I grunted in acknowledgment. With Lacey, I doubted it was going to be so easy, but that was the general idea.
“Is she a frog hog?” Daniella shimmied into her baby-blue scrubs.
I didn’t much care for that term, but it was commonly used to describe women who chased after Navy SEALs strictly for the bragging rights.
“I don’t think so. Even if she is, I’m a few years past the expiration date.” And thank fucking God for that. Six years of ground-pounding in the world’s hottest crisis zones had been more than enough misery. I did my time, and had the battle scars to prove it.
Daniella shrugged. “Those girls don’t give a shit. All they hear is Navy SEAL and their panties drop to their ankles.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, lips twitching upward. After all, I’d had my share of fun with tag chasers before I quit the service. Why the fuck not?
“Nah, of course not. Just seems like a lot of competition for . . . what, two thousand guys in the whole world?” She brushed her hair in quick, hard strokes and tied it up in a high ponytail. “Anyway, if you’re going on the prowl tonight, I think I’ll grab a quick bite with the girls before we carpool to the hospital.”
I chuckled at the mental image—a gaggle of pastel-clad nurses invading the greasy spoon around the corner. “You want me to drive you?”
“On your way to the bar? Where you’ll be drinking? With another woman? Hell no. Wouldn’t want to impose on your date.” She waved me away. “Now, stop staring at my ass and go have fun. You’re going to be late unless you get going soon.”
“Christ, woman, sometimes I wonder if you’re really submissive.”
With a wicked grin, she turned toward me and held up her arms, showing the not-quite-faded marks on her wrists. “This is all the proof I need.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Daniella had an insatiable appetite for rough sex—biting and clawing, spanking and paddling, nipple clamps, hot wax, butt plugs, and especially bondage. Everything I knew about BDSM, I had learned from her.
Knowing that she was right and I needed to get moving, I headed down the hall to my own bedroom. When I opened the door, the fat English bulldog on my bed woke up with a wheezy snort. One look at me and he started grumbling for attention.
“Hey there, buddy,” I said, rubbing his wrinkled back. “Have a nice nap?”
Sutton stared up at me dolefully. He was lying so flat that his face was sunken almost entirely into his jowls.
“Sorry, man. It’s gotta be this way.”
I’d learned to shut Sutton in his bedroom while Daniella and I were playing. She wasn’t fond of the drooling, farting beast, and a cold wet nose on the ass would kill anyone’s mood. So I always coddled and reassured Sutton afterward to make up for the missed attention.
After a few minutes of my petting and praising him with a steady stream of nonsense talk, the old dog was grinning and wiggling like a puppy. I finished with a couple of hard pats on the flank, and then swept my hand in a shoo gesture.
“Okay, now go. I need to get the hell out of here.”
Sutton jumped off the bed with a heavy thud. He lumbered into the living room, favoring his bad hip, puffing and blowing as he tottered along unevenly.
As I got dressed for a night out, my thoughts drifted back to Lacey.
? ? ?
West’s Watering Hole wasn’t a swanky joint. It was the kind of casual place you came when you wanted a stiff drink and to relax among the local twenty-somethings. No frills. No fuss. Metal bar stools and wood floors, and low lighting to keep the mood relaxed.
I nodded at my friend and former teammate, West, who was playing barback tonight. He blended in so seamlessly with the bar staff, you’d never guess he owned the place.
West tipped his head, acknowledging me with a grunt. He was a grumpy ass, but I was guessing that a woman—or two—could help take that scowl off his face. That was something West would have to figure out on his own, though. No sense getting my boxers in a twist over another man’s problems.
From the quiet corner where I’d grabbed a table for two, I ventured a glance to the door. Lacey was standing there, her eyes wide as her gaze wandered the room. When I rose to my feet, she spotted me and darted over. I took a moment to appreciate the view as she approached. Soft porcelain skin, shiny dark hair, a tight little body I wanted to hold down and fuck.
She looked up at that moment, and I was thankful the pornographic images playing through my brain weren’t being broadcast through the bar. Every guy in here had noticed her, which was evidenced by the sudden hush when she passed the pool tables, and the heads turning as she walked by. Lacey was a bombshell, but in a quiet, girl-next-door sort of way.
Grinning stupidly, I accepted her hand when she neared and pulled her in for a hug. She smelled incredible.
“Thanks for meeting me tonight,” she murmured, her voice soft, her gaze resting at my feet.