SUNNY: SPOTLIGHT TOUR "Cruisin' for a Seal" by Sharon Hamilton

Cruisin' For A Seal
(SEAL Brotherhood #5)
By Sharon Hamilton

Blurb: 
Marc Beale and several of his brothers from SEAL Team 3 board a cruise ship to bury a fallen buddy's aches at sea. A risky affair with a beautiful Italian the night before they leave begins to ease his survivor’s guilt.

Sophia Negri, suffering jitters over her engagement, falls for the handsome SEAL and pretends she speaks no English, letting their bodies do the talking. When Marc finds her on the ship and learns Sophia is half American, he is angry at first, but falls for her all over again as they set sail.

Terrorists take over the ship and hold the passengers for ransom, Marc and the other SEALs are the only ones who can stop the plot. Will Marc’s actions be enough to save Sophia or will he have to sacrifice himself to save the woman he loves?

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Excerpt

Marc woke with the distinct high-pitched siren of an Italian police or ambulance, the see saw of two notes back and forth that told him he wasn’t in the States. For a brief moment, he thought perhaps he could be back in Afghanistan.

            She was draped warmly across his chest. He opened his eyes to see if she still was as beautiful as he’d remembered her earlier in the day, and found she was watching him already.

            “Wish we could talk, honey. I’d tell you how beautiful you are. I’d tell you that you make me hot all over again just looking at you, and because you don’t understand, I’d tell you that the way you make me feel, well, I’d be embarrassed to tell you this, but I—I haven’t felt this good in weeks.”

            She smiled and touched his lips with her palm, softly silencing him. He ached to be able to talk to her, and knew, from the position of her head and her eyes that demurely looked down to his chest that she did too. He saw more than a little sadness there when she fixated on him again and he found her eyes had watered. It was reflex, he knew, but his did too.

            He glanced away quickly and covered his face with the back of his forearm. She began to trace the frog prints, then the scar on his left side where he’d taken a glancing round. Her small fingers found the line under his left chin where the Afghani soldier had tried to garrote him and had paid for it with his life.

            She kissed all those places, bringing his arm off his face to kiss every frog print one by one as well. When she was finished, neither of them had tears in their eyes. Her strong face in the afternoon sunlight splashing on the stucco walls of her little place would be something he’d remember forever. The mystery woman who turned his life around and who didn’t even know what gift she’d bestowed.

            He watched her well-toned and tanned body cross the room, stopping to open the refrigerator. She pulled out a large bottle of water, put it to her lips and threw her head back taking a long sip. Her profile with her pert nipples on ample breasts rising above her flat tummy, contrasted to her powerful thighs that had hugged him just as surely as her arms had when he made love to her—it was such a perfect picture he nearly gasped.

            She held the bottle up, and yes, he nodded. He wanted some. He didn’t care if she poured the ice water all over his body, he’d stay the course if it meant she’d love him again. She motioned to his mouth and tilted her head back to tell him she wanted to pour the water there. God, yes, he would. He opened his lips and she straddled him, pouring the liquid carefully on his tongue, diverting some of it to her mouth as well. Tiny trickles of water fell down his neck and cheek onto her pillow. The dampness accentuated the perfume that arose from her bedding.

            Her mouth was chilled but still sent a hot shudder through him as she tongued her way inside him. Sharing a water bottle had never been sexier. She drank some and then poured it inside from her mouth to his.

            He sat up and forced the water bottle from her hand, setting it firmly on the floor. He threw her on the bed and pinned her beneath him.

            “Namo?” he demanded.

            She giggled and shook her head.

            “Namo,” he insisted.

            She pointed to her temple as if she’d forgotten.

            “Nah, nah you’re not going to play that game with me. You have a name and I want to know who it is before I fuck you again.”

            “Fuck?” she said with her Italian eyes widening. “Ah, Englise.” She pointed to her temple again.

            “Yea, you understand the word fuck, but not name? Namo, dammit.”

            She laughed, arching those impossibly beautiful breasts into him, her fingers playing with the long strands of her hair. He was getting annoyed she wouldn’t tell him what he obviously wanted. Her eyes flashed as she danced with his heart. As she wrapped his waist with her legs, daring him.

            He knew it was best to keep the woman happy. But it irritated him she was playing with him so obviously. As he plunged in, perhaps too needily he rocked her bed loudly with his thrusts. The windows shook and something fell to the floor, like a picture, and broke. She laughed and he kept pumping her to oblivion. Until she stopped laughing and then ran her palms over his shoulders and upper arms, back up to his face, tracing his lips, as he drew her fingers into his mouth and sucked them.

            He kept up the desperate action of his hips as if he could make them both fly away somewhere, somewhere they could speak together. Somewhere he could tell her what she was making him feel, so he could hear it from her mouth what she felt. It became important, urgent.

            He could already tell when she was going to orgasm. She sucked in air and that long wonderful rolling cry, riddled with the sounds of their flesh slapping against each other filled his heart with music.

            I can take you places, baby. Places you’ve never seen. Give me half a chance and I will worship the ground you walk on, even if it’s only for this glorious afternoon. I want you to smell me in your sheets and call to me and I’ll come to you. Again and again. I’m coming to you, baby.

           

            They’d dressed after a long shower and more play. He knew it was a tiny bit of grief creeping back in. Separation was a problem for him. The cappuccino helped. Their affair ended the same way it began, on the Piazza overlooking the boats with sirens still dotting the early evening air. He smelled like her lemon shower gel, but his insides wore her aura like a warm blanket he would never be rid of.

            As he watched her walk away down the streets, noticing she didn’t turn around to say goodbye, he thought perhaps he saw her hand up to her face, but wasn’t sure. He knew, with the cruise leaving in the morning, and her refusal to give him her name, there was no future there for them. He did have her address. He’d written it in his little notebook. He’d try a bouquet of flowers, maybe a letter. Perhaps they could write, have someone translate. Perhaps the long distance would help them become friends first, though god knew they were well suited for each other in bed. He’d never felt so complete with her.

            He got the book out to find the page, just as she turned the corner and was gone from sight. Opening it to the place where he’d written her address was something she’d written in Italian.

            And underneath her words, she’d written her name,

            Sophia.

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About the Author

NYT and USA/Today Bestselling Author Sharon Hamilton’s SEAL Brotherhood series have earned her Amazon author rankings of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love. Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany earned her a #1 Amazon author ranking in Gothic Romance.

A lifelong organic vegetable and flower gardener, Sharon and her husband live in the Wine Country of Northern California, where most of her stories take place.

You can find Sharon at

         

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