Tawny Weber - Christmas with a SEAL

He heard a vague ding again as he slid his lips down the slender length of her neck, breathing in her scent. Flowers and moonlight, sweet and mysterious. He wanted to lose himself in her.

“More,” she murmured, her hands shoving at his waist to get beneath his sweater. Her fingers were like fire on his skin, making him want things he’d never wanted before. Making him need things he’d never imagined.

“Much more,” she purred as his lips skimmed down her shoulder. His hand was on the strap of her dress, ready to push it down and feast, when he heard a loud bang.

Phillip’s lust cleared instantly, his body curving protectively over Frankie’s as his senses took inventory.

Elevator, hotel, Las Vegas.

His adrenaline leveled.

His lust surged.

Lust he wasn’t going to slake in a damned elevator.

Phillip wasn’t sure how they made it to his room without invoking any public-indecency laws. Of course, the laws for that kind of thing might be different in Las Vegas.

He had no idea how he found his key card; he didn’t remember getting it or opening the door to his hotel room. He just knew that in less than a minute after leaving the elevator, the room door was slamming shut behind him.

Frankie sauntered ahead, her swinging hips making her dress jingle.

“Champagne?” she offered, giving him a teasing smile over her shoulder and holding up the half-empty bottle.

“I’m not thirsty,” he said, stripping his sweater over his head and tossing it on the floor. “I’m hungry.”

She turned around, her eyes glazing over as her gaze moved across his chest. He liked her reaction. The way her pupils dilated, her breath quickened.

“What are you hungry for?” she asked, her words husky and low.

“Trouble.”

Frankie’s laugh rang through the room, the sound filling him with delight and a weird sort of joy. Instead of trying to figure out why, he ignored it. After all, there were much more interesting things to do tonight than analyze his feelings.

“Well, I’m the girl for you, then,” she said. Her smile was both cute and seductive as she set the bottle on the bedside table. Her eyes locked on his and she stepped forward. Not close enough for him to touch, and just far enough from him to make it clear that he was supposed to wait.

Phillip didn’t know if he could.

“Music?” Frankie asked huskily.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing and doing that little shoulder wiggle. “I’m kidding.”

He barely heard her words through the roaring in his head. Blood surging south, he figured.

Because her dress had finally finished the journey it had been attempting all night and hit the floor.

Leaving Frankie standing in a tiny pair of silver mesh panties and high heels.

And Phillip ready to explode.

3

FRANKIE WAS GIFTED with a vivid imagination and an active fantasy life. She’d imagined seducing Phillip a million times. She’d spent endless hours fantasizing about him seducing her. She’d dedicated countless orgasms to the cause.

She wanted this.

She’d been dreaming about it, hoping for it, planning for it, even.

Yet now that she was standing in front of Phillip in all her naked glory, she was trembling in her high heels. Part of it was unquestionably desire. But there, beneath the excitement, was fear. What if this didn’t break her creative block? What if she was doomed never to make anything original again? Or worse, what if the sex was so amazing, she wanted more? What if he was so amazing, he became more than a fantasy?

The closer Phillip stepped, the faster her pulse raced. But it still couldn’t keep up with the tangled thoughts speeding through her head.

So she did what any smart woman on a quest for pleasure would do. She ignored the fear and focused on the desire.

Which got easier the closer Phillip came. His green eyes were hot, his look intent as it roamed her body. Figuring tit deserved tat, her gaze shifted. Oh, baby, his shoulders were so deliciously broad. He didn’t have a bodybuilder’s physique; he was too slender for that. But his sculpted muscles were a testament to the physical demands of his career. His skin was pale gold, his chiseled chest covered with a dusting of dark hair.

Frankie’s fingers itched to touch it, to know if it was silky or crisp. She wanted to slide her hands over those arms and see if her hands could even fit around those impressive biceps. Her eyes drifted lower, following the trail of hair to his slender waist and, dammit, his slacks.

She wanted him naked. She wanted to see if the rest of him was as delicious as what she’d seen so far.

She raised her gaze to his face, ready to demand that he drop his drawers and put them on equal footing—nudity-wise.

But then she saw the look in his eyes.

He looked fascinated. As if she were the answer to something, something he desperately needed. Her breath caught, her heart clenching at whatever was beneath that look. Then he met her gaze.

“You’re like something out of a dream,” he murmured. He reached out, just one finger, and skimmed it over the curve of her breast.

Frankie barely kept from whimpering. She was pretty sure melting into an orgasmic puddle at the first touch would blow her sophisticated facade. Besides, she wanted more.

So much more.

Whisper soft, his finger traced a circle around her nipple.

Desire, sharp and needy, blasted through her, exploding in all the right places. She curled her toes to try to keep from falling out of her shoes.

Her breath came out in a surprised “Oh.”

How could such a simple touch feel so good in so many places? Her knees trembled, and she squeezed her thighs together to intensify the pleasure building in her core. She wet her lips. She’d planned to tell him what she liked, how she liked it. But she had a feeling that he’d find so many new ways to pleasure her, ones she’d never even imagined.

As if reading her thoughts and ready to prove her right, Phillip flicked his thumb over her nipple. Then, before she could even murmur her approval, he pinched it between two fingers, still rubbing with his thumb.

Desire spiraled in a tight coil, filling her core with wet heat. Excitement built as sensations bombarded her. His thumb was rough, his palm warm. Color exploded against her closed eyelids, the miniorgasm rocking her body.

She shuddered with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more.

She needed more.

Her hands raced over his body. He was so hard, so deliciously hard. Done waiting, she skimmed her hands over his rock-hard abs, delighting for only a second before grappling with his belt buckle and ripping at his slacks. They had to go. She had to feel him.

“Hurry,” she demanded, shoving his pants off his hips. She felt him kick them away, but didn’t have time to do more than suck in a breath before he had her against the wall. His hands gripped hers, pulling her arms over her head. His mouth raced over her throat, down her chest. When he sucked her nipple between his teeth, Frankie bucked against him.

Her fingernails dug into her palms as she strained against his grip, wanting to touch, needing to give him the same pleasure he was offering her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s crazy,” he muttered, pulling away. Thankfully not too far, though. Just enough for Frankie to see his face.

Her breath knotted in her chest. She tried to swallow, but it took her three attempts before air hit her lungs.

It wasn’t the idea that he would call it quits before they finished what they had started that made her want to cry. It was the look in his eyes.

There was so much pain in those green depths, and it was buried so deep that she wondered if he even acknowledged it. It tore at her heart, making her want to pull him close and soothe him. To offer her shoulder, to find a way to heal him.