SEALionaire Book 2: A Navy SEAL Romance Read online

  He studied me with the same intense scrutiny that I directed at him, and I knew what he wanted.

  “Well, son,” the weasel curled his lip, “if you’d like me to call you by a name, perhaps you should provide one.”

  “Adam Dedman.” I leveled a hard glare at him, and his eyes fell away from mine after less than a few seconds.

  “And you’re here because…?” The weasel hadn’t lost his arrogant tone.

  What a dumb-ass.

  “Adam is here because I requested he join us,” James said when I didn’t respond. “Over the next few weeks, I’ll be transferring the reins over to him – with Olivia at his side, of course.”

  None of them blinked.

  They all just sat there, frozen, and for a few seconds, not a single one of them got it.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” The weasel exploded from his chair and flung a hand toward me. “We don’t even know who in the hell he is!”

  “He’s my son,” James said in a quiet, polite voice.

  It’s strange, but I recognized that tone of voice. It was the same one I’d heard used by a few of my superiors when they were talking to truly stupid fools. The tone that somehow managed to silence all but the very, very moronic.

  The weasel wasn’t moronic.

  His jaw snapped shut tightly, and he eased back, although he didn’t return to his seat.

  Seven sets of eyes came toward me. The only ones who weren’t looking at me were O and James.

  Pretending not to notice, I reached for my coffee and took a drink. It had started to cool, but we were getting ready to move into a series of psychological games, one headfuck after another. I didn’t know shit about business, true. But I knew headfuck. The military was full of it.

  A full thirty seconds passed before anyone spoke. A woman at the end of the table cleared her throat before breaking the silence. “Excuse me, James. I didn’t know you had, um, another son.”

  I glanced her way.

  “His mother and I were…estranged. And that’s more than you’re entitled to know.”

  I took another sip from my coffee, all the while keeping my eyes on the weasel. He wasn’t looking at me. His attention was focused on James.

  Save for the one moment when he glanced down the table.

  I saw who he was looking at too.

  The queen’s sister. Cherise Whitney.

  She noticed my attention before the weasel did, giving me a polite smile. Maybe if I hadn’t spent too many years being trained to dig out the worst scum imaginable, I would have believed that polished façade.

  But under that politeness, I saw something I was too familiar with.

  Malice wore a lot of masks.

  She turned her attention to James, looking for all the world like she was hanging onto every word he said.

  When I looked back at him, the weasel was doing the same.

  But I knew what I’d seen.

  12

  Olivia

  “Honestly, I think they took it rather well.” Standing in the boardroom while everybody drank their customary coffee and snacked on the light lunch James always provided, I studied the people around us.

  Not that they’d know.

  The reason James kept me handy was because I was good at doing all these little things without people realizing just what I was doing.

  “You think that went well?” Reaper looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  I grinned at the skepticism in his voice.

  More than once, a couple of board members had all but exploded as they sat in their seats and listened to James lay down the law.

  “You don’t know these people. I do. The fact that most of them were cordial to you as we wrapped up is a good thing. I’d bet if we were in the middle of a cocktail party, they’d all be coming over to offer their congrats.”

  “They’d be coming over to slip arsenic into my glass.”

  “They might try.” James joined us, studying me thoughtfully over the tops of his glasses. “I think we should do that.”

  “What…slip arsenic into his glass?” I cocked my head and looked over at Reaper. “Adam can be annoying, but I don’t think I’m ready to poison him. Yet.”

  Reaper laughed. Even James cracked a smile, but he shook his head. “The cocktail party. Something to formally move him into his new position. Let’s set it for the end of the week.”

  “Are you…what...” Reaper sputtered and finally managed to complete a sentence. A single, one word sentence. “No.”

  Both James and I ignored him as we focused on the particulars. “That sounds like a fine idea. Where should we have it?”

  “The estate is too far out. Too many might use it as a reason to not come. That won’t be acceptable.” He coughed into his fisted hand, the fit lasting longer than I liked, and I pretended to occupy myself by making a few notes on my phone, although I heard every pained breath he tried to take. He was getting weaker, sicker. He wasn’t even taking chemo.

  I knew he had spoken to the queen about his diagnosis. They were holding on for each other now. I imagined as soon as one passed, the other would follow within days, if not hours.

  My heart started to ache, and I shoved it aside.

  I couldn’t afford to hurt right now.

  I’d have to hold everything up until Reaper could do it on his own.

  “I’m leaving you the house.”

  I dropped my phone.

  Tears blurred my eyes, and I whispered, “Damn you. Don’t do this to me. Not right now.”

  He laid a hand on my shoulder while Reaper knelt and picked up my phone. Distantly, I noticed that he had taken a few steps, placing his solid body between me and the others still milling around the wide, airy room, providing me with the illusion of privacy.

  “O.”

  “Olivia,” I snapped at him, jerking my head up to glare at the man who hadn’t just been a father. He’d been my teacher, my friend. Everything I had could be traced back to that one act of kindness years ago. “You…you never call me O.”

  The hand resting on my shoulder slid around until he could pull me into a quick, casual hug. It was all I’d accept, considering where we were, and he knew it. He let me go in an instant.

  “It shouldn’t go to me,” I said stiltedly.

  James started to respond, but Reaper beat him to it.

  “Don’t start that shit.” He turned and stared at me. “You’re more his kid than I am. The house, this place…” He waved a hand. “I don’t even know why I’m here. But if he wants to leave you the house, this place, the whole jalopy, I can’t fault him for it.”

  Then shrugging, clearly uncomfortable, Reaper demanded, “What about this stupid party?”

  The last thing I should be doing when I had a big party to plan was make the forty-five-minute drive to the little cottage styled house in the Cincinnati suburbs where I knew I’d find one Adam Dedman.

  But that’s what I found myself doing at half past eleven that night, the top on my Mercedes-Benz down so the wind was tearing through my hair…and drying the tears on my face.

  James was dying.

  He was already getting weaker and sicker.

  In fact, it had been happening for a while, and I’d just refused to let myself see it. It was like having Reaper appear had made it…okay for me to accept the inevitable.

  “It’s not,” I told myself. “It’s not.”

  I hit the steering wheel with my balled up fist and resisted, barely, the urge to scream.

  I wanted to scream, to rant, to rail at the injustice of it all, but I didn’t.

  Taking the turn into the subdivision at a speed that sent the tires to squealing, I tore down the road and slammed on the brakes so hard, I ended up slamming forward. Only the seatbelt kept me from hitting the steering wheel.

  I pulled the keys out, staring at the darkened lights.

  What if Adam wasn’t home?

  What if–

  The lights came on.

>   I didn’t even remember climbing out of the car or starting up the sidewalk.

  One minute I was in the car.

  Then I was in front of him.

  “O?”

  He wore a pair of low-slung sweats, leaving his chest and abdomen bare. He’d lost weight, his hip bones pronounced. Every muscle was defined and hard, and the despair inside me morphed into something else. Something that had an outlet.

  I lunged for him.

  He caught me, and when his mouth slammed down on mine, I had to wonder if maybe he’d been waiting for me. Hoping for me.

  I practically climbed up his body, wrapping my legs around his hips. Big, hard hands caught my ass and held me up as he boosted me higher. “Hold on,” he muttered, breaking the kiss just long enough to say those two words.

  Hold on…to what? Him?

  He was the only thing that felt solid and real, so I’d do that. I’d hold on to him.

  The earth spun, shook…he was walking.

  Then my feet were on the floor, and he’d stopped kissing me. “Hey,” I grumbled.

  “You’re overdressed,” he said, gripping the loose material of the sundress I’d pulled on.

  It was the only thing I’d pulled on, and judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t been expecting that.

  I brought my hands up instinctively, but he caught them. Looking around, I realized he’d brought us into his living room, and I let him guide my hands back down.

  “I love your body, O,” he said, dipping his head to press a kiss to the upper slope of my left breast, then my right. “You’re about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You need to get out more.” I wasn’t trying to take a dig at myself. I wasn’t unattractive. I had my strong points, but I also knew I wasn’t in the same league as some the women around here.

  “No.” He caught my face in his hands and arched my chin up until we were staring into each other’s eyes.

  “You…” He kissed one cheekbone.

  “Are…” He kissed the other cheekbone.

  “So…” His mouth grazed mine, and I shivered.

  “Fucking…” He bit my lower lip and tugged.

  “Sexy.” He caught my naked hips and pulled me in close, until the only thing that separated us where the sweats he wore. “It hurts just to look at you.”

  I whimpered because now I was hurting. I could feel the heat and hardness of him, and I wanted him inside me. Bad.

  “Feel me.” His voice was a growl. Catching my hand, he guided me until my fingers were fisted around his cock. “Feel what you do…”

  Up, down…he pulsed against my touch. When he let go, I dipped my hand inside his sweats.

  Dimly, I knew that he’d braced both of his hands on the door over my head. He’d carried me inside, shut the door and put my back against it. That was it. Now, as I stood there naked, I began to stroke him. His baggy pants were in the way, so I used my free hand to tug them down.

  He pulled back, and I made a frustrated noise.

  “So impatient,” he said when he came back to me.

  I went to take his cock in my hand again, but he stopped me, picking me up.

  “Adam…”

  “Olivia…”

  He guided my legs around his hips and I shivered, whimpering a little as I felt the head of his cock teasing my folds. I was so wet already, and the hard steel of his cock made me shiver. “In me…now,” I demanded.

  “Bossy. I love that in a woman.” He teased me more, though, passing over me once, twice…

  I slammed my head back against the door and groaned, twisting my hips, trying to guide him home.

  “You keep that up, and I’m going to go a little crazy.”

  “I’m way past that point. Stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

  “I’ll do more than that,” he promised. Then he drove inside.

  I screamed. He buried himself all the way to the root in one long driving thrust, and I was still struggling to adjust when he did it a second time, then a third.

  “Look at me,” he said, voice raw and harsh. One big hand cupped my face, his thumb lifting my chin. “Look at me…”

  His eyes, hot and burning and so dark, all but consumed me. When his mouth took mine, I knew I had been consumed. Taken over. By him.

  He drove a climax from me, then another.

  I was shaking and almost ready to beg for mercy when he caught my ass in his hands and slowed his thrusts, shifting around until his back was to his door. Then he began to lift me, dragging me up and down his swollen length as he watched me. “You’re getting inside my soul, O,” he said. “All the way in…”

  I groaned, my head falling back.

  I felt every nuance of him as he continued to guide the slow, almost torturous rhythm, each stroke, each movement designed to incite madness inside me.

  “Now,” he said, his cock swelling. “Come…I can feel that snug cunt getting hot and tight again. Come…”

  I exploded.

  This time, so did he.

  “You know you can’t run from this.”

  Reaper lay against my back, one hand on my belly.

  We’d taken a shower, and he’d taken me…again. Slowly, this time, starting with him going down on me and ending with him turning me away while he slid in from behind, bringing me to a sweet, nearly endless climax.

  But it didn’t end there.

  We’d come to his room, and there, he stretched me out on my belly, massaged my back, my legs and arms…then he turned me over, put my knees up to my ears and pounded into me until I was breathless.

  Now, sticky from him and sweat and needing another shower, I’d been this close to sleeping.

  And he wanted to talk.

  “I wasn’t running from anything,” I said sullenly. “I was horny, and I wanted sex.”

  He was quiet for so long, I didn’t think he’d respond.

  “Okay then.” He kissed my shoulder.

  He was going to let it go. Part of me was mad. I needed to talk. He was supposed to push me. That’s what couples–

  “What are we?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  That’s what couples did…

  I was acting like we were involved. All we’d had was sex – excellent sex, but it was sex. Did he even care?

  “What are we?”

  He shifted on the bed, and I squeezed my eyes closed. Here we go. I’d done it now. I’d broached the relationship thing, and he was going to get up, leave – no, wait. He was going to throw me out. Then he’d avoid me, and things would be awkward and…

  He rolled, pulling me with him and moving around until he was on his back, and I was sprawled against his chest.

  “I never thanked you for helping me out when I screwed things up – being there, bailing me out.” He waited a beat, then said, “Thanks. It’s a weird way to start a relationship. Then I disappeared and tried to drown myself in a bottle…even worse. But…well, that’s how things go sometimes.”

  I blinked down at him, not quite following.

  He grinned up at me. “This is where you offer something. Yes, Reaper…I want to be involved in a relationship with you,” he said, his voice rising in a pitiful imitation of a woman.

  “Yes, Reaper,” I said, feeling a little off-balance. “I want to be in a relationship – wait. Are you talking like friends with benefits?”

  He stroked his knuckles down my back. The caress made me shiver. “I’ve got friends. Some good ones, and I’ve been an asshole to them. Still, I’ve got some friends. The idea of being friends with you…benefits or not…no. That’s not what I want. Or at least not all.”

  The warm, sweet emotion that bloomed in my chest was one I hadn’t ever experienced before. I savored it, every bit of it, as I lowered my head and kissed him. “Adam, I’d like to be in a relationship with you. Of course, it will be complicated. You’re kind of like, um, my boss now. Although I know way more than you do.”

  “Sounds a lot like how things have been with a lot
of my bosses. Although I’ve never wanted to bend any of them over the nearest desk and screw them silly.” He grinned at me. But the smile faded, and he reached up, brushed my hair back. “You still going to pretend you’re not running, O?”

  To my horror, tears began to burn my eyes.

  I dropped my head down onto his chest and started to weep.

  “I’m not ready to lose him, Reaper.”

  He held me.

  He kissed my hair.

  And in the quiet of the night, he said, “I know, O. I know.”

  13

  Reaper

  The glitz and glam and sparkles were going to blind me.

  I felt entirely out of place.

  I was almost certain that there were women here at my party wearing shoes that cost more than I used to make in a month – no, I was certain. Before the party, O had insisted we go shopping, and she’d picked out several outfits for me. The price tags there had left me speechless.

  Technically, I knew that some people spent that kind of money but seeing it in action left me shaking my head. Then she’d insisted I get fitted for a custom tux. Not for the party. It’s dressy casual, but you need a tux for the formal functions.

  I didn’t see why anybody required a penguin suit, but what the hell.

  “Well, look at you.”

  The familiar voice had me grinning, and I turned. Ignoring the hand that was offered, I grabbed Hawk and hauled him in for a hug. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

  “You clean up nice.” He looked at me in the clothes O had helped me select – purchased on an account that she had set up. Your account, of course. Then she’d gone with me to the bank so we could take care of a few small issues. Small. To the tune of a bank balance that had left me feeling light-headed.

  James Clarion, my father, was a fucking billionaire and then some.

  And I was about to inherit it.

  The why and how of it all made me a little sick.