Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page B

history—I’d needed him. Being painfully, stupidly in love, I’d agreed and followed him to Sacramento, where I’d taught art-appreciation classes to middle school kids for nine bucks an hour and waited for Mark to fit me in around the demands of first his job and then later his lover. So, yes, Mr. Dick had failed on epic levels, but I’d survived. It was still none of Jacks’s business, however.
    “Mr. Dick is now Mr. Ex,” I pointed out. “He doesn’t matter.”
    Jacks shrugged. “What did he do?”
    “Why do you care?” Bumping into each other occasionally during childhood didn’t mean he got to ask those questions.
    “Because I want to know if I need to kill him. Or just hurt him.”
    It actually took me a moment to process his words. He couldn’t be serious.
    Could he?
    “It’s not your business.”
    He moved closer. Kind of predatory, I decided, but more werewolf than shark, if that made sense. He looked rough—but he also looked… concerned? “I’m making it mine,” he announced.
    See? When he said things like, I remembered exactly why we’d never really gotten along. He believed he was in charge, and he definitely specialized in telling me what to do. I didn’t like that, so we butted heads. It was a natural progression.
    I went on the offensive. “You offering yourself as a replacement?”
    He hesitated. That ought to shut him right up. Jacks was one of the most commitment-adverse people I’d ever met. He was practically a dating virgin, never having moved past the one-night-stand. In high school and after, when I’d spotted him home on the occasional leave from the Navy, he’d never gone steady, never seen the same girl twice. I wasn’t even sure he realized this, which just made it worse. He met a girl. He kissed the girl. They had sex—sex that was, I was sure, smoking hot and ten kinds of awesome kinky—and then they parted ways. Where most people would stretch those events out over weeks, months, or even years, however, Jacks had an hourly timeline. He was over the girl by the next morning and already moving on. I could believe he was up for sex with me—hello, the proof was right there tenting the front of his jeans—but it wasn’t anything special. Honestly, it was more surprising he hadn’t tried anything with me before.
    “I could explore my options,” he said finally, setting down the wreaths.
    What did that mean? I opened my mouth to say something—because surely something intelligent would pop into my head any minute now—and Jacks sort of danced me up against the wall. My back hit the boards, his legs pinned mine in place, and he cradled my face in his big hands. Whoa .
    “Jacks—” Shoot. My heart pounded, my whole body tensing in anticipation of what might come next. If I was really, really lucky.
    “Shhh. Busy exploring here.” He leaned in, giving me more of his weight, and I should have protested. He would have backed off. Jacks actually did understand the word no even if it appeared to be his least favorite word ever. He wasn’t that much of a dick, and rumor claimed he definitely didn’t kiss where he hadn’t been invited. My issue was the sheer number of those invitations, because I’d never been one for a queue. But then he pressed an impressive erection against me, and that felt so darned good that I gasped.
    Like that was his cue and permission slip rolled into one, he lowered his mouth to mine. I had no idea a hard kiss could feel so tender. His hands gripped my face, his thumbs slowly rubbing over the sensitive skin of my cheeks. Kind of learning me, tracing the bones like he had all the time in the world. His mouth though was hungry. He took me, his tongue driving inside me and opening me up like he wasn’t waiting for that any longer. He kissed harder, deeper, and I moaned. This was perfect.
    I’m not sure who let go of whom, but it might have had something to do with the slow clapping coming from the door. Shoot. Jacks lifted his head and