“Privacy?”
“That’s my bungalow,” he murmured. His mouth slid soft kisses over the aching curve of her breast.
“Inside?”
“I will be.”
Darby’s laugh was a breathless puff of air.
The logical, analytical, cautious voice in her head that was usually in charge of her every choice screamed at her to stop. This was insane. She didn’t even know the guy’s last name, had met him less than four hours ago, and was getting naked on the beach when there were perfectly private walls to get naked behind only a few feet away.
She needed to stop.
She gasped when his fingers skimmed inside the elastic band of her thong, sliding over the throbbing wet heat between her legs.
Or at least slow down. Yeah, slow down long enough to eliminate one of those issues from the list. The last name. Or knowing each other longer. Or even walls.
Walls were good.
“Here?”
“Now.”
Her breath coming in pants, Darby knew very little oxygen was making it to her brain. But there was enough—just barely enough—to spur her to ask... “Sand?”
A little rough stuff could be fun. Exciting, even. But she didn’t think sex and exfoliation should go hand in hand. Or, in this case, thigh-to-thigh.
“Leave it to me,” he promised, the words hot and moist against her flesh as he slid nibbling kisses over her throat.
He lowered them both to the sand, shifting so she was sitting on his lap. His hands moved faster now, racing over her bare flesh, teasing and tempting. As she tugged off his T-shirt, he sent her dress flying.
Clothes disappeared, bodies heated. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and wet as he lifted her high over his body. His fingers delved deep into her wet heat, stirring her hotter and higher as she poised above him.
He took care of protection in a swift, easy move before pulling her back into his arms, then positioned her over the impressive power of his erection.
“Give yourself to me,” he demanded, his husky words melding with the sound of the surf.
Watching his face, reveling in the appreciative pleasure she saw there, Darby slowly took him inside her. Her breath shuddered out, body quaking with the first orgasm as he filled her.
He let her set the pace, watched her like a hawk to gauge her pleasure, taking his own as he intensified the moves that she liked best.
Need tightened, coiling hot and hard.
He reached between their bodies, his fingers sliding over her wet, throbbing folds.
She exploded.
The roar of pleasure surged through her, ripping her to pieces. The feel of his climax, the grip of his hands on her hips, only sent her flying higher.
Holy freaking hell, was all she could think as she tried to reconnect her mind and her body.
Darby didn’t know how long it was before she melted into his arms, the sound of the ocean’s waves playing a soft backdrop to the feel of her body slowly floating down from passion’s crest.
Damn, she thought as she tucked her head under Dominic’s chin.
This fantasy thing was amazing.
* * *
NIC WAS GOOD. Damn good.
He’d never had to think much about it. He considered that a simple reality. And given the amount of verification he’d had over the years, he’d never had reason to doubt that reality.
But with Darby, damn...
He’d met his match.
He’d figured she was hot. He wouldn’t have introduced himself to her otherwise. He’d felt a connection—he wouldn’t have hit on her otherwise. He’d figured they’d rock the sex. But he hadn’t expected her to make him pant with need, then blow his mind. For a man known for his skill in seeing probable outcomes, it was one hell of a nice surprise.
They’d hit it on the beach, then they’d followed up with round two on his bungalow floor. He was pretty sure she’d have slipped out the minute they found their clothes again, so he’d snagged her underwear and carried her into his bed.
He called that strategy.
He called their third round of hot sex incredible.
Now, his body hummed with bone-deep satisfaction, the kind that could only be had from mind-blowingly intense sex. He counted the beats of his heart, waiting for it to return to normal. But even as Darby’s breath warmed his chest, his body stirred for another round. She burrowed closer as the night air drifted over their entangled bodies, her thigh sliding over his already hardening erection. Desire shot through him like an electric current, energizing even as it demanded satisfaction.
Figuring she needed sleep—or at least a little time to recover from that last sweaty bout of passion, Nic carefully slid out of her arms. Snagging the comforter from where they’d kicked it to the floor, he carefully draped it over her, tucking the ends to keep in the warmth.
For a second, a long delicious second, he watched her sleep. She didn’t look any less wicked with her eyes closed, and now that he knew what her body was capable of? He’d never think of her as cute again. Nope, this woman was all heat. All power. All temptation.
Nic turned away before he could give in to the lure.
He crossed the bedroom, his steps silent on the sisal rug. Pushing aside one section of the wall’s sheer panels, he pulled open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. The wooden slats ran the length of the bungalow, a low railing open at one end for easy access to the beach.
Nic ignored the deeply cushioned chairs, instead hooking one knee over the rail as he breathed in the damp, salty air.
He stared out over the black waves, letting the power of the ocean fill him, wishing it would soothe the unrelenting pain lodged in his heart.
But now that the sex was done, the memories that haunted him every night flooded back in.
His team was under attack.
He was one man down.
And he couldn’t even see the enemy. He’d tried. He’d put his best man—himself—on it, but while he’d identified the frontline attack, whoever was masterminding the operation was still off his radar.
Team Poseidon was good. Damn good.
That’s why they’d formed. Because they were the best.
Although Nic had known a few of them since his petty officer days, the twelve men had become a team in BUD/S training. It’d been over a decade, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he was right back there in the Grinder. They’d bonded over the challenge, over the pain, over the intense demands on their bodies. One minute they were competing for the best time in the thousand-meter swim, the next they were working together to cart a 150-pound log down the beach. The records they’d set still hadn’t been surpassed. They’d worked together as a team, each one pushing the other to be the best, then better than the best.
So impressed with the way the twelve of them had come together, had teamed up and had balanced each other in those six months, Admiral Cree had wondered just how good they could be.
Under his auspices, Poseidon was born. In return for their promise to pursue his mandate, he’d guaranteed they’d deploy and serve together.
In the decade since Team Poseidon was created, they had become the best. Their reputation was on par with SEAL Team Six. Except unlike SEAL Team Six, whose members switched