Taming the SEAL

Chapter 8

Monica let the hot water stream over her, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the memories. Memories that would keep her warm at night for years to come. Maybe if I'm quiet enough I can duck out before Grant wakes up.

She stretched her arms out, arching so the water could reach all the sore spots, at least all of the ones on the outside. Her mind raced ahead. Don't waste time. Find the panties and tuck them in my purse. Maybe he left the remote out so I can just snatch it and go. And if not then oh well. The memories alone are worth every penny spent. Her normal life would seem so much more boring after last night.

"Room for one more in there?"

Monica jumped. "Oh. I thought you were still asleep."

He shrugged. "Hazard of the job. There's no way you would have made it out of bed without me knowing."

"You're welcome to come in, but I don't know that I'm up for another round of . . . well . . . you know. Pretty sure my legs can't hold me up."

"Fair enough."

Grant took the soap from her hands and began lathering her shoulders, her breasts, and then he moved lower. Monica closed her eyes, bracing herself against the tile. Nothing else in the world mattered at this very moment, except his hands on every inch of her skin. He moved slowly, thoroughly. There wasn't an end game. He massaged her body as if sex was the very last thing on his mind.

She felt herself being moved beneath the water. He lifted her weighted limbs, rinsing the soap. Grant leaned in, his bare chest brushing against her breasts. Her skin was on fire, each nerve ending lit from his hands and the warm water streaming down. She leaned in, hoping for the very thing her body had seemed too tired to do just moments before.

Only Grant didn't try to make another move. Instead, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He held her hand, assisting her onto the bathmat and snatching a white, fluffy towel off of the rack. He rubbed and patted until she was completely dry. It was something she couldn't remember anyone doing. Not even her mother.

"All better?" his voice was tight.

Monica nodded when the words wouldn't come. She didn't want to break free from one of the most sensual experiences of her life. His lips pressed to hers, the sweetness of it all clutched at her heart.

"Another time, Sweetheart." He rasped.

She dressed in a haze. Slipping into the red dress from the night before and stuffing her panties in her purse. She'd grab a clean pair in the room. She heard Grant getting ready in the bathroom and insecurity tugged at her. Do I say goodbye or just head out? What was one-night stand etiquette? Her problem was more than unknown etiquette. It was the fact that somewhere, in the middle of the night, her emotions had gotten involved.

"I'm going." She yelled through the door.

Grant poked his head out. His hair was still damp from the shower. "If you wait, I'll walk you to the elevator."

A final goodbye. Monica shook her head and forced a smile. This was going to be so much harder than she thought. "Nah. I'll be fine. Just a quick elevator ride and I'm there. Pretty sure Julian will be chomping at the bit for you to return." A horrifying thought twisted her stomach. "You won't . . . you won't tell him about this? About us?"

An odd look fell across his face. One she couldn't quite make out. The door eased open to reveal Grant standing gloriously naked save a towel draped low across his hips. Monica kept her eyes glued to his.

"I'm a bit old-fashioned. Last night will stay between you and I, to only be replayed in my dreams."

"Thank you." The words didn't do justice to the amount of gratitude that filled her heart.

Her body was still tingling as she made her way to her hotel room. Pulling out her phone, she shot Hannah a quick text.

Safe and sound. Going to change clothes then meet you in the lobby for breakfast.

She flipped through a few emails, humming, and glanced up only to make sure she wasn't running into a wall.

Iron-like, beefy arms yanked her off her feet. "We'll see how Marino likes it when his woman is broken."

Broken? Instinct kicked in, she twisted and flailed, dropping her sweater and the phone. A squeal escaped from the burning in her lungs. "Wait. I'm not his . . ."

"Don't even try it." The man's sour breath turned her stomach. "We saw you dancing at the club last night and you with his bodyguard at dinner. Marino doesn't send his men to babysit just anyone."

"You're making a mistake. I'm nobody." Opening her mouth to scream, the bite of a sharp blade pressed against the soft flesh of her neck.

"Don't try to snowball us. Mr. Carlisle has been waiting for this moment for quite some time. If you're good, we'll spare your life."

A throaty laugh drew her attention to another man. If Marino had looked the part of a gangster, this man with his scarred face and leering smile proved that evil henchmen existed. "If she's real good, we'll grant her the mercy of ending her life. I doubt a girl like her will make it through what the boss has in store."