Lisa Jones - Strictly Seduction - Watch Me

“My uncle, a retired SEAL, works for the studio. He hounded me for months to take the security job. I didn’t want it. I wanted back in the army.” He rubbed his right leg a bit too deeply, and she wondered just how bad his injury was, both physically and emotionally.

She opened her mouth to tell him how much she understood, and quickly snapped it shut. She didn’t talk about the past. She focused on the future, like what he seemed to be doing. And my gosh, how shallow would she sound anyway? He was talking about war and sacrifice and she was upset she wasn’t able to perform anymore.

“We’re here,” he announced, turning into a long driveway, but trees blocked her view of the house.

The ride was over and she didn’t want it to be. She had enjoyed learning about Sam, which defied the idea of sex being a path to getting him out of her system. Suddenly, she felt confused. She knew Sam was a distraction she didn’t need, knew he was the kind of man that took you by storm and took over your life. Yet, on some level he was exactly what she needed. And that absolutely terrified her. She couldn’t lose herself again. She couldn’t. Been there, done that, didn’t like it.

As soon as the truck stopped in the driveway of the two-story, towering mansion of a house, she lunged for the door handle, intending to get out as quickly as possible. She needed some distance from Sam to process her feelings.

Sam gently shackled her arm, the touch of his hand searing her skin, melting her resolve to escape him. “Hey,” he said softly. “What just happened?”

He read her too easily, which only rattled her more. “Nothing. Nothing, I just—”

“Got spooked.”

She hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes. I did.” Somehow, her ability to be honest about her feelings made him more appealing. “I got spooked.” And by the time the words were out, he was closer, still holding her arm. Still the powerful, controlling, sexy Sam, who she couldn’t seem to resist.

She could smell the spicy maleness of him, warm and taunting, calling her, warming her, burning her inside out. Thank goodness for the shadowy darkness broken only by moonlight splintering through the tree limbs above them, casting their faces in shadows, hiding the damning desire surely in her eyes.

She inhaled, trying to think straight, before she did something like kiss him, instead of getting out of the vehicle. Instead, she filled her nostrils with more of that sultry male scent that made her want to stay right where she was. “Sam, I don’t know what—”

“Me, either,” he said, and kissed her, oh God, he kissed her, and it was wonderful. She didn’t even remember him moving or how he’d become close enough to have his thigh pressed to hers. All that she knew was that his fingers were laced through her hair, his lips pressed to hers, warm and remarkably gentle—a teasing touch, following by a sweeping wash of his tongue against hers.

“Meg—”

“Don’t talk,” she said, her fingers curled around his neck to pull him back to her, desperate to keep this just sex, knowing deep down it might be too late. “Kiss me again.”

And he did. He kissed her. No talking. No demanding things go his way, like she’d expected from him. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue pressing past her teeth, stroking seductively against her tongue.

She moaned and arched into him, seeking more of the warmth and hardness that was so very Sam, so very right. Yet she’d have sworn he was wrong. And he was wrong for her. He was, in fact. He would be trouble but he didn’t feel like trouble. Not now. Not in this moment. Okay, maybe in this very moment, she did, because she needed him. Her hands traced the rippling muscle of his shoulders.

A low growl escaped his lips, and he pulled her closer, one hand sliding up her back, molding her against his chest. His hand caressed her thigh, under her skirt. His tongue delved deeply, caressing hers in another long, lavish tasting that had her feeling it in all the places he wasn’t touching, but she wanted him to be.

“You smell good,” he murmured, kissing her jaw, and along to her neck. “Like vanilla and flowers. It’s driving me crazy. I know we need to go see that house, and this is not the place for this , but I’m struggling to let you go.”

The words, the gruff aroused tone of his voice, overtook her. She didn’t want to let him go, either. She didn’t want to think about why they shouldn’t do this . “Then don’t,” she whispered, and barely had the words out before they were kissing again. A blur of passion followed, his hands all over her. Hers all over him. She was on her back, her blouse open, with him on top of her, and she barely remembered how it had happened.

Sam’s phone started to ring and he tore away from her. He cursed softly, echoing the frustration she felt at the interruption. “I have to answer that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breathless even to her own ears. “Especially since I don’t have my phone.”

“Right,” he agreed, but he didn’t move. “I need to get it.”

She didn’t want him to move. She wasn’t ready to let go of this time they were sharing.

The phone stopped ringing, still he didn’t move. He brushed his lips over hers. “I didn’t mean for this to get so out of control. One minute we were—”

“And the next,” she finished.

He smiled and pulled back to look at her, and the mood shifted, the air thickened. They stared at one another, and Meagan felt their connection in every part of herself. There was something happening between them, something that she’d never felt before, and didn’t understand.

The phone started to ring again and he sighed with the inevitable demand to get up, and then, he did the most unexpected thing. Sam kissed her nose before bringing her with him to sit up.

He reached for his phone on the dash and checked the missed numbers. “It was Josh both times,” Sam said. “He left a voice mail.”

Meagan nodded, but she was still thinking about Sam kissing her nose. It was silly, but there was something about that small act that had her stomach fluttering.

Light flickered behind them, snapping her out of her reverie. Meagan shifted around to see a car pulling into the driveway. “Someone’s here.”

Sam set his phone down. “Per Josh’s voice mail, Kiki insisted that he drive her out here so—”

Meagan didn’t hear the rest. She shoved open the door, desperate to escape their close proximity before Kiki arrived. She tripped, and went tumbling out of the truck.

Sam was there in an instant, but she was already getting up. “Are you okay?”

“No, I am not okay! I’m embarrassed, Sam. I don’t want them to know what just happened. I don’t want them to think badly of either of us.”

“They won’t know.” His gaze slid top to bottom. “Not if you button your shirt.”

Her jaw dropped at the realization. Meagan rushed to fix her gaping shirt, but her fingers were shaking. “I don’t do things like this. I know better. I know they backfire. Sam—”

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping her in his arms. “Take a deep breath and we’ll get through this. What happens between us, is between us. No one will know.”

Sweetheart. Why did that endearment sound good now, when it had bothered her before? And why did his vow that everything was going to be okay, calm her? For the first time in years, she’d felt she had her life in the palm of her hand. Neither her parents, nor her ex-boyfriends, who’d tried to control everything from her career to her politics, had control. She had control. Only tonight, she’d let this thing, whatever “it” was, with Sam, take it away from her.

“Stop calling me sweetheart, Sam.”