To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs 3)

She stared at him, studying his profile as he returned his attention to the road. His jaw was taut. He was waiting for her answer. She knew what she should say: yes.

But right now, she didn’t want to be Chrissie Tate, the country star. She wished she could keep that world locked away in the trailer that had her name written across the side in big pink letters. For an hour, maybe two, she wanted to lose herself in her SEAL’s arms again.

“It is important,” she said softly. “But…”

“Honey, I know your music means a lot to you.” His grip tightened on the wheel. “But I want you like crazy and, I’ll be honest, the fact that I’m leaving and you’re moving on doesn’t change that.”

She turned and looked out the window. Wide-open desert stretched for what looked like miles, leading to mountains. Part of her wanted to toss aside reason and embrace the SEAL sitting beside her. Tomorrow night, in San Diego, she could take the stage and tell the world she’d fallen for her bodyguard. She could offer him love and ask him to open his heart to her in return.

But did she love him? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know. She could trust in the facts. He was leaving. Her career dictated how and where she spent her time. Even if she handed over her heart to him, there was no guarantee love would be enough.

For Chrissie Tate the country star. But for the girl who poured her heart and soul into her lyrics during her breaks from her job at the grocery store? That girl wanted to use what little time they had left and take advantage of the fact that they were alone. She wanted to live on the edge, allowing herself to feel without worrying about the consequences.

The landscape was stunning, but she wasn’t looking at the distant mountains anymore. “There’s a parking area up ahead,” she said pointing to the sign.

“It says ‘no facilities’,” he said.

“I know. But I want you to stop anyway,” she said. “And don’t you dare say Mason wouldn’t like it. This isn’t about him or my job or your commitment to the Navy. I need to…I need to finish what we started the other night. I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing,” he said. But he did as she asked and veered off the highway.

She waited until he put the car in park. The rest area was deserted apart from a semi in the corner. Someone could pull up and peer through the window. She could be recognized. Or, if she went through with her plan, arrested. Still, she couldn’t let him leave thinking, believing that she didn’t want him enough to risk it.

She reached over and ran her hand along the firm ridge beneath his jeans. With her other hand, she released her seatbelt. She adjusted her position in the passenger seat, drawing her legs up until she was kneeling with her torso over the center console.

“Chrissie, what the hell?”

She undid the button and then drew his zipper down before reaching inside his briefs. With her hand wrapped around his cock, she lowered her mouth. “I owe you this. I refuse to let you leave until I hear you come screaming my name.”

Chapter Seventeen

Dante leaned back his head and laughed. And yeah, this was probably the first time he’d ever found a blow job funny. But she looked so damn possessive kneeling in the front seat with her hand around him. The edge in her voice dared him to push her away and keep up the pretense that they were done trading orgasms.

Logic told him to guide her away, to strap her into the passenger seat, put the car in drive, and head for the relative safety of the tour bus. But his damn heart had been sabotaging his common sense since he met her. He knew they didn’t have a future. And he’d already admitted to himself that he felt more than he should for her. Still, he wasn’t going to stop her.

Shit, if Hell Week had included telling the woman he loved not to suck on him, he would have flunked right out.

“All right, Chrissie.” He released his white-knuckle grip on the wheel and ran one hand through her hair. “Make me scream.”

She took him into her mouth and ran her lips and tongue down to meet her hand. And he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. If she was determined to do this, he wasn’t going to fight her off. Only a fool would tell the woman he’d fallen in love with to keep her hands and mouth on her side of the car.

He moaned as her tongue swirled around the head of his cock. No, he wasn’t a fool. He knew he needed to make the most of this moment and memorize the feel of her lips on him and the way her head pumped his eager dick as if she’d memorized his instructions from the other night.

“A custom blow job,” he murmured.

She drew back, keeping her hand wrapped around him. But dammit, he wanted her mouth back.

“A what?” she asked, humor in her tone.

“You’re giving me exactly what I want, honey.” He opened his eyes and stared down at her. “The other night, I told you what I liked, and you listened. And now, I’m getting a custom job.”

“Of course I listened.” She lowered her mouth, taking him deep.

He watched, knowing damn well there was no “of course” when it came to relationships. He’d been married to a woman who never shared her wants, her desires, her hopes and her dreams. And yeah, he’d been just as guilty. But there were some things he could not tell anyone. His job was a web of secrets, and that wouldn’t change.

He studied her movements and allowed the pleasure to wash over him. But hell, he didn’t want the best blow job in the freaking world. He wanted Chrissie.

He didn’t love her because she gave great head. He’d fallen for her drive and her passion for her music. He was crazy about the way she gave her all to her audience every night. And yeah, he flat-out loved the fact that she shared his belief that there were some things worth fighting for—and maybe dying for.