Anne Marsh - Daring Her Seal

And the way he sauntered across the bar toward her made her want to fan herself. The man was hot. He practically prowled, his movements powerful and self-assured as he came toward her. When he dropped onto the swing seat next to hers, the close-up was even better and since he hadn’t opened his mouth yet? She could still enjoy the view. Almost immediately, he started whistling obnoxiously, his hip bumping hers every time he rocked his swing forward.

“Go away,” she said.

Naturally, he grinned and moved closer. Maybe she should try negative reinforcement. If she demanded he sit in her lap, would he run toward the opposite end of the island?

“Not feeling friendly?” He made a face and yanked the lime out of the longneck the bartender slid over the counter. He took a long pull, the muscles of his throat working. Not that she was staring or anything, but ignoring Levi just wasn’t possible.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit,” she admitted.

“You want to talk next steps? Review the plan?” He leaned back against the bar, staring out at the beach. It was dark now, but there were plenty of stars visible in the sky and just enough light to make out the small waves washing up on the sand. If she’d actually been here on her honeymoon, it would have been perfect. Instead, she got Levi. Go figure.

“I’ve already got a plan.” As if she’d leave something this important to Levi. “I checked with the manager. Told him we had some questions about our ceremony and needed copies of the paperwork. He’s got the wedding coordinator coming in two days and he’ll call the minister for us tomorrow.”

Levi grinned at her over his beer. “In that big of a hurry to be rid of me, huh?”

“You really want to be married to me until death do us part?”

He threw up a hand. “You can stop right there. I’ve seen you with a gun.”

She snorted. “You’re the better shot.”

Computers were her strength, but Levi could make shots that should have been physically impossible.

“I’m not planning on shooting you,” he said dryly, but his eyes twinkled at her. And...was that a hint of a dimple in his cheek?

God. He could be so cute.

“That’s my point.” She took a pull on her own beer. “You wouldn’t last a month at being married. In fact, I bet you wouldn’t stick it out a week before you hit the road and ran.”

He shrugged. “It would depend. Are you planning on being a good wife in this hypothetical scenario of ours?”

She saw red. “That sounds like code for putting out every night.”

“At least.” He grinned at her again. “In fact, since we’re married, we should take advantage of each other.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Like you really want to have sex with me after blackmailing me. That would be a new low, even for you.”

He shrugged his shoulders again and then, shoot, his eyes lit up. “I’m up for it if you are,” he taunted.

Even if he hadn’t blackmailed her into coming with him, Levi’s pretty package was wasted on her. He was the sexual equivalent of the loaner sweatshirt that got passed around when a girl was cold. Every female had had a piece of him, so no way was she sleeping with him, too. “No sex,” she said firmly.

In addition, if it turned out that they really were married, she wasn’t risking an easy annulment, so it was better to make her position clear now. Before she finished her cocktail and returned to their villa to deal with the one-bed-and-a-basketful-of-sex-toys situation. Mr. Manwhore might be the last SEAL on earth she’d sleep with, but she wouldn’t put it past him to pursue her. He liked sex, and their ostensible marriage would put a crimp on anyone’s style.

“Okay,” he said agreeably.

Right. She snorted and he looked at her.

“Like you could go a week without having sex.”

“I absolutely can.” He sounded confident. She’d give him that.

She, on the other hand, was hyperaware of his long, powerful legs stretched out in the sand next to hers. He was still wearing his BDUs and combat boots, and for no particular reason, the sight of him ready for anything got her going. Or maybe it was just that he was a gorgeous, available jerk and she’d been without a boyfriend for too long.

“Pull the other one,” she said dryly. “I’ve seen you in action, remember, and going without sex while you’re out in the field doesn’t count.”

“You think I’m going to cheat on you while we’re married?” He managed to sound surprised, but it wasn’t like he was the poster child for monogamy.

“We’re not really married. Anything we do doesn’t count.” She wasn’t sure she really meant that, but there was no point in setting herself up for disappointment with Levi.

“I keep my promises.” He set his beer bottle back on the bar with a small click and leaned forward—surprise—to take her hand, his calloused fingers threading through hers in a rough-tender caress that was inexplicably good. His thumb found a sensitive spot in her palm and rubbed. Okay. Maybe she was the one who wouldn’t make it a week.

Which was undoubtedly his point.

“I dare you,” she blurted out, her mouth rushing ahead of her brain. “No sex for one week.”

“Sure.” He nodded agreeably. “You said the sex shop’s closed, so no worries.”

She’d never thought he would take advantage of their possibly married state. He wasn’t that kind of guy. They were plenty clear on that particular point—it was just everything else they disagreed about.

“But,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “If I take your dare, you take mine.”

Her hand shot up. “No. I’m done negotiating with you.”

Of course he kept right on talking as if she hadn’t said anything. “For each night I go without sex, I get to choose a drink for you from Fantasy Island’s cocktail menu.”

She really, really needed to ignore the pulse of heat that suggestion generated in her belly. And lower. This was Levi. She didn’t even like him, but apparently her body thought angry sex was something she should try at least once in her life. Preferably tonight.

He watched her calmly, but there was no mistaking the tension in his big body. He had her and he knew it. The problem with having worked with Levi in the field was that he’d learned things about her, like the way she responded to a challenge. Jesus. Emotionally, it made her feel like a five-year-old—when parts of her definitely were all adult around him—but she just couldn’t walk away from a dare.

“You want to get me drunk?” Somehow, she didn’t think he was talking about alcohol.

His teeth flashed as he snagged the drinks menu from the bar and waggled it in front of her. “We both know I’m talking about the other menu, babe. The secret menu, where the drink names are code for sexy stuff. Pink Panties. Angel’s Tit. Tie Me to the Bedpost. I pick the drink. You do the deed.”

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