To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Dante remained within arm’s reach as Chrissie embraced her father. His jaw tightened. This woman carried more on her shoulders than half the men serving alongside him overseas. She supported her family. She tackled her parents’ marriage woes—as if she had a hope of fixing the wedge driven by grief. And she kept her brother’s memory alive.

Who the hell was looking out for her? Her mother and her manager were focused on Chrissie Tate the country singer. But the woman at the epicenter? She was fending for herself.

And me. I’m here for her.

But he wasn’t permanent, and they both knew it. He wanted to stand by Chrissie while her father tried to pack away his grief and talk to her. And he wanted to be there afterward, too.

She’s not going to let me in.

Chrissie had been clear. Her career came first. Even if he could trust her while she moved from one city to the next… To hell with the “if.” He’d talked more to her, shared more than he had during his entire marriage. And yeah, that sure put his marriage in perspective. He’d never opened up to his ex about what he wanted, in bed or out. And if she’d shared her desires, her hopes and her dreams—beyond her plea to leave the job he loved—well, she’d saved it for the plumber.

Did he trust Chrissie? After a few short weeks together? It felt impossible, but still…

Did it matter if he did? She’d never asked for a future beyond their lessons and this tour. And even if she did ask for more, he wasn’t ready to put his heart on the line again. This time, he knew better. He had a job to do, and wondering about the woman waiting for him back home wouldn’t help.

“I look forward to hearing your next number one hit,” Mr. Tate said, drawing Dante back to the here and now.

“The love song?” She let out a laugh. “I don’t think you’re going to like that one very much, either, Daddy.”

The pain faded from her father’s expression, and he released her. “I heard about the video.”

She glanced over at him. “You might want to skip it.”

Please don’t choose this moment to introduce me to your father.

But Mr. Tate’s gaze had followed his daughter’s and left Dante without a choice.

“Sir,” he said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “I’m your daughter’s bodyguard.”

“The Navy SEAL,” her father said, taking his hand and shaking it. “Thank you for watching out for her. Her mother told me about the incident in Vegas. We’ve been worried about her.”

“He’s taking good care of me,” she said. “You don’t need to worry, Dad.”

But
someone
did. She spent all her time focused on helping her family and safeguarding her career. Someone needed to look out for her.

“We should head back upstairs,” Dante said, stepping closer. He looked at Mr. Tate. “Do you need to visit reception before we go up?”

Her father nodded. “I should ask for another key. You go ahead, Chrissie. You should get some rest before your sound check. Though I think dinner’s probably off at this point. Your mom and I both need some time…”

“We can still sit down and talk,” she protested. “I’ll wait while you get a new key. We can work this out.”

Her father shook his head. “Go on up, Chrissie. This isn’t your problem to solve.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, sir.” Dante nodded to her father before placing his hand on her elbow and guiding her away. When they reached the elevator bank, he turned to her. “Are you all right?”

She stared at the call buttons for a second and then glanced up at him. “They used to be so in love. My mom and dad. They struggled month after month to pay the bills, but they worked together. Always laughing. And now they fight all the time.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. The elevator arrived, the doors slid open in front of them, and he led her inside. He wished he could offer her more. But he couldn’t piece her parents’ marriage back together any more than she could.

They rode in silence. And when they arrived on their floor, he stepped out first and scanned the halls.

“I’ll need to check your room,” he said.

She nodded and withdrew a key card from a small zippered pocket in her pants. He waved the key in front of the sensor and opened the door.

“I think they’re staying together for me,” she said as the door closed behind them.

He stole a quick look at her. She’d wrapped her arms around her middle. She looked nothing like the woman who’d walked into his room and demanded that they skip the lesson.

Dante’s jaw tightened as he peered into the empty bathroom. He wanted to pull her into his arms. But first he needed to finish sweeping the room. After the bathroom, he opened her closet. Satisfied it was free from stalkers, he turned to her.

“At first I thought that losing Joe was driving them apart,” she continued. “But they clung to each after we lost him. Even when I first started singing, they worked together. That song has always been hard on my dad… But now, it’s like the success is driving a wedge between them. And I’m not sure I can fix that.”

He went to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Come here, Chrissie.”

She followed his request and claimed the space beside him on the bed. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side.

“Feeling helpless stinks. Trust me, I know,” he said.

“You’re a SEAL,” she protested. “You’re not—”

“A sidelined SEAL,” he corrected. “I’m not one hundred percent. If I was…”

“You wouldn’t be here,” she supplied. “You’d be out saving the world.”

He nodded and tightened his hold. “But I’m not out there. I’m here with you.” He ran his palm over her shoulder, up and down. “And I’m going to take care of you.”

For as long as he was here, he would be her bodyguard, her lover, and her friend.

She placed her hand on his thigh. “When you say here, does that mean you plan to stay until sound check?”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked.

“Only if you promise not to bore me with plain old missionary again.”

…

“You were bored?” Dante released her and rose from the bed.

Chrissie tracked his movements, desperate for his touch. She wanted him to fill her, to help her bury her concern for her parents and their family’s future by filling her with desire. If he made her come, maybe she could stop wondering if her parents’ love had always been a mirage or if it had simply broken.

“You need something more interesting?” he added.

No, I need you, and you know it.

But she nodded.

“Stand up and turn around,” he ordered.

She did as he asked.

“Now bend over and place your palms flat on the bed,” he said.

“Right back where we started before the interruption.”

“Chrissie—”

“You’re good at giving orders,” she murmured as she followed his instructions. “Is that part of your job as a SEAL?”

“Sometimes,” he said as he wrapped his hands around her hips. “And other times, I listen. We’re a team. It’s a give and take.”

He ran his hand over her skirt. And for the second time that afternoon, he drew it up to her waist. She stared straight ahead at the empty hotel room wall and bit her lips. She didn’t want to wait for him to do all the work. She wanted to play a part in her pleasure and his.

“Pretend I’m one of your teammates,” she said, her voice low and firm.

“I don’t think so,” he said with a rough laugh.

“I want you to leave me just like this while you go into my bag—it’s on the chair over there—and pull out a condom,” she said. “And then I want you to move to the other side of the bed and strip. I want to watch while you cover yourself.”

“Someone likes to give orders,” he said.

In her peripheral vision, she saw him move to the chair. “I want to make sure you don’t bore me.”

He found the packet and moved to the other side of the bed. With his back to the wall, he began pulling off his clothes. His shirt, then his pants and underwear, until finally he stood naked. If she crawled onto the bed, she could reach him, touch him—

“Don’t move,” he said, his hand moving around his cock as he covered himself. “I like having you right there. Your skirt flipped up and your shirt still on. Ready and waiting for me to take you.”

He walked around the edge of the bed. She felt him behind her, close, but not touching. Not yet.

“Dante—”

“Shhh. This time, I want the fantasy.”

“I’m not wearing a costume,” she protested. She’d abandoned her wig in his room.

“I’ll use my imagination.” His hand moved between her legs, testing her wetness. He slid one finger in and then another.

“Which one?” She gasped. “Which disguise would you picture?”

“The librarian.” His hands abandoned her, and she whimpered. He gave her bare backside a playful tap. “Be quiet now, Chrissie.”

“Or you’ll spank me?” she murmured.

“No.”

She felt his cock nudge at her entrance.

“I’m afraid spanking doesn’t turn me on,” he said. “Sorry if that disappoints you.” He thrust his hard length in another inch.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.” She ended her sentence with a gasp as he drove the rest of the way into her.

“Honey, if you’re not quiet…” he said, drawing back as he wrapped his hands around her hips. “Well hell, we’re going to have to do this all night. After sound check…after your show…”

“Over and over?” She tried to push back against him and fight for control of the pace. But he held her tight.

“Yes.” He growled, quickening the pace. “And I’ll make you come every time. With my hands, with my mouth, and just…” He slammed his hips against her. “Like…” He offered another punishing, but oh so pleasurable thrust. “This.”

She let out a low moan. He’d pushed her beyond words. Something sharp, something witty would be waiting for her later…after…not now…

Oh God!

One hand released her hip. But he didn’t stop slamming into her as he slid his hand around and found her clit.

She screamed and fell apart, losing herself in the pleasure.

Minutes later, she collapsed on the bed, her stomach pressed against the sheets. And he moved with her, still covering her, still inside. But she’d heard him cry out. Through her loud moans, she’d felt a sharp pang of excitement, knowing he was following her into orgasm-land.

“We’re going to have to try that again,” he murmured.

“I make a horrible librarian,” she agreed. “But I have this cheerleading skirt, if you’re interested.”

He groaned. His mouth nipped at her shoulder as if he needed to remind himself that
she
was there, and not the librarian of his imagination.

“I bet you’d make a damn good cheerleader.” He shifted his weight off her and collapsed on the bed by her side.

“And I’ll earn another orgasm?” She pushed off the bed and stood, looking down at him with her skirt bunched around her waist. “If I change?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and offered a tempting view of his supersized abs. “Honey, after your show tonight, I’m going to make you come over and over until you beg for mercy and sleep.”

And until she forgot all about her parents’ fight and the problems she needed to face. He didn’t say the words, but she knew he was on a mission for more than pleasure. This was his way of taking care of her.

And she planned to do the same for him—in a very short skirt.

Chapter Fourteen

Dante could survive on an hour’s sleep. During some ops, he performed on a lot less. But watching Chrissie during sound check the next afternoon in yet another new venue, he had a feeling she probably should have spent the hours after they’d returned to her room sleeping instead of trying out her cheerleading costume.

But he wouldn’t trade the memory of her straddling him in the short skirt for anything. He grinned. It had been one helluva ride. He wasn’t complaining. Still, someone had to take care of her. And he knew exactly what she needed right now.

“Naptime,” he said as she exited the stage and handed the microphone off to Hank.

“I’ll have to settle for coffee,” she said. “I don’t have time to go back to the hotel. This city is a little more spread out than Vegas.”

“Lie down in the greenroom.” He took her arm and steered her to the cramped space that held a small sofa.

“I can’t. Not here,” she protested. “This space is for everyone.”

“I’ll stand guard.” He released her and moved to the door. “Now lie down and close your eyes. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll handle them.”

After he gave the room the all clear, he left Chrissie on the sofa with strict instructions to sleep. Then he closed the door and positioned himself in front of it.

“Dante,” Mason called as he rounded the corner wearing another pair of his fashionably destroyed jeans. “Where’s Chrissie? I need to talk to her about—”

“Not now.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and flexed his biceps. “She’s resting.”

“But the label needs—”

Dante summoned the glare he generally reserved for the bad guys. “She needs to rest.”

Mason’s eyebrows shot up. And yeah, her young manager wasn’t born yesterday. He’d witnessed that kiss during the music video, and he’d seen them together since then. But Dante didn’t want Mason speculating about Chrissie’s sex life. Not with him or anyone else.

Because there better not be another man in her bed.

He pushed the sharp pang of jealousy away. She wasn’t his. Not beyond today, maybe tomorrow and, if his knee didn’t get up to speed, the day after that. He needed to keep a tight rein on his possessive feelings.

Hell, this was why he avoided flings. He wanted to go all-in for the woman in his life—and in his bed. He led with his heart, not his mind. And right now, he could use a little logic, which would tell him that a woman whose career pulled her in ten different directions and a man who had a difficult time trusting that history wouldn’t repeat while he spent the foreseeable future abroad—they didn’t have a future together. They had right now.

“I doubt Chrissie will mind losing a little sleep to talk about her new album,” Mason said. “The label needs to see more tracks.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you called her down to the lobby to deal with her parents,” Dante shot back.

“Look,” Mason said, dropping his voice. “I don’t want them here. I know their problems are a distraction. But I can’t send the talent’s family packing.”

“The talent,” Dante repeated through clenched teeth. She was a person, with wants and needs—including sleep, dammit.

“Chrissie,” Mason corrected, taking a step back. “Chrissie would never let me send her family home. Plus, it’s good for her image. The girl-next-door country singer with the loving parents.”

“That music video didn’t strike me as wholesome,” Dante grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” Mason agreed. “And country music fans will eat it up. The sweet girl who sings a racy love song? I think we have a hit with that one, which is why I need to talk to her about completing the record. She has to write a couple more songs.”

“I’ll tell her you stopped by,” Dante said. “After her nap.”

…

Chrissie hovered on the edge of sleep. She’d walked off the stage feeling as if she could close her eyes and drift off to dreamland while standing up. Even after Dante left her room, the moon still high in the Colorado sky, she’d been unable to sleep. The weight of what she needed to do, of all she had to accomplish, kept her awake until the sun began to rise.

Now, the bits and pieces of Dante’s conversation with her manager drifted through the door, barring sleep. Mason was right. She needed to write another couple of songs. And she wanted to use her own words. But what did she have to say?

She sat up and searched the room for a pen and paper. She found a marker by the coffeemaker and a few napkins. Not ideal, but good enough. Now she just needed the words…

She closed her eyes and waited for them to flow. But her world felt as if it was spinning beyond her control. The family she’d always known was crumbling around her. She couldn’t keep up with the demands of her career. And the one person she wanted—Dante—would be leaving soon. One week, another month, and he wouldn’t be there to catch her when her world felt as if it might fall apart. She needed to push forward on her own, without her guard SEAL to watch over her.

“Chrissie?”

She looked up and saw Dante peering into the room. He frowned as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“I saw the light on,” he said. “You’re supposed to be napping.”

“I had an idea for a song,” she lied.

He walked over and glanced at the blank napkin. Then he gently took the marker from her hand. “You can work on it later. Mason, your label, they can all wait.”

“But—”

“Shhh,” he murmured as he sank down behind her on the sofa.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and he began to kneed the tense, tired muscles. His thumbs ran down her spine, his fingers gliding over her shoulder blades, and she closed her eyes. He reached her lower back, and she felt a jolt of heat and need.

“We can’t,” she said. “Not here.”

“Honey, we’re not getting naked in the greenroom,” he said as his hands retraced their path to her shoulders. “I’m not trying to seduce you,” he added.

“Oh.”

“I’m going to help you relax and fall sleep.”

She lowered her chin to her chest. “It’s working,” she whispered.

When she woke, she would focus on her unwritten songs. She could think about how this man seemed determined to take care of her at every turn. And it felt so good. Too good. When he left…

She felt the tension fighting for purchase in her shoulders as he continued to rub her back. When he left, she’d be able to focus on her music. That was the bright side. And the fact that she’d miss him and his orgasms? His late-night lessons and his back rubs?

She’d find the words for her pain and put them into a song.

“Lie down,” he murmured, his hands guiding her toward the sofa. She went willingly and felt the cushions shift as he rose. He’d released her back, and his hands now steered her legs up onto the loveseat.

“Sleep,” he ordered.

And she obeyed.

…

“They’re calling last night’s performance ‘tired’,” her mom said from the other side of the tour bus, her gaze fixed on her laptop.

“Mom, you shouldn’t read the reviews.” Chrissie glanced across the bus to where her father was playing cards with Melissa. He’d skipped last night’s show. She knew he would. But she’d still glanced offstage and hoped to see him. Not for her big number one hit, but for the others.

“What happened last night?” her mother demanded.

“The band was perfect,” she said with a sigh. “You were there. You heard the show. It was good. I was just…”

Tired.

The reporter was correct. Even after Dante’s massage and her brief nap in the greenroom, she’d walked onto the stage feeling drained. Between her “lessons” with her bodyguard, which stole time away from the growing to-do list, and the demands of writing a new album, she’d pushed sleep and rest to the bottom of her priorities.

Now, she needed to make a change. She couldn’t afford lackluster performances. It wasn’t fair to the fans who had paid for tickets, or the family depending on her to bring home the proverbial bacon.

Her stomach grumbled. She’d skipped breakfast this morning, trying to make up for the lost time spent in Dante’s distracting arms.

“As soon as we arrive in Denver, you need to rest,” her mom said.

“I will,” she said. But when it came to choosing between an hour spent alone and asleep in another hotel bed, or an orgasm in Dante’s arms that would probably change the way she thought about Colorado’s capital…

Sleep. You can’t afford the distraction.

“How are the new songs?” Her mother closed the laptop and looked expectantly at her. There was so much hope in her momma’s tone.

And what could she say? I’ve been too busy in bed with my bodyguard to write? Her relationship with the SEAL left her emotions swirling. If she put those feelings into her music…

She would have a hit record. But she might miss out on her last chance to seduce her SEAL before he left. Once he returned to the teams, they needed to end their fling and stop the distractions threatening her career.

“Uno!” her little sister shouted.

“Melissa, please keep your voice down on the bus,” her mother said. “I’m trying to talk to your sister. This is important.”

“The new songs are great,” Chrissie lied. And she added a forced smile just in case her mom could see right through those empty words.

“Good,” her mother said. “I spoke with Mason earlier and told him to set up a call with your label.”

“Mom, we don’t have time,” she protested. “There’s a show tonight.”

“They need to know you’re still on track,” her mother said. “A brief update after your show tonight will erase their concerns.”

But they have every right to worry
.
I haven’t written the songs.

“I should probably head to the back of the bus and keep writing before we get to Denver,” she said. “If I have to show them something tonight.”

She stood and glanced at the powerful, imposing SEAL who was riding shotgun in her tour bus. After tonight’s show, she wanted to lose herself in his arms, not chat about music she hadn’t produced yet. She craved Dante’s comforting touch. She wanted him—beneath her, on top of her, kissing, touching, and making her scream his name. One more night before she said good-bye and focused on writing about her emotions instead of following them to their natural end—a relationship she couldn’t afford to keep.

She slipped into the room at the back of the bus and closed the door. Plucking a pad of paper and a pen from the shelf, she sat down and stared at the blank white sheet. She waited for the words and searched for the melody. Eyes closed, she tried to focus.

But her mind summoned the image of Dante’s too-perfect muscles and the memory of his voice offering instructions. A single emotion rushed through her—desire. Right now, she wanted him more than just about anything.

She opened her eyes and focused on the paper again. Maybe if she wrote something, if she gave tonight’s audience a high-energy show they’d talk about for weeks, maybe then she could give in to desire one more time.