A SEAL's Seduction

Chapter 12

BLAKE CURLED HIS BODY behind Alexia's, his arms wrapped around her waist and fingers twined with hers. It was the closest he could get without being inside her. But give him another five, maybe ten minutes, and he'd be up for that again, too.
She was quiet in his arms. Too quiet. He could tell she wasn't floating on a cloud in sexual nirvana. Not with all the tension he could feel radiating off her.
Give him another five, maybe ten minutes, and he'd get rid of that, too.
"You never asked me what happened at the compound," she finally said, her words painfully low. "Is that a part of your orders? You're on pickup-and-delivery service, but not allowed to know what's in the package?"
Protocol clearly stated that he was exactly what she'd said-pickup and delivery. His orders had been clear. Don't grill her. Debriefing would be done by higher-ups. Besides, Blake winced, trauma, PTS-she was going to be carting around plenty. But he wasn't equipped to deal with it. Hell, with her psych degree, she was better prepared than he was.
Distract and delay, he decided. Until she could talk to someone who knew how to guide her back to feeling safe."I'm pretty sure I just explored the package pretty thoroughly," Blake said, laughing a little before he leaned down to gently bite the back of her shoulder. Ah, the perfect distraction. Alexia gave a delighted shudder, pressing her hips back against him. He felt life stirring again, and was tempted. Oh, so tempted to let their bodies take over again.
But even though they didn't have a future, even though his reasons for them not being together were all still strong and solid, he couldn't do it. He couldn't go the same route he had before. He'd seen the questions in her eyes last fall, had known she wanted to talk, to connect in more than just a physical way. He could use the typical guy excuse that talking about emotions was stupid, a total girlie thing. But he knew that wasn't what she was looking for. She just wanted to know more about the guy she was sleeping with than his favorite position and what moves sent him over the edge.
Blake had hurt Alexia once because he'd taken the easy route. He wasn't going to do it again if he could help it. "SOP in a rescue is to get in, get the victim and get
out. We're not supposed to ask questions unless it pertains to completing the mission," he explained.
"Is that what I am? A standard operating procedure?" She didn't sound angry. Nor did her body stiffen or shift away. She simply looked at him with patient curiosity. As if she could wait, that she totally trusted he'd get to theright answer eventually.
Blake frowned. Why didn't she ever react the way he expected? They had sex, and instead of falling into a satisfied stupor, she started thinking about her captivity. He inadvertently labeled her and she laughed it off. Would he ever understand how her mind worked? What her emotional triggers were?
"There's nothing standard about you," he said honestly. "The truth is, I don't do this kind of thing well."
She twisted in his arms so they were face-to-face. Her hair, free of the braid again, haloed around them like red flames. Her slender shoulders and silky skin made for a gorgeous distraction. Blake wanted to pull her tight against him, to tuck her head into his chest and distract her with sex. But the way she was staring at him made it clear she wasn't going to go for it. "What kind of thing?"
"The emotional aftermath," he said with an uncomfortable shrug. "Dealing with the trauma. You went through hell. You deserve to talk to someone who understands how to guide you through the healing process. I'd say the wrong thing, or pat your head because I don't know how to react, or cuss and punch something. And you don't need anyone making it worse for you."
Her eyes turned to liquid, her smile trembling a little at the corners.
"You are so sweet," she said quietly, brushing her fingertips over his lips in a whisper-soft touch almost asintimate as a kiss.
"No. I just don't want to talk the emotional stuff," he dismissed gruffly. But inside, he felt like a little boy doing backflips. All excited because she thought he was sweet.
"But you would, wouldn't you? If I had to talk it through, if I couldn't wait for a professional who knew how to counsel me, you'd let me work it through with you?"
Blake would rather take a bullet. But, keeping his cringe inside, he nodded.
Her smile was bright enough to light the entire tent. With a husky laugh, she hugged him tight. Her bare breasts pressed temptingly against his chest while her legs twined with his.
"Sweet," she told him. "You are so seriously sweet. Sweet enough that I won't put you through that."
"Thank you," Blake breathed. Then, because words weren't enough, he leaned down to kiss her. Their lips melted together, heating him through and through. Maybe their five-minute wait was up...
Before he could find out, she leaned back to break the kiss and smiled again.
"So all that hand-holding you do is restricted to the rescue," she teased. "Not the recovery?"
"We should all do what we do best. And leave the things we do worst for someone else." "And what do you do best?" "Whatever I set my mind to," he told her. It wasn't bragging. He was damn good at what he did."Do you ever worry?" she asked, her fingers tracing a pattern on his chest, but her eyes locked on his. "Does it ever just seem like it's too much? The constant living on edge, the missions and danger and never knowing what's next?"
"It's my life. Danger, the unexpected. They're second nature. Like breathing." Unable to resist those lips, already swollen from his kisses, Blake leaned down to kiss her again.
When he leaned back, she gave him a look that said no distractions allowed. Blake was tempted to see how long it would take to make that look change into passionate surrender.
But finally, with those patient eyes locked on his, he sighed and admitted, "Yeah, sometimes. I didn't used to worry. I'm serious when I say it's a job. I'm highly trained, and damn good at what I do. So doing it isn't a worry." "But?"
How did she know there was a but? He replayed his words, his tone. There hadn't been a but in there, dammit.
"You know, you wasted that psych degree of yours," he teased, trying to laugh it off.
Despite her smile, she suddenly looked sad. Stressed. He could feel the tension tightening in her lower back. "What?" he asked. "Why does that bother you?" "That's what my father said the last time he spoke to me. He wanted me planted somewhere safe and sound,billing fifty-minute hours and poking into people's heads."
Weird. Blake hadn't taken the admiral to be a touchy- feely, get-in-touch-with-yourself kind of guy.
"I guess parents have their own vision for our lives, and it doesn't always mesh with our own."
"Or we have a vision for our own life that doesn't fit theirs," she said, her words only a little bitter.
Same thing, he started to say. Then he realized it wasn't.
"Did yours?" she asked, her fingers tracing a design on his chest. Sliding lower, tighter.
"Did mine what?" he responded absently, all his attention focused on where she'd touch next.
"Did your parents' vision suit you? Or did your vision suit them?"
Her fingers forgotten, Blake snorted. "I didn't rate high enough to merit visions. My old man walked out when I was three, and my mother's view was usually blurred by vodka. She didn't care what I did. Or what I didn't do."
Alexia's fingers shifted upward, teasing the hair on his chest, then rubbing in sweet, soothing circles.
"She must be proud now, though, right? You've been decorated so many times. Won so many honors."
Blake arched a brow. How did she know what he'd done?
She looked stubborn for a second, then sniffed. "So I checked your records. So what?"
He couldn't help it. He laughed, then kissed the tip of her nose. She was so freaking cute. Her sexiness wasblatant, always right there like a punch in the face. Her brains were subtle, a backdrop to the sexy. Again, always there, but not something she shoved down your throat. But the cuteness? The vulnerable sweetness? That's what got to him. She hid it a lot of the time, so when it peeked out, it was extra special.
"So I'm glad you were curious enough to want to check me out," he said softly. Then he grimaced. He didn't want to talk about his past. It wasn't something he was ashamed of, but it wasn't his world anymore. Still, honesty deserved honesty, so he told her, "My mother doesn't care about any of that. I'm not even sure she knows I made the SEAL team. When I refused to send home my paycheck, she wrote me off. Said we were through. It's been six years and I can't say I miss her."
Horror, anger and a sort of recognition all mixed together in Alexia's expression. She kissed his chin, as if kissing away any hurt he might still feel.
"Even when we don't care, it still hurts when they close that door, doesn't it?" she said quietly. Blake frowned.
"What doors are closed to you?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew. He hated that the admiral, a man he honestly looked up to and thought a great deal of, could be so flawed as a father. "My father disowned me last fall. Again." Last fall? Shit."Because of me?"
Her smile was pure appreciation.
"No, although my unacceptable behavior toward you did trigger the discussion."
"By discussion you mean fight?"
Alexia gave him a sardonic look. "I thought you knew my father. One doesn't fight with the admiral. One listens. One obeys. Or one is disowned." "I was the trigger. What was the bullet?" "He doesn't find my career acceptable. It's embarrassing to him and my mother that I focus on sexual behavior. They'd rather I use my psych degree working for the government. Or barring that, they want me to go into private practice in a tidy little office somewhere and talk sexual behavior behind closed doors, where it belongs."
"But you said what you're doing will help a lot of people."
"It will. In the last year, it has, actually. We just received a huge grant to further the work, which is probably what brought the wrong kind of attention." She was quiet for a second, then shifted one shoulder as if it didn't matter. "Fitting, my father would say. To my parents, subliminal programming to heal sexual aberrations is nothing more than self-indulgence for the weak."
"That's bullshit." It pissed him off that she would blame herself, even in a roundabout way, for the kidnapping, orfor her parents' narrow views. "You make a difference. And you love what you do. Don't let bullies push you into sidestepping that passion. Even if one of them is a terrorist and the other your father."
Alexia's tension faded, her body relaxing into his again as she laughed.
"I guess that's what you do, isn't it? Stop tyrants from getting away with bullying."
"That's one of our specialties," he confirmed. Blake was always proud to be a SEAL, to serve his country. But seeing the admiration in Alexia's eyes added a nice layer of muscle to that pride.
"So why did things change?" Her tone was pure compassion, so understanding and sweet that he wanted to lay his head on her shoulder and let every pain he'd ever had drain away. "You said you don't worry about doing your job. But you worry about something else now, don't you?"
Blake went as still as if she'd pulled the pin from a grenade and tossed it to him. One wrong move and there would be emotional spattering, all over the place.
"Maybe you can sideline with that psych degree," he joked stiffly, wondering how the hell she'd circled back. Hadn't baring her own woes been a distraction? You'd think the sad, pathetic story of his childhood was enough to listen to. She still wanted more?
"You don't have to tell me," she said, sounding compassionate and soothing. He could feel the hurt in the set of her shoulders, though. See it in the stiffness of hersmile. "I just, well, you were hurting before. Last fall. It made me sad to see the unhappiness in your eyes."
Blake clenched his jaw. She'd known then that he was hurting? Was he that transparent? For just a second, he frowned. That wasn't why she'd slept with him, was it? Pity sex? As quick as the thought came in, it faded. There had been nothing pitiful between them, and he'd be a fool to start thinking that way.
"That was a rough time," he said, figuring he could let it go at that. Then, hoping she'd accept it as enough of an excuse, he added, "I'd served on three back-to-back missions and was hitting burnout."
"That's got to be hard. Like an adrenaline rush that doesn't stop. I'd think you'd face quite a lot of exhaustion." She sounded so understanding that Blake had to close his eyes against the emotions her compassion unleashed. He wanted to kick himself. He'd had access to this much caring, this much sympathy eight months ago. And instead of opening to her, he'd locked everything up tight, deep inside where it could fester and ferment and grow. Damn, he was smart.
"You don't really notice the exhaustion," he heard himself saying. "At first, the back-to-back element gives you an edge. You're always on, always primed. That makes for a pretty effective weapon."
"But after a while, a bow drawn taut loses its intensity, doesn't it?"
He nodded. "Yeah. That's when things happen.""What happened?" she whispered, her words a breath of comfort over him. No demand, no surprise, it was as if she'd known there was something aching there and she wasn't going to pry it loose, but simply wait until it surfaced so she could scoop it away. "We lost a guy."
He watched her face as he said it. Waited for the judgment. The shock or horror. But her expression didn't change. Her dark eyes might have melted a little more, but that was all. Instead, she shifted, leaning closer to brush a soft kiss over his lips. Comfort. Healing. Acceptance. For the first time since he'd watched the life drain out of his buddy, Blake felt those things. All because of a tiny little kiss.
No, he realized. Because of Alexia. He waited. Now that the door was open, she'd ask questions. She was intuitive enough to sense his loss was more than just a team member-although that'd be devastating enough. She'd make him talk about Phil. About what he'd meant, how hard it was to adjust to life without him.
Blake's stomach, cast iron in battle, shuddered. "That has to haunt you," she said quietly. "And make you second-guess your decisions, be extra cautiouswhen it's costing you to slow down and be careful."
Blake drew back to stare at her. That wasn't prodding and poking. That wasn't pushing him into facing things. Where was the emotional aggression? She was trying to kill him, wasn't she? Or worse, make him fall in love with her.
"You need to remember that life's short," she said, her palm skimming his cheek. "We don't get to pick the how or the where. All we get to do is live the days we're given to the fullest."
Blake had fallen off a cliff once. You'd think it would be a wild and fast plummet to the ground, filled with fear of the pain that was surely waiting on impact. And it had been. But it had also been surreal, a time to assess every decision, every mistake and totally analyze the misstep that had brought him into the free fall. It was oddly comforting to know that dive to the death provided plenty of time for regret.
That's how he felt right now. He was falling. He could feel it and knew there was no reversing the direction, no halting the fast plunge. That the landing was going to hurt was unquestionable. That he'd regret not watching his step was guaranteed.
Yet, for all that, if someone tossed him a rope to haul him back to safety, he'd have refused. Because some things just had to happen.
Like falling in love with Alexia.
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