Read Online Nashville SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood: Nashville SEALs by Sharon Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharon Hamilton
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realized he probably was considering all the information she’d given him. He’d been a gentleman last night. He never once made a gesture to slide his fingers somewhere dangerous or kiss her anywhere but on her forehead or on her cheek. But, his arms around her waist told her something else about the man. She’d been right to fall for him so hard. Not smart in the way it happened, but seeing him now and hearing his reaction last night to her story about Charlotte, she saw that her instincts had been correct. He was an honorable man, and it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been a part of Charlotte’s life.
He was a protector. He’d been that way when they’d made love so many times over the course of those golden days. He’d been a careful lover, attentive, and she allowed herself the luxury of feeling fully consumed by him, nearly to the point of tears half the times they’d been together. The beauty and the mastery with the way he made her feel stirred healing everything hurt and incomplete in her soul. Mating with him—and that’s what it was—not making love or having sex, it was a mating ritual, a religious experience.
After he had left and went back on the road, she was seriously hoping to follow the circuit he was traveling and show up at some future venue when she found out she was pregnant. That changed everything. It changed her whole life.
There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of him. As she brushed Charlotte’s angel-spun hair, braided it into tiny braids no bigger than the size of her shoelaces, when she tucked her under her arm and read a story to her, or when the little one stared up into her eyes, she saw him there. It was only a matter of time before she was old enough to ask, where’s my daddy?
Lizzie figured she could always say he’d gone away, just like her father had, before Charlotte was old enough to remember him. That brought tears to her eyes. She was happy her father was able to meet his granddaughter before he passed. At the same time, she was sad that she would forever miss the relationship only a loving man like her father, could give Charlotte. This meeting was for her, after all. This was to give Charlotte the chance at a man in her life that she could call father, if he wanted that. But if he didn’t, well, then Lizzie would spare her that uncertainty and the pain of being unwanted.
There was no other way to do it but to show up. Take a number as she’d told him last night. She’d arranged for her Nashville friend to babysit Charlotte overnight. Her friend’s toddler was nearly the same age. Kendra’s husband had been killed overseas, and so the two of them spent time together, raising girls without fathers or husbands. They were good support to each other during the dark, lonely times.
She moved her legs and stretched her arms up over her head and noting when Jameson sat erect and took notice. He dropped his hand from his lips to the chair, seeming to take a minute to adjust to the sight of her again, and then stood slowly.
“You sleep okay?” he asked her.
She arched back and did another stretch. This time the sheet fell back from her white lace bra, and she quickly covered it up, returning a shy grin.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” he whispered, walking around the foot of the bed in his boxers. The tent in his shorts was hard to miss.
“Jameson, come here for a second first.”
“I’ll just be a second,” he whispered as he disappeared into the kitchenette. She listened to the water running and the gurgling sounds sending a fresh caffeine scent she loved even as a child.
He sat on the bed and handed her the ivory crockery mug filled with the brown steamy liquid. “I don’t have any cream. Sorry. Just the powdered stuff, and I remember—”
He stopped himself and gazed off through the lighted window. She had propped herself up in the bed, her knees bent, clutching the mug. With one hand, she allowed two fingers to trace down his
He was a protector. He’d been that way when they’d made love so many times over the course of those golden days. He’d been a careful lover, attentive, and she allowed herself the luxury of feeling fully consumed by him, nearly to the point of tears half the times they’d been together. The beauty and the mastery with the way he made her feel stirred healing everything hurt and incomplete in her soul. Mating with him—and that’s what it was—not making love or having sex, it was a mating ritual, a religious experience.
After he had left and went back on the road, she was seriously hoping to follow the circuit he was traveling and show up at some future venue when she found out she was pregnant. That changed everything. It changed her whole life.
There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of him. As she brushed Charlotte’s angel-spun hair, braided it into tiny braids no bigger than the size of her shoelaces, when she tucked her under her arm and read a story to her, or when the little one stared up into her eyes, she saw him there. It was only a matter of time before she was old enough to ask, where’s my daddy?
Lizzie figured she could always say he’d gone away, just like her father had, before Charlotte was old enough to remember him. That brought tears to her eyes. She was happy her father was able to meet his granddaughter before he passed. At the same time, she was sad that she would forever miss the relationship only a loving man like her father, could give Charlotte. This meeting was for her, after all. This was to give Charlotte the chance at a man in her life that she could call father, if he wanted that. But if he didn’t, well, then Lizzie would spare her that uncertainty and the pain of being unwanted.
There was no other way to do it but to show up. Take a number as she’d told him last night. She’d arranged for her Nashville friend to babysit Charlotte overnight. Her friend’s toddler was nearly the same age. Kendra’s husband had been killed overseas, and so the two of them spent time together, raising girls without fathers or husbands. They were good support to each other during the dark, lonely times.
She moved her legs and stretched her arms up over her head and noting when Jameson sat erect and took notice. He dropped his hand from his lips to the chair, seeming to take a minute to adjust to the sight of her again, and then stood slowly.
“You sleep okay?” he asked her.
She arched back and did another stretch. This time the sheet fell back from her white lace bra, and she quickly covered it up, returning a shy grin.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” he whispered, walking around the foot of the bed in his boxers. The tent in his shorts was hard to miss.
“Jameson, come here for a second first.”
“I’ll just be a second,” he whispered as he disappeared into the kitchenette. She listened to the water running and the gurgling sounds sending a fresh caffeine scent she loved even as a child.
He sat on the bed and handed her the ivory crockery mug filled with the brown steamy liquid. “I don’t have any cream. Sorry. Just the powdered stuff, and I remember—”
He stopped himself and gazed off through the lighted window. She had propped herself up in the bed, her knees bent, clutching the mug. With one hand, she allowed two fingers to trace down his
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