Pleasing Her SEAL

He tore the panties off her, pushed his fingers into her wet folds and found heaven. She felt so damned good that he let out another groan because this welcome was all for him. He explored her with his fingers, tracing each fold, each sweet, sensitive spot until she was bucking against his hand, her fingers tightening on the headboard as her eyes closed and she rode his hand with complete abandon.

“Mason.”

“Shh. I’ve got you,” he promised. She let go, trusting him to make this good, and he’d die before he disappointed her. When she cried out, shattering in his arms, he pulled away briefly and fished the condom from his pant pocket.

Her eyes flew open. “Now,” she whispered. “No more excuses.”

Hell yeah. He could do that. He pushed inside her with one smooth, hard stroke, not stopping until he had nothing more to give her. Pulled back and slammed forward, hot pleasure streaking through him.

“Again,” she beseeched, her hips rising up to meet him. So he did it again. And then again and again, until she was shrieking his name, the headboard abandoned as she dug her nails into his back and hung on as if she really, really liked what he was doing.

Or liked him.

Yeah. That was good, because he liked her a whole hell of a lot, and her body pulled him closer, clenching, tightening as if she’d never let go, and it was perfect. Heaven, really. Fuck him, but he never wanted to be anywhere else but here with her and, when she came, chanting his name as if it was the passport to some magical happy place, he grinned like an idiot and followed her over the edge, right there with her.

After he’d pulled out and disposed of the condom, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, breathing her in.

“Maddie?”

She muttered something, collapsing bonelessly against him, and he brushed a kiss over the top of her head, earning himself another wispy sigh. He, on the other hand, felt as if he could get up and run. Climb a mountain. Assault a beach or maybe two.

He pressed a second kiss against her hair, because why stop at one? “You were perfect.”

“You’d be the perfect boyfriend if you’d just shut up,” she mumbled.

* * *

“GIVE ME AN INCENTIVE,” he said roughly, his mouth against her hair. “Make my night for me.”

“My own day’s been pretty perfect so far,” she admitted.

Mason was...well, okay, he was perfect. The cherry on her awesome-day sundae and even better than dessert after a month of dieting. He wasn’t in any rush, simply patient and there. She wanted that every day. Okay. She also wanted it every night, and just possibly every minute. Somehow hot vacation sex had become a relationship, and she definitely didn’t want to lose him when their time together on Fantasy Island came to an end. But she didn’t have to, did she?

She exhaled, and ran her hands up his bare chest. The holiday fling had been out of her comfort zone, and look how that had turned out. So she could do this, too.

“Marry me?” She smiled and grinned at him. Live large. Be brave. “Say yes.”

She couldn’t look away. She had to see his face, watch his reaction as he processed her impulsive question. A few days of getting to know Mason wasn’t much compared to a lifetime of marriage, but she didn’t need another year or ten to know Mason was one of a kind. He was bedrock and safety and a good guy, through and through. Fifty more dates wouldn’t make her know him any better than she did now.

* * *

MASON HADN’T SEEN this coming.

So he had to ask. “Say that again?”

She stared at him as though he was speaking Greek, when he was the one clearly experiencing hearing loss, but then she repeated her question. “Marry me? I know it’s quick and we haven’t known each other all that long, but when something’s right, it’s right. Right?” She frowned, her words picking up speed and tumbling out. “I love you.”

Normally, he had some idea of what to say. He wasn’t a dating virgin—wasn’t any kind of virgin—and he had, after all, been married once, even if it hadn’t worked out. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the look on Maddie’s face. He had no idea how she managed to look both bold and tentative at the same time, but she did. He liked her a whole helluva lot. Maybe even loved her. But he’d been dating her under false pretenses and for a matter of days. He’d led beach assaults that had taken more time than they’d had together.

She plowed on though, clearly undeterred by his silence. Instead of waiting for him to say something—and he honestly had no idea how long it would be before his brain unfroze and started giving orders to his tongue again—she walked her fingers up his chest, stopping with her fingertips pressed against the spot between his ribs.