Page 26 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

“Thank you for telling me, Jesse.”

He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Go to sleep now.”

“I’ll try,” she said under her breath, twining her legs with his beneath the sheet. He let his hand move against her stomach, barely a caress, to settle her. Maybe to settle himself.

Before long, he knew that it hadn’t helped. Her body had worked on him. The hot curve of her ass was the moon, pulling at his instincts, pooling his blood. He was semierect, fitted against her ripe slit. Temptation, succor and torture all in one.

But she was sleeping.

He clenched his teeth. Counted to a hundred.

She moved. Reached to a mirrored nightstand, flipped a packet at him. It fell among the sheets.

“Estrella?” he whispered.

A purring sound was her only response. Until she reached between her legs and rubbed his shaft in her hot slippery fluid. He found the condom, pulling free to slip it on. She whimpered, one imploring squeak, and searched further for him, lifting her thigh so the tangled sheet pulled taut.

They didn’t speak again. He swept away the sheet. She rolled over onto her drawn-up knees, staying curled in on herself, head in the pillow, arm down between her legs where her fingers splayed to pull apart her pouting labia and offer him the glistening inner

flesh and her budded clit. A dewdrop clung to it.

Estrella in the starlight.

The soles of her feet were white against the creamy gold of her ass. He covered her with his body. Hugging her. Holding her. Wanting to keep her whole even as his cock split and filled her, forcing a deep-throated grunt out of her. He kissed the bumps of her spine, the blades of her shoulders. She flattened beneath him and he held her tighter, higher, sliding his thighs under her, nudging her farther apart. They rocked back and forth, panting.

She turned her head, pressed her teeth against his forearm, sucking and biting. He pushed against her, driving deeper, losing his last shred of reason to the erotic slide and squelch of their flesh. Their fingers met over her clit. He rubbed it and she bolted beneath him but there was nowhere to go except surrender. With one short sharp cry, she came, gloriously liquid. He let go too, jetting into the velvet vise of her convulsing body. All the affection in him, all the love and caring that he’d sworn had dried up and blown away, came pouring out too. The warmth of it enveloped him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, since he had no words to explain, but he thought that she might. She very well might.

They tumbled over onto their sides, finally replete, and dropped off into a blissfully entwined sleep.

Lassitude had sunk into Jesse bone-deep. He sprawled on sheets impossibly soft, smelling the outdoors—flowers nodding in the hot sun. The dream was so real, his eyelids squeezed shut against the screeching drench of light.

Sunlight?

Screeching?

He bolted upright, flinging aside the covers, ready to attack even though he could hardly see, the room was so bright.

There was a loud crash. A thud. Shattering glass.

A woman’s voice rose to the ceiling. “Estrella! What is this?”

Jesse blinked. A woman stood at the end of the bed, staring horrified at his naked body. The remains of the vase of sunflowers were smashed against the stone floor, broken stems, shards of glass, a spattered puddle of water.

“Estrella!”

The screech sounded like rusty metal. Jesse grabbed a pillow off the bed to cover himself. Estrella was sitting up, pushing the hair out of her face. “Eve?” she quailed. “You’re home?”

“Yes, I am. I caught an early plane.” The woman spoke through zippered lips. “I cannot believe my eyes. You used my bed. My sheets! You dirtied my Porthault sheets!”

Estrella scrambled out of the precious sheets, crouching to gather their scattered clothing. She threw Jesse a panicky look, then his jeans. “I’m sorry. I’ll wash the sheets, of course.”

“You’ll burn them, and buy me new ones.” The woman’s face darkened as she gaped at Jesse, who’d dropped the pillow and was pulling on his jeans. “My God. He’s a brute. What were you thinking, letting a stranger into my house? I gave explicit instructions—”

Her house? Understanding socked Jesse in the gut.

“He’s not a brute.” Estrella cringed, holding his crumpled T-shirt over her breasts, but still she defended him. “He’s—he’s—”

“Her boyfriend,” Jesse said, straightening. “I apologize, ma’am. We shouldn’t have used your house.” He looked a question at Estrella.

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