“Miranda.”
His husky voice wrapped around her like a lover’s embrace. Why did he have such a sexy voice? Hell, why did he have such a sexy everything? She kept her gaze on anything but Seth, but that didn’t deter him from sliding closer.
She squeaked out a protest when he lifted her legs into his lap. “What are…”
Her voice died. So did her common sense, because when she shifted her head and saw that Seth’s lips were closing in on hers, she made no effort to stop him.
The kiss was as hot and explosive as the one in his bedroom. Flames licked at her skin, spreading to every erogenous zone in her body. Her breasts. Her nipples. The hollow of her throat. Behind her ear. Between her legs. When he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, her sex clenched, the pressure becoming unbearable.
God, he knew how to kiss. She would have expected him to be rougher, greedier, but he took his time, stoking the fire building inside her with the fleeting brushes of his mouth and teasing exploration of his tongue.
She was helpless to resist. She sank into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and clinging to him as if she were hanging off the edge of a cliff and he was her lifeline. Except a lifeline was supposed to make you feel safe, and Seth…he made her feel anything but.
As he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and deepened the kiss to an even hotter, even more terrifying level, Miranda experienced something akin to free-falling. Her sense of equilibrium was gone, her heart pounding, her breath lodging in her lungs.
And that was before he touched her chest. Once his large, warm hand covered one aching breast, all bets were off. Her body went haywire on her—nerve endings crackled, head fogged, pulse raced. Not even the hint of smoke on his tongue could spoil the mood. If anything, the evidence of his bad habit only reminded her of how dangerous he was, and though she wasn’t proud of it, a thrill shot through her. Why did bad boys excite her so damn much, for Pete’s sake?
“You’re not wearing anything beneath that shirt,” he muttered against her lips.
“No.” Her voice was a shaky whisper.
Seth cupped both her breasts possessively, growling as he gave them a not-so-gentle squeeze. When he lightly pinched her nipples through the shirt, she felt it between her legs and whimpered. With no bra acting as a barrier, the flannel abraded her nipples, which puckered and tingled and pleaded for more attention.
Dipping his head, Seth nuzzled the crook of her neck. “You smell like heaven, baby.” He nibbled on her feverish flesh. “Taste like heaven too.”
His facial hair scratched her in the most delicious way, but there was nothing more delicious than the way he continued to fondle her breasts. Squeezing, pushing them together, teasing her nipples into two hard peaks.
“See, you need this,” he rasped, his breath hot on her neck. “You want this.”
Arousal had tightened her throat and rendered her vocal cords useless. He had her at a complete disadvantage—here he was, sure of himself, confident that his touch was having the desired effect, and here she was, struck mute, hardly able to remember what sex even felt like, so desperate for release she couldn’t even make her hands work so she could touch him in return.
“Ahem.”
At the sound of someone clearing his throat, Miranda flew off Seth’s lap as if her life depended on it. She swiveled her gaze and found Dylan in the doorway, his short blond hair damp from the shower, lime-green eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” Seth grumbled, at the same time Miranda blurted out, “No, not at all.”
Dylan smiled faintly. “Uh-huh. I see. Anyway,” he glanced at Seth “Cash called. He spoke to the LT, who says everything’s a go for tomorrow, rain or shine.”
“Shit. They’re gonna drop us in the middle of the ocean for that training op even if the storm’s still raging?” Seth sounded anything but excited.
“Yesiree.”
“Well, ain’t that gonna suck.”
As the men hammered out a few more details, Miranda was grateful for the opportunity to collect herself. She discreetly fixed the neckline of her shirt, then ran her fingers through her hair. Were her lips red and swollen from those blistering kisses? And could Dylan see how hard her nipples were?
Oh God. This had been a much-needed interruption. If Dylan hadn’t walked in…shit, what would have happened?
You would have let Seth Masterson fuck you.
Miranda gulped. Wow. That matter-of-fact voice didn’t hold back any punches, did it?
But the voice was wrong. She wouldn’t have slept with Seth just now. Her good judgment would have reared its head and stopped her before she did something so reckless, right?
“I’m turning in,” she burst out, cutting Dylan off midsentence.
Seth was off the couch in a nanosecond, his expression darkening. “It’s only nine thirty.”