Tawny Weber - Christmas with a SEAL

Oh, God. Phillip thrust into Frankie’s welcoming heat. It felt like coming home, to a home he’d never known. A delicious home. A hot, wet home.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her heels pressed tight against the small of his back.

She met every thrust with a small cry.

She was on the edge.

Phillip wanted her to go over.

This time, he needed to watch her go over.

As if reading his thoughts, Frankie pressed both hands against his chest, forcing him to pause.

“Feel,” she demanded breathlessly.

She wet her lips, her eyes locked on his. Passion glazed her face, but her focus on him was laser sharp.

“Let go and feel,” she said again, her words tight.

What else could he do?

His body was bombarded with sensations. Every nerve was awake and focused on one thing: satisfaction.

Their eyes locked, Phillip slid into her again.

And out.

Feelings, those damned emotions he’d always hated, washed over him as if her words had called them up.

To avoid them, he focused on his body.

On the sensations.

He slipped his hand between them, flicking that tiny bud between her thighs.

Frankie exploded.

Her body gripped his, her cries sending him crashing over himself.

Holy hell.

His mind too blown to be of any use, he tried to take stock of his body. The orgasm had been so intense even his toes were tingling. His heart was still pounding, pulse racing. The echo of Frankie’s cries rang in his ears. He’d never felt anything like that before.

The desperate need clawing at him for more could be a potential issue, but he told himself he had enough command still to keep it under control.

Didn’t he?

Breathless, numb, he shifted to take his weight off her, but she wouldn’t let go.

“Not yet,” she murmured faintly. “Stay for just a little longer.”

Stay.

The temptation was overpowering.

For a second, Phillip relaxed against her again, the bulk of his weight on his elbows. Eyes closed, he rested his forehead against hers and tried to take it all in.

But he couldn’t find any parameters for what he was feeling that would make sense.

He’d fought in the war. He’d served in combat, parachuted from planes, faced crazed terrorists and been held captive by a sadistic son of a bitch with a needle fetish.

But he’d never been scared.

The thought of staying, though? Of wanting someone enough to believe in possibilities? Of caring about something other than his career?

That filled him with terror.

All of a sudden, he felt as if the walls had slammed in around him, trapping him in the dark.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Phillip pulled away, a little slower this time. He saw Frankie pout but didn’t stop. He got to his feet, frowning when his head did a fast spin. Too much alcohol, not enough food and intense physical exertion, he assessed.

That was why he was thinking crazy thoughts, he realized. Relief washed away the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling of fear.

It wasn’t some mythical emotion.

He was just slightly impaired.

Nothing to worry about.

And since it wasn’t...

His gaze roamed Frankie’s body as she lay there, one arm thrown over her eyes and a very big, very satisfied smile on her face.

His ego swelled a little knowing he’d put that smile there.

And now that he was sure he wasn’t delusional, entertaining the idea of emotions that didn’t exist, he could do it all over again. His eyes shifted to her full breasts, down the gentle indention of her waist to the full curve of her hips.

He wanted more.

And tonight, he was letting himself take more.

“Come on,” he said, lifting her into his arms instead of waiting for her to get up. He made sure to grab the second condom, too.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her words muffled because she was scattering wet kisses over his chest, even as her hands locked behind his neck.

“Shower.”

“Ooh, water sex,” she exclaimed, laughing.

Filled with a warmth, a lightness he was attributing to the champagne they’d drank earlier, Phillip grinned.

“I’m a SEAL. I’m damned good in the water,” he assured her, shifting her weight so he could start the shower. Not waiting for the water to warm up, he stepped right in, Frankie still nestled against his chest.

She squealed, burrowing into him to hide her face from the chilly spray.

Phillip laughed, delighting in her.

In the honesty of her reactions.

In the sweetness of her touch.

In the sexiness of her mouth.

In how he felt with her.

Free.

Swallowing hard, shoving aside the images trying to creep their way into this precious escape, Phillip pressed Frankie up against the shower wall. His mouth took hers, his hands sliding over her wet flesh.

His body, satisfied only a minute ago, demanded more.

His soul, at peace for the first time in months, demanded the same.

“Again already?” she gasped.

“I told you. I’m a SEAL. I’m damned good in water,” he said, just before plunging into her.

Even as he drove, deep and hard, for both of their pleasure, the logical voice in the back of his head was glad she only had two condoms.

Not because he couldn’t physically do this all night long. The way Frankie made him feel? He was pretty sure he could go for a week or two. Or forever.

So two was good.

Two set limit.

Frankie’s body gripped his and her climax echoed in the stall as water pounded around them.

Phillip let go of all thoughts of forever, or of limits.

He let go of everything.

And for the first time in his life, as his orgasm swept over him, he simply felt.

* * *

FRANKIE DIDN’T KNOW how long she’d lain there, her mind in a race against her jumbled emotions.

After he’d proved that he could hold his own with any water god, Phillip had wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the bed. She’d almost come again when he’d gently dried the water from every inch of her body.

He’d followed that up by toasting her with the champagne a few dozen times.

And then he’d blown her mind.

Instead of initiating any form of sex, he’d climbed in beside her, wrapped her in his arms and simply, silently, cuddled her.

She was terrified.

She tried to count her breaths to calm herself, but every time she did, she started hyperventilating.

So she counted Phillip’s breaths instead. In and out, in and out, until they deepened, slowed. Until he was asleep.

She relaxed then, but just a tiny bit.

Now, instead of his breath, she counted all of the stupid things she’d done tonight instead.

One, she’d totally forgotten her goal—to live out her fantasy. Actually, she’d forgotten everything. Fantasy, reason, logic, her own name.

Stupid.

Two, she’d gotten emotionally involved. She knew better. Phillip Banks was an incredible fantasy, but he wasn’t her kind of guy. Or more to the point, she wasn’t his kind of girl. She didn’t do fancy; she wasn’t upscale. The only time she’d been to a country club was when she and her friends had hopped the fence to chase an escaped cat.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Three, instead of focusing on the sensations, letting the sexual nirvana fill her creative well, all she’d been able to do about was think about him. Worry about him. All of her focus had been on trying to heal that hurt in his eyes.

Crazy.

One more round of mind-blowing sex and she’d have handed him her heart, offered to give up her dreams and, worse, begged him to call her sometime.

None of which he wanted.

Nor did she, dammit. No matter what she felt like right now.

Ever so carefully, not even breathing in case it woke him, Frankie slipped out from under Phillip’s arm and rolled off the bed.