Heat It Up (6 page)

“I haven’t changed my mind.” She hesitated. “You still haven’t told me if you’re even interested.” He met her eyes. “I am interested. But I’m also realistic. I don’t want a relationship.”

“I’m only here for another week. That’s not a relationship.”

“Then what is it?”

“A fling.”

Becker looked uncertain. “I…uh, I’m not a fling kind of guy.”

Rolling her eyes, Jane pushed back her chair and stood up. She rounded the table and before he could object, lowered herself into Becker’s lap. He wore only a pair of boxers, and the second she straddled his powerful thighs, his cock went stiff, poking against her thigh.

Jane raised her eyebrows. “I think every man is capable of being a fling man, Beck. And I think your cock agrees with me.”

Becker’s dark eyes went even darker, burning with arousal. Although she’d put her dress back on before dinner, she wasn’t wearing any panties, and it would be so very easy to move aside the material of her dress and slide down onto his big, erect dick. But she fought the temptation. They didn’t have a condom handy, and besides, the second that distracting erection of his filled her pussy, she knew she would lose the capacity for speech.

“My cock isn’t very reliable,” Becker said, resting one hand on her thigh. “He likes you way too much.” Sweeping his tongue over his lower lip, he stroked her bare knee.

“And what about you?” she asked softly.

Becker leaned forward to nuzzle her neck. He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing his way down her throat. His voice was muffled as he said, “I like you too.”

A shiver of pleasure danced up her spine. “Then fling with me. I promise, I won’t make any demands. I already told you what I want.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “A week of sex. Is that what you want, Jane?” She nodded.

The reluctance on his face was beginning to chip away. She could see his resolve crumbling. The lust creeping into his eyes and pushing all the hesitation away. Deciding he needed one final push, Jane reached down between them and curled her fingers over his cock. She squeezed gently then moved down to cup his heavy balls. He moaned.

“Come on,
Thomas
, you know you can’t say no,” she murmured, kneading his testicles. “You don’t
want
to say no. So just say yes.”

She continued playing with him, stroking, squeezing, until he released a strangled groan and said,

“
Yes
.”

Four days later, Becker was still trying to figure out if agreeing to Jane’s proposition was the best decision of his life, or the worst. No question, however, about the fact that this was the best
sex
of his life. How he’d gone for thirty-two years without experiencing sex like this was a mystery. All Jane had to do was take off her clothes and he turned into an animal. He’d fucked her every which way for the last four days. Indoors, outdoors, on every piece of furniture, on the floor, in the shower, from behind. And no matter how many times he came inside that tight, hot pussy of hers, he never seemed to be sated.

But what bothered him more was how seamlessly she’d insinuated herself into his life. Well, insinuated was probably the wrong word. That implied she’d been the one to seek out a bigger role in his life, when it was him who’d told her to move her stuff in his cottage, him who’d convinced her to stay for breakfast every morning instead of heading back to her room to write. Since he was still on leave thanks to the bullet wound, he had absolutely nothing to do, other than look for a place to live, yet instead of meeting with the realtor, he’d been spending all his time with Jane.

For a man who didn’t want a relationship, his actions of the last few days troubled the hell out of him.

Those same actions evidently confused Jane, because as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot on Thursday afternoon, she turned to him and said, “I don’t get it. Are we dating?” Her no-nonsense tone made him smile. He’d never met anyone like Jane Harrison. Sex-goddess looks aside, she was smart as hell, unfailingly honest, and way too perceptive for his peace of mind.

“We’re flinging, remember?” he said, heading toward the bridge that separated Coronado from San Diego, where they were heading.

“People who fling do not go to play mini-golf.” Jane shot him a sideways glance, looking flabbergasted. “Why are we going to play mini-golf?”

“You mentioned you liked to play, so I figured it was a nice way to spend the afternoon,” he pointed out.

“It is, but I still don’t get why you suggested it.” She shook her head, which caused strands of wavy red hair to fall into her eyes. She blew them away in frustration. “You told me you didn’t want a relationship. The stuff we’ve been doing, well…that’s relationship stuff, Becker. Dinner on the boardwalk, watching
24
reruns,
mini-golf
—that is not a fling.” He sighed. “I know.”

“So what is this?”

Discomfort crept up his chest and settled into a lump in the back of his throat. That was precisely what he’d been asking himself for the last couple of days. Since when had this turned into more than just sex? It was Jane’s fault, for being so damn likable. He had never really connected with many people. In high school, even though he’d been on the football team and part of the in crowd, he hadn’t had many close friends. During SEAL training, where most of the men bonded, he’d kept to himself. Even now, he was part of a close-knit team with five other guys and he never saw them off the base.

But Jane…he connected with her. She made him laugh. And she turned him on like no other woman ever had, not even his ex-wife.

He thought of what she’d just asked him. What was this? Fucked if he knew.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, keeping his gaze glued to the road.

“Okay.” She paused. “This conversation is pointless, anyway. I leave in a few days, so even if we are dating, we won’t be for much longer.”

The pain gnawing at his insides was disconcerting. He’d forgotten she would be leaving on Sunday, and he wasn’t sure why the thought of her walking out of his life made his chest feel so tight.

He didn’t reply, and neither of them said much as he drove to the mini-golf course Jane had found the address for on Google maps. They’d been lying in bed, recovering from their respective orgasms when he’d brought up the idea, though he still wasn’t quite sure why he’d suggested they spend the afternoon playing mini-golf. Jane was right—this was relationship stuff. He’d agreed to a casual fling, some fun in bed, so why did he suddenly feel so eager to have fun with Jane
out
of bed?

He pulled into the gravel parking lot and shut the engine of his rented SUV. He and Jane got out, and she immediately plopped a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of her freckled nose. The sun shone overhead in a cloudless sky, and a warm breeze brushed across Becker’s bare arms. He slipped on his own sunglasses, aviator-style ones that Jane had teased him about, declaring they belonged in a cheesy action movie. But he liked his shades, and he ignored her giggle as he put them on. What he couldn’t ignore was the way her blue halter dress molded to her curves.

Dresses. That’s all the woman ever wore. Cute little sundresses, halter ones, the long green one made from that filmy, see-through material. It drove Becker crazy, each time she came out of the bedroom in another one of those fuck-me dresses. It drove him even crazier knowing that, half the time, she didn’t wear panties. She wore them today, though. He’d seen her sliding into a flimsy black thong before they left the cottage, and his mouth went dry, his hands tingling with the urge to reach under the hem of her dress and pry that thong off her firm ass.

“You’re thinking about sex,” Jane said, jarring him from his thoughts.

He shot her a rueful smile. “Yep.”

“Well, stop. I won’t be able to kick your ass on the course if I’m distracted.” Becker moved closer and wrapped his arms around her slender waist. “Maybe I want to distract you.

Maybe it’s part of my dastardly plan to kick
your
ass in golf.” Jane stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. She gave a mischievous grin. “In your dreams, Thomas. I’m
very
good at this game.”

“Crap, you weren’t kidding,” Becker said ten minutes later, after Jane had sunk her third consecutive hole-in-one.

She demurely held her putter to her side, enjoying the look of awe in his eyes. She might be the least athletic person on the planet, but she’d always been pretty damn good at mini-golf. “When I was a teenager, I dated a guy who worked on a putt-putt course,” she confessed. “We used to sneak onto the course after he finished his shift.”

“Please don’t tell me you lost your virginity on a piece of green felt in front of a fake earthquake scene.”

She shot him a solemn look. “I did.”

Becker let out a sigh. “Seriously?”

Jane grinned. “No. I lost my virginity in the backseat of a Ford pick-up, which is probably just as bad.”

They crossed a little bridge that hovered over a pretty pond with fake yellow and blue fish. The path leading to the next hole wound around a big papier maché mountain, which made no sense since the last hole had looked like a beach. Obviously this course had no discernible theme. As they headed around the bend, the sound of male voices drifted toward them. Jane couldn’t help but laugh as she listened.

“What the hell are you saying? There’s no way to know which tunnel to tap the fucking ball into,” someone said, sounding aggravated.

“Trust me, Ry, it’s the third one,” a second voice argued.

“He’s trying to sabotage you, Ry,” a third voice said. “He’s out for blood.” Next to her, Becker seemed to stiffen. She glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

“Those voices sound way too familiar,” he said with a heavy breath.

They rounded the corner, and Jane was hit by a dose of testosterone, her eyes assaulted by the sight of four ridiculously sexy men. And then the sight of four jaws dropping in unison as she and Becker stepped into view.

“Lieutenant?” the one with sandy-blond hair said, looking surprised. “What are you doing here?” Becker lifted his putter. “What does it look like?”

The one they’d called Ry looked utterly delighted. “See, I told you guys he has a secret life we don’t know about.” Ry’s playful blue eyes landed on Jane. He let out a soft whistle. “And it’s obviously even better than I imagined. Are you going to introduce us, Lieutenant?” Becker made the introductions, but it was hard to focus on names when each man Becker introduced was sexier than the last. The blond one was Carson, who looked like he belonged on the cover of
GQ
.

Will had dark, almost black, eyes and a head of messy dark hair that fell onto his forehead. Ry was Ryan Evans, who was possibly one of the cutest guys Jane had ever met, with his brown hair, blue eyes, and gleaming biceps revealed by the sleeveless basketball jersey he wore. The last one was Matt O’Connor, who boasted a shaved head and green eyes that twinkled as he reached out to shake Jane’s hand. All four men, who Becker introduced as members of his SEAL team, stared at her appreciatively. And staring at Becker as if he’d just arrived from another planet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Becker wasn’t Mr. Social. Judging from the surprise in his team’s eyes, this was probably the first time they’d seen him somewhere other than the Navy base.

“So, how did you two kids meet?” Carson asked curiously, looking from her to Becker.

Jane shrugged. “In an elevator.”

The other men raised their brows. “In an elevator?” Carson echoed.

“Yep. We got stuck.” She didn’t look at Becker, scared that if she did, her expression would reveal exactly what they’d done
while
stuck. She forced the blush from her cheeks and glanced at the SEALs.

“Actually, you guys all know my sister.”

Ryan’s eyes lit up with delight. “She has a sister,” he said to Matt O’Connor.

“You saved her life,” Jane added, rolling her eyes.

“Jane’s sister is Elizabeth Harrison,” Becker supplied quietly.

The mention of Liz’s name had the men going somber. “How’s Elizabeth doing?” Carson asked with concern.

“She’s fine,” Jane answered. “Completely recovered from her near-death experience. I’m writing a piece about it for the magazine I work for.” She suddenly remembered her editor’s suggestion. “Maybe one of you guys can give me an interview. Becker here has politely declined.”

“I’ll do it,” both Ryan and Matt said immediately.

Carson grinned at the other two. “She said interview, not sex.” The sound of children’s voices came from the other side of the bridge. Becker rested a hand on Jane’s waist and turned to the other men. “Let’s keep moving before this hole turns into a parking lot.” The six of them played the hole quickly. Well, technically, the five of them. Jane noticed Will, the intense one with black eyes, didn’t take a turn. Instead, he jotted down the other men’s scores and announced them when they reached the next hole.

“Okay, so as of now, O’Connor’s taken the lead, Carson is at a close second, and Evans over here…” Will smirked, “…is six over par.”

Becker glanced over at Will. “You came all the way here just to keep score?” Will’s expression grew sullen.

“He’s not allowed to play,” Carson explained gravely.

Jane looked from Carson to Will, curious. “Why not?”

“Well, it all traces back to the putter-in-the-clown’s-mouth incident,” Carson said.

“Which is what?”

Carson grinned. “Exactly what it sounds like. He threw his putter in the clown’s mouth. It was quite childish.”

“Screw off,” Will grumbled at the man. He then fixed those dark eyes on Jane. “It really isn’t as bad as it sounds. Carson over-exaggerates.”