The SEAL's Secret Daughter Read online

  Sliding the dead bolt home gave her a boost of courage, a feeling of being the one in command. The decision had been made and Ethan was still here, watching her as she stood there shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “So how does this work? Do I offer you some coffee or something, or do we just head straight upstairs?”

  “You mean you haven’t already put a rule in place for one-night stands?”

  The phrase made her wince, even though Monica had been the one to originally introduce the option of casual sex. “Is that what this is? A one-and-done kind of thing?”

  “Rule four,” he said, closing the distance between them. “Let’s not put any time limits on anything.”

  Cupping her cheek, his face was only inches away from hers. He lifted his other hand and gently removed her glasses and set them on the small entry table. She could feel the ruffle along the V-neckline of her dress flutter against her chest as it rose and fell. One deep breath. Two deep breaths. Three... When his lips melded against hers, she didn’t think about any more breaths or any more rules. She didn’t think about anything but being closer to him and the barrier of his shirt that was now the only thing standing in her way.

  Her fingers worked frantically over the buttons while her tongue dove in deeper in an attempt to stake her claim inside his mouth. When she finally got underneath, the heat from his bare chest set her palms on fire as she stroked every muscle, every ridge as though she needed to memorize the feel of him.

  Something tugged against her arms and she moaned as her hands were pulled away from exploring his torso. But then she realized he was only relieving her of her jacket and her fingers returned to him as soon as she was free of the faded denim. His own hands slid to her hips and then behind to her rear end as he pulled her to him, pressing her against the hard length of desire under his zipper.

  The house had grown chilly from the March evening and cool air kissed at the backs of her thighs as he slowly moved the silky fabric of her dress higher until it was bunched around her waist. Monica reached behind her to unzip the back, but his hands followed and one palm cupped the nape of her neck as he worked the zipper down.

  His fingers trailed against her shoulders and she felt the dress delicately glide against her, bringing a heightened awareness to her skin as it dropped to the ground at her feet. Her bra followed the same route and the next thing she knew, she was standing in front of the man in nothing but her panties and her cowboy boots.

  “Wow,” he said, his voice low and throaty and warming every inch of her exposed flesh. When Ethan stared at her like that, Monica no longer felt shy or awkward. She felt bold and powerful and capable of bringing a man to his knees. “I’ve spent the last six months imagining what you would look like when I finally got you naked, but nothing in my fantasies could’ve prepared me for how perfect the reality is. You are so much more than I expected.”

  “Finally got me naked?” she asked, reaching for his belt buckle. “You were pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

  He lifted only one finger and traced it so lightly against her hardened nipple, her head tilted back as she whimpered.

  “The only thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t going to stop wanting you until I had you, Mon. And even now, I doubt that one time will be enough.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to wait anymore.” She brought her mouth back to his and kissed him deeply as she pressed her flat palms against the warm skin under his waistband, working his pants over the well-rounded curve of his butt until they joined her dress on the floor.

  Ethan’s hands were stroking and massaging and driving her mad as he hauled her against him. Breaking his lips away, he kissed a trail across her jaw, down her neck and to the same breast he’d been teasing earlier. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands continuing their descent over her hips, her thighs, her knees and her calves.

  His lips had moved to the sensitive spot right below her belly button and after that, she didn’t know where his hands went. Or what he’d done with her panties. Monica’s breathing was already labored, but when Ethan’s tongue dove into the center of her heat, she began to suck in quick gasps of air through her moans.

  The first time she’d kissed him had been in the middle of the book stacks at the library where anyone could’ve seen them. Now she was standing in the entryway of her house—still wearing her boots—as Ethan’s tongue flicked and stroked and brought her to the highest peaks of desire. Apparently, her shameless response to him knew no bounds, and she no longer cared.

  “I need you.” Spreading her fingers through the short hair on his scalp, she eased his head up, watched him rise to his feet as his lips made their way back up to her face. “Now.”

  “You have me,” he smirked. He walked her backward and when they got to the staircase, Monica thought he was going to lift her up and carry her upstairs.

  But she didn’t want to wait another second. She lowered herself to the second step, pulling him down with her. His lean hips slid between her thighs and she felt the rigid length of his manhood against the area he’d just so thoroughly kissed.

  His chest pressed into her breasts and his face hovered over hers, his breath just as quick and frantic as hers when he asked, “Right here? On the stairs?”

  She answered by pulling his lower lip into her mouth and suckling it.

  His groan was low and a thrill shot through her at the knowledge that she could drive him just as wild as he was driving her.

  “I need to grab something,” he mumbled, but didn’t take his eyes off her as he stretched an arm behind him and fumbled with his discarded pants. When he returned, he was already tearing open the package. As he rolled the condom on, the latex scent of the prophylactic mingled with the scent of her desire and Monica’s thighs instinctively drew him closer, knowing her release was only moments away.

  Pausing as his tip entered her, he closed his eyes and held himself perfectly still, as though he wanted to savor the moment. Monica drew in a ragged breath. “Ethan, please...”

  With another groan, Ethan thrust forward, filling her as he lifted her hips. He wrapped his forearms against her waist, shielding her lower back from the wood planks of the stairs as he withdrew and plunged into her again and again. As the tempo built, Monica brought her knees around him, clinging tightly to every inch of him as her body shuddered and then shattered against him.

  * * *

  Ethan had never yelled out during sex before, but his ears were still echoing and his throat was hoarse from the way Monica’s name had been torn from his mouth when he’d completely lost himself inside of her.

  He eased his arms from behind her back and rested on his knees, which had never left the ground floor. Ethan couldn’t believe he’d taken her right there on the stairs, but he certainly didn’t mind the sight of her wearing nothing but a sheen of sweat and her cowboy boots.

  His lips curved into a self-congratulatory grin as he stood and reached to pull her to her feet. She gave a contented sigh and his chest puffed out at the knowledge that he’d done a thorough job of satisfying her. So much for her one-and-done concern.

  “Should we head to your room for round two?” he asked as he nuzzled his mouth against the warmth of her neck.

  “I don’t know if my legs are strong enough to climb the stairs yet.”

  “I’ve carried rucksacks heavier than you,” he said before lifting her up vertically.

  She let out a shriek before wrapping her calves around him again. He’d already made it up the first two steps when a muted ringtone sounded from his pants pocket on the floor below.

  Monica stiffened before looking around frantically, probably to make sure they hadn’t been caught again. Setting her back on her feet, he said, “Let me just make sure it’s nothing important.”

  It took him a moment to dig the phone out of the pocket of his tangled pants. When he saw Trina’s name
on the screen, his heart jumped into his throat. “Hello?”

  “Uh, hi. It’s me. Trina.” Her voice was hesitant and came out as a whisper, sending his pulse into overdrive. Something was wrong.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, um, nothing?” There was a slight echo to her words and he told himself that she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

  “Are you in the bathroom?”

  “Yeah? Um... I just wanted to see what you were doing?” Everything she said came out as a question.

  Monica had already found her glasses and was pulling on her dress, concern etched all over her face. Obviously, he wasn’t about to tell his daughter exactly what he was doing, but Trina knew he was supposed to be at a dance with Monica and she was smart enough to pick up on the fact there was no music playing in the background. “I was just dropping Mon off at her house. How are things going at the Patrellis’?”

  Please say everything’s okay, he thought. Not just because he wanted his daughter to be making friends and having a good time, but also because he wanted to continue having his own good time, as well. Man, that made him sound like a selfish ass.

  “Um, it’s okay, I guess? They have a lot of kids.”

  Ethan remembered spending the night at his best friend’s house when he’d been the same age. The Phillips family also had a lot of kids and their house was full of noise and fun and arguments and life. He’d loved going over there and pretending he was just one more sibling. However, Trina wasn’t the same way. She liked reading and listening to music by herself and anything else that involved being quiet. Which meant she was probably miserable over there.

  Looking at Monica, her lips swollen and her cheeks raw from the whisker burn of his five o’clock shadow, Ethan swallowed a lump of disappointment and asked his daughter, “Want me to come pick you up?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t want Kayla to think I’m a baby.”

  The fact that she was even admitting that much made Ethan want to run to her rescue.

  “Why don’t you tell her that Tootie won’t settle down and go to sleep because she’s missing you?” he offered. It was a valid enough excuse since that kitten had meowed like crazy at him after he’d returned to the apartment earlier this afternoon without Trina. “I’m leaving the Alvarez house now and should be there in about five.”

  He heard a sigh of relief coming from the other end. “Thank you, Dad.”

  The air left his lungs as he stared at the disconnected phone in his hands. It was the first time his daughter had actually called him Dad and not just in reference. A warmth spread through him and it felt as though the leader of the free world had just placed a medal of honor around his neck.

  “Is everything okay?” Monica asked.

  “Trina called me Dad,” he said as he grinned stupidly at Monica. “She’s never called me that before.”

  Monica’s own mouth formed a surprise O before returning his smile. “That’s incredible.” Then her face dropped as she lifted her brows. “But did something happen at the Patrellis’?”

  Ethan had done the casual thing with women before, but in his experience, a woman didn’t appreciate being ditched before the night ended—no matter which call of duty summoned him. Monica had said she wanted to keep things physical and he was now about to put her wishes to the test.

  “She didn’t want to admit it, but she was a little nervous and would be more comfortable if I pick her up.” He waited for a pout or an attempt to convince him otherwise.

  “Poor Trina,” Monica tsked before handing him his shirt. “I used to hate sleepovers when I was a girl. All that forced talking and staying up late and pretending to like another parents’ cooking? It would always throw me off my routine and make me feel unsettled.”

  The way she shoved his shoes at him while he was still yanking a leg through his pants was beginning to make Ethan feel a bit unsettled himself. Apparently, she was pretty eager to see him leave. He tried not to be bothered by it. “So you don’t mind if I take a rain check on coming upstairs with you?”

  “Ethan, no promises or commitments, remember?” Her eyes darted around to everything else in the room but him as she reached behind her back to work up the zipper of her dress.

  Unsure of whether her words were meant as a reminder that he didn’t owe her anything, or a reminder that she wasn’t guaranteeing anything in the future, he brought his finger to her chin and tilted up her face until she was forced to look directly at him. “You don’t have to commit to anything, Mon. But I have no problem promising that I’m going to want you again. And soon.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Monica pressed her fingers to her swollen lips after Ethan gave her a parting kiss.

  Turning to climb the stairs, she avoided looking at the lower steps where they’d just made love. No, not made love, she corrected herself. They’d just had uncomplicated sex. Uncomplicated, mind-blowing, soul-reaching, earth-shattering sex.

  And he’d promised to make her feel that way all over again. Perhaps they might even make it to an actual bed next time.

  Nope, she wasn’t going to go there, Monica told herself as she stepped into the hot shower and scrubbed the scent of his musky cologne off her skin. She shouldn’t be looking forward to there even being a next time. Monica would never depend on a man for anything, not even uncomplicated, mind-blowing, soul-reaching, earth-shattering sex.

  Especially from a man that had a history of leaving town when a better offer came along. While Ethan might currently be proving himself to be a decent father, Monica knew that it couldn’t last forever. Even a supposedly reformed bad boy might eventually get restless and take off. Although, he hadn’t hesitated to go get Trina when she’d called and wanted to come home. In fact, he’d been downright giddy at the fact that his daughter had finally called him Dad. So at least the man’s priorities were in order. For now.

  When she climbed into her bed, her head barely hit the pillow before she was fast asleep. She slept hard and deep and didn’t so much as dream until something startled her awake and she shot up in her bed. The house was way too dark and way too quiet.

  Gran.

  She’d forgotten to check on her. Monica’s bare feet padded quickly down the dark hall toward her grandmother’s room and when she saw the quilt perfectly made up on the bed, a kernel of panic rose in her chest. The digital clock with the jumbo numbers beside Gran’s bed blinked 3:06 a.m. And then her sleepy brain finally clicked into place and she remembered her grandmother was staying at Legacy Village tonight.

  See. Getting involved with Ethan was already making Monica forget about her responsibilities. Bringing him home last night had been a huge mistake.

  Monica raced downstairs and held her breath as she fumbled in her purse, looking for her cell phone and praying she wouldn’t find any missed calls from her grandmother. She let out a deep exhale when the screen came up blank. Nicole, the intake nurse, had told her that she could call the nursing desk anytime to check on Gran. But surely they would’ve notified her by now if there had been any problems. Carrying her phone back to her bed, Monica vowed to put all thoughts of Ethan out of her mind and to try to go back to sleep.

  Unfortunately, she tossed and turned the rest of the night, reliving every touch, every kiss and every stroke.

  * * *

  Monica drove straight to Legacy Village on Sunday morning, finding a happy Gran holding court at the breakfast buffet and showing a woman wearing zebra-print slippers and a plastic tiara how to use the waffle iron.

  “Look, Hector—” Gran reached across the toppings station and passed the can of whipped cream to an elderly man with the biggest earlobes Monica had ever seen “—my granddaughter’s plane finally landed. How was the flight, mija?”

  “My name is Gary, lady,” the man grumbled before putting the whipped cream and three bananas into the hidden compartment under the
seat of his walker and shuffling off.

  “Are you ready to go home, Gran?” Monica asked, casting another look at Gary, who grabbed a few spoons out of the silverware caddy and slipped them into his pocket.

  “Already?” her grandmother asked. “Can’t we stay another night at the hotel? Please?”

  Monica observed all of the residents sitting at their little tables in groups of four and six. The dining room was decorated more like an upscale country club than the Cowgirl Up Café, but it was just as crowded and lively as the Sugar Falls restaurant on a Sunday morning.

  “But we always make sopa together on Sunday nights.” Really, just like the enchiladas, Gran made everything herself while Monica just supervised.

  “Mija, you know how to make sopa just fine by yourself. Besides, they’re having church services at ten. They have a lady minister who comes in and we don’t even have to go anywhere. Then they’re having a piano player this afternoon and obviously they’re going to need someone to lead the dancing.” Gran lowered her voice to a whisper, “Some of these people are so stiff and bored, they don’t even get up to dance unless someone encourages them.”

  Probably because more than half of the residents appeared to have limited mobility, Monica thought as the wire basket on an electric scooter clipped her elbow, its occupant speeding by toward the omelet station.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Alvarez.” Nicole appeared, her hair in a sleek purple bob today. “I heard you had quite the active night last evening.”

  Monica’s stomach sank as she braced herself for the worst. No telling what kind of mischief her grandmother had gotten into. Please don’t let it involve fire damage or monetary compensation, Monica prayed silently. There was no way they could afford any more setbacks.