A Seal's Desire. Tawny Weber

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      “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, shifting his body so he was positioned directly and evenly between the two women.

      “Hi, Laramie. I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” She tiptoed her fingers up his back, wetting her bottom lip and sliding a dismissive look toward Terri.

      Terri, however, wasn’t easily dismissed.

      “You’ll just have to keep waiting,” the blonde said, wrapping her arm through Laramie’s and leaning in to his body so her breasts almost engulfed his arm. “He’s with me right now.”

      “Why would he be with you when he has me?” Stella countered, her hand now tiptoeing down Laramie’s front, as well.

      Laramie tilted his head to one side, loosening the stiffness in his neck, then to the other. As the two women hissed at each other, he debated his options. Option one, pull them both close and suggest the three of them make a night of it. Option two, let them both down easy before either thought they had any rights to claim.

      Even as his body suggested option two, because dammit, massage or not he was still sporting a corral full of bruises, he automatically slid into option one. Because, well, hey, two women and hot sex? Why not?

      But just as he slid an arm around each slender woman, he heard a call.

      “Ride ’em, Cowboy.”

      Laramie glanced down at the laughing comment, noting with amusement that three of his teammates were grinning at the show from their perch at the end of the bar.

      “Need help?” another asked.

      And just like that, the moment of peace between the two women exploded into a catfight. Laramie didn’t know what set them off. Hell, he figured it wouldn’t make sense to him even if he did know. The only thing he understood about women was how to pleasure one and how to walk away. Usually unscathed.

      But as the blonde dived across his body, nails extended toward the brunette’s face, he arched backward. Not in time to miss the brunette’s response, which was a lousily aimed fist that missed the blonde and skimmed Laramie’s chin.

      “Okay, that’s enough,” he snapped with enough force to stop them both so that they stared, breasts heaving dangerously over the tops of their skimpy outfits and their eyes hot enough to fry rattlesnakes.

      “Laramie—”

      “But she—”

      “Ladies.” He angled a charming smile from one to the other, then despite the pain shuddering through his shoulder from the impact of the angry dive, wrapped his arms around the women again. He looked into brown eyes, then blue, keeping his expression easy and his tone as soothing as he would toward a skittish mare. “Two gorgeous women, both wanting my attention? I’m a lucky man. But as much as I would love to spend the evening with both of you, I’m due to meet my friends. So what d’ya say? How about we all kiss and say good-night for now. I’ll catch up with both of you when I’m back in town.”

      It took a little more soothing, and more than a couple of kisses each, but Laramie was soon able to ease himself away. And, he noted as he made his way down the bar, he left the women happily chatting away.

      “Impressive,” intoned a Nordic giant most of the team called Ice. Ensign Dag Eckhart was six-five and built like one of the mountains from his homeland.

      “Were you coming to save me?” Laramie asked with a grin, noting that the large man was on full alert, something he’d come to recognize from the way Ice’s white-blond hair stood on end.

      Ice was relatively new to the team, having only joined before their last mission. They’d just come off a two-month deployment that’d involved training foreign counterparts in strategic defense in a country that didn’t believe in hamburgers, beer or fraternizing with women.

      So he knew the man wasn’t trying to be insulting. But the idea that there was any situation that involved the fairer sex that Laramie couldn’t handle?

      He’d thought his reputation was stronger than that.

      Laramie tilted his Stetson back a little farther on his forehead and sighed.

      Damn, he wanted a beer.

      He didn’t get two feet before he was surrounded by laughing teammates.

      “Dude, why’d you stop them? They hadn’t got to the hair-pulling and clothes-shredding part of the fight.” Mick Samuels, aka Blackjack, looked as if he was going to cry in his beer. “You know that’s the part I like best.”

      “You’re a sad little man,” Ice deemed, shaking his head in dismayed judgment.

      “Everyone’s little to you.” Blackjack shrugged. “I’ll bet you have plenty of dirty little thoughts, there, Dag.”

      Looking as offended as if Mick had just suggested his mama did dirty times with polar bears, Dag shifted his stance, looming over the smaller man.

      Laramie just kept moving toward the room at the back of the bar reserved for the SEAL team. There, he lifted a finger to the roving waitress, then angled it toward Castillo’s table. She responded with a wink and a look of interest that he debated while he took his seat.

      “Looks like you might have plans for tonight,” Castillo said by way of a greeting.

      “Nah,” Laramie decided. That didn’t stop him from giving the leggy brunette a slow smile of thanks when she leaned close to bring him his order. He did a quick inventory, noting the bare ring finger, easy smile and hot appreciation in her eyes, then slid his hand over hers on the glass of beer. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

      The brunette looked disappointed, but slipped a folded napkin into his hand before sauntering away. He took a second to enjoy the swing of her hips, then tucked the paper into his pocket. He didn’t have to glance at it. He knew it’d be her phone number.

      “Nice of you to put Murdock on his ass,” Castillo said. “Nothing like a little welcoming humiliation to cement his hard-on to outdo the SEALs.”

      “You’re welcome.” Laramie grinned, twisting the chair around to straddle it. “I’m only sorry I didn’t put him on it a lot faster.”

      Castillo chuckled as he reached for his own beer.

      “Guaranteed, that guy is gonna be a pain in our asses for the next four weeks.”

      “If you’re lucky.” At Castillo’s questioning look, Laramie reminded him, “He reported for duty four days early. What d’ya wanna bet he’ll try to extend training a week or three longer than scheduled?”

      “Damn.” Castillo’s scowl only lasted a second before his grin busted it up. “We’re due for predeployment as soon as Donovan and Thorne get back the first of the month. Murdock can stick around if he wants, but that’s his expiration date.”

      “I ran into Murdock on my way off the island,” Blackjack said, referring to the location of the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, as he joined them. He knocked a chair back with one foot, then slid into it in one smooth move. “Crazy bastard was going on about how he was СКАЧАТЬ