Page 67 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

He nuzzled her hair, moving to her ear where he nipped on a lobe before traveling down to kiss her neck.

She groaned, a sound that was likely a protest over his waking her. But when he slid his hand over her hip and down her belly to between her legs that sound changed to a definite moan of pleasure.

He smiled and slipped a finger between her lower lips, teasing her open for him.

Knee bent, she invited him in, and he accepted the invitation gladly.

Sliding into Shelly for the third time was no less amazing than it had been the first two times the night before.

They fit together like they were made for each other. She responded to his every touch, which only made him want to touch her more.

He worked her with his hand while her body gripped his length inside her and he knew he’d never get enough of this woman. That thought should have scared him. As she came and he drove himself to completion inside her, it didn’t scare him one bit. Not even close.

His good mood didn’t waver even after she kicked him out so no cast or crew would see him leaving. He had things to handle anyway before the day’s challenge began.

He reached his room on base and realized he was starving. They’d never actually gotten around to eating dinner last night. They made do with peanuts from the mini bar between round one and two in her bed, but only after he’d confirmed the production company would be footing the overpriced bill for them.

The refrigerator in his room yielded better than expected. He’d forgotten he’d frozen some of the pierogi his mother had sent last. He could do way worse than his mother’s homemade pierogi for breakfast.

They were better fried in butter with onions and served with sour cream but desperate times…

He tossed the food from home into the microwave instead and stood by impatiently watching the time count down.

Of course, he couldn’t get away with being in his room without at least one of the team noticing. The aroma attracted them like sharks to blood in the water and moments after the microwave dinged there was a knock at the door, followed by the door opening because Stefan hadn’t bothered to lock it.

Raising his gaze from where he sat at the lone table in the room hunched over his plate he saw Eric aka Thor darkening his doorway.

“Hey.” The man wasted no time striding across the room where he reached out and poached one of Stefan’s eight prizes.

Stefan pulled the plate back to protect the remainder and shot a glare at the man. “If you are here just to steal my food you can leave. I have to get to the shooting range within the hour and I don’t have time to stop and get something else to eat.”

“When you gonna be done with this show?”

“A few more days, I guess. Why?”

“Because we’re, uh…” Eric’s hesitation drew Stefan’s complete attention. The man drew in a breath and finally said, “We’re getting spun up.”

“When?” Stefan asked, his chest tightening.

Eric shrugged. “Tomorrow maybe. The next day latest. Hell, could be tonight for all we know. You know how it goes. We’re all packed and just waiting for the call.”

“Fuck.” Stefan bit out the curse as he pushed his plate away.

“Can you get out of the show?” Eric knew what Stefan was thinking and what had him losing his appetite.

He wanted to be with his team. He should be with them on that transport.

“I don’t think so. They’ve got me tied up in some contract.”

“Command should be able to get you out of that,” Eric said.

“Command is the one who made me sign it.” Stefan scowled.

“Listen. Don’t worry about us. Five operators are plenty. Besides, we’re meeting SAS and who knows who else over there.”

Stephan drew his brows low at that information. “NATO?”

Eric dipped his head in a nod.

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