What would you do with a SEAL under the covers?

I know Delilah’s fans and readers could imagine quite a lot of things one could do with a SEAL under the covers. My new book makes a play on this fantasy, but is about a Puerto Rican born Navy SEAL, Armando Guzman, and his hot love affair with the attractive Gina Mancuso, who is actually an undercover cop, working the gang unit in San Diego.

I wanted to show a SEAL who had not always been a good boy. In fact, he had a rocky start in life, growing up in a rough environment in East L.A., running with a gang at one time. Through twists of fate, he eventually found his way into the loving arms of the U.S. Navy, where he tried out for and made the Teams. He qualified expert and became a SEAL sniper, one of the best of the very best. With that also comes some baggage: brothers in arms lost, innocent civilians paying a price they should not have to pay. The things that make wars so horrible for everyone, but things these guys have a ringside seat for.

As with all the SEALs in my Brotherhood series, these men are heavily trained to react to anything and improvise when needed. They are trained to make decisions based on calculations of outcome, assessing targets, risks and the environment. They even learn to train their emotions so that they are as little a factor as possible. Who can forget the scene in Act of Valor when the SEAL falls on the live grenade, sacrificing himself to save his buddies?

But coming home, their equipment and training does little to save them from the complexities of the female personality and the SEAL’s excruciating need of their companionship. These are guys who need intense physical sex without commitment. But their innate sense of right and wrong needles them about this on so many levels.

I love writing about these kinds of tugs of war going on inside the Alpha Male psyche. Part of what makes a good military romance is that the hero can be counted on to do the right thing almost all the time. He may make an honest mistake, but he has an internal moral code that will not allow him to go beyond certain lines.

Sometimes these heroes don’t know where that line is until they run smack up to it.

Here’s an excerpt from SEAL Under Covers, which is now available on Amazon:

“Do I have a choice?” she said to him, watching that smirky little smile and sexy eyes making fun of her while her heart did flip-flops. She’d been close to peeing on herself while she sat and watched her ex-boyfriend nearly call out the brother—the SEAL brother of the woman they were working. It had been wrong on so many levels, even the Pope couldn’t dish out enough forgiveness.

“Get in.” It was a command that made her tense, but the smile he flashed afterwards made her panties wet. Suddenly her ankles wobbled and she nearly fell, which would have been totally uncool. And damn, but if he didn’t reach out and put a strong, muscled arm around to steady her. He let her go after he gave her one hurried squeeze, just tight enough for her to learn he was aroused.

Another footnote to a perfectly fucked evening. Her mission was nearly blown. Why did she feel guilty for that? They were supposed to be hanging out with the gang by the stage. Well, she couldn’t help it if Sam and the rest of the crew had decided to pull a game change on her. As she slid onto the torn leather seat of the old truck, she smiled at the recollection. It had been damned satisfying, slapping Sam and tossing the drink into his face. She’d stared right back at him when he showed his anger. And she didn’t flinch or cower this time. She was filled with pride. She’d stood up to him, finally!

But now what? On any other evening, getting into a truck with a SEAL would be a no-brainer. Nothing wrong with a night of sex with a hot guy, if that was where he was headed. She wasn’t completely sure, but she wasn’t that rusty that she couldn’t recognize a good, clean come-on. The fact that he was the brother of their party of interest and it was totally forbidden only heightened her anticipation. But decisions like that were never good ones. She had to put a stop to this somehow.

Tell that to my body. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle and, yes, she squeezed her eyes shut and imagined him naked.

Get a grip, Gina. As much as she hated to admit it, something about the man set her insides on fire. He was all the right kinds of dangerous for her. A hero. Breathtakingly good-looking in that Latin Lover way she loved in men. Shiny black hair worn a little too long. Tanned complexion with just a hint of stubble. Body well honed and disciplined. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. And he loved his sister, which was the biggest heart-snag of all.

He got in the driver seat, slammed the rickety door closed and sighed.

Did all the air just get sucked out of the truck? It seemed like minutes as she watched him blankly stare through the windshield, his face illuminated by the red tail lights of Mia’s vehicle, now pulling away in front of them. Those dark eyes with long lashes and succulent, full lips. She shouldn’t have stared so long, but she couldn’t help it.

He tilted his head and turned in her direction. The eyes didn’t lie. He had the fire inside that his sister had, but in all the right places, not the wrong ones, like Mia. She let him appreciate the red fuzzy dress with the scoop neckline. She didn’t care if her chest got blotchy with nerves or if her cheeks flushed. And, of course, her nipples perked right up

“So how is this going to work?” he said. The words slid out like satin sheets.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean,” she heard herself say in response. She made a point to beat the waver from her voice.

“I take you to your place, or to Mia’s?”

“Mia’s.”

“Your car there?”

“No, I took a cab.”

“And so how would you get home?”

“You assume I want to go home. Maybe I’m going to stay over.”

“I don’t see a pajama bag.”

The crease at the side of his mouth dimpled and she watched the tip of his tongue running across his bottom lip. The words, “pajama bag” had never sounded so sexy.

She stuck her chin out, looking back at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and whispered, “I don’t wear pajamas.”

It was a dare. She watched him explore her face, roving from her eyes to her hair, her cheekbones, her ears. His gaze paused on her lips as his parted and he moved closer, and then stopped.

Damn. It wasn’t wise, but she knew he wasn’t going to touch her unless she met him halfway. Her hesitation forced another smile from him as he waited, looking at her with the come-on-little-one-you-know-you-want-to look. And double damn, she was all in.

 Sharon’s Amazon Bestselling Navy SEAL stories in the SEAL Brotherhood series have consistently made best sellers lists and review sites. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.

Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.

Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.

She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband, and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting vera vera dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

Sharon Hamilton

Life is one fool thing after another.

Love is two fool things after each other.

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