Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,29

Lost in him, tension low in her stomach, each motion of her hips thickening him, making every tiny sensation raw and primal. Tendrils of pleasure threaded through her with breathtaking force.

She climaxed on her next moan, her next heated breath, unable to hold back. With a savage groan, he joined her in a wild flex of muscles.

She grabbed his face, kissed him wildly and refused to let the moment fade. They were suspended for long glorious seconds, fused before their muscles started to relax again.

With an uneven sigh, he lifted his head, caressing her temple with his thumb. Laying a trail of soft kisses along her jaw, he moved again, snuggling her into his arms when he shifted to his side.

“Don’t leave in the morning,” she whispered, her voice catching.

She felt him smile as he lightly dragged his mouth along her neck, his breath sending a shiver through her. Smoothing back her hair, he murmured against her mouth, “Not a chance, Shea.” Then, tightening his hold, he locked her hips against his. His breathing soft, he covered her mouth with a kiss that comforted, that promised, that gave her more than she could have ever hoped for.

In moments, she heard his deep breathing. She figured he was beyond exhausted. He had to be. She’d done a little research on BUD/S. First to get acclimated to what she would be doing, and secondly, to take in and absorb the kind of mettle it took to get through the training. They didn’t call it elite for nothing. Intense was an understatement. It would give her insight on who the NWO terrorists were. They were exacting a revenge of sorts by targeting Navy SEALs. Their message: The men who keep America safe from foreign threats can’t even protect their own. An attack on them would undermine the notion of safety, whatever that entailed. It was her job to drill down on the recruits to find the men planted there by NWO to handle the humiliation and destruction of the legendary fighting force. Shea rose and went to the sliding glass doors and opened them, letting in the glorious breeze that tasted of salt and the heavy scent of the ocean. It was a gorgeous night.

Like it had been the night Maddy died.

Shea closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, bowing her head. Two years and the grief she’d felt was still real. Two years and the man responsible had slipped the noose and was skulking around, still enjoying his freedom. Untouchable by birth and political affiliation.

When she was ready, she was going to end him.

She slipped back inside and stopped in a patch of moonlight. Hemingway was bathed in that light and something made a shiver go down her spine. Being near him did something to her. She smiled and was shocked at how genuine it felt as she pulled the sheet up over his chest. He looked so comfortable, the lines between his brows when he was awake and interacting were gone, yet there was nothing boyish or innocent about him, even asleep. Hemingway was naturally a strong, skilled and sexy man, and because of that he made her aware of being a woman in every aspect.

Slipping back into bed, she found sleep still elusive, so she turned to him in her isolation and hoped to borrow some of his peace from him.

Mad Max dug into the sand and raced along the beach with Juggernaut. The Silver Strand had the softest damn sand in all of the world, but he’d cut his teeth on this beach and had gone through BUD/S, trained here with his teammates and one special kid who was kicking ass already in BUD/S. He couldn’t hold back the pride he felt in Hemingway. He embodied Max’s limitless thinking. If you can think it, you can do it.

He’d always believed that his thoughts created reality.

He was here to support Shea Palmer in her investigation into the NWO terrorists that Mad Max had already faced. He and his team had thwarted an attempt to blow oil wells in the Santa Barbara Channel and kill workers on the oil rig. The SEALs had to swim rough, storm-tossed seas, brave dangerous marine life, and assault a football field sized structure that rose nearly two hundred feet above the water with only eight men.

All that didn’t mean he had to just play the role of a BUD/S instructor. Anything he did, he wanted to do with his fullest capacity. That’s what