Chronic (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 2) Read Free Page A

through my mind once again as his kisses made their way down my body—my brain wanted to slap him, my core ached, imagining him fucking me senseless. Oh, this man made me so mad yet so turned on at the same time.
    A rush of pleasure swept over me, and I knew if I didn’t escape from him, I’d be unable to resist him in another minute.
    I caught my breath and playfully pushed his hand away, wiggled out of the bed, separating myself from him. My breathing was labored, my skin was flushed. There was no way to hide how impossibly turned on he had made me. “We can play later. If you want me to quit, I need to go to a new job.”
    He sat up, his hard cock visibly straining against his pajama bottoms. “Fine, I need to shower. Want to join me?” He stripped off his pants, and stood there buck-ass naked.
    The man was trying to fucking kill me. I wanted him more than air, but if I remained near his hard, naked, ripped body for another second, surely I would cave. I needed to focus, to think. “Um…” I had to stop to find my voice before trying again. “I will shower later. You be alone.”
    “Okay, babe,” he gave me a quick, playful nod and a sexy wink. A fucking wink. “I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself at home.”
    He walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I closed my eyes and let out the deepest, most cleansing breath, releasing all the tension that Grant had built up in my body. How the hell did I survive that?
    I rummaged for my phone in my purse, hating that I was forced to act like one of those paranoid women who wouldn’t let it out of my sight, fearful to leave it out in the open where my secrets could be discovered. There was a time when we trusted each other and hid nothing. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I’d kept a secret from Grant.
    My phone flashed. 1 message—Mitch.
    I felt my pulse quicken in excitement.
     
    Mitch: When can we fuck?
     
    Ah, Mitch, the sexy jackass SEAL. Always the gentleman. I had placed a tracking device on his phone at the party the other night. I needed to wait to get back to my crappy apartment to check the data.
    My fingers danced along my phone.
     
    Me: Never. I’m together with Grant.
     
    If there was one thing I knew about Mitch, it was that he was all about the chase. The second I showed him a hint of interest, he’d be gone—and if he disappeared, I’d lose any hope I had of investigating him. And I knew Mitch had secrets—lots of them. I had to find out what his deal was.
    I heard the water turn on in the bathroom. I took another second to relax, pet Hero, and to give myself props for surviving this hellish morning. I’d already come so far in such a short time. But the real question was, how far was I willing to go?
    ***
     

 

     
     
    WHEN GRANT’S BIKE EXITED IN Ocean Beach, the sight of the neon green sign filled my heart with joy.
     

     
    A sigh of relief escaped. Returning to one of Joaquín’s old haunts gave me a strong sense of comfort. Grant and I shared some good times here too. Memories flashed back—Grant holding my hair back in the parking lot after I puked from drinking one too many rum and Cokes, Grant telling me he loved me for the first time when I picked him up smashed after one of the SEAL funerals, sitting in between my two favorite men, celebrating the day they finally earned their Tridents. That day, I’d been filled with hope for my future. Today, I was filled with dread for Joaquín’s.
    We pulled up behind the dive and climbed off Grant’s bike. I quickly collected myself and remembered to pretend not to know where I was.
    “Where are we?”
    “This is my buddy Kyle’s bar.”
    I nodded.
    A second job working at the unofficial SEAL hangout was just what I needed.
    Grant pushed back the doors and my jaw dropped—the place had been completely redone. Hardwood floors had replaced the multi-colored shag carpet and the laminate counter tops were made out of thick, oak slabs. No more whisky mixed with puke stench.