe.

As they pulled up in front of the Brigantine, there was even a parking spot, as if he'd somehow reserved it. He set the kickstand, turned off his Harley, pulled the key, and helped his date off his Fat Boy.

Arm in arm, Declan and Maura walked inside and he gave his name. They were whisked away to a darkened corner with the very private and out-of-the-way table he had specifically requested. The Brigantine was known for its cuisine. Though he tended to be a surf-and-turf guy, he knew he'd be going for the rack of lamb tonight.

“Maura, would you like wine?” he asked.

“Sure.” Her nose was buried in the menu. “What's good?”

“Everything,” he said, letting his emotion into his voice. They had been on over a dozen dates in the past four weeks, and in that time, they had shared quite a bit. They'd been bike riding, enjoyed concerts in the park, seen movies, taken day trips into the mountains and the desert, and gone out to numerous restaurants. Maura had learned about his life in foster care and hadn't balked at his frustration with the social services system in California. Instead, she had listened intently and agreed with his wish to adopt kids as well as have ones of his own. It was the first time he'd ever been so honest about his innermost thoughts with a woman, and he knew that said a lot about how much he trusted her.

She looked up from the menu and smiled. “Really? So what should I choose first?”

“Besides me?” He laughed. Learning about her large family, her parents, and their support of her dream had been refreshing. Her ability to rally no matter the occasion contributed several points in her favor. Her effervescence was contagious too. He often found himself smiling just because she was.

Maura put down her menu. Her near-side elbow connected with his stomach and he let out a soft
oof
. “Stop looking at me like that. We're in public. Be good.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, ma'am.” He suppressed the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maura was a riot when she put on her no-nonsense hat. “Fine. I'll order. I'd like the lamb.”

“Okay, how about I order the salmon, and we share?” she asked, taking a sip of her water. He usually disliked it when women ate off his plate, but with her it was different. There was a seductive quality about watching his food go into her mouth, and he liked sharing what was his.

“That works,” he replied and signaled to the waitstaff.

The waiter hurried over, and they placed their order. Settling on a bottle of Chablis, they toasted each other as they took their first sip. The crisp white wine was dry and pleasing on his palate.

He moved closer to her. What did one need to say when you had a gorgeous lady on your arm? Nothing. When there was a lull, it was funny how easy it was to be together. They didn't need to make small talk to be comfortable; they already were. As Maura chatted about her day at the gym, Declan naturally shared his experience of being a SEAL.

Just as he reached the climax of one of his million-and-one Leaper Lefton comic savant stories, a commotion at a table around the corner interrupted him.

“I won't take this! I don't have to! Don't you know to whom you are speaking? I'm leaving this date, you big baboon!”

Unfortunately he knew that woman's voice.

The lady peeked around the corner. “Thank God! Declan. I wondered if anyone I knew was here. You'll do. Of course.”

“Olivia,” he said flatly. It was none other than Olivia Fenwick—the twenty-six-year-old, blond, slim woman with a fortune at her fingertips, and also a former lover. She was not the person he wanted to see right now. He'd broken things off with her over a year ago by leaving a voice mail and leaving town. True, it wasn't the bravest maneuver, but this lady had claws. None of his liaisons had lasted very long, but Olivia's personality, or lack of actual depth of heart and soul, kept turning fun time into run time.