Chapter Four
Dante had done a helluva lot of stupid things since he’d joined the Navy. But standing under the desert sun, shirtless and wearing borrowed jeans and a damn cowboy hat topped the list.
During Hell Week, the most infamous part of SEAL training, he’d survived drownproofing and paddled a boat straight for the rocks lining the Southern California coast. Sure, he’d been one of many who’d done it. But only someone who’d wanted to be a SEAL since he’d first learned about the teams from his Italian grandpa—the old man had been fascinated by his adopted country’s armed forces—would endure that hell with a smile and a “Hooyah” for his instructors. At the end he’d received a trident pin and a place on the teams.
Today, he’d been promised a modest pay bump that he didn’t give a damn about…and a kiss he couldn’t stop wanting.
Chrissie danced her way down the canyon’s path. Her hips swayed to a nonexistent rhythm. Dante supposed the music would be added later. Right now, the star of the show was lip-synching her way to him. And while the movement of her body made him hard, her lips left him aching for her mouth.
Her fingertips brushed his chest, teasing his senses. He wanted to reach for her. But he had instructions. Hell, the man in the director’s chair had choreographed everything.
Chrissie’s palm pressed against his bare skin, and he reminded himself that her touch and that hint of seduction in her eyes—it wasn’t for him. She was acting for the camera.
But his body hadn’t received the memo. He hardened, anticipating the moment when her hips would move closer. He needed the damn green light to press her up against that rock and claim her mouth.
Her gaze met his. Those wide blue eyes…so damn sweet and innocent. And yeah, it was an act. Logic told him to ignore the intoxicating mix of I’m-going-to-seduce-you-now and take-me-sailor.
To hell with reason, and screw the instructions.
Dante reached for her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Drawing her to him, he waited for the moment her hips touched his and she felt his response to the role she’d asked him to play.
Her eyes widened, and the innocent pretense vanished. “This isn’t right,” she murmured.
“No, honey.” He touched his lips to her ear. “It’s not.”
He shouldn’t be here. In Vegas. In a country music video. In her arms. But he wasn’t going to walk away from a second chance at claiming her mouth.
Carefully, he guided her back until her perfect ass touched the rock. He retraced his steps from that morning, pinned her arms overhead, and then let his hands roam.
“I should be seducing you,” she insisted.
“Consider me at your mercy.” He ran his hands along her toned legs, lifting her up. Her thighs wrapped around his waist as if she remembered the movement. His hips pressed against her, showing her just how “seduced” he felt.
He dropped his gaze to her parted red lips. That mouth could drive a man insane. Hell, it probably enchanted half her fans night after night. He hadn’t heard her sing, but he could imagine watching her lips move. And hoping like hell he’d be the lucky bastard who explored them.
He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. Gentle. Soft. He drew out the desire.
“More,” she whispered, and her fingers found their way into his hair. She held tight, refusing to let him pull back. Not that he planned to let her go.
“Just warming up,” he said. “Seeing how much you can take.”
She raised an eyebrow as if he’d tossed out a challenge. Then, she kissed him.
Dante lost track of where, when, and even why he was standing in the freaking canyon. He opened his mouth and allowed her tongue to tangle with his. He rocked against her as if he wanted to come in his pants. Even fully clothed, the feel of her body beneath his would do it. One more thrust—
“That’s hot,” a voice called. “But I think we have what we need.”
Dante pulled away. Reality came rushing back. They were in the desert and putting on a show. They had an audience. And shit, he was ten seconds away from exploding in his damn jeans like a teenager.
“I think we’ve put on enough of a performance,” he said, and he carefully lowered Chrissie’s legs and stepped away.
Her brow furrowed as if she’d forgotten where she was for a moment, too. But then her smile—the one she doled out to any passing fool—reappeared and erased the glimpse he’d caught of a young, innocent woman.
Dante looked away as his erection subsided. For a moment, he’d believed the innocent wonder he’d witnessed in her eyes. He’d felt wanted. Kissing her had become a necessity.
But Chrissie Tate didn’t need him beyond one hot kiss. She’d been clear about that. It was an act, carefully designed to con the fools watching her video.
Holding his body away from hers, Dante placed his hands on the rock, palms flat, one on either side of Chrissie’s head. “This is the point where you push me away, right?”