To Dare A SEAL (Sin City SEALs 2)

“Here you go, boys,” she said as she passed out the drinks. Then she turned to go, but something held her back. Literally, a tug along her waist. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Colton’s hand wrapped around her apron strings.

“Let go,” she and Jack snapped simultaneously.

Chuckling, the Texas-sized jerk released her. “Tie my baby brother up in these strings? These days he might break free. Before he joined the damn Navy, we used to do the same thing, leaving him in a field until he missed the call for dinner. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but he was a weakling growing up.”

“Jack, a weakling?” She moved to the side of the Navy SEAL’s wooden chair. Jack’s fairy-tale charm presented a danger to her carefully ordered life, but she refused to let this blowhard stomp all over him.

Leaning over Jack, she smashed her number one rule to pieces beside the corner table and offered him a peek down her scoop-neck tank top. Her breasts were average, hovering in the middle ground between large and small. But Jack’s eyes still widened, taking in the view before his gaze returned to her face.

She touched his bicep, running her fingers over his skin to the edge of his T-shirt. And he tensed beneath her hand. “He doesn’t feel weak,” she said, adding a sultry edge to her tone.

“You should have seen him when he was younger,” Colton said. “Arms like twigs.”

Mr. Belt Buckle’s words acted like a propellant, and her whisper of anger turned into a wild fire. The flames leaped past control. Her gaze locked with Jack’s blue eyes. Most nights, she was glad the bar stood between her and the Prince Charming of the Navy SEALs. But hearing Colton Barnes hurl insults—as if the eldest Barnes sibling had spent Jack’s entire life looking for the right words to torment his little brother—something inside her snapped.

“I try to never look back on the past.” She knew the words were a lie. The past followed her around, dictating every relationship in her life. But she pressed on, refusing to let Mr. Belt Buckle have the upper hand. “Not when the present is so enticing,” she added.

Jack raised an eyebrow, silently posing the question: Are you serious?

You bet your fancy little trident pin I am.

Without a second thought, she ran her hand up his shoulder, not stopping until her fingers wove through his hair. She lowered her lips to his, maintaining a tight hold on his head. One quick kiss. One touch. Nothing more.

But oh holy hell, the feel of his mouth, the taste of his surprise, the moment when he parted his lips, offering to claim her—

She broke the kiss and stepped away. She took a deep breath, searching for Calm and Collected Natalie as she turned away from Jack.

Behind her, Colton and company whooped and demanded another kiss. But Natalie knew better. One kiss that left her feeling as though she’d hot-wired her dormant sexual needs was a stupid mistake. A second might fully awaken wants and needs that she flat-out refused to let Prince Charming fulfill.

She threw a smirk toward Jack and the boys, then turned and walked back to the bar. Work. She needed to focus on her job, not the SEAL at the corner table.

Hell must have frozen over. And Jack sure as shit knew he was occupying prime real estate in the devil’s inferno. Spending twenty-four hours in Coronado, California with his older brothers was the definition of hell. But having the feisty Bottom’s Up bartender come to his defense with an irresistible kiss, only for her to then leave him full with need as she walked into the back room?

It was heaven and hell all in one.

Most of the time, Natalie spotted him and walked away. He’d spent the past few years dreaming about her perfect ass and slim legs. But now Natalie’s breasts would play a central role in his fantasies alongside her soft lips.

And she’d just slipped away from him.

“I’ll be right back. Try not to pick a fight. Most of the men, and probably some of the women, could take you four against one.” Without waiting for his brothers’ comebacks, Jack pushed back from the table. He headed for the swinging double doors that separated the back room from the bar.

He scanned the employees-only space as the door closed behind him. Boxes, metal kegs, and an old popcorn machine filled the cramped space. Against one wall, he spotted the walk-in refrigerator. To the right was a long, narrow stainless steel table. Natalie stood with her back to him, her palms pressed against the silver surface and her chin dipped to her chest. Her long black hair fell forward, hiding her face.

She lifted one hand and smacked her palm against the table. Her hips rocked back, and when she bent at the waist, her spine formed a straight line. And all the blood in Jack’s body moved south.

“Dammit,” she muttered, hitting the table a second time. His brain processed the words, easily adding Jack to the end of her curse, followed by harder. But even with the blood rushing to his dick, he had a feeling he’d never hear the words Dammit Jack, harder cross her lips. Claiming the five-foot-two spitfire would remain his number one fantasy. He knew better than to assume one kiss would melt her hostility toward him.

Jack shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and crossed the small space. “Natalie?”

She glanced over her shoulder, her dark brown eyes daring him to take another step. “You shouldn’t be back here.”

“You know I can stand up for myself.” Bypassing caution—hell, he routinely walked into volatile situations—Jack approached her. He stopped by her side, close enough to reach out and brush her long hair over her shoulder. His fingers pressed against his legs, eager for a green light. “Why’d you step in?”

“I hate bullies.” She pushed off the table, turned to face him, and tilted her chin up.

“Me too. I appreciate what you did out there.” He smiled at her, willing his feet to remain rooted to the floor while every cell in his body begged to reach for her. “Now I owe you one.”

“No.” She shook her head, black hair tumbling across her cheek. “I can stand up for myself, too. You don’t owe me anything, Jack.”