Bound by the SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 5) Read online

  Oh, she had no doubt.

  ~

  Brayden managed to square his face before he turned back to Mick and the two other women, but that didn’t stop any of the three from shooting him nosy-ass looks as they walked the next block to the marina.

  “What?” he finally said. “She’s gorgeous. Do you blame me?”

  “Blame you?” Daphne laughed. “If you make her happy, dude, we’ll love you.”

  Mick raised his eyebrows. “No pressure.”

  They had no idea what he was really facing with Arielle. Be good to her? That would be the easy part.

  ~

  Arielle knew her father had let himself in to her apartment when her key didn’t turn the deadbolt. She shook her head and pushed the door open.

  He was in the kitchen, cooking.

  She flipped her keys onto the counter and crossed her arms as he glanced her way. His hands were busy flipping veggies and grilling meat, but he still had a brilliant smile for her.

  He always did.

  “You’re back.” She said it flatly, but he didn’t take any offense.

  He never did. Instead he put down his kitchen tongs and spatula and held his arms wide. “Baby.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Don’t be cross with me.”

  “You didn’t reply to my email.”

  “I was busy.” He gave her a baleful look. “Did you find it?”

  She didn’t need to ask what he meant. She swallowed hard and fudged the truth. “What do you think? Your instructions were too cryptic.”

  “Ah well. Another time. Are you hungry?”

  “I just had dinner.”

  “With a man?” He put on an instantly suspicious, over-protective character that grated on her nerves.

  “With friends,” she said firmly. “But that smells good. I’ll have a little bit. Tell me about Spanish Town.”

  He dished out their food, more for him, less for her, then they sat and he told her about his most recent adventure. The PG-13, sanitized version. Vague enough that she knew he was leaving out details, but that was fine. She never wanted details.

  Except now, she did want to know more about something from the past.

  She moved her food around on her plate for the second time tonight.

  “What’s on your mind, mon bébé?”

  “You always could read me.”

  “You have a terrible poker face.” He reached across the table and stilled her hand. “Tell me.”

  “The statue of the old man…”

  “Ah. So you figured out the clues.”

  “I did.” She puffed out her cheeks and lifted her gaze to look her father in the eye. “When you hid it at the plantation…were you returning it to the rightful owners?”

  He didn’t look away, but he didn’t answer immediately, either. A muscle in his jaw flexed first. “That was a long time ago. The estate has stood empty for years.”

  “It’s not empty now.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to go there. I wasn’t thinking about the difficult position I’d put you in with Cara.” He smiled. A little too easy, a little too wide. “How is she?”

  A change of subject. Damn. “She’s fine. She’s who invited me out for dinner tonight.”

  “And Daphne as well? How is my favorite American ex-pat?”

  “Still bartending.”

  “Not making that soap of hers?”

  Great. So they were committing full-bore to the inane small talk. “Yep. Just in her spare time for now.”

  “I told you I’ve got a new lead. If it pans out, I’d be happy to back her in a venture.”

  It wouldn’t, but she was used to that kind of promise. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Sure. Anything for my baby’s friends.”

  It would never happen. “I think Daphne’s pretty intent on doing it her own way.”

  “You girls have always been independent, haven’t you?”

  They had to be. All three of them, in different ways. Speaking of which… “Are you staying here? Since you sold the boat?”

  She had the extra bedroom. Daphne had moved out, and Arielle’s teacher salary easily covered the rent on the entire unit.

  But her father shook his head. “I’m heading back to Sunshine Bay tonight. Need to make some deals tomorrow to pull this new venture together.”

  She took a deep breath. She wouldn’t apologize for not bringing him the statue. “It was good to see you. Thank you for dinner.”

  “I put the leftovers in the fridge.”

  They washed the dishes together while coffee brewed, then she poured him a travel mug and gave him a tight hug at the door. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered. No matter what, it was the truth that bound them together.

  “I love you too, bébé.”

  NINE

  IT WASN’T LIKE HE’D BEEN STUCK IN A BOARDROOM BEFORE, BUT BRAYDEN WAS STILL IMPRESSED WITH HIS NEW OFFICE.

  Mick had called their team meeting to order by handing over a cold beer and pointing down a path that led to the ocean.

  Now they were sitting on two large rocks, the surf crashing nearby, and they were compiling the mother of all to-do lists.

  They needed to design courses that would appeal to a civilian customer—a little bit of boot camp, a little bit of luxury, and a lot of blow-their-mind takeaway lessons so they’d spread the word about the Navy SEAL executive retreat in the Caribbean.

  They also needed facilities to house and educate and entertain their clients. For the first year, they planned to partner with the hotels and resorts in Petite Ciotat.

  Mick filled Brayden in on Cara’s idea of running Villa Sucre as a working Bed and Breakfast. If she enjoyed that, they could expand to build a modern inn on the grounds as well. But first, they needed clients.

  That would be Will’s job, in theory. But in reality, they were quickly realizing their new business plan would need more hands on deck than just the three of them.

  The first step would be to have all three principals in the same place. Mick pointed at the third rock in the cluster. “Will’s going to need to come down here. We could do renovations without him, but picking a construction site? I don’t know about that. That’s looking at a seven-figure budget, easily.”

  Brayden nodded. “I agree. And he can get away for a weekend.”

  “Maybe we’ll see who else can come down at the same time. Might as well make the trip do double-duty.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Mick grinned. “My wedding, of course.”

  “Shit. That’s fast.”

  “Not for us. I’m ready to call Cara my wife.”

  “Well…hell. Then congratulations, man. I thought the engagement would last a while.”

  “Don’t see the point in that. We’re already living together. And once we get past a wedding, I can focus on finding us a house. Or maybe building one here. We’ll see.”

  “I could move out of the bunkhouse. Into town.”

  “Nah. I could move into town, too. We’re going to need an office space there, to differentiate our address from the plantation. Plus it’s going to be a while until we have physical space here beyond the bunkhouse. The probate could tie everything up for ages. I want to hit the ground running as soon as we’re legally clear to do so. That’ll mean hiring a receptionist, setting up a website…”

  “Do we need to hire someone right away?” Spending money like that always Brayden nervous. Expenses without any income made his stomach twist.

  “What, you think we’re going to have you answering the phones?”

  Shit, this was getting real. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, I guess not. But I could. And I would.”

  He was grateful for this opportunity. He’d put whatever he needed into it to make it work.

  “We’ll sort it out,” Mick said. “And we’ll all make the decisions together. Let’s see how quickly we can get Will down here, and go from there
.”

  ~

  The rest of the afternoon sped by, but Brayden couldn’t shake the nervous tremor deep in his gut. He was used to this feeling. It happened before missions and promotion interviews. Before a new BUD/S class.

  He also knew exactly how to get rid of it.

  Sex was hardly an original coping strategy. And if worse came to worse, he could jack off. It wasn’t the same thing as having a warm, sexy woman beneath him, but it would take the edge off.

  He wanted more than that.

  He wanted Arielle.

  Bound. Willing. Wet.

  They were nowhere near that, though. He couldn’t assume too much. First step was contacting her. He found Cara in the kitchen, prepping dinner.

  She handed him a slice of mango as he sat on a stool near the counter. “I should have asked about your food preferences.”

  He shook his head. “Food is good. That’s my only preference. But I was thinking of heading back into town tonight.”

  “Oh?” She gave him a knowing look.

  He grinned. “And I was wondering if maybe you would give Arielle my number? Let her know that I would be in town, if she wanted to meet me somewhere?”

  She laughed. “That’s very chivalrous. I can just give you her number, though. Cut me out of the middle.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Sure. Thanks. I promise not to misuse it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay. It’s not like I don’t know where to find you and kill you if you do.”

  “Fair point.” He handed over his phone and watched as Cara typed Arielle’s details into a new contact. Taking it back gave him a curious thrill, like just having her number was a significant thing. He looked down at her name on the screen. Arielle Day. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”

  “For sure.” He sat a little straighter.

  Cara gave him a thoughtful look. “She’s not impressed by slick.”

  He’d already guessed as much. Charm was definitely the wrong approach if he wanted to gain her affection. “I’ll be straight with her.”

  “And she doesn’t believe in happy ever after endings.”

  Whoa. Who said anything about that? But from a woman who’d apparently fallen head over heels in a matter of days—and Mick clearly did the same thing—it was a reasonable warning.

  “We’re good on that front, too,” Brayden said, tapping his knuckles on the counter. “I don’t believe in forever shit, either.”

  TEN

  SHE TEXTED HIM BACK AS HE WAS SITTING DOWN AT THE BAR.

  Fifteen minutes later, she walked in the door, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a white dress with an asymmetrical hem that crawled deliciously high on one thigh, and pulled in tight to her waist thanks to a coral beaded belt.

  “I knew your wardrobe looked like the ocean,” he murmured in her ear as he stood to greet her. It sounded like a line, but he couldn’t help it. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  She tipped her head up to look at him. “Thanks for buying me a drink.”

  “It was the least I could do, since you didn’t come to me. I was looking forward to apprehending you again.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile. “I had to work.”

  “So your life of crime is strictly limited to weekends?”

  The smile faded. “Definitely limited, anyway.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She started laughing. “I wish I had an inscrutable face.”

  “I like your face just the way it is.”

  “Revealing?”

  “Expressive. I can’t wait to see the range of emotions you go through when you’re turned on.”

  Her eyes flared wide, but he was putting that out there. If she wasn’t interested, better to know sooner than later. She held his gaze long enough to stoke some serious hope deep inside him, then smiled again. “Good to know.”

  He couldn’t imagine three words he’d rather hear murmured by her perfect little mouth.

  He grinned and waited until she’d taken her seat to relax back into his own. “How was work today?”

  “Mondays are always a bit of a battle. But most of my students are working on biggish mid-term projects right now, so their heads are in school-zone.” She gave him a small smile. “Long way of saying it was decent.”

  “I like the expanded version. Tell me more.” He waved over the bartender. “What would you like?”

  “Rum punch is good for me.”

  They watched the bartender mix her drink in a silence that felt both familiar and easy, then he watched her take a long, slow drink before pressing her to continue.

  He liked the way she laughed when he promised he wanted to know everything about her day.

  She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me about what you did today? How are you settling in?”

  “Not rest for the wicked. Today was a work day. We just happened to work next to the ocean, which is pretty sweet.”

  “Perk of island life.”

  “I’m loving it.”

  She took another sip of her drink, then set it down and leaned forward. His entire body tightened in anticipation as she stroked her index finger, wet from condensation on her glass, across the back of his hand. “Do you really want to talk about how work was? Or do you want to finish these drinks and come back to my place?”

  He set his beer down. “I’m not even interested in finishing the drinks.”

  ~

  Arielle could feel the heat of Brayden’s body—bigger, wider, stronger—right behind hers as she let them into her apartment.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she dead-bolted the door and flipped the security latch. She didn’t want anyone interrupting whatever was going to happen next.

  Based on the first time they were alone together, she expected him to use that strength against her. She wanted him to. Pin her against the wall and take his pleasure. Wring hers from her body, over and over again.

  Instead, he set his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in the middle of the room.

  Ever so slowly—ah, so torture was his game—he brushed her hair out of the way. She’d left it down, hanging straight down her back, and now he carefully slid the strands over her shoulder. His fingertips grazed her bare skin here and there, making her shiver.

  He tipped her head forward.

  Then she felt his lips on the back of her neck.

  She cried out and he whispered against her skin for her to be a good girl.

  Oh, he knew all the magic words. She bit her lip and held still for him as he brushed his lips against her vertebrae, one by one, until he reached her hairline. He wrapped his hand around her hair and tugged her head to the side, kissing along her neck and onto her jaw.

  He led her by that fistful of hair, turning her in his arms, until his mouth covered hers.

  Only then did he let go of her, and only so he could wrap his arms around her body.

  He tasted faintly of beer and mostly of desire, that sharp, delicious, incomparable taste you only had in the height of passion.

  She lifted her hands to his chest, tentative and unsure. If he was into kink, was he one of those guys who—

  “God, yes, touch me,” he groaned.

  Relief coursed through her. She palmed his muscles through his t-shirt, then moved higher in search of bare, hot skin.

  He scraped his teeth over her lower lip. “If I don’t want you to touch me, I’ll tie your hands behind your back. The rest of the time, feel free to maul me. I’ve wanted your hands on my body for days.”

  “Me too,” she whispered.

  “What else do you want?” He stroked his hands down her back, pressing her against him. He was hard all over.

  She pressed against his erection. “I want that.”

  “And?” His breath puffed against her neck, hot and ragged. “Gimme some details.”

  At the same time, his hands found her wrists. She sighed. “Yes, that. I want that.”

 
; He pulled her hands tight behind her back. “Do you have any rope?” he asked roughly.

  She inhaled, the promise of his words painful against the fact she didn’t keep any kink supplies in her apartment at all. “No.”

  “We can improvise until next time.”

  “You’ve got rope?” It was a statement, because of course he did, and a question, because how could she be so lucky?

  “What do you think I tied you up with that night?”

  Her lips parted and her eyes went wide. Of course. It wasn’t like there were just coils of rope lying around the villa.

  “Shock looks good on you,” he murmured as he brushed his lips over her cheek. “Makes me hard.”

  Heat pulsed through her at the crudeness. “What else do you like?”

  “Turning it around on me, are you?”

  She licked her lips. “Seemed fair.”

  “I like watching a woman come undone. I like keeping her there on the brink for a while. I like…struggle.”

  Need surged inside her. “Me too.”

  He pulled back enough to meet her gaze. “Then it’s a good thing we found each other, isn’t it?”

  A very good thing. It had been too long. Her thighs ached as the need inside her grew, made her slick for him. Heat swirled through her and made her painfully aware of her breasts swelling beneath the shifting fabric of her dress.

  Her mouth went dry. No, she couldn’t find the words to tell him what she wanted.

  But she could show him. She tensed her forearms, tugging against his hand. He gripped her tighter and she whimpered, rocking against him.

  His cock flexed hard into the softness of her belly. “Wait. God, you’re feisty.” He grinned, hard and feral. “I like that. But first, we need to negotiate some rules.”

  “No spanking,” she said, and he laughed.

  “You already made that clear. And I don’t share.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Is all pain off the table?”

  “Hair tugging, being held down…any pain that might be incidental to me resisting is fine.”