Chapter Two

Valen

I extend my hand when I’m just close enough to see the color of his eyes. They’re light green. His jaw is square, his muscles are large, and that bone frog tattoo licking up his neck? Well, that’s the proverbial panty scorcher. “Now what’s a man like you doing over here by himself?” I ask, smiling. When he slips his hand into mine I say, “I’m Valen.” A shiver, an actual godforsaken bolt from head to toe, hits me at first contact with his skin.

The man grunts, his wide chest pulling his black t-shirt and he raises his eyebrows. “You’re that Valen?” he asks, removing his hand from my grasp, as he leans back on his elbows. His posture suggests he can’t be bothered. Stiffening my back, I try to stifle the irritation. “I’m just taking in the scenery.” The bolt I just felt melts into a piss warm fizzle.

“What Valen?” I ask, even though I know where this conversation is headed. I can’t say it’s a virgin conversation, but I will say most of the guys don’t have a problem with it. They don’t mind sharing what they don’t plan to keep. “The most awesome Valen that ever existed on planet Earth? Or do you mean the Valen who walked over to a lonely gentleman to introduce herself despite her nervous demeanor?” Nervous, my ass. I’m not using any of my usual lines, but he’s taken me out of the safe zone.

His green eyes narrow right before he casts his glare over my right shoulder. “I’m not interested. Have a good night, though.” Panic sets in. I read this man all wrong, and I’m exceptional at reading people. My gay-dar is the hottest commodity in a one-hundred-mile radius. His left ring finger is bare of both a ring and the tattooed bands that are wildly popular in the Teams. This man is not taken. He’s just not. I don’t have a self-conscious bone in my body, but all of a sudden my face is awash with heat and shame.

“Excuse me?” I ask, trying not to scream over the music. “Who says I was offering you anything to be interested in? That’s offensive.” I cross my arms under my breasts and scowl. Glancing at my watch I check the time. Walking away at this point would be akin to a dog tucking its tail between its legs and retreating. I made the decision for tonight and he’s going down. Either between my legs or by way of an embarrassed woman’s scorn. He hasn’t even mentioned his name. What type of ill-mannered twat is he?

Sighing in an over exaggerated manner, he stands, and towers over me like a death haunt. Gazing down, he nods toward the exit back into the bar. “Go inside if you want to talk to me,” he says, brushing by me to stalk through the door. People get out of his way as he goes. Women gawk, his friends smirk, and I send my icy glare at his back hoping it penetrates to his heart. He chooses a booth and slides in. He motions to the seat in front of him when he sees I’ve followed. Now I’m a dog who follows instead of tucking its tail. Fucking hell. I slide into the booth acutely aware he’s sizing me up in the brighter light.

I stifle the gasp when I actually see him in full light. He is gorgeous. Not in the rogue, pussy defiling way. In the actual, ‘hey, I have good genes, nice symmetry, and bone structure that will make your children beautiful’ kind of way. The type of attractive that draws attention from strangers, the all-encompassing masculine features any woman wants in a man she desires to keep around.

“I wasn’t trying to be offensive, Valen. Quite the opposite actually. I don’t do…women like you. And before you say that’s offensive, you should know you blew off my buddy earlier, and we talk. And most guys love that thing you do with your tongue, and the small, black heart tattoo you have on your left hip-bone. This isn’t me being offensive, this is you being offensive assuming I’m like my friends. We aren’t all dick driven beasts only out to fuck.” He’s smiling as he speaks and it makes my stomach roil with rage. He swallows, and the frog tattoo on his neck dances. He meets my eyes and my brain momentarily scrambles. Is he sucking my soul out through my corneas while he trashes me? What is happening right now?

I take several deep breaths and stay silent, my eyes trained on his, he continues, “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?” He throws his hands out to the sides and shrugs. “Tell me I’m off base. I’d love to be wrong. I’m looking for an actual relationship and I’m acutely aware this isn’t the place to find it, but given my circle of friends this is where I ended up tonight. You’re a beautiful girl and I’d love to take you out.”

I lose my breath. “If you’re not that Valen,” he amends, flashing his white smile my way. His eyes flick from the top of my head down, over my breasts—as far as he can see with the table blocking the bottom half of my body. I throb everywhere, my heartbeat skipping along at a furious pace I’m unfamiliar with. I’ve lost all control for the moment and I’m not sure how to get it back.

Clearing my throat, I fold my hands in my lap to keep from swinging on him. “You’re assuming after your tirade I’d want anything to do with a man like you.”

He crinkles his forehead. “A man like me? One that respects women?” He looks over my shoulder, distracted by something. Turning, I see his friends making faces his way. They halt their twisted grimaces when they notice I’m viewing their asshole maneuvers. They’re drunk, so their reaction time is like three seconds slower than it should be.

Slowly, I turn to face him again. “You haven’t even told me your name. How respectful is that?”

“I brought you inside here so I could talk to you away from them. I am respectful despite what misconceptions you’ve labeled me with. The name is Hutch, by the way. Not that it matters much at this point.”

“Why did you even bother bringing me in here to talk, Hutch?” I sling his name like a curse word. Anger needs to fully replace the lust I feel for this barbarian.

He shrugs and starts tapping his large fingers on the table. “I already told you I didn’t want to be here. I was bored.”

My eyes widen in shock. “My God, I don’t think I’ve ever been so insulted in my life! You’re talking to me because you’re bored?”

He laughs. It’s a loud, low sound that sends shockwaves to my pussy. That cunt is a traitorous bitch. “It’s hilarious you think I’m insulting you given your predispositions. Why did you come here tonight? Humor me. The night is practically over anyways. Let’s learn something about each other.” He’s taken all of his friends off the table. Even if I wanted to, I’d never make myself look like anything but an angel in front of this jackass.

“As if!” I growl. “I came here tonight to find something different, too,” I admit. “Not that it’s any of your business. It’s why I turned down your friend in the first place.” Because I was waiting for a man like you, I think. Shaking my head, I clear my idiotic thoughts.

He presses his lips into a firm, smug line. “You expect me to believe you came to Burning Fish with the intent of finding a decent man to date?” Hutch quirks up one brow. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man with such smug facial features. He knows he’s beautiful and cunning and downright evil.

Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze—unsure how much longer I can heat under his stare without imploding. “I don’t want to date just any decent man. Some assumptions you’ve made about me are correct. There is a certain sort of man that makes my loins tingle.” Keeping a straight face is difficult, but I manage it aside from a small smirk.

“Wait, wait. So, you want to fuck a SEAL,” he says, keeping his voice low. They’re always very hush, hush about their profession. I’ve had a SEAL in the past swear up and down he was a pilot. I broke the news to him gently, that I was too skilled to fall for that line. “But do you actually want to date one? You realize they are two different things. One is far more complicated than the other,” he says, his face wiped of all emotion. He swallows hard and meets my eyes.

“I want to date a SEAL, Hutch. Not just fuck one. I’ve done that before. Since we’re being honest and because this conversation doesn’t matter, I’ll spill my fucking guts,” I admit.

He winces. “Don’t swear.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” I reply, smiling. I think I’ve tripped him up, and I’m gaining my footing in this conversation.

He shrugs. “Fine. So, you want to date a SEAL, why? Do you think deployments will be fun? The separation? The training trips? The sex will be hot. Did you know the average Fucking time you’ll actually have will be less than the length of a normal relationship? Say you date a SEAL for three years. You’ve probably only been with them for six months. How is that attractive? Inform me of this plan of yours.” On the word plan, he air quotes. “I’m really curious, honestly. Tell me what’s going through your mind.” He looks genuine for a second or two, which helps me keep a string of cuss words from pelting him in the face.

I’m irritated he doesn’t think I know what I want. He tells me not to curse and then questions me like he knows me. “I want adventure. I don’t want stability. I want mystery and homecomings. I want mind blowing sex with someone I’m one-hundred percent attracted to both in body and soul. I can depend on myself. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I need someone to love me, and the chemistry…is the most important part.”

“But you’ve only been with SEALs recently?” he asks, eyes narrowed and hands clasped together on the table.

I nod. “I mean, I’ve tried dating other guys, but I don’t get the same thrill. I’m not speaking about you, because you’re an asshole, but there’s nothing quite like being in bed with a man who has your qualities.”

“You said your qualities,” Hutch says, smiling.

He leans toward me. “Fucking is great, Valen. The fucking is the easy part. Are you ready for everything else?” His green eyes meet mine, and the promise I see in them causes a riot of emotions. I want wet sloppy sex, but I want more than one night with him.

Leaning away, I fold my arms across my chest again. “I’m a big girl. I can deal with more than you give me credit for.”

He swallows. “And you’ll be a one man woman?” he asks.

“Of course. Weren’t you listening to me? I came here because this is where you guys hang out. It was a mistake the first few times—an adrenaline rush. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. I want a relationship. A SEAL to call my own.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You know, they told me about Frog Hogs when I was going through BUD/s. At first it’s hard to believe anyone would seek out men like us. Men who leave more than they’re home. Have you ever dated one? More than a night,” he says, amending his question.

I groan, look at my watch and then let my eyes scan the room. A few people are watching us, but mostly we’re off everyone’s radar. I bet the bitches looking at me now are waiting to swoop in and snatch Hutch up as soon as he rises from his seat. Little do they know. Good fucking luck, ducks. “I haven’t actually dated one, no.”

“Date me then,” he says.

I turn to glimpse his face. I must look shocked because his response to my expression is amused. “Why would I date you after everything you just said?” This is exactly what I want to hear, but I’m not sure of his intentions. They don’t make sense to me, but I’m not about to question them. Not now, at least.

Hutch lifts his chin over my shoulder. “All my friends want to see the heart on your left hip bone. I’m not into that…yet. I’m probably the only man in this bar that will turn away your pussy in favor of dating you. And I’m a SEAL. That fits all of your criteria, does it not?”

“I don’t get it. You seem obviously repulsed by who I am, yet you want to date me?”

“I haven’t had much luck in the way of dating these days. Like I said once before, which you chose to ignore, you’re a beautiful girl. Any man would be lucky to date you. Even if you do swear like a salty pirate hooker.”

I readjust my top. “Thanks for the compliment. I’m not sure I understand your reasons for wanting to date me. I get the reservations.” I’ve fucked his friends. “I’d appreciate it if you never bring up my tattoo again. It’s a little awkward.”

“What about that trick you can do with your tongue?” he asks, catching his tongue between his teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t bring that up either,” he amends when he sees my scowl.

My heart-rate is skyrocketing at the prospect of dating him. I don’t want to. In fact, I think I might hate him, but I can’t deny that he speaks the truth. I’ve destroyed all chances of most men respecting me enough to date me instead of tossing me out with the splooge filled condom. This is what I want. Hutch is offering an olive branch in the form of not fucking me.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say.

His mouth opens in a small smile. “You already know everything you care to know about me. Don’t you?”

He turns to the side and pulls on the collar of his shirt. It’s a nonchalant gesture that makes more of his frog tattoo visible.

My pussy drips with need. I swallow down the dirty words I want to say and instead whisper, “Where are you from?”