Free Chronic (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 2) by Alana Albertson

deeper.”
    I took him as deep as I could, his cock tickling the back of my throat.
    His eyes closed for a few seconds. Then he placed his hand on the back of my head, guiding my movement.
    I couldn’t get enough of him. I never wanted to stop, but after another moment, he pulled himself out. The silence of the night filled the air.
    I dared a look up at his face. “What, did I not please you?”
    “You pleased me fine, but I want to taste you.”
    A shiver ran through my body.
    He carried me into his bedroom, and positioned me on his bed. His capable hands slowly unhooked my bra. His fervent kisses showered my neck, his hot mouth probing mine. But these weren’t sweet and loving kisses like I’d known with him; these were animalistic and raw. My hands moved to touch his massive chest but he pinned my arms above my head.
    “Spread your legs,” he barked, his deep, throaty voice sexier than ever. He pulled a belt from the side of the bed and tied my wrists up to the headboard. I tried to hold on to what little composure remained. I had never seen Grant like this. But one look up at his face showed a man who was totally in control. Taking what he wanted. I was nervous, but even now, Grant had a way of making me feel safe.
    Once I was restrained, his mouth made its way down my body. His tongue lashed at my nipples until they turned a bright shade of red. I ached to feel him inside me, for him to have his way with me. Luckily for me, it didn’t seem like I’d have to wait long.
    “You’re so fucking perfect. Like someone sculpted you just for me.”
    Despite this hell-in-a-hand-basket night, I held back a laugh.
    He pushed my panties aside, his tongue just a centimeter away from my lips. But then he stopped, the vein in his neck bulging.
    He sat up, his breath hitched.
    It was as if time had frozen, just our labored breaths filled the room.
    His eyes widened and he placed his head in his hands, sighing heavily. “I think you need to leave. Now.”
    What the— “Why? What is wrong? Did I not be pleasing to you?”
    His jaw dropped, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
    He untied my wrists. “Get out of my house. And lose my number. Don’t ever call me again.”
    “What did I do wrong?”
    His nostrils flared, his lips pulled back, teeth bared. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
    I stumbled out of bed, covering my body with my hands. I awkwardly dressed, grabbed my purse, and dashed out of there—leaving Grant naked on his bed.
    What was I missing?
    My body shivered despite the warm San Diego breeze. I called a taxi, and it whisked me back to the only place I had left. Somehow I’d fucked up everything in my life. I had nothing left. For now—the only thing that remained was this quest. I still owed Mitch a private dance. A dance that would bring me one step closer to solving this mystery.
    ***
     

 

     
     
    A BABY? MIA HAD A fucking baby. Where was this baby? Was I a father? I had to assume this was connected to her leaving me years ago, when I was laid up in the hospital. We’d made love once when I returned from deployment, and then she’d vanished. Completely. No trace—I mean this bitch was psycho. Like that chick from Gone Girl .
    I hadn’t noticed the scar before, not when she stripped for me or had spent the night at my place. I’d been too focused on fucking her. But I was a goddamn Navy SEAL corpsman—I knew what a C-section scar looked like.
    Done. I was so fucking done with her mind games. She could waste the rest of her life trying to help Joaquín but I would no longer be her pawn.
    I wouldn’t even consider that I was wrong—Ksenya was Mia! She was. I was surer about that than I was about the sky being fucking blue.
    I had to find out if her kid was alive, if my kid was alive. If she had my child and had kept him or her from me, I’d fucking lose my mind.
    Maybe she had cheated on me. Although I never saw any signs of that, I couldn’t assume anything about this chick to be true anymore.
    Where was