A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing

Chapter 11

Finn stared at Meara in disbelief, and he instantly wanted to pummel Bjornolf.

“Bjornolf kissing me didn’t mean anything,” Meara said to Finn, her face red, as she slumped on the bench, grabbed a stick, and began poking it in the sand. “Hell, Finn. I wasn’t going to tell you that part.”

“That he kissed you? Why the hell not?” He couldn’t help how angry he felt, partly because she hadn’t planned to tell him what had happened between her and Bjornolf. She’d only blurted the truth because Finn had ticked her off. Was that what Anna had known and had wanted to warn him about?

He still couldn’t believe the bastard had actually kissed Meara. When? No wonder the man had been so damned smug when Finn had seen him in the lounge. First, Bjornolf had felt her up and she didn’t do anything to indicate she didn’t like it, and then she’d let him kiss her?

“I figured you might want to kill him,” she said, her voice soft with regret.

“And you wanted to keep him alive.”

“No!” Her face blossomed with color anew. “I mean, of course I didn’t want you to kill him. I didn’t kiss him back. I was shocked. That’s all.”

“Shocked.” When did a woman like Meara not react to such an intrusion of her space? If she secretly wanted it! Damn it. “When in the hell did he kiss you?”

She poked the stick deeper into the sand. “In the lobby.”

“When?” he asked more gruffly.

“When you were rescuing Anna!”

He unclenched his fists. He should have left her here at the safe house—safe from the likes of someone like Bjornolf. “And then you went to meet him in the lounge. Why? To share a drink? Another kiss? Kiss him back this time?”

“You’re an ass.”

That was the Meara he knew. He smiled a little at that, but then his smile faded. Yeah, he was an ass. If Meara was intrigued with Bjornolf, who was he to say the man wouldn’t be right for her? She was Hunter’s responsibility, and he could have dealt with her falling for a deep-cover operative.

Finn settled on the bench next to her and took a deep breath. They didn’t speak for what seemed like forever. She kept poking the damn stick into the sand, and he kept stewing over Bjornolf’s intentions toward her. Finally he said, “I’m not a romantic, Meara. I don’t believe in giving flowers or chocolate or mushy cards or any of that sentimental stuff.”

She pointed to the chocolate bars and softly said, “Might not be a date, but I haven’t had a nicer outing with a man than I’ve had with you.”

Surprised she’d feel that way, he stared at her for a moment for any indication that she was teasing him, but she seemed sincere.

“I’m talking candy hearts filled with chocolates.” He was talking real dating. And he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t made that way. It all seemed fake, part of some ritual he didn’t believe in. And he wasn’t about to fall into that trap.

At first, Meara didn’t know where this conversation was going. She assumed he was trying to let her down gently—that he wasn’t the mating type. But she hadn’t meant to say a thing about Bjornolf kissing her until Finn had riled her. She realized afterward what the matter was. He was jealous!

And that had both surprised and tickled her. She already knew he wasn’t the mating type. But she also wanted Finn to know that was okay. That she enjoyed being with him, no matter what the circumstances. And that no matter what macho game Bjornolf was playing with Finn, the operative didn’t mean anything to her.

She tried to keep the conversation less serious, more lighthearted. She’d been truly scared that Finn or Anna might have been injured or worse. And her intention had only been to learn more about Bjornolf so she could help Finn discover who he was, not to see more of the man.

She needed quiet time to enjoy the beauty of the beach and ocean, and to unwind before she collapsed in bed so that she wouldn’t keep replaying what might have happened if Bjornolf had been one of the bad guys.

What she didn’t need was any more discussion about Bjornolf and that stolen kiss.

“Hmm, never thought you’d be the type who would be into flowers and the like. So what are you into?” She envisioned a woman reloading a musket for her man during the American Revolution. Someone who was stout of heart, a real outdoorswoman not bothered by sharing a snake bake on the beach. Someone probably like Anna. “A woman who reloads your weapon without being told to?” Meara asked, when he didn’t respond right away.

Finn didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was considering that scenario. Then his mouth curved up, and the skin beneath his eyes crinkled. “My weapon is always loaded.”

She hesitated to respond, then getting his double entendre, she felt herself blush and she frowned. “Geez, Finn. Do you ever think of anything but that? Here I’m envisioning a woman reloading her husband’s musket during the American Revolution, and you’re… well, you’re incorrigible.”

He laughed, and she was glad to see him lighten up. He didn’t have to be jealous of Bjornolf, but she figured telling him that wouldn’t have any impact on him. He had to see for himself.

“It’s important that I’m always armed. Comes with the job,” Finn said, trying to put on a serious countenance but failing.

She snorted. “Your dates must think you’re loads of fun.”

He stared out at the ocean and appeared serious for the moment, contemplative even. “I’m not the settling-down type.” He motioned to the water. “This is the only life for me. It’s in the genes. My ancestor was a descendant of Leif Erikson, if Hunter didn’t mention it.”

“The Viking explorer?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Finn glanced at her. “Hunter told us you were strong-willed, and he worried about you. Especially when we were away on missions. He didn’t trust the pack to watch over you like he could.”

“I suppose he said a lot of things about me,” she remarked as she looked out to sea, not liking that Hunter had talked about her to his men behind her back.

“He warned us to stay away from you.”

She looked back at Finn. “What?” She couldn’t believe Hunter would do that. Then again, she could. Not that she had planned on chasing after any of them.

Finn gave her a decidedly boyish grin that was more charming than anything. “The guys were curious about you, since you’re unmated and Hunter’s twin sister, and knowing him the way we do.”

She just stared at Finn in incredulity. Was that why Hunter had never left her alone with any of the guys during the brief times she’d seen them over the years? Because one of them might have shown some interest in her? Was it for her protection or theirs?

Here she’d thought he was worried she’d learn too much about their secret missions!

But she remembered how the men would mill around in the background as Hunter gave her last-minute instructions that she would listen to only if she agreed with them. The men would watch her, not Hunter, as if waiting to see her reaction. She had always figured they were amused to see him giving his sister orders and not just them. Now she wondered if there was more to it. Maybe they wondered if she’d be as much trouble as Hunter no doubt had told them she would be if they thought of her as a prospective mate.

She growled. Hunter had no right to interfere in her life to that degree.

Then she reconsidered Finn’s words: The guys were curious about you, since you’re unmated and Hunter’s twin sister.

The guys. Not just one or two of them. But the guys. And that meant this guy, too—Finn.

She felt her face flush, and she quickly looked back at the ocean. So what did that mean? The guys had been too afraid to check her out? To go behind Hunter’s back? She’d thought they were all too alpha and would have stood up to him if the circumstances warranted. Then again, he’d been their team leader, and they did respect him.

She took a deep breath. SEALs. The fact that they were friends of Hunters and had been his teammates in the Navy had made them off limits, despite the fact she had been intrigued by them. Who wouldn’t have been? Rugged, healthy, muscular, fascinating. And brainy. All were skilled in the operations they had to conduct. All were dedicated to the mission and to each other. Loyalty like that was hard to find. But still, she wouldn’t have shown any real interest and caused trouble between Hunter and his men.

She and Finn sat in silence for a long time, listening to the waves crashing on the beach in a lulling, hypnotic way and the sound of crabs scurrying about the sand some distance off. She wasn’t used to being at a loss for words, but for once, she really didn’t know what to say. And for once, she felt truly uncomfortable being with Finn.

Up until now, she had brushed off any sexual interest he had exhibited toward her as being a matter of wolfish prowess. And since she’d wanted the intimacy as much as he had, she’d assumed he’d needed to satisfy some feral desire, nothing more. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted her. It was just a way of showing how hot he thought he was while taking care of baser instincts. And being a SEAL on top of that? Alpha to the max.

But now? He’d revealed that he truly had been interested in her all those years, and that made her feel—differently.

That’s when the oddest feeling washed over her. Hunter had been saying for years how she was too choosey. That she’d never find the right mate. And that’s when she realized it. Deep down, she was afraid of men. Well, not any man, but specifically alpha males. She couldn’t take up with a beta because she couldn’t see having a mate who wasn’t up to the challenge. But she was afraid an alpha would quash her own natural alpha tendencies. She wanted—and feared—an alpha male.

She let out her breath with a heavy sigh and noticed Finn turn his head in her direction.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his tone gentle, not pushy.

She shook her head. No way would she tell him or anyone else how she felt about alpha males. She’d successfully hidden her feelings all these years—from herself, even, it seemed. No sense in letting anyone else know how she truly felt. Awkwardly uncomfortable, she started to poke the stick into the sand some more, digging until she had a deep, narrow hole. Doing something physical helped her control her unwanted nervousness.

“If Hunter didn’t want me around you guys, why did he leave me in your protective custody now?” she asked, figuring her brother hadn’t any choice this time.

“He knows any one of us would protect you better than someone who wasn’t one of our team. I just happened to be the only one available for the job.”

Just happened to be? What about Paul? He could have come for her. Unless he had been busy. Maybe he’d been somewhere more inaccessible so he couldn’t get there in time to warn Hunter.

She wanted to know what the guys had really said about her, if they’d bothered to speak about her at all. They’d have to have done it in private, she imagined, when Hunter hadn’t been around. He could be annoyingly protective, even when she didn’t need or certainly want his protection. He’d broken up more potential dates than she could remember.

She poked her stick even deeper, annoyed at Hunter for messing up what might have been a possible mating in several instances if she’d only been able to go her own course without his interference. Now she had Finn watching her every move and no chance to return to her cabin to manage the rental units until this was over. And then? Hunter would be back.

She glanced over at Finn, expecting him to be watching the ocean again as if he were his ancestor Leif Erikson, looking at his real home in the deep blue sea and wanting to sail away to new lands, when instead he was stuck protecting Meara on the beach. He was actually watching her poke the stick into the hole she had made in the sand. He caught her eye, raised his brows, and gave her the most wickedly evil grin. He clasped his hand over hers and pulled the stick out of the hole.

He held her hand firmly and leaning closer to her, his whole posture stating that he was in charge. She frowned at him, not knowing what his problem was.

“Hunter didn’t say how much trouble you could be,” he said, and winked. “We ought to go inside now.”

Her lips parted in protest as she narrowed her eyes at him. But he just gave her a small crocodile smile back and raised his brows a hair.

Heat filled her whole being when he didn’t release her hand. She glanced down at his fingers wrapped around hers, the stick poking at the tip of the hole in the sand.

“I’ll follow you up in a minute,” he said quietly.

She noticed then that his voice was downright husky with sexual overtones. Her gaze quickly shifted to his jeans. Ohmigod, he was fully aroused. As if he knew what she’d realized, he grinned at her. “Follow you up in a minute?” he asked this time.

Hell, he probably couldn’t walk with a boner like that.

Then she wondered what had brought that on? His hand squeezed hers, bringing her attention to the stick in her hand and the hole she’d made in the sand. Her mouth dropped open for a second. Her poking the stick in the hole had given him ideas?

Men were absolutely incorrigible. At least this SEAL was.

Meara would be the death of him, Finn thought glumly as he waited for her to enter the house while he attempted to reign in his raging erection. He’d tried to let her down gently, to explain that he couldn’t be the one for her. Yet if he hadn’t been a thrill seeker, Meara would have been just the wolf he wouldn’t have minded settling down with.

He shook his head at himself and glanced at the dark hillside, wondering if Bjornolf had been watching them. He was sure the lone wolf had been, which was the only reason Finn hadn’t given into his more wolfish desires and kissed Meara again on the beach. He couldn’t do that when his mission was protecting her, not ravishing her.

After a few minutes, he put out the fire and headed to the stairs, unable to set aside the thought of Bjornolf kissing her in the lobby. The overwhelming question was: why had he done it?

To goad Finn into action? To announce his claim? Or was that just his usual MO with a woman he found attractive? What the hell was Bjornolf trying to say?

Finn ran up the stairs and entered the house, then locked the door behind him.

Meara was still in the bathroom showering when Finn walked down the hall. He breathed in the sweet, tangy fragrance of tangerines, fresh water, and Meara. He paused to take his fill and thought of her soaping up all that silky soft skin of hers. Then, with the utmost difficulty, he finally let go of thinking of her and entered the bedroom. For an instant, he wanted to haul her into his bedroom, the master bedroom suite of the house, and take her to bed. He sighed. Best to leave things the way they were. If he ever took her to his bed, trying to keep his distance would be a lost cause. As long as they stayed in one of the guest rooms, it felt as though they were more on equal footing.

He stripped out of everything but his boxers and climbed under the covers of the guest bed, then waited expectantly for Meara to return to the bedroom. He should have gone right to sleep. He shouldn’t have been anticipating wrapping his arms around her and snuggling until they both fell asleep. But no matter how hard he tried to see this as just a mission—protect Hunter’s sister at all costs—somehow the demarcation line between what he should be doing and what he wanted to do was blurring.

He’d expected her to be wearing her skimpy pajama shorts set when she walked into the room, but instead, a long terry cloth robe covered her body, and her feet were bare while she towel-dried her hair. She hadn’t seen him in the bed as she moved to the chair where he finally noticed her pajamas were set out. She hung the towel over the back of the chair and then began to untie the robe.

She should have known he was here. Smelled him. Even heard his heart beating at an increased rate. But barring that, he should have made an audible sound, cleared his throat, done something to let her know he was in bed already and watching her with feral desire.

Unable to move, he observed her with fascination as she peeled the robe off her shoulders until she was standing naked and dropped the robe onto the chair. She was turned so he could see her profile, the lovely curve of her breast, the peak of a dusky nipple, her hip, her shapely leg. She moved dreamily as if she was already half asleep, lulled by the heat of the shower, as she pulled the skimpy tank top over her head, the rest of her naked still.

She reached for her shorts, but something made her turn to look at the bed, as if she’d finally realized he might already be there. Her eyes widened and her luscious lips parted, but she didn’t say anything. Expecting her to scold him for being so quiet and watching her in silence, he was surprised when her mouth curved up fractionally, her eyes matching her amusement.

“I don’t imagine this is what Hunter had in mind when he said he wanted you to watch me.”

Finn smiled, and he was certain his wolfish grin looked as needy as he felt.

She slipped on her shorts and sauntered to the bed in a sultry, sexy way. He pulled the covers aside, inviting her to join him—close, and she obliged, her back to him, his body comfortably spooning hers. He should have left well enough alone. Snuggled with her. Enjoyed the heat, the softness, the fragrance that was Meara, yet he couldn’t let go of the niggling exasperation he felt over Bjornolf kissing her in the lobby of Anna’s hotel. And her letting him.

“Why did he kiss you, Meara?” Finn asked, wrapping her in his arms.

Meara sighed heavily and didn’t say anything for the longest time. Finn caressed her shoulder, sweeping her hair aside, and then nuzzled her neck, enjoying her sweet fragrance but wanting to know what Bjornolf’s reasoning was, even though he didn’t expect Meara to have the answer.

She was barely breathing as she relaxed more deeply against him and then finally said, “Why does any man kiss a woman? He just wants to.” She sounded sleepy and… slightly amused.

“He didn’t kiss Anna.” His answer was short and quick and to the point. And annoyed. No matter how much he tried to keep this unemotional, he couldn’t.

He toyed with the thin strap of Meara’s pajama top, his fingers caressing her bare skin, itching to push the straps down and feel her creamy breasts in his hands.

“Did you ask her?”

He stopped what he was doing and considered what she’d said. Meara had a point. Maybe that’s why Anna thought Bjornolf was handsome. Maybe he’d kissed her first and then Meara later.

Finn didn’t say anything in response, but then he released her. She groaned as if wishing she hadn’t asked. He pulled away from her, reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed his cell phone. After pushing the autodial for Anna’s number, he let out his breath, curbing the urge to pace across the floor while he waited for Anna to answer the blasted phone. It didn’t matter that everyone who had any sense should be sleeping.

After what seemed like an eternity, Anna answered, asking, “Finn, what’s wrong?” Her voice was half asleep but anxious.

He could hear her getting dressed in the background, drawers slamming, her breath ragged. Not wanting her to think they were in trouble, he quickly asked, “Did Bjornolf kiss you?”

A brief pause followed before she growled, “You called to wake me up for this? I thought you were dealing with another assassin. Hell, Finn, what’s going on?”

“Forget it.” He’d be the laughingstock if she told the rest of the gang why he’d called her in the middle of the night like this. And despite desperately wanting to know the answer to his question, he wished he hadn’t phoned her.

He was about to hang up when she hollered, “Wait!” Then her tone softened. “What’s this about, Finn?”

“Nothing.”

He could hear the mattress creak in her hotel room and assumed she was lying back down.

“No, he didn’t kiss me.” Anna let out her breath. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

“’Night, Anna.”

“You’d better let Hunter know what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on.”

Anna snorted. “Right. Don’t tell me you’re not hooked on her, Finn. I know you better than that.”

“Later. Get some sleep.” He shook his head and terminated the call. Then he set the phone back on the bedside table, turned, and pulled Meara back into his arms. “He didn’t kiss Anna.”

Meara didn’t say anything, and for a moment, he thought she’d fallen asleep. But then he figured she couldn’t have. She would have fought sleeping to hear if Bjornolf had also kissed Anna.

“So why did he kiss you?” Finn asked quietly.

“Because he wanted to see what it would be like?” Meara stiffened. “How would I know? I’m not Bjornolf, and I didn’t encourage him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“He did it to see if you would kiss him back.” At least if Finn had been interested in a woman like Meara, that’s the reason he would have done so.

“Well, I didn’t kiss him back. And I wouldn’t have, even if I hadn’t been so stunned. Not only that, if I hadn’t been so shocked, I would have hit him or something.”

Somewhat mollified that she hadn’t kissed him back, Finn grunted. “Why did you call Hunter instead of me when Bjornolf approached you? Hunter was in Hawaii. What was he supposed to have done?”

“I would have gone to Anna’s room to make sure you both were all right, but I didn’t know her room number. As for calling you, I didn’t have your cell number.”

“I had already added it to your address book.”

Wide eyed, she turned to look at him. “You did? Where?”

“Where you couldn’t fail to miss it.”

She grumpily rose from the bed, retrieved her phone from her jeans, and looked at her address book.

The name SEAL snagged her attention. When Bjornolf had shaken her up, she’d just punched the number one for Hunter’s number, not even reading who else was listed in the name field. She harrumphed. “SEAL,” she said, and climbed back into bed.

Finn pulled her back tight against his chest and moved his hand over her tank-top-covered breast, the cotton fabric sliding over the protruding nipple that was already sensitive to his touch. “Once a SEAL, always a SEAL,” he whispered against her ear. “We specialize in deep undercover operations.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked just as quietly. The way he was touching her was making her hot with desire. She was glad he seemed to have given up on being angry about Bjornolf kissing her. God, what a mistake it was to have let that slip.

“It depends entirely on what you want,” he said.

She smiled and reached back to touch his crotch and stroked his rigid length covered in the cotton boxers.

He ground out, “You are seriously asking for trouble.”

She laughed and turned around to get a better grip. But as soon as she smoothed her hand over the length of him, he ran his hands up her bare thighs, his thumbs dangerously close to the center of her, gliding over her skin and setting it afire. His eyes were smoky with lust, and his mouth curved up decadently. Here she was planning on seducing him, but the male wolf was already making her wet for him.

She only thought to have sex with him to get him out of her system so they could sleep the rest of the night without any further interruption—no emotional commitment, just pure physical sex. But she couldn’t with Finn. Not with the way he caressed her skin so tenderly, the way he pulled her down for a kiss. His mouth was gently pressing hers, questing for a response, and when she gave it to him, when she moved her mouth over his, intending the same gentle caress, he plundered her mouth roughly, belying his true feelings as if he had been holding back the storm, keeping himself in abeyance. Until she responded. Once she showed she was willing, that she wanted this as much as he did, he pulled out all the stops.

His hands slid up her waist underneath her top, cupping her breasts as he tongued her mouth, his thumbs rasping over her nipples, her core aching as she perched over his erection. She was torn between wanting him inside her and wishing consummated sex didn’t mean a mating between the werewolf kind. Although she wondered what being mated to him would be like.

She ran her hand over his hair, telling herself there was no likelihood of that, so she’d just better damn well get that notion out of her head and enjoy him like he was enjoying her. And hope that someday some alpha male would be as good at pleasuring her as Finn was. Hell, all he had to do was look askance, raise a brow a little, and give her one of his devilish grins, and she was ready to roll onto her back and beg him to ravish her.

As if he knew just what she’d been thinking, he lifted her by the waist and set her aside, at first making her think he’d had second thoughts. But he quickly pulled off her top and slid her shorts off, making her feel vulnerable. A whole lot naked. And a little wary. Worried he might be thinking of taking it too far.

But he only smiled in that arrogant way of his and then pressed himself against her, kissing and rubbing his length against her thigh, his hands deftly feeling her breasts, his mouth nuzzling her throat, and she arched her hips in response. God, how she wanted him inside!

He grumbled something about how hard she was making him. He slipped his fingers into her tight sheath, smiled when he discovered just how wet she was, and began to stroke her until she was ready to burst into flames with pleasure and only feeling slightly guilty that she’d forgotten about pleasuring him. Until he made a final thrust against her hip and she felt his shorts wet against her skin. She smiled as he thrust a couple more times, and then he made a slightly disgruntled sound.

“We’ll have to do a wash pretty soon,” she said, cupping his buttocks through the boxers.

He grunted, then kissed her forehead and slid off her, finally heading down the hall to the bathroom. She sighed, then grabbed her pajama short set and headed for the master bedroom and bath to wash up.

Finn’s assignment to watch over her was going to kill her desire for anyone else, if they didn’t quit letting the situation get out of control.

After she washed up and pulled on her shorts set, she turned and nearly had a heart attack. Finn was standing in the entryway wearing a fresh set of boxers, brows raised and arms folded across his muscular chest, and watching her grimly. “Ready to sleep?”

Something about his posture made her think he believed she was leaving him to sleep in the master bedroom because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But she’d thought maybe this was beginning to mean something to him, and he wanted her with him in bed—not just so he could watch her and keep her safe from assassins and the like.

She stalked past him and cast over her shoulder, “I wasn’t intending to sleep in the master bedroom, you know.”

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you.” But his eyes and expression were darker than usual.

This time she grunted back at him. And he laughed!