SEAL Wolf In Too Deep(36)

He laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. My sister loved playing with dolls. Lori was more of a tomboy. I don’t see anything wrong with either.”

“I bet you were hunting things when you were a kid, playing tactical maneuvers with Paul…”

“Fishing, ice skating, swimming, hiking, you name it. But yeah, hunting and playing tactical maneuvers too.”

“Me too, except for the hunting and tactical maneuvers. But I also liked to play with dolls.”

They watched the movie and had a really nice time—laughing, cuddling, and enjoying way too many cookies. Now the time had come to retire to bed.

“Ready to go to bed?” she asked.

“Yeah. Let me grab a bag out of my car.”

“Okay. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

*

When Allan returned to the house and locked up, Debbie was in the kitchen in her pajamas putting away their cocoa mugs.

She wasn’t one to jump any man’s bones. Not even Allan’s. Though she really was going to make an exception in his case if he was all for it. Not because she was so needy—well, maybe a little needy—but because she really, really liked him. What could be wrong in that?

His smile broadened.

It had been a long time for her. Her last relationship had ended over a year ago, and it hadn’t ended well. He hadn’t been ready to settle down, and he especially hadn’t been interested in her diving sport. He hadn’t liked when she wanted to take trips to places where she could dive and he couldn’t join in on the fun. But if she was going to invest all that time and money, she wanted to do what she loved most: dive. Diving was such a big part of her life, it didn’t make sense to have a boyfriend who disliked it.

In that regard, Allan seemed like perfect boyfriend material. He loved to dive with her, either on the job or off.

He set the empty glass in the sink, grabbed his Glock, snagged her free hand with his, and then headed for her bedroom. She took that as a hot damn, yes!

“No commitment,” she said when they reached her bedroom and she set her gun on the bedside table. Not that she wasn’t interested in having one with the hot SEAL, but she wanted him to know that she understood if he wasn’t ready for anything like that and maybe wouldn’t ever be.

“Right,” he said.

She climbed under the covers, pulled off her pajama top and then her bottoms, and dropped them on the floor.

He set his Glock on the other bedside table, then slipped out of his clothes before coming to bed, smiling. Judging by how erect he was, he appeared every bit as willing.

Feeling self-conscious, she explained about stripping underneath the covers. “You don’t want to see my appendectomy scar.” She didn’t want him to see the other scars, in truth. She’d managed to hide them with the towel when she had changed in the car after they rescued Franny and her baby. She didn’t want him to see her as anything but as gorgeous as she saw him, and she didn’t want to explain why she had the scars either.

“You’re beautiful,” Allan said simply, and then all sexy six feet of him climbed into her bed.

But then he paused.

“Condoms?” she asked. “In the left bedside table. My ex-boyfriend had some in there.” Too much information, she scolded herself. But Allan was already hard—could a man be built any more perfectly than that?—and ready, and she didn’t want to stop in the middle of the action so she could mention all of that.

“I like a woman who is prepared,” he said, smiling again.

She was glad he didn’t seem to mind.

He was so gloriously good at kissing, and his hands were so gloriously good at touching, she felt she would come undone within a matter of minutes. Her body was so ready for him. The heat flared between them, making her wet and driving her to satisfy this incredible want.

The teasing, the heated looks. All a prelude to this moment.

His kisses were slow and tender and loving, and then they turned passionate and hot and pressuring. She loved his kisses and matched them with just as much heat and enthusiasm, their tongues caressing in a sensuous dance. Her blood was on fire as he rubbed his erection against her, tantalizing her. She slid the palm of her hand over it, molding to him, loving the rigid feel of him. His hands caressed her skin all over, his tongue stroking hers as his hand slid over her breast, his fingers playing with her aroused nipples.

He moved his hand lower, tracing her appendectomy scar with a whisper-soft touch that tickled. He found another scar and then the last, before his fingers continued lower, searching for her nub, then stroking it and coaxing her into climax.

Her skin sizzled with his touch as he nuzzled her cheek and then her neck. He bit playfully at her chin and throat. She was reminded of how primal and intense he seemed at times, but playful and gentle too.

He kept rubbing her bud while kissing her breasts and throat and mouth. She felt the wave building, felt the anticipation climbing, and when the climax hit, she cried out with pleasure. She expected him to enter her then, but he didn’t. He continued to touch her and kiss her like he wanted something more between them. That it wasn’t all just sex.

Or maybe he was unsure whether he should proceed. Whether she would hate herself in the morning. If she would be unhappy with him for taking this too far and hurting their work relationship.

She didn’t want to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, to regret it if he wasn’t feeling ready for this. She wasn’t used to a man waiting at this juncture. She wondered if he was afraid she was thinking this was forever, which she wasn’t. Really.