Ch. 1
“Yes…yes…Matt! Oh, that’s good… Aidan, yes!” Cash McCoy rearranged the monstrous bulge in his pants and tried to focus on the Chargers game blaring out of the flat screen. He’d cranked the volume full blast, but it still couldn’t drown out the sounds of sex drifting from Matt O’Connor’s bedroom. O’Connor and Rhodes had crazy stamina, and from the moans that kept slicing the air, it sounded like Matt’s girlfriend Savannah was getting worked over real nice. Sighing, Cash shifted on the couch again. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over being out here in the living room, hard as a rock. Maybe if Savannah didn’t broadcast her orgasms at top volume, he could actually concentrate on the damn football game. As it was, he was distracted as hell, and kinda wondering if he ought to knock on the door and ask to join in. Nah. Probably inappropriate. Despite his two deployments with the team, Cash was still considered the rookie. The other SEALs had known each other for years before he’d come on board, and even though he’d technically been living with Matt for a year now, they’d been out of the country for half that time and hadn’t moved beyond the let’s-have-a-beer-and-talk-sports stage. It’d probably take a while before his new roomie felt comfortable asking Cash to participate in any threeways, though how Matt could possibly share Savannah with anyone else boggled the mind. But apparently the sexy blonde was into it, and God knew O’Connor was up for anything. “Yes!” Cash stifled a groan—there was already too much groaning going on in this apartment. Damn it. He was so fucking horny after listening to his roommate’s sex show for the past two hours. He supposed he could retreat to his bedroom and jack off, but he’d rather have someone else’s hand jacking his cock tonight. Last time he’d gotten laid was…jeez, had it really been before the deployment to Afghanistan? While some guys managed to score a quick hookup overseas, Cash had a strict rule about not screwing around on the job, even if given a rare night off. His head was always on the mission, the objective. Sex didn’t make a blip on his radar when he was out in the field. But six months was too long to go without sex. He’d been hoping to remedy that bleak statistic when he got home, but his parents decided to spring a spontaneous visit on him the moment he was stateside, so he’d spent the past fourteen days doing the tourist bullshit with the folks. Which upped his celibacy statistic to six months and two weeks. Fortunately, his parents had flown back to Phoenix last night. Cash had decided to indulge in a day of rest before satisfying his sexual appetite, but now, as Savannah let out another throaty moan, he was ready to gorge himself. Shutting off the TV, he stood up, crossed the open-concept room and headed for the kitchen where he’d left his phone. He scrolled through his contacts list, shot a quick text to a few of his teammates, then leaned against the granite counter as he awaited a reply. Matt’s bedroom door swung open and Aidan Rhodes stumbled out, his brown hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and dark eyes hazy. “What’s up, McCoy?” Aidan called when he caught sight of him. Cash grinned. “Nothing much. You look tired, Rhodes. The dynamic duo wear you out?” Groaning, Aidan buttoned the blue shirt he wore over his black tee. “Yep. Those two are sex maniacs.” Cash’s phone beeped, drawing his attention to the screen. Can’t tonight. Well, Dylan was out. So was Seth, who texted back, Too hungover to move. When Jackson chimed in with, Next time, Cash tucked the phone in the back pocket of his camo pants. Looked like he was flying solo tonight. Unless… He glanced at Aidan. “Want to check out that new bar on 5th and Market with me?” The dark-haired man shook his head. “Maybe another time. I’ve gotta be at the base early tomorrow morning. No downtime for me, remember?” Right. He tended to forget that Aidan wasn’t an active-duty soldier, probably because the guy was built like one. But Aidan worked on the base, doing some hush-hush intelligence stuff Cash wasn’t privy to. “Catch you later,” Aidan said, giving a brisk nod as he let himself out of the apartment. A moment later, Matt’s door opened once more and Savannah Harte strolled out, wearing a silky red robe that molded to her tall, centerfold figure like plastic wrap. The woman was a damn knockout with all that pale hair cascading down her back and laughing gray eyes that always held a hint of seduction. “Hey, Cash, heading out?” she asked as she waltzed past him. She buried her nose in the fridge and emerged with a can of soda in her hand. “Yeah, I’m tired of being cooped up inside.” “We weren’t being too loud, were we?” “Couldn’t hear a thing.” She smirked. “I know you’re lying. You’re doing that weird eyebrow twitch.” “I do not have a weird eyebrow twitch.” “Sure you do. Why do you think I always beat you at poker? You can’t bluff for shit.” Matt’s southern drawl wafted out of the bedroom. “Hey, darlin’, grab me a beer while you’re out there.” Cash lifted his brows. “You know, I’d never order you around like that.” He shot her a wolfish grin. “I think it’s time you dumped O’Connor and hooked up with me instead.” “I can hear you, you know,” Matt yelled from the bedroom. “Stop hitting on my girlfriend, McCoy.” Laughing, Savannah ducked behind the fridge door and grabbed a bottle of beer. “I appreciate the offer,” she said in a mock whisper. “I’ll let you know when I tire of him, okay?” “Deal.” With another laugh, she rounded the counter. She paused only to ruffle his hair before sauntering out of the room. As he watched her go, he couldn’t fight the little burst of envy that rippled through him. O’Connor had really lucked out with that one. But just because he appreciated what the other man had didn’t mean he was looking for that special someone just yet. At the moment, he was content with no-strings sex and the occasional—fine, frequent—threesome with Dylan. Hell, he’d only turned twenty-six last month. He still had a shitload of sexual energy to release before he settled down. Besides, he sucked ass when it came to talking to women. He knew exactly what to say to entice them out of their panties, possessed all the right words during sex, but his out-of-the-bedroom conversational skills were lacking big-time. Good thing tonight was all about the bedroom. Or the backseat of his car. Or wherever his chosen lady wanted to get naked. At this point, he wasn’t gonna be picky. Grinning to himself, he grabbed his keys and headed to the front hall, where he shoved his feet into a pair of scuffed black Timberlands. He snatched a brown leather jacket from the hook by the door and shrugged it on over his T-shirt. Soft moans floated through the apartment as he reached for the doorknob. Jesus. Matt and Savannah were starting up again? Cash’s cock started right up in response. Christ. He really needed to get laid tonight. Thirty minutes later, Cash was ready to admit defeat. The Gaslamp Tavern was a total bust. He should’ve expected that from a Monday night, but he’d hoped luck would be on his side. Unfortunately, almost everyone in the bar was coupled off, and the only girl who’d looked promising turned out to be a navy groupie he had no interest in taking to bed. The brunette had been interrogating him for the past five minutes, and he was ready to tear his fucking hair out. “Do you have any tattoos?” she demanded as she sucked on the pink straw poking out of her even pinker daiquiri. Cash scanned his brain for an exit strategy, but he couldn’t come up with anything decent. Especially since he was the one to approach her in the first place. When he strode into the dimly lit bar and spotted her standing by the pool table, he’d definitely liked what he’d seen. A nice rack beneath a tight white tee, long legs encased in dark-blue denim. Great ass. Cute face. When their gazes met across the crowded room and he’d glimpsed the unmistakable interest in her eyes, he figured he had the hookup in the bag. Which he did. Yup, this leggy brunette would go home with him in a nanosecond. Problem was, he didn’t want to take her home. Navy groupies were the worst. Starry-eyed and drooly, hoping to meet a real-life hero who’d sweep them off their feet—and straight to the altar. They didn’t care what he looked like, what his personality was like. They just wanted to land a soldier. He might be looking for casual sex tonight, but he wanted it with someone he could talk to, someone he connected with. Someone who wanted him, not just any random soldier who walked into the bar. Groupies doled out the sex freely, but once they got you in bed, they refused to go away. And that was when they thought he was just a sailor—when they found out he was a SEAL? Damned if they didn’t go full stalker on him. “Cash?” Polly—or was it Patty?—stared at him expectantly. Gulping down the rest of his beer, he tried to remember what she’d asked him. Right, tattoos. “Got an eagle on my back,” he said absently. Damned if that didn’t make her all breathless. “That’s so hot. I’d love to see it.” Not gonna happen, babe. Cash swept his gaze around the room, searching for a way out. He and Polly were standing by the two pool tables at the far edge of the room, but he had a good view of the main floor, which featured a handful of tables, booths lining the wall, and several high counters surrounded by tall-backed stools. Unfortunately, the two chicks Patty had been hanging out with earlier had disappeared, so he couldn’t use the old your-friends-are-calling-you escape. “I love how all you military boys have tattoos,” Polly gushed. “I’ve always wanted one but I’m scared of needles.” His gaze strayed to the long counter against the opposite wall. He could always pretend he needed a fresh beer, then duck out of the bar before reaching the counter…but he feared his groupie would tag along and wait with him while he ordered. “I know you probably hear this all the time, but you’re, like, a real-life hero,” Patty babbled on. Ditto on the men’s room—she totally seemed like the kind of girl who’d offer to keep him company while he waited out that monster line. “Wanna know a secret? When I was a little girl, I always dreamed of marrying a navy man.” Giggling, she sucked down the rest of her daiquiri. Shit. Running out of options here. Time to resort to default mode—the phone fakeout. Cash jerked a little, pretending to feel his phone going off. Luckily, the loud Katy Perry song blaring out of the Tavern’s sound system masked the nonexistent vibrating of his phone. He slid the phone out of his pocket and brought it to his ear, lifting one finger to signal Polly that he needed a minute. The one-sided conversation that ensued was one he’d perfected over the years. “Mom? Hey, what’s up? What? Well, that’s not good. Hold on, I can’t really hear you. Let me find someplace quiet to talk…what? No, don’t do that. I’m on my way.” He punched the end button and pasted a regretful look on his face. “My mom’s car broke down,” he told Patty. Disappointment filled her eyes. “Oh no. That’s awful.” An edge crept into her voice. “Can’t she call roadside assistance? Why do you have to be the one to help?” Wow. Had she really just said that? Okay, fine. So maybe he’d flat-out lied right now. But what if his mom’s car really had broken down? Would Polly seriously still expect him to sleep with her? While his poor sweet mother waited on the side of the road, a sitting duck for roadside predators? He shook his head. “Sorry, babe, this real-life hero needs to come to his mother’s rescue. I’ll see you around.” “Wait, don’t you want my phone num—” Cash was already heading far, far away from the pool table. But he felt Patty’s eyes burning a hole into his back like a laser, and every instinct in his body told him the chick would follow him, if only to slip her number into his hand. He picked up the pace, his gaze honing in on the door. Ten more steps and he’d be outta here. The door swung open just as he reached it. He halted, politely waiting for two middle-aged women to stroll inside. They wore matching lemon-yellow tank tops with the words Rita’s Getting Married! sewed on with blue sequins. And they were clearly sloshed, swaying and giggling as they burst into the bar. Two more women followed the duo. Then a third. A fourth. Sweet baby Jesus. It was like a damn clown car. Female bodies kept popping through the door, all clad in those yellow shirts that had him inwardly cursing that wretched Rita. He snuck a peek at the pool table and saw Polly eyeing him with the kind of determination you saw on the faces of covert operatives—set on accomplishing the task at all costs. She took a step forward. Crap. He tapped his foot in impatience as more women streamed into the bar. Shifting his gaze, he noticed a doorway to his right. Another glance across the room revealed that his single-minded brunette had turned to retrieve the purse she’d left on the pool table. Without hesitation, Cash ducked into the opening he’d spotted. He found himself in a narrow passage that boasted yet another doorway. Making a beeline for it, he burst into a small room bathed in darkness and let out a breath heavy with relief. Thank fuck. Now all he had to do was wait a few minutes, peek out to make sure the groupie wasn’t looking, and get the hell out of— “I know I’m not supposed to be in here!” someone yelled.
June 29, 2024
