Page 50 of Loved by a SEAL

She began to feel uncomfortable, alone in Ryan’s house wearing nothing but his tee shirt, so she pulled her own shirt on, grumbling to herself as she stuffed her torn panties into her hobo bag. Did she go commando under her jeans or steal a pair of his boxers? Ha.

Deciding on the former, she pulled on her skinny jeans. She checked her cell and saw a missed call from Rebecca and text message from Morgan.

“Hey Rebecca. I’m sorry I missed you earlier. Is there any word on Patrick?”

“He’s not waking up from surgery,” Rebecca said, her voice wavering.

“What?” Sarah asked, her heart dropping.

“Yeah. They finished the operation but he’s still in recovery. Has been for hours. For whatever reason, he hasn’t woken up yet. I think the other men are already on their way back. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I saw something on CNN tonight about the hostage rescue.”

Guilt flooded through Sarah. She should have turned on the damn news earlier. Checked her newsfeed on her phone. Not wandered the beach alone for hours and gone home with Ryan.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

And now she needed to drive back to Norfolk. This entire day felt like a big blur. A nightmare she’d wake up from—sure the part with Ryan kissing and teasing and pleasuring her had been pretty damn spectacular, but she’d forget that in a heartbeat if it meant her brother could’ve been okay.

Damn it.

“All right. I’ll see what I can find out. If I can find Ryan.”

“Did you make it back to Norfolk?” Rebecca asked.

“I got sidetracked,” Sarah said, instantly feeling guilty all over again. “I’ll try to get in touch with Ryan to see if he has any updates on Patrick. Why don’t I call you when I get home?”

“Okay, thanks,” Rebecca said, sounding weary.

Sarah pulled her keys from her purse and walked to the front door of Ryan’s house, only to remember she’d left her car at the beach.

Good Lord.

He’d left her alone at his house with no freaking way to leave? She blew out an irritated sigh and texted Morgan.

Can you give me a lift? I’m near Little Creek.

Morgan texted her back.

What’s going on? Is Patrick okay?

Sarah clenched her jaw.

Long story and no. Ryan ditched me, and I need a ride.

Morgan’s reply flashed across the screen.

Commander Hottie? Text me his address.

Sarah glanced round, realizing she didn’t in fact know his damn address. She knew they were close to base, but she hadn’t paid that close of attention as they’d driven home from the beach earlier. She’d been far too distracted by Ryan hauling her onto his lap as they’d sat near the water. By his scent and sheer maleness filling the SUV as he drove them home.

Those broad shoulders, corded forearms, and muscular hands was all that had been in her line of vision. Not her surroundings. Not anything. Just Ryan.

For all the times she’d claimed he was too military straight for her, she secretly loved his power and strength. His need to control things in the bedroom. To bring her to pleasure.

He seemed to get a thrill out of commanding her body, and hell—if that was the way she responded to his touch, she was 1,000% for it herself.

Or had been, until he’d up and left her.

Morgan pulled up thirty minutes later, and although Sarah had finally tried calling Ryan, she still didn’t know a damn thing. He wasn’t picking up his cell, she didn’t know another number to try.

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