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“Leave it to me,” he promised, the words hot and moist against her flesh as he slid nibbling kisses over her throat.
He lowered them both to the sand, shifting so she was sitting on his lap. His hands moved faster now, racing over her bare flesh, teasing and tempting. As she tugged off his T-shirt, he sent her dress flying.
Clothes disappeared, bodies heated. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and wet as he lifted her high over his body. His fingers delved deep into her wet heat, stirring her hotter and higher as she poised above him.
He took care of protection in a swift, easy move before pulling her back into his arms, then positioned her over the impressive power of his erection.
“Give yourself to me,” he demanded, his husky words melding with the sound of the surf.
Watching his face, reveling in the appreciative pleasure she saw there, Darby slowly took him inside her. Her breath shuddered out, body quaking with the first orgasm as he filled her.
He let her set the pace, watched her like a hawk to gauge her pleasure, taking his own as he intensified the moves that she liked best.
Need tightened, coiling hot and hard.
He reached between their bodies, his fingers sliding over her wet, throbbing folds.
She exploded.
The roar of pleasure surged through her, ripping her to pieces. The feel of his climax, the grip of his hands on her hips, only sent her flying higher.
Holy freaking hell, was all she could think as she tried to reconnect her mind and her body.
Darby didn’t know how long it was before she melted into his arms, the sound of the ocean’s waves playing a soft backdrop to the feel of her body slowly floating down from passion’s crest.
Damn, she thought as she tucked her head under Dominic’s chin.
This fantasy thing was amazing.
* * *
NIC WAS GOOD. Damn good.
He’d never had to think much about it. He considered that a simple reality. And given the amount of verification he’d had over the years, he’d never had reason to doubt that reality.
But with Darby, damn...
He’d met his match.
He’d figured she was hot. He wouldn’t have introduced himself to her otherwise. He’d felt a connection—he wouldn’t have hit on her otherwise. He’d figured they’d rock the sex. But he hadn’t expected her to make him pant with need, then blow his mind. For a man known for his skill in seeing probable outcomes, it was one hell of a nice surprise.
They’d hit it on the beach, then they’d followed up with round two on his bungalow floor. He was pretty sure she’d have slipped out the minute they found their clothes again, so he’d snagged her underwear and carried her into his bed.
He called that strategy.
He called their third round of hot sex incredible.
Now, his body hummed with bone-deep satisfaction, the kind that could only be had from mind-blowingly intense sex. He counted the beats of his heart, waiting for it to return to normal. But even as Darby’s breath warmed his chest, his body stirred for another round. She burrowed closer as the night air drifted over their entangled bodies, her thigh sliding over his already hardening erection. Desire shot through him like an electric current, energizing even as it demanded satisfaction.
Figuring she needed sleep—or at least a little time to recover from that last sweaty bout of passion, Nic carefully slid out of her arms. Snagging the comforter from where they’d kicked it to the floor, he carefully draped it over her, tucking the ends to keep in the warmth.
For a second, a long delicious second, he watched her sleep. She didn’t look any less wicked with her eyes closed, and now that he knew what her body was capable of? He’d never think of her as cute again. Nope, this woman was all heat. All power. All temptation.
Nic turned away before he could give in to the lure.
He crossed the bedroom, his steps silent on the sisal rug. Pushing aside one section of the wall’s sheer panels, he pulled open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. The wooden slats ran the length of the bungalow, a low railing open at one end for easy access to the beach.
Nic ignored the deeply cushioned chairs, instead hooking one knee over the rail as he breathed in the damp, salty air.
He stared out over the black waves, letting the power of the ocean fill him, wishing it would soothe the unrelenting pain lodged in his heart.
But now that the sex was done, the memories that haunted him every night flooded back in.
His team was under attack.
He was one man down.
And he couldn’t even see the enemy. He’d tried. He’d put his best man—himself—on it, but while he’d identified the frontline attack, whoever was masterminding the operation was still off his radar.
Team Poseidon was good. Damn good.
That’s why they’d formed. Because they were the best.
Although Nic had known a few of them since his petty officer days, the twelve men had become a team in BUD/S training. It’d been over a decade, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he was right back there in the Grinder. They’d bonded over the challenge, over the pain, over the intense demands on their bodies. One minute they were competing for the best time in the thousand-meter swim, the next they were working together to cart a 150-pound log down the beach. The records they’d set still hadn’t been surpassed. They’d worked together as a team, each one pushing the other to be the best, then better than the best.
So impressed with the way the twelve of them had come together, had teamed up and had balanced each other in those six months, Admiral Cree had wondered just how good they could be.
Under his auspices, Poseidon was born. In return for their promise to pursue his mandate, he’d guaranteed they’d deploy and serve together.
In the decade since Team Poseidon was created, they had become the best. Their reputation was on par with SEAL Team Six. Except unlike SEAL Team Six, whose members switched out regularly, Team Poseidon was exclusive. Each man on the team trained in multiple ratings, each man served under a variety of officers and each one was sent on the most dangerous missions. Together and apart, they upheld the reputation of Poseidon, the god of the sea.
Nic dropped his head back against the wall of his bungalow and stared at the sky. The stars had guided sailors for centuries. He wished like hell they’d guide him now.
Because his team was under attack. His team, and his reputation.
Maybe it hadn’t started as an attack against Poseidon. They’d simply become a convenient scapegoat after Operation: Hammerhead, when an attempt to sell the formula for a stolen chemical formula had gone bad. In the process of clearing his men of the fallout from that foiled operation, Nic had discovered the crime went a lot deeper. And had been going on for a lot longer than just one mission.
If there was ever an enemy Poseidon had to beat, it was this one. But they couldn’t win until they determined the exact identity of that enemy, established his position and assessed his power.
Nic just had to figure out how. But so far, he was failing.
He sighed as he watched a star streak across the sky, its light a blur against the inky black backdrop.
Maybe it was time to revisit the reason why they’d formed the team, what drove them. To do that, he had to start with himself.
The last couple of years, he’d spent more time riding a desk than seeing any action. Sure, he still showed for daily PT, he still trained with the SEAL team. He participated in all of the training maneuvers. But he spent more time administrating than fighting.
He frowned, realizing that it’d been over fourteen months since he’d last had boots on the ground on a mission. And that was way too long. It was time to get back to basics.
That’d help him reconnect to his roots, and help shore up any flagging morale among the team. They’d up their training, too. Time to intensify a few things, including their skills in cryptology.
Lansky was his best tech guy, but the rest of the team needed to up their expertise. Poseidon operated under the belief that every man should be able to do every job, no matter what his rating. So they’d all bone up on their computer skills.
Torres, Rengel and Powers had the most training in intelligence. Given the investigation, it was unlikely that anyone in the intelligence community would offer the rest of the team training. But Nic could tap those three to give the rest of them a refresher.
Except he didn’t have three, he reminded himself as his heart gave a heavy thud in chest. He was down to two. Just as the team was down to eleven.
Because they’d lost Powers.
Rubbing his hand over his suddenly aching eyes, Nic tried to push aside the emotion. The minute he returned to duty, the team was embarking on the biggest mission of their careers. The one to save their reputations and take down a covert enemy. He couldn’t lead that mission if he was wallowing in grief.
And maybe a few of them should take some additional law courses. Louden, for sure, maybe Danby and Prescott, too. They had the analytical skill set to see the nuances that could help if this all went south.
Trouble was coming.
Trouble that could take down the team. That could destroy a decade of hard work. It’d damage the reputations of good men who’d devoted their lives to their country. If they failed, a treasonous mastermind would continue undeterred in their destruction of everything men like Nic and his team fought to protect.
Which meant they couldn’t lose.
He never lost.
With one last glance at the moon riding over the sea, Nic rubbed his hand over his vacation goatee and headed back inside.
Damn.
Looked like he had the beginning of a solid battle plan.
As usual, Cree was right. All Nic needed was a little time, a little distance, and he’d get his head together. He’d use the rest of this week to map out his strategy, to think through the steps and to consider every obstacle and counterstrategy.
As Nic crossed to the bed, he noted the woman sprawled over his sheets. Her dark hair spiked around her face, the sharp angles softened in sleep. The sapphire comforter covered but didn’t disguise her petite curves, her lush breasts rising temptingly over the crisp linen. Even as his body stirred, he wondered how much credit she deserved for his mental breakthrough.
A gorgeous woman, intriguing conversation and the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life. Yeah, that might be the perfect combination for a sweet breakthrough.
Which meant he’d need to put all of his energies this week into ensuring it happened again and again. And again.
Nic grinned, wondering if someday he’d look back and credit sex with Darby as a key turning point in saving his career. He slid back between the sheets, wrapping himself around her soft warmth. As she curled into him, her scent surrounding him like a sensual fog, he finally felt sleep beckon.
Before he drifted off, he thought of what was at stake. Of the years of work, of focus and, dammit, yes, of brilliance that’d made Poseidon the best. The god of the sea.
He’d be damned if anything was going to tear that down. As long as one man was still devoted to Team Poseidon, Nic knew he’d be right there, leading the charge.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
DARBY FELT AS if she’d dropped into some sort of alternate universe. The kind where mornings started with alcohol-infused frozen drinks, fresh fruit and malasadas.
Where breakfast was served on the patio of a cozy bungalow overlooking the ocean, with the sun already warming her skin, which was bare but for a vivid purple bikini and a wrap in the bleeding colors of sunset.
Where her body still buzzed from a night of amazing sex, aching in places she hadn’t realized could ache. Her thighs still quivered whenever she moved her legs, inciting a tingling sort of heat.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Darby said, her smile fluttering. “Just enjoying breakfast.”
And the view.
Although she didn’t mean the white sands and blue water, although they were stunning in the morning light. Nope, what fascinated her was the gorgeous man sitting across the table.
His hypnotic eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses, and the sun glinted off the inky black of his hair, casting a gilded glow over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for swimming in navy trunks and a matching T-shirt that molded itself over tempting muscles.
Muscles she’d explored, enjoyed, embraced over and over last night. Biceps almost as thick as her thigh and ripped shoulders broad enough to hold on to no matter how wild the ride. And his skin. Hot silk over rigid strength.
Grabbing her frozen breakfast cocktail, Darby sucked up a long drink of juice to wet her suddenly dry mouth. But the icy drink did nothing to cool the fire in her belly. Her body still tingled from the remnants of their shower sex-induced orgasms, and all she wanted was to go again.
How could she be this obsessed?
She’d only known the man for twelve hours.
It was just sex, she assured herself. Desire.
That wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Another malasada?”
“I should say no,” Darby said even as she reached for another sugar-coated ball of fried dough. “But I can’t. These are delicious. Better than any donut holes I’ve had before.”
“They’re my favorites,” Dominic admitted, studying one before popping it into his mouth. “When I was a kid, Avo Celia used to make malasadas whenever I’d visit because she knew I loved them. Just like this, covered in cinnamon sugar. My uncle gave the chef his mom’s recipe, so it’s always a little bit of nostalgia when I’m here.”
“It must be great to have that sort of family tradition,” she said, liking how his face softened as he talked about them.
What was that like, having a treat-making grandmother? Darby’s mom’s parents had died before she was born, and her dad’s hadn’t had much interest in their son, let alone his progeny. Both were only children, which meant there hadn’t been any aunts or uncles to fill that family role. No family, no family treats. Something Darby had never regretted until just now. Because, damn, it would have been amazing to grow up with a family tradition of delicious fried dough balls.
“Did you have a favorite meal growing up? You know, like a birthday dinner or holiday brunch?” Dominic asked, looking like he actually cared.
The idea sent a thrill of delight through her, making Darby wish she could say yes.
“I forgot about my last birthday until it was two days passed,” Darby admitted with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “But when I remembered, I hit Starbucks for an iced smoked butterscotch latte. It wasn’t a tradition but it was damn good.”
“You forgot about your birthday? As in, you were so deep in work that you didn’t realize what day it was and skipped right by it?” Dominic popped a slice of mango into his mouth and shook his head. “I’ve been away, on...on jobs, traveling, that kind of thing, on my birthday, but I always make damn sure I at least knock back a Scotch to toast another year.”
“Every year?” Not sure why that impressed her, Darby ran her fingers through her still-damp-from-the-shower hair, widening her eyes as it fell in spikes around her face. “Do you do that blowing-out-the-candle thing, too?”
“You’re telling me you don’t even blow out candles?”
“So?” The look on his face made Darby want to squirm. “My family was never big on the whole party or candles thing. I think the last time was maybe my seventeenth birthday when my brother got me a cupcake.”
“A single cupcake?”
“The frosting had a flower on it,” Darby said, wondering why she felt the need to apologize.
