CHAPTER 1: BIG GULP

ALEX

I'm a CIA analyst, assigned to work with a SEAL squad tracking a new bioterrorist weapon. I'm only five feet tall, 110 pounds sopping wet; people describe me as pretty and cute. The officer in charge, Lieutenant Bryce, is a 260 pound beast of a man and believes that women should not be on the front lines in any capacity.

He was all for having a CIA analyst assigned to his squad, until he realized that the "Alex" who was being assigned to him was in fact "Alexandra." Now he's torn between wanting me to walk away, and wanting to fuck me until I can't walk. His default modes vacillate between lustful looks and snide remarks. I share his lust, but his snide remarks are starting to eat at me.

Tonight the squad had a party, celebrating our second mission with me as the embedded analyst. I got shot in the shoulder on that mission, so it was a big deal to me, and an even bigger deal for me to venture out to a celebration.

Bryce ruined the party by being a jerk. I bet he gets women because he's gorgeous, then he dumps them as soon as he's bored. No big deal to him, since he seems to think women are worthless anyway. I hate guys like that.

I get home and put on my favorite shortie pj's—they're cool and comfortable in the San Diego heat, plus the tank top doesn't rub against my wound.

I'm lonely in my new town in an empty apartment. I had hoped I'd meet some other women at the squad's party, but Bryce pretty much ruined the party for me. I don't fit in here.

I put on my favorite Eagles mix-oldie but goodie.

My doorbell rings and I ignore it. Nothing good can come from a solicitor at 9:00 on a Saturday night.

After three rings, I am getting annoyed and decided to check the peephole.

Bryce? What is he doing here? He's the reason I was wishing I could be back in Virginia, or Pennsylvania, or Montana, anywhere but here.

I open the door and try to smile.

BRYCE

Alex looks edible. I wasn't expecting short shorts and a pink tank top.

Takes me a minute to remind myself why I'm here. I dive in: "I'm sorry I was an asshole. I'm a team player and you're part of my team. I was out of line. I hope we can let that go and start over."

She blinks at me with her big beautiful eyes, her face impossible to read. Then she lights up and she says, "I agree, let's start over."

Relief.

I brought a bottle of Jack as a peace offering. I hold it out to her and ask if she'd like some.

ALEX

I've never been a big drinker, still trying to figure out the difference between red and white and what the big deal is, so I'm not sure what he's handing me.

It's a pretty big bottle, so I reach up into my cabinet to grab a couple tumblers.

BRYCE

I thought we'd have a drink to start over, a sign of goodwill or something. But now, seeing those nothing shorts and that barely-there top, I need to get out of here.

All I'm thirsty for is standing in front of me, and she is off limits.

I can't put myself through this. I'm out of here.

ALEX

When I turn around, Bryce is heading toward the door, like he's leaving.

"Where are you going? I thought you were going to have a drink."

BRYCE

Shit. Strike one. I need to get away from this girl.

I try to play it cool: "Yeah, sure, one drink. Great."

One drink. Then I'm out of here.

What's she doing? Are we going to drink Jack out of Big Gulps?

And that butt and those toned legs poking out of those shorts are killing me.

Lord help me. Alex is a teammate, not a fuck toy.

Head. Out. Of. Gutter.

ALEX

I put some ice in the glasses and hand them to Bryce to fill. He seems amused. I can't tell what's so funny and I can't bring myself to ask him after the verbal thrashing he gave me at the party.

He pours our drinks then I show him to my living room, which has a sofa, a coffee table, and that's it. I haven't had time to make this place a home.

I sit on the sofa, but instead of sitting with me, Bryce carries one of the kitchen chairs over.

"Bryce, that chair isn't comfortable. There's plenty of room on the sofa. Sit here."

"No, no, I'm good here, thanks."

Go figure.

Bryce keeps glancing away from me funny and stays really quiet. I can't tell what he's thinking. Maybe he's trying to stay long enough to be polite and then leave.

The man is impossible to read.

BRYCE

No way am I sitting on the sofa with her. We might as well strip off our clothes and climb in bed. Which sounds amazing, actually. Which is why I need to get the hell out.

ALEX

Desperately searching for something to talk about, I ask him how long he's been with the SEALs.

"Five years."

"Do you like it?"

"Love it."

"What do you like about it?"

"The missions."

Oh-kay, pulling teeth here.

"Anything else?"

Bryce finds his tongue. "Yeah, I like being part of a squad. It's like an immediate team of brothers who've got my back. And I've got their back."

"That's sounds intense."

"It is. And most of us are in it for the same thing: to make a difference to American lives. Nothing compares to the adrenaline rush of going on a mission and coming back having done something good for my teammates and for the country."

He's constantly impressing me with how sincere he can be. Not the jerk who tells me to fetch his beer at the squad party. I don't understand where that comes from.

BRYCE

I like talking with Alex about my job. I can be real with her the way I can't be with the guys, or with other women for that matter.

I was impressed with her shooting. I ask her how she got into it, and she tells me about learning from her dad, then training for the Olympics. I thought I was a badass for being captain of the football team at the Naval Academy, but this girl blows me out of the water. Speaking of blowing me, her lips are fresh and juicy...Bryce, stop!

She slips her bare legs up on the sofa so her feet are tucked underneath her. I'm struck by how innocent she is. I could curl up next to her, keep her safe and warm.

We fall short on conversation. Boys of Summer is ending. Alex has her eyes closed and is swaying slightly to the song.

I tell her that the Eagles is my favorite band. She smiles, "Me too. I love their lyrics. The guitar is amazing. And Don Henley's voice sends shivers down my spine. Guess what my favorite song is."

"Hotel California?"

"Nope."

"Boys of Summer, of course."

"No, hang on. Listen, it's next."

Take it to the Limit starts playing.

"That's one of my favorites too."

She closes her eyes and says, "I love the theme that you should keep striving and trying your best before you reach a point in your life where you've done everything to your fullest capacity."

I say, "Or maybe you never reach that point and there's actually no limit."

"Good point. Either way, the song motivates me to achieve more."

"How could you possibly achieve more? You're already a rock star."

She laughs. "Don't say that. I look at you and the football, Annapolis, the SEALS, making Lieutenant, and I think the same about you. You're a stud. But don't let it go to your head."

"What if the song is actually about taking it to the limit with another person? Really letting yourself go, no boundaries, no fears...no limits?"

"I never thought about that. But I like it. Relationships can be intense, and sometimes you have to let yourself fall into it. You're pretty profound there, Dalai Lama."

I realize that the whole time she's talking I'm staring at her lips, then my eyes are sliding south to her chest.

Clearly no bra.

She glances down at herself, probably to see what I'm staring at.

Busted.

Strike two.

I try to recover so she doesn't realize I was staring at her tits: "Would you like me to change your dressing?"

There is no way she is going to let me change her. The wound is ugly and she wouldn't want me to see it. Plus, I was just a total prick to her at the party; no way is she going to let me touch her. So: she'll say no thank you, then that's my ticket out of there.

CHAPTER 2: THE DRESSING

ALEX

Actually, my dressing is starting to chafe in the place where the bullet entered, and it's hard for me to fix with one hand. So I appreciated him offering.

"Thanks! That would be great. I'll be right back."

As I walk by him to get the dressing, I rub the back of his shoulder and say, "This is sweet of you."

BRYCE

Strike three. Game over.

No man survives a sexy woman's touch and lives to tell about it. I have to get out of here or I'm taking her on that uncomfortable kitchen chair.

I stand up to leave, but I don't move fast enough. I'm halfway to the door when she comes back with her First Aid kit.

"Where are you going?"

"Um, I was coming into the kitchen to grab a chair for you."

She flashes that beautiful smile again, then sits down next to me.

ALEX

The chairs are uncomfortable for bandaging my wound. I'm not sure why he wouldn't move to the couch where we'd be a lot more comfortable, but I am grateful he offered to help me.

I put my left hand on his thigh to steady myself.

With my right hand, I pull my left strap down, trying to hold my tank up to my chest at the same time.

He is gentle as he removes the old dressing, cleans the wound, and puts on a new dressing. He seems a little distracted; he's focused on what he's doing. I'm distracted, having a hard time focusing on keeping my shirt up. I could have jumped this man the day I met him. I flat-out told him he's my type. Now he's touching me. A river of heat is coursing through my veins and pooling in hot liquid between my legs. My eyes are getting heavy with his touch and I'm having a hard time keeping my breath steady.

"How does that feel, Alex?"

"What?"

"The dressing."

"Oh, right. Good, thank you."

He chuckles. "Good. I want you to feel good."

The rich tone of his voice goes husky and moves through me; it's as if he caresses me using only his words.

Then he does something I am not expecting: he leans down and kisses my shoulder. A soft, gentle kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

I am completely stopped in my tracks. Can't move, can't pull my shoulder strap back up, and definitely can't look him in the eye.

His lips are soft, his hair smells like clean musk. My brain goes fuzzy. He needs to kiss me again.

BRYCE

She puts her hand on my thigh, pulls down her shirt, and I'm done.

I have to kiss her.

She goes absolutely still and stops breathing.

I can't tell whether she likes it or is going to slap me, until I glance down and see her nipples harden.

She likes it.

I dip my head down again and kiss her collar bone. Very gently; I don't want to hurt her. I push her hair aside and run my lips up her neck. She's wearing some light perfume that tastes like pears. I have to taste more, so I wrap my lips around her ear lobe and start sucking. I run my tongue around the back of her ear and licked the top of her ear. From its shape, I imagine her pussy, where I want to be licking her in every way.

Alex lifts her good arm and wraps it around the back of my neck. Yes, she definitely wants this. She moves her head so we are gazing at each other, forehead to forehead. Finally, she shuts her eyes and reaches up with her lips, parting them as she does so, and runs her tongue along my bottom lip.

I am trying to act like a gentleman, but feeling anything but. I could push her onto the sofa, pull off those little shorts of hers, wrap her legs around my shoulders, and taste every drop of her. I could rip off what she's wearing under those shorts, spread her legs wide, line my cock up with her, and slam myself into her until she begs me for more.

But I am trying to be a gentleman. I kiss her back, claiming her with my mouth, sucking on her bottom lip, sliding my tongue into her mouth. Our tongues tussle, then I suck hard on hers to give her a taste of who's in charge. A groan escapes her throat, and I am done for.

ALEX

I'm not me anymore.

I'm not the girl who kisses her boss. Is he my boss? Our rolls are murky and undefined.

Then something in me breaks, and I pull him to the sofa.

I kiss him harder and rub my hands through his hair, down his neck, across his chest. Every ounce of him is hard, pure man. There's something I've never felt before, and a huge neon sign flashes across my forebrain: I need him to fuck me. I'm ready. I'm desperate and hungry and not myself. I want to pull his jeans down, kneel in front of him, and suck him hard until he begs me to stop. I want to climb on top of him, spread myself around his hips, and let him slide into me. I want all of him and I am having a hard time holding back.

BRYCE

Not good. I'm the officer of the squad. I love my job, and I could lose it for this.

And I don't give a fuck.

She arches her back and pushes herself to me. At first I'm rubbing her back, sliding down toward her waist band, but then my hand comes around her side, and I'm groping—flat out groping, like a high school virgin—her breast. They're bigger than they appear, and I let the weight of her breast rest in my hand while I gently twist her nipple. She starts whimpering and reaches down to pull at the bottom of her shirt. I can take a hint, and I tug her shirt up, being careful not to tear the fresh dressing. She's gorgeous. He breasts bounce when the shirt comes off. I grab them in both hands and alternate licking and sucking, running my tongue on the undersides, then twirling my tongue around the nipples.

She moves her hand to my shoulder. Seems like she's going to pull off my shirt, but she takes me by surprise. Alex swings her leg across me so she's straddling me. My loaded cock is jammed right against her. I'm a hopeless man.

ALEX

I swipe off Bryce's t-shirt. He wasn't lying—he does have a six pack. Happy day! His torso is unbelievable, exactly what I pictured: all muscles, bulging arms and chest, and rippled stomach. Pizza and tacos don't stand a chance with this man. I kiss him deeply, letting my tongue dance circles around his. Then I run my tongue down his neck, across the plane of his left shoulder, and down to his chest. I wrap my tongue around his left nipple and suck. Meanwhile, my right hand has found his abs, and I'm stroking every hard ridge of them and appreciating the happy line that leads to someplace that will make me happy.

I'm circling my hips into him. His thickness, his hardness is growing between my legs. It's so good that I can't help twirling my hips and rubbing myself into him. I grind my sex into him. We're dry humping, and I can tell it's driving him crazy. We're tormenting each other, but neither can stop rubbing into each other. I'm soaking onto my shorts. My panties would be sopping if I had any on. I'm seconds away from coming on his jeans.

BRYCE

I need to fuck this girl. Sofa or bed?

ALEX

What am I doing? This is the squad leader. The Lieutenant. Things will never be the same again.

I finally get a grip on myself and push him away.

We can't do this.

I can't face him tomorrow—kissing him was bad enough, riding him like a cheap whore has been mortifying, and anything more would be disastrous.

I try to stand up, but the coffee table is in the way. I manage to push myself back onto his knees.

He sits watching at me. His face is completely inscrutable.

BRYCE

Shit.

She's still sitting on me with her shirt off and her legs spread. I'm still hard as a rock, and her shorts are still wet.

But she pushed me away, and I'm not into making women do what they don't want to do. So I put my hands on either side of the sofa, and sit and wait. If there's one thing the SEALs taught me, it's how to be patient when I don't have a choice.

ALEX

I'm straddling Bryce, my shirt off and my wet spot obvious, and thoughts are flying through my head.

Now what do I do? Bryce has made out with me, fondled my breasts, sucked my nipples, made me come on his thigh, and made me come with his fingers inside me. The things we've done in and on his truck are kinkier than anything else I've ever done, anywhere. I'm going to be mortified enough seeing him at work tomorrow, what's the difference if we just have sex already? It's been building for a while now, and it has become clear to me that this—whatever this is—is mutual. Maybe it's time to give in to it. Plus I really, really, really want him inside me.

No, I have to stop that. There's a huge difference between the fooling around we've been doing and actual intercourse, and that's called intimacy. If this guy has sex with me and leaves, I'm going to be devastated tomorrow. I've grown into him too much. I've come to rely on him too much. And eventually I'm going to have to head back to Virginia and never see him again. I can't risk my heart. It's time for him to leave.

I've got a world-class collection of vibrators, and I'll put one to good use when he leaves.

BRYCE

Without saying another word, she slides off of me onto the other side of the sofa and eases back into her tank top. She's amazing—her hair's a mess, her lips are swollen, her shirt is barely covering her tummy, and her shorts are all hiked up so half her ass is hanging out. Do I have to leave?

I'm still hard, so I do calculus in my head—helps to slow the blood down below.

As soon as I can, I stand up to put my shirt on and go.

I want to get the fuck out of there, but I take my time walking to the door. I don't want to seem like I'm in a hurry to get away from her; I don't want things to be more awkward than they are.

At first Alex sits on the sofa, watching me go. Then she gets up and says, "I'll walk you to the door," which is crazy since her place is a shoebox.

I get to the door, put my hand on the doorknob. She puts her hand on top of mine. "Don't go."

I inhale sharply. I just came here to apologize, but now my head's all fucked up with the taste of her kiss. Exactly why I swore I wouldn't kiss her.

No guy likes mixed signals. But I don't think she means to be giving them. She's as confused as I am.

I'm done playing games. We're doing this. Or we're not doing this.

I grip her wrist and tell her gruffly, so there's no mistake in my intent, "I'm done being a gentleman."

Her face breaks into a big grin.

We're doing this.

CHAPTER 3: A GENTLEMAN

ALEX

Bryce starts kissing me, hard.

There's no gentle and tender this time. It's his teeth on my neck and his calloused hands kneading my breasts.

He grabs me under my ass and sets me on the kitchen counter. He slides me to the edge, grabs my knees, and pulls my legs apart.

He pushes his groin up against mine. Oh God, I need this, need him there.

He's already getting hard. He's a big boy, and he keeps growing the more we kiss. In the back of my mind, a voice cautions that this might be an issue. I'm a petite woman...everywhere. And he's a giant of a man...it feels like everywhere.

Our arms tangle as we try to pull each other's shirts off at the same time.

He runs his big hands down my back and fingers the crack of my ass as he latches his mouth onto my nipple. He sucks like elixir will come out. I'm throwing my head back and shifting myself into him. I can't have him inside of me fast enough.

I barely realize my shirt is off before he has my shorts off too.

This is happening.

He pushes me back, so I'm lying on the kitchen counter with my butt on the edge. It's a small counter, and my hair is hanging in the sink.

He pulls my feet up so they're on the edge near my butt. Then he does something I'm not expecting. He pulls around a kitchen chair and sits square in front of my naked vagina.

I'm completely exposed.

He spreads my knees farther apart to accommodate his broad shoulders. I'm even more exposed.

He starts by licking my inner thighs. I'm squirming and dying for him to fill his mouth with me. I must be dripping on the counter. I try to lift my vagina toward his mouth, but he grips my hips in his two strong hands and refuses to let me move.