SEAL Strong Page 8

  His lips twitched as she clearly mocked his security measures. “No one’s behind the curtains. I’d see their feet.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” She pushed off the door and moved toward him, planting both palms flat on his chest.

  Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and then stayed close, her lips to near to his. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

  If something had changed between them, no one had bothered to tell him.

  All he knew was that they were still legally divorced and he was still living in a rental alone. Sleeping every night alone. Eating dinner in front of the television alone. And that was all because of her wanting the divorce.

  So what in the ever loving hell was this about?

  He glanced down to where she touched him. Then at the face of the woman he’d like to strip bare and run his hands all over, even if it was the worst idea he’d ever had.

  Silas pressed his hands over hers where they rested on his shirt. “Mags. What’s going on?”

  She lifted her shoulders.

  He drew in a breath, fighting against the tightness in his chest at how achingly good it felt to have her this close. How much better it would feel to slide into this woman.

  “It wasn’t all that long ago I was at the house and had mentioned if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. You’d said no,” he said.

  “That was right after the divorce. It’s been a year. And we’ve had meals together since then.”

  “I know.” Meals. Not sex, but if he wasn’t crazy that was exactly what she was hungry for now. “Tonight feels like more than eating a meal together.”

  “Yeah.” Those eyes, liquid pools of blue he could drown in, captured his gaze.

  He swallowed hard.

  “What’s changed?” he asked, genuinely interested in hearing the answer because he’d love nothing more than to tumble Maggie into that big bed behind them and pretend the last few years hadn’t happened.

  “I’ve been seeing someone—”

  Seeing someone? What the fuck?

  “What?” He took a step back, feeling torn between wanting to punch something or vomit.

  “No. Not like that.” Maggie closed the space between them, grabbing his hands again. “It’s a therapist.”

  “Oh.” He let out a breath and willed his racing pulse to slow.

  “She suggested this group. They meet once a week. It’s for parents who’ve lost children.”

  The thought of talking every week about Jonas was enough to have the acid rising in the back of this throat.

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m glad it’s working for you.”

  Now was the time she’d suggest he go to this group too. Or to one like it in D.C..

  And when he said no, that he’d rather not spill his guts in a room of strangers on a weekly basis, the same old fight would be resurrected between them.

  It had been a nice fantasy—making love to this woman again, for real and not just in his dreams. Them getting back together. Making a fresh start. But it was just that. A fantasy.

  They hadn’t been able to work things out then. They wouldn’t be able to now.

  Her gaze held his as he braced for the inevitable argument between them.

  She drew in a breath and said, “I go to this group and I sit there and I listen to them tell their stories. Every week. And the one thing so many of them have in common is the blame. They all blame someone or something for the loss of their child. Sometimes it’s themselves. Sometimes it’s someone else. But as I sit there and listen I keep thinking, consistently, it’s no one’s fault. It’s horrible but you can’t place blame. It just . . . happened.”

  Maggie drew in a breath, clearly shaken by the discussion. After biting her lip, she met his gaze again.

  “It took a while. Months,” she said. “But I was up there telling my story—our story—and I heard it, the blame. And for the first time since it happened I thought, it was nobody’s fault. It’s just . . . happened.”

  There were tears in her eyes. Hell, there was a mist in his own eyes as he felt her hands tremble. Or was it his hands that shook as he held hers?

  His throat tight, he stayed silent as she continued, “I’m sorry, Silas. I blamed you and I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  Not trusting his voice, he nodded as he drew her close, clutching her to him.

  It felt so good. Not just having her in his arms, but having her forgiveness. More than that, having her permission to forgive himself.

  “Maybe I need to check out this group,” he said as he buried his face against her hair.

  She pulled back, eyes wide. “Would you really? Would you come with me?”

  He was as shocked as his desire to go as she appeared to be by his saying it. “Yes. Once. We’ll see how that goes. Good enough?” he asked through the emotions making his heart race.

  “Good enough.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed. She drew in a shaky breath through her mouth as her gaze dropped to his lips. She brought her focus back up to his eyes. “Si.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go to your room.”

  He knew what she was asking.

  It wasn’t fear that made her not want to be alone tonight. In fact, it seemed he might be the only one worried about what could happen while they were in Chad.

  This woman in his arms wanted him to stay the night for a completely different reason and if he wasn’t completely delusional, that motivation was lust, pure and simple.

  And what was he going to do about it?

  He wanted her more than anything. Needed her more than air to breathe. But he wanted all of her. Her love. Her heart. Her soul. Not just her body for the night.

  She might not want that too.

  What was it going to do to him to have her tonight and then possibly have to watch her walk back out of his life when they returned to Virginia?

  “Stay. Please,” she said.

  Silas sucked in a breath. Fuck the pain losing her after having her would surely bring.

  He threw common sense to the wind and slammed his mouth against hers.

  CHAPTER 14

  They hadn’t done this in so long. Since long before the divorce had been finalized and it had been a year since he’d signed those papers.

  Even so, Maggie felt the same beneath his hands. Tasted the same against his tongue. Looked the same as her eyes drifted closed when he kissed her.

  But there were subtle changes too. Little differences. Things that messed with his head even as he peeled off her clothes to expose the body he craved.

  Beneath the clothes she wore, he found purple underwear and a matching bra.

  Purple lingerie. On the woman who’d always only owned basic beige and black undergarments for all the years they’d been married.

  His mind went to bad places, wondering whom she’d bought this for. Or worse, who might have bought it for her.

  As he stared at the color he couldn’t ignore, his hand frozen on the dip of her waist halfway between the two items, she grabbed his head and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  Her tongue against his was enough to push those thoughts aside as his cock strained behind the confines of his pants.

  She tugged at his clothes.

  Impatient to get him naked, was she? Good. He liked that thought.

  If he was going to jump head first into a bad idea, at least he wasn’t alone in it.

  She let out a frustrated groan when he rolled off her.

  His lips twitched with a smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and glanced back at her. “Hang on, baby.”

  He reached down to untie the laces on his footwear of choice—the brand of multi-sport shoes he’d worn for years in the teams whenever the terrain didn’t demand boots.

  Making the mistake of glancing back at her again as he tugged off one sock, he saw the need in her eyes. He needed her just as badly.

  He stripped off the second sock and tossed it to the
floor, then reached for his belt, struggling to get it open as his hands fumbled.

  He’d traveled in comfort—for him that was tactical pants.

  He was about to get what he’d dreamed about for the past year. What he’d had for so many years with this woman and sorely missed, yet his mind spun with random shit like his pants? He was obviously nervous.

  Nervous. About being with the woman he’d shared a bed with for over a decade. It was nuts. But this whole thing was crazy. The divorce. This—whatever this was. Reconciliation? One-night stand?

  He didn’t know what to call it and decided to give up trying to label what this was between them.

  Silas stood and tossed his shirt to the floor . . . and saw her eyes sweep his bare torso.

  When he pushed his pants down his legs, followed by his underwear, her gaze moved lower, to the bobbing hard length that sprang free.

  Reason took a backseat as need took over.

  He crawled onto the bed. She spread her legs and made room for him between them. In this position, his length nudged at her entrance.

  His body covering hers, their faces were so close he could hear the hitch in her breath as he pushed inside.

  Sliding into her felt like coming home . . . and it went way too fast.

  He’d barely begun when it ended too soon.

  She felt too good and he’d denied himself for too long. He felt his climax coming, barreling down on him like a freight train, and he had no hope of stopping it.

  His spine bowed as he slammed his eyes closed and felt the pulsing begin. He held deep and rode out the waves.

  Coming inside her rocked him to the core. Shook him body and his soul.

  Even after the last throb had ended, it took him time to recover—at least physically. There was going to be no recovering from this emotionally.

  Then there was nothing for him to do except apologize.

  Still breathing heavy while trying not to crush her beneath him, he said, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time.”

  Her lips bowed in a smile. “I’m glad.”

  He laughed. “Glad I took thirty seconds to come?” he joked and hoped that was actually an exaggeration and not the truth.

  Her expression turned serious. “It’s been a really long time for me too.”

  A really long time. He gauged what that could mean. Since the last time they’d been together?

  God, he hoped so. He wasn’t crazy enough to ask. He was too damn happy to ruin this moment with thoughts of another man touching her.

  But a thought flew into his brain that managed to suck away a good portion of his joy anyway. “Shit. Are you still on birth control?”

  He hadn’t even thought to ask. He hadn’t had to since after Jonas had been born.

  “Yes. Don’t worry.”

  “Oh. Okay. Good.”

  Shit. Why was she still on birth control? Maybe a really long time didn’t mean as long as he’d hoped.

  She raised her hand to touch his face. “The doctor suggested I stay on it to help with my irregular cycle.”

  Maggie knew him too well. He couldn’t hide anything from her. At least not his thoughts about this. He didn’t care she could read him so easily. He was too relieved by her answer about why she’d stayed on the pills.

  He rolled off her, stood and turned back to reach for her hand.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To the shower.”

  They had a day’s worth of travel to wash away, as well as the remnants of some mediocre sex. But after that, he owed her an orgasm—or two.

  There were parts of her he thoroughly enjoyed and he had every intention of getting intimately reacquainted with them tonight.

  He intended to remind her how good they’d been together, even if it took him until morning to do it.

  CHAPTER 15

  Chavez lifted one hand high at the table where he was already seated.

  Silas made his way across the restaurant and pulled out the chair. “Good morning. Sorry I’m late.”

  His boss shook his head. “You’re not. I was early.”

  True, but Silas was usually the first to arrive. He prided himself on it. He’d just been a little busy last night not sleeping.

  He’d slipped out of bed early and, so he wouldn’t wake her, he’d grabbed his backpack and snuck out of Maggie’s room.

  Back in his own room he’d showered quick and dressed for the summit.

  “You have a good night?” Chavez asked.

  Guilty, Silas whipped his gaze up from where he’d been glancing at the breakfast menu. “Uh. Yeah. I had a good meal at the restaurant last night.”

  “Yes. I saw you and Maggie there. You two certainly looked . . . amicable.” Chavez smirked.

  Silas couldn’t even give his standard reply, that they were friends. After last night he didn’t know what the fuck they were. Friends with benefits maybe?

  Hell, he’d enjoyed the benefits too much to question it here and now. But later, when they were home, they were going to have to talk. And hopefully, they’d be doing more of what they’d done last night. Three times.

  He glanced up and saw Chavez’s smirk.

  Shit. His thoughts were probably written all over his damn face. One year out of the SEALs and he’d lost his edge. Silas couldn’t hide shit anymore, from anyone apparently.

  Time to move on from this topic and on to a new conversation. “So I went over the agenda for today and tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Chavez smiled. “You don’t do anything unprepared.”

  Not true. He’d taken the interview at DHS unprepared. He’d toppled into bed with Maggie unprepared. The first had worked out pretty well so far. He only hoped the second did too.

  The rest of the breakfast, thank God, was spent talking about the summit.

  Silas tried to get as much out of his boss as he could regarding the security precautions that had been taken given the number of foreign delegations gathered there.

  It was an exercise in frustration. Either Chavez didn’t know much or—worse—not much had actually been done to ramp up security.

  Sure, he could spot a bodyguard a mile away and a few of the highest level attendees had them, but close personal security wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted to see this hotel’s grounds locked down and guarded like Fort Knox while they were there. It was apparent that wasn’t going to happen.

  In spite of the nagging feeling in his gut, Silas still managed to get down a plate of toast and eggs and too much coffee during the breakfast.

  He was more than happy the menu seemed catered toward foreigners, and Americans in particular, and served basic food in decent portions.

  At least he’d eat well on this trip, though he certainly didn’t mind not having slept well last night, given the reason.

  He wondered if Maggie was awake yet. He glanced at his watch and realized how late it had gotten. The opening session started in fifteen minutes. She’d be up, dressed and probably finding a seat in the ballroom.

  They should do the same. But shit . . . he felt a twisting in his lower gut that had nothing to do with worry and everything to do with the coffee he’d consumed.

  “Um, we should probably get moving,” he said to Chavez.

  “Ready when you are.” The man had already signed the meal to his room so there was no reason to delay.

  And as the pressure in his bowels increased, Silas was more than ready to get going. He glanced at his watch again. He had time to get upstairs to his room, handle his business in the privacy of his own bathroom, and then get back down to the summit.

  “I gotta run up to my room for like two minutes. I don’t want to hold you up. Do you wanna go on in and I’ll find you?” he asked.

  Chavez nodded. “Sure. I’ll save you a seat.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  Plan in place, Silas rode the elevator up to his floor without any problem. It seemed the attendees were all coming down for the opening
session and he was the only one heading up so there wasn’t a wait at the elevator.

  Up in his room, and feeling much better after the pit stop, he was about to head back down when his cell buzzed.

  He pulled it out with one hand, while reaching for the doorknob with the other. When he saw Maggie’s name on the text alert he smiled and dropped his hand from the knob.

  After he unlocked the phone and saw her words, that smile faded quickly.

  SHOOTER IN THE BALLROOM

  What the fuck?

  He looked around the room, instinct having him searching for a gun that wasn’t there.

  Had he misinterpreted her message? No. He couldn’t have. There was no other explanation for what she’d written.

  They were under attack and he was unarmed. But not completely. He lunged for the closet where he’d tossed his backpack.

  Inside he had everything he was legally allowed to travel with and might conceivably need. Flashlight. Lock pick. Tactical rope. A short fixed blade knife that would be in compliance with TSA rules. A multi-tool. First aid kit. NVGs—not the real good night vision goggles he’d used in the teams, but good enough.

  If he’d been in tactical pants he would have stuffed everything into the pockets. But he was in a fucking suit and didn’t want to take the time to change, so he grabbed the backpack, zipped it shut and threw the strap over his shoulder.

  He’d already taken his clothes and toiletries out so the pack was empty of everything except his stripped down kit. It wasn’t what he was used to going into a mission with, but it would have to do.

  Hell, he’d find a security guard and relieve the man of his weapon if he had to. He had no doubt it would be of more use in his own trained, combat-experienced hands than in the control of whoever the hotel hired.

  His key card was already in his pocket, in case he needed to get back inside quick. He was armed with everything he had in his possession at the moment, but the one thing he needed and didn’t have was information.

  He didn’t want to risk Maggie’s life by asking her for details. She’d managed to slip out a single text without the shooter noticing but he wasn’t sure that would remain the case.