Page 78 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

He had her belt undone and her jeans and panties around her feet in seconds flat, then began to undress himself.

“Wrap your legs around me, Win.”

She did, because she really wanted to, and realized that in the script, this was the scene where Max had leaped into the air, snatched Eva by the hair to save her from tumbling to her death into a raging canyon river, only to be smacked hard across the face.

Win had no desire to smack Vincent. She just wanted to love him.

“I’m going to miss you, baby.” Vincent was somehow holding her up with his good arm while undoing his belt, then shoving down his jeans. He lifted her and speared her with his cock, pushing up with his hips so he could give it to her in one slow, deep, complete thrust.

She cried out in rapture and sought out his mouth.

They kissed, their mouths desperate for each other They fucked, Vincent taking Win so thoroughly that he had bottomed out in her and was pushing against her cervix. She had the craziest thought, her mind dark and confused and awash with lust and need, but all she could think of was how badly she wanted to feel him come inside her, splash up into her, be a part of her forever.

“Win, sweetheart—” Vincent moved with her, turned, and lowered himself on a big rock. He kept his hands on her hips. “I’m coming in you, Win.”

“God, yes!” She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, feeling herself tense and jerk and squeeze him just as he let out a joyful roar and exploded inside her.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid. They hadn’t used a condom and she could easily be pregnant. But as Win burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, felt his breath against her cheek, sensed the caress of his hand on her bare back, she didn’t give a damn. That’s how far gone she was.

How much she loved him.

“Uh, Win?” Vincent tapped her on the upper arm.

“I know. But I don’t care.”

“Not the condom oversight, though that is something we definitely need to discuss, but I think Fifi’s gone AWOL.”

After an abrupt untangling of limbs and body parts, they threw on their clothes and began to search for the poodle. Win thought that if anything happened to that sweet little puppy she’d never forgive herself—not to mention that Carly would kill her.

Ten minutes later, Win heard Vincent’s voice boom through the forest, announcing he’d found the dog. Win ran back to the path to see him holding a very alive Fifi—no, Lulu—in his arms. After a quick examination of her white fluff, Win found the dog untouched by her brief brush with the wild.

That evening, Win unplugged the laptop and packed her bags while Vincent grilled chicken and vegetables for dinner. They ate on the back deck, sharing the sunset and Artie’s last bottle of Krug 1990 Blanc de Blanc. At one point, Win used her bare toes to fondle Vincent between his legs.

“Stop, or you’ll regret it,” he said ominously.

“I regret nothing,” Win replied, looking at him over her wineglass.

Vincent’s smile became tender, his eyes held hers and he leaned across the table on folded arms. “You know what, Winifred? I don’t think I’ve ever not regretted something more in my life.”

She liked that. “And you know what else, Vincent?” Win got up, walked behind his chair, and put her arms around his neck. She kissed the top of his dark, thick hair and prepared to finish the witty retort just on the tip of her tongue. But Vincent chose that moment to let his head fall back against her breasts. He stroked her fingers, sighed, and closed his eyes in bliss.

Instead, Winifred blurted out, “I love you.”

The big black limo pulled up the gravel drive right on time, and Mac couldn’t say he was sad about it. Ever since Win dropped the “L-bomb” on him at dinner the night before, things had been strained. He knew she hadn’t intended to say it, that it was a slip, but the instant the words hit the air, he’d closed up.

Yes, he spent the night with her. Yes, they’d made love and it was un-fucking-believable, as always. He’d held her in his arms and told her he’d miss her and wanted badly to see her again—and it was all true. But he couldn’t tell her he loved her. How could he?

He knew that in hours he’d be standing right where he was, in the driveway, saying good-bye. She’d be on her way to Manhattan in just minutes, and he’d start the long drive to D.C., and within days he’d be on a plane to beautiful downtown Peshawar.

She’d been kind enough not to bust him last night, but Mac figured he’d be damn lucky to ever hear from her again.

Mac’s mind zapped back to the present when a tall, cool blonde stepped out of the back of the limo, took one look at him, and screamed.

He watched Win whisper to the woman, release Fifi to her hugs and kisses, and figured it must be Carly. He took a few steps closer to her and held out his hand.

“Hi Carly. I’m—”

Carly’s eyes went huge and she burst out laughing. Then she said, “Wow, Win. This is a little spooky.”

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