To Tempt a SEAL (Sin City SEALs 1)

“Please,” he growled. “Do it.”

He held his breath as she stepped out from behind the mirror. A slip of black lace dangled from her fingers. His gaze roamed over every naked inch of her body as she leaned down and her breasts fell forward. She stepped one foot into her panties, then the second. Slowly, she curled up and drew the black lace over her calves up to her thighs.

His hands tightened around the bottle to keep from reaching for her. So he’d translated Natalie’s ultimatum—the clothes stay on—into the clothes going back on. He wasn’t touching. Or tasting. Not yet.

But later, when they returned to the room, he planned to prove how much he desired every inch of her beautiful body. He’d save his regrets for daylight. And he’d keep them out of her reach. Tonight, he would hand this goddess one undeniable truth.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as she pulled the thong into place and reached for her dress. “If you don’t feel like a goddess, I promise you will by the time the sun rises.”

“But tonight we’re following your Post-its.” Her red lips formed a playful smile. And her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she turned her back to him. Slowly, she pulled the dress over her head.

“All night I’m going to be picturing what’s beneath your clothes,” he said. “Knowing that I’m the only man in the room who can name the color of your panties.”

Her hands stilled, the fabric bunched at her waist. “Most people don’t look at me and wonder about my underwear.”

With her back to him, he couldn’t read her expression. But he had a feeling doubt had extinguished her playful smile. And it threatened to throw the brakes on daring and bold.

“I’d bet about half the men at the restaurant tonight take one look at you and think how it would feel to fuck your breasts,” he said. “And I’m the lucky bastard who plans to find out.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “Just say the word and we can tackle fantasy number one right now.”

Yes.

Little Miss Temptation threatened to ruin his strategy for the evening. But he’d been trained to tackle hurdles when it came to getting from point A to point B.

“Put your dress on,” he said. “I’m taking you out first.”

She shimmied her hips—a move that spoke directly to his dick—and pulled the dress on. The undone zipper left her back and her thong exposed. He savored each second before she pulled up the zipper, but she surprised him and first bent over to slip her black heels onto her feet.

“I fucking love it when you’re bold.” He leaned back, the bottle in one hand as the other pressed against the erection threatening to break free from his new pants.

“I’m glad you like the view,” she murmured, securing the ribbons around her ankles. But her tone distracted him from her movements. He’d expected flirtatious, but she’d said those words with an honesty that cut into him. If he called her over, he could have her on the bed, her dress bunched at her waist while he showed her just what the view did to him.

“I like you. In bed and out.” He drew his hand away from his crotch and stood. “I’ll get ready, and then we’ll head out.”

He walked into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind him. Marble covered every surface in the space. His bedroom in Coronado would fit inside this room. He placed his hands on the edge of the matching sinks and stared into the mirror.

Over and over, he’d played the altruistic card.

This is for her.

Make her feel beautiful.

But he was in this for himself, too. And the sex was only one piece of the picture. He had a job that demanded his all, and he gave it. Teammates, friends, family on both coasts, and a dog waited for him in Coron

ado. His life was far from empty.

Yet right now he couldn’t escape the loneliness. He’d found it easy to ignore, at least until this weekend. Until Lucia.

One more night in Sin City with a woman who left him wanting beyond reason. That’s all it could be. His job would eventually take all he had to give and then some.

Chapter Fourteen

“Which door will you choose?” The hostess’s words echoed in the empty, quiet hallway.

If someone had told Lucia earlier that one of the hottest new restaurants on the Strip was literally hidden like an old fashioned speakeasy, she would have laughed. She’d tried to bite back a giggle during their third elevator ride to find the place. But Cade’s remark—I’ve had an easier time finding terrorist cells—had pushed her over the edge.

Now that they’d arrived, she watched the hostess turn in a semicircle and gesture to the six sets of nondescript double doors. The woman’s long black dress draped over her tall, slim figure, a departure from the typical short-and-tight Vegas uniform. And her wild mane of tight blond curls combined with her dramatic, dark makeup took the look to the far side of eccentric.