SEAL My HomeBy: Sharon Hamilton
Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9)
He didn’t have to be a Navy SEAL to understand Megan had a look about her that told him she’d not yet had her world rocked sufficiently. Special Operator Rory Kennedy figured once he got those big glasses off her and let her hair down, she’d be a beauty. She seemed to try especially hard to look plain and homely. He could see through all of that. Best of all, she liked to read and didn’t like to prattle on like so many of the San Diego crowd. He liked quiet girls who were not full of themselves.
He and his friends had commented often that women who were somewhat bookish and liked to read were the best lays. It was music to his ears when she told him she worked in the big bookstore downtown. That was where their first meet for coffee was arranged. And their second. And their third. She declined all his invitations to do something like lunch or dinner, and he decided he had the patience perhaps others wouldn’t have. He saw a prize under that plain brown paper wrapping and wasn’t going to stop until he got it.
He fantasized getting it on with her in her Santa suit, kissing her with the white moustache, getting her black velvet britches unzipped and pulled down so he could see what color panties she wore.
Does that mean I’m gay?
He answered himself by nearly choking on the latte.
No fuckin’ way I’m gay. He decided it was the velvet material and the anticipation of running his hand against her smooth thigh and then moving up to her midriff so he could feel her warm cleavage and get lost there.
He never admitted it to his fellow Team guys, but he loved those first encounters with a woman, especially a woman who hadn’t been awakened. Experienced women were a turn-off, as were those who wore lots of makeup and always had to be primping in front of a mirror. He liked it awkward for her. He planned to be careful, take it slow. He thought about what it would be like with her, everything fresh, new, and unspoiled. No baggage or track record. Just pure clean simple fun. Surprises under every bit of lace, under every moan she’d make. He loved gentling women, reassuring them they were beautiful, letting them know how much he enjoyed their company. He liked it when they developed the confidence to let the reins out a bit and see how far they’d fly and take him with them. If the truth were known. he wanted to see her desire for him more than he actually wanted to feel it.
It amused him she was dressed this way tonight. It brought back memories of his years growing up. He didn’t believe in Santa Claus when he was a child because there were no pictures of the benevolent St. Nick in the orphanage. He felt like Christmas was something other kids got to experience. Those were the kids who knew what a brother or sister was or what it felt like to be part of a family with real parents.
He recalled that one year the nuns put up a scrawny Christmas tree. Unlike pictures he’d seen in magazines, there were no presents under it. The Sisters removed the sad-looking spruce when Rory and a number of the boys took the glass ball ornaments outside and played catch until they exploded like snowballs.
They’d missed their dinner that night, but it had been worth it, he recalled. Their quiet giggles continued all through the evening. Instead of Christmas carols, they told ghost stories in the corner of the room they shared, secured at night with a sleepy nun sitting guard outside the door until morning. He took pride in the fact that he was part of the incorrigible boys, and though the oldest was seven, they had earned a reputation they liked: impossible to live with. They figured if they continued screwing up, they could stay together until their teens and then be a pack of friends “on the outside” as they referred to it. Despite the best efforts of the nuns, the cold, dark structure still felt like a children’s prison. In the five remaining years he lived there, he would never see another decoration reminding them of the holiday.
He angled his head and watched her until she looked up at him across the room, with her pale blue eyes, the dimple at the right of her light pink lips hidden by the glued-on facial hair. He could see the squint of a conspiratorial smile, and suddenly he was as hot for her as anyone he’d ever been with.
She finished the story to the clapping of small exuberant hands and the titters of several mothers who had gathered behind the semicircle of the rapt little audience. She signed some books as Santa, and then stood and straightened up her suit with the fake belly. Her black stretchy pants revealed just enough about her thighs and ass to drive him wild. Her boobs were enormous and having difficulty staying put behind the tight suit obviously made for a small male. He didn’t want to do her in the men’s bathroom, but damn, he sure felt like it. He couldn’t look in her eyes as she came up to him—his mind was so filled with dirty thoughts. Instead, he lowered his gaze to her chest, letting her get a glimpse of his lust for her. He figured it was way past time and she deserved to know his intentions even if he couldn’t tell her yet.