Every time I turn around, there's a fucking landmine.

I head for base early that morning, grabbing all my crap and hoisting it into my truck. I fight not flip off the prissy shithead in the mansion's guard shack when he opens the gate, giving me another one of those looks that tells me I don't belong here.

Base is supposed to be my safe haven. It's cramped, spartan, but I've lived with it for almost five years. Enlisting makes you appreciate any warm bed without the threat of some evil bastard sneaking up in the dark and blowing out your brains with a quick, silent shot.

And compared to all the bullshit drama at home? Staying on base sounds pretty damned good.

Mom's shown her true colors for about the thousandth time. Marriage hasn't changed her a single shade, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna crash in that god forsaken house while her and sugar daddy beat me up about my career.

Delia's feelings are crystal clear, too. She threw her hands at me last night like I was carrying the plague when I shoved my lips on hers, grabbed her incredible ass. I was ready to bed her over the bed and pick up right where we started on the beach.

Today, with less whiskey in my veins, I couldn't totally blame her for being such a bitch.

I'd almost fucked up royal. Bitch or beauty, she's my stepsister, and she's got a point about all the inevitable hangups that'll come from getting nasty.

I don't do drama. It's been my policy since my balls dropped and I learned to make women moan.

Love? Give me a damned break. I only do casual, worry free fucking, and there are a million chicks out here in the Bay Area who'll be happy to ride my cock, without worrying about entangling myself deeper into this twisted family.

I'm planning to hit the bar tonight after I workout and get my bunk set up. Then I get down to the wing, and I see the notice. It's big, bold military script with a three day date range, starting today.

FUMIGATION, 18:00 HOURS. ALL ACTIVE DUTY MEN, SEE YOUR COMMANDING OFFICERS ABOUT OTHER ACCOMODATIONS.

I slam my bag down on the ground and look around, grateful there's nobody else to see me blowing up. I can't believe my horseshit luck.

Something needs to go right after Kirkuk. The universe fucking owes me.

A man's supposed to get a break after watching three of his own men cut to pieces. I close my eyes for a second and it all comes rushing back, the screams and explosions. We'd just finished off Abu Alhazred and his guards, flattened him like the terrorist piece of shit he was. The last thing we expected was to see were the Iranians surrounding us, trying to get their hands on all the shit we'd flown in with.

Commander Jones called their bluff. Who the hell knew to this day if it was the right choice, but it saved our asses, and protected American goods from falling into rival hands.

They made a move before we blew up the gliders. We protected our assets with deadly force.

We shot our way out of there. The Iranians balked in the end and opened up an escape route, but only after they'd slaughtered three of our finest while the SEALs were busy planting demo charges on our gear.

I had to see the commander about other accommodations off base. Knowing Uncle Sam's budget, we'd probably get a crappy two star hotel, tucked away from anything exciting around the city.

Whatever, anything's better than heading back to that joke of a home. Until I decide to settle down one day, I don't have one, and it doesn't phase me.

I'll hump it and bring a tent out to the park if I need to. Nothing beats avoiding the freak show, especially watching that little minx with the long black hair tease me with all her charms that are suddenly off limits.

* * *

An hour later, I'm running along the docks, looking out at the submarines peaking up above the water. One of them I'd jumped out of a week ago for drill, my boys behind me in an inflatable raft, swimming toward a small island strewn with barbed wire for the live fire drill.

The new recruits were on their way to earning their full colors. They'd never replace the guys we'd just lost in Iraq, but fresh blood meant everything in a SEAL Team like ours, always a heartbeat away from a new assault to stamp out some foreign brushfire.

The commander kept it short and sweet. Jones set me up with a room at a mediocre motel, surprised I wasn't going to crash at my family's place.

He also reminded me we're always on call – as if I needed to hear it. Anybody with eyes in their skull knew about the Korean situation simmering in the background, ready to go hot the instant their potbellied Dear Leader decides to test his new missiles, which are going to shoot over Hawaii and stretch to California if the President doesn't do something.

The Norks can't afford another full blown war. They'll never win. But if things go hot, and they're stupid enough to lob rockets at US territory, they'll have to fight when the South and her allies punch back. It's our job to slap their pride before it gets really wounded, and prevent a total meltdown, destroying the sixty year truce that's held along the DMZ.

I can't wait to get the hell outta here. My boots pound cement, faster and harder than I normally run, trying to scorch away all the blue ball frustration Delia's left me with. If I have my way – and I will – it'll be the last time she riles me up.

After the workout, it's late evening. I stop for a burger and then hit the bar next door, only a few blocks from the motel. It's nothing fancy, but it's the perfect place to haul some bar girl for the night.

Nothing's getting to me tonight. It's not the first time I've used sex to purify my skull, and it's a helluva lot more fun than whiskey and hangovers.

I'll fuck away the disaster tonight, and forget about everything. Kirkuk, Evie and her billionaire boy toy, my tease of a stepsister with the perfect little ass. With the way shit's going, I'll be sent overseas before I know it, too busy to worry about any of this.

I work hard enough busting butt for Uncle Sam, and now it's time to play the way I like – hard.

* * *

The loud, half-smashed blonde chick sits on my lap in a corner booth, already moving her hand down my abs, dangerously close to my dick. I'm hard, but I'm not sure why the fuck I don't have my hand up her skirt yet.

She's a beach girl, all right. Laura, or something. She likes her martinis double strength and her men rock hard.

She's hot. Skimpy, glaringly bright summer dress, bleached highlights in her hair, fake tits, and a laugh that sounds like a strangled hyena.

She's the kinda girl I'm used to hauling into bed for the night.

Too bad I can't stop thinking about Delia, goddammit it. She's a wicked little tease, and having this slut wrapped around my neck reminds me how rare it is to find a party girl in this town who's not just trolling for tonight's dick.

“Baby, what'sa matter?” she purrs, stopping to push a desperate kiss into my throat. “You act like you just dragged yourself off a long flight. I thought you said you've been here for a few days? Talk to me!”

I force a thin, fake smile, and run my fingers up over her ass. They move swiftly, giving her goosebumps as I run my hand all the way up her neck, grabbing a fistful of her hair and giving it a tug.

“You're not my shrink. I don't need to talk. Do you want another drink, or is your pussy wet and ready for me?” Finally, I reach up that skirt.

Her skin feels warm and dry, probably from too much sun. Fuck.

My dick jerks – only because I'm remembering Delia's soft thighs, the feel of her cream trickling down her legs after I thumbed her clit into overdrive.

She moans, refusing to answer me. I shove her lace panties aside and push my fingers into her pussy. Growling, I try to imagine it's just as hot as sis, but something tells me Delia's a helluva lot tighter. And I'll never get a chance to find out either.

Fuck! Why the hell does she have to be my stepsister? What god did I piss off to make the hottest chick I ever tasted like cyanide?

Blondie's eyes pinch shut, and she starts to shudder. I haven't even started on her clit, and she's in high heaven. There's no way I'll ever be as hot for her as she is for me, but it wouldn't be the first time I've done a chick without equal sparks flying both ways.

Pussy's pussy. Tonight, I need some under me, get my dick soaked, fuck 'til dawn tomorrow if that's what it takes to get Delia's little whimper out of my head.

“Come for me right here,” I growl, nipping at her earlobe.

She shakes, resisting me, trying to moan something about how naughty it is. Like I give a shit.

My other hand shoots behind her and smacks her ass. Laura shifts against me hard, surprised and drunk, sending her half-filled margarita glass flying off the table.

Shit! Even I'm freaked out by all the eyes on us after the tremendous clash.

I pull my hands back and she scurries off me, wide-eyed and apologetic. A waitress rushes up to deal with the mess, and I realize I've gotten splashed too. The sugary crap feels sticky, and it's all up my arm.

“Baby, damn, I didn't mean it! I'm such a klutz. Let me help clean you up.” She smiles, pulls out a napkin, and starts patting me down.

I push her away, sliding out and standing up. “I've gotta hit the men's room anyway. Give me a minute.”

I head into the bathroom and wash my arm, then smooth cool water across my face. My stubble feels edgier today, like my whole damned body's on edge, the same intensity I always feel before a mission.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why's it so hard to settle down and do what I've always done best – giving one stranger the night of her life?

I want to punch my own reflection. Delia's hot little ass has me screwed up, yeah, but it's my own fault for letting her get underneath my skin.

She's nothing special. She's a hot, responsive spitfire who just so happens to be off limits. She's –

My phone dings and I rip it out of my pocket, tapping the screen. Speak of the fucking devil – or should I say the succubus?

YOU BUSY? I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT LAST NIGHT.

Adrenaline spikes through my blood. It's the same superhuman focus I get with my rifle in hand, except there's no life or death on the line here. Only egos.

WHAT DO YOU WANT? I send back.

I work my way out of the bathroom and lean against the wall, waiting. Her next text hits a couple seconds later.

MORE LIKE WHAT I DON'T WANT, CHRIS. I DON'T WANT BAD BLOOD. I WANT YOU TO COME HOME SO WE CAN TALK. EVIE AND DAD ARE GONE FOR THE WEEKEND – OUT ON THE YACHT.

Is she serious, or just yanking my dick? She wants to talk to me...alone? I gotta wonder if this chick's much crazier than I thought.

It takes me a few seconds to ignore the fire throbbing in my balls to write back. I tell her I'll think about it – no guarantees – and then shove my phone back in its place.

One thing's for sure – I've lost interest in blondie, still waiting for me at our table, wet and drunk as ever. I walk up and tap her on the shoulder. She smiles up at me with her fat glossy lips, the same look I know she'd have before taking my cock in her mouth.

“I need to run. Something's come up.”

“Don't go!” Her smile melts. She leaps up and grabs my arm, and I hear her breath catch. “Did I do something wrong? Don't tell me it was the spill.”

I shove her off me and I only slow my way out of the bar to bark back. “Duty first. Stop following me. I'll pick up the tab.”

I stop and handle it with a waitress on the way out, grateful blondie's too pissed to moan begging for my number. I'd have to shoot her down the hard way then.

On the drive to the estate, I pound my fist on the wheel, wondering what the hell I'm doing. Did I just give up sane, guaranteed pussy for a talk with my prissy little stepsis?

My last text told her to tell the guard I was coming. He gives me the same shitty look when I roll up to the gate. I floor it up the hilly driveway after I'm through.

The place is just as pretentious and alien as the first time. I'm standing underneath the big chandelier by the staircases when I text her.

I'M HERE.

Delia comes sauntering down the staircase in about thirty seconds, and my eyes pop out of my fucking skull. The sleek, conservative crap I've seen her in before has given way to a short red dress, cut in all the right places.

My dick hammers in my pants, begging for release, howling for her tight, wet warmth. Something about the dress accents her curves even more than her tank top and shorts did on the beach. I don't know whether to throw on the only suit and tie I've got to take her out, or rip it all off and fuck her right here in our parents' grand entryway.

She lights up with a smile when she sees me staring.

It's too much. All the shit I haven't been able to control since Kirkuk takes hold. As soon as she's next to me, I grab her, spin her around, and fling her against the wall.

“What's going on here? Really?” She whimpers with more than surprise, and I realize too late I've shoved my fingers through her hair, pulling too tight. “Sorry.”

She backs away from me when I give her a chance, a sour look on her face. “Jackass. Would a hello kill you?”

I shrug. “You're the one who wanted to talk, and you come out dressed like that. I'm warning you right now – head games and cockteases aren't my thing, babe. Unless you want to go upstairs and spread your legs for me, you'd better start talking, because that's looking like the only reason I'm here.”

She flushes bright red and holds up her hands. “No, no, you've got the wrong idea. I'm not that kind of girl.”

“Yeah?” I shoot her a dirty look. She's not entirely wrong – I haven't been able to figure out what the fuck she is yet, or what she's up to.

“No, I mean, I don't just jump into bed with people.”

Snorting, I nail her with my sarcasm. “No, but you really want to. You came hotter than any chick I've ever fingered behind a bar, babe. And you're hardly the first. You want to know me? Cut the good girl act. I see right through it like I can see your tits through that thing.”

We stare, saying nothing for several seconds, before I drop my eyes to her chest and take a good look. That makes her flush harder, and my cock is ready to go off like a rocket.

Yeah, I'm a crude SOB. I never hide what I want. I half-expect her to turn around, stomp right back upstairs, and slam the door.

“Whatever. I'm trying to be nice. Let's go outside and talk.”

She starts moving before I can say anything. I watch the full, round globes of her ass bobbing in that skin-tight dress behind her, and I'm led along like a bulldog following a bitch in heat.

We stop off in the kitchen. Her ass taunts me more as she bends, opening up the thick door to daddy's special liquor cabinet attached to the kitchen, reaching inside and pulling out a bottle of something white and fancy.

My dick thuds. I instantly think about popping the cork and splashing it all over her, licking expensive Dom or some shit off her tits, tasting it on her pussy, cooling her body with booze before I get between her thighs and burn her to cinders.

“Glass?” She smiles like an angel and gestures to the crystal glasses hanging off a rack. I grab two and follow her down the long deck stairs to the pool below, overlooking a perfect view of the sea in the distance.

A man could get used to fucking a chick out here. Damn if I'm not gonna try, sooner or later, even if I've got to drag her into the pool.

We flop down next to each other in these huge cabana chairs. I'm staring at her cleavage the whole time as she unscrews the cork and fills our glasses.

That sound of the wine flowing into the glass sounds too much like wet, hard sex, the noise we'd make together getting down and dirty.

“I'm sorry last night was so ridiculous,” she says. “I didn't know Evie would give you such a hard time, Chris. I don't blame you a bit for handling her like you did. I would've been just as pissed.”

“Stop, babe,” I growl, taking a long pull from my wine. It's smooth, good, warming. “I didn't come here for family therapy time, and I've got a feeling that's not why you reached out either. What's going on? Why call me back after you turned my ass outta your room last night?”

She looks into her glass, giving it a little swirl. “The night on the beach was a disaster. Something would've happened if you weren't my stepbrother, Chris, I'll be up front about it. But we can't do that now.”

Fuck that, I want to scream. You're wrong. We can do it all, and then some.

My hand burns to smash my wine glass next to the pool and march the fuck out, but that shy little look she's giving me causes my dick to hum fire. It's like she's intentionally feeding me lies I'm supposed to catch.

Maybe this chick is crazy, or just too damned stuck up to admit she wants a working boy in her bed. I've fucked rich girls before. Nobody as high class as Delia, maybe, but damn if I don't know how to handle 'em.

They always play coy. She's going over the line, but it feels like the same game. I crack a thin smile, gently set my glass down, and fold my arms.

“So, what, then? You're here for some brotherly loving?” I watch her do a double take, flustered as ever. “Brother love, I mean.”

“I've been just fine my whole life without any siblings,” she says. “I'm an only child, just like you. Mom divorced when I was in my teens, just walked out of our lives with another man. The stress was too much for her. I know this sounds crazy, but any family friction brings that feeling back. It hurts.”

I look the girl up and down seriously. Her eyes are honest, but I'm not joining the pity party just yet. As far as I'm concerned, nobody on earth needs to know about my old man and his fucked up last days with mom, much less this dark haired beauty who acts like she's out for a therapy hug one minute, and the roughest fuck of her life the next.

“I'm no stranger to family bullshit, Delia. Sorry it upsets you. Mom's always been a huge bitch, and she's got a lot of problems, falling off the screen and all. If she ever pushes you, push her right back. I don't know what she pulled to get your old man interested.”

She smiles sadly. “Probably desperate. He's been a mess since mom walked out, and he's taken a back seat with business the last couple years too, leaving him too much time to think. Time for trouble too, I guess.”

I finish my wine and grab the bottle, topping off our glasses. “I'd say I understand, but I'm not looking to be your shoulder to cry on, babe. Is that the only reason you want me here, or what?”

Maybe it's the booze in my system, but I'm done playing around. Uncle Sam taught me to be sharp and direct, to manage time and damage control like nobody's business. I want to get to the heart of why the fuck I'm here, and if she won't answer with words, or getting her lips on mine, I'm out.

I decided years ago there are three things I'll never do with any woman. Not after what happened to dad.

I don't do drama. I don't do therapy. And I definitely don't do love.

“I just want to know you, Chris. You're interesting. It's not every day a girl meets a Navy SEAL.” Delia looks up, her eyes softer, nervous. “There's this project coming up for my senior thesis in journalism. It's sent my stress levels through the roof, along with everything else going on in the family. I don't need an estranged stepbrother too, you know?”

She offers her hand. I'm not the touchy-feely kind, but hell if I'm passing on any opportunity to touch her again. I reach out, lace her little fingers through mine, and squeeze.

Inside, I'm already smiling because I've figured her out. She's lonely.

I can do lonely chicks, bring a little lightning into their lives, fill them with the hot, real connection that comes from being wrapped around all ten inches of me.

No, I'm not a total bastard. I'll hand out some sage advice, and mean it, even if all I care about is finding out how loud she screams when I'm pounding her ass against the nearest surface.

“It'll be okay, woman. You're a few years younger than me. This shit gets better when you figure out your life. Finish school. Find a good career. Leave this fancy carnival behind. My mom's nothing but drama with a facelift, and you can't be your dad's shoulder to cry on your whole damned life. You've gotta get out there and live.”

“It's not that simple for me, Chris. You've probably had more action and adventure in your pinky than I've had in my entire life.” The sadness in her eyes fades when she looks up, curiosity flickering in her big brown eyes. “What's it like out there? Take my mind off this crap. Tell me something about the SEALs.”

“The first rule about being a SEAL is you don't talk about what happens when you're a SEAL.” I give her a hard glare.

She slides off the chair and stands up, causing her plump tits to bounce. “Come on, Chris. There must be something you can tell me. I'm not a Russian spy or anything. I just want to know what it's like – how does it make you feel?”

I don't like her hovering over me, unless she's going to strip. My hand darts out and I grab her wrist, jerking her down. She crashes against my chest with a squeal, and my free hand reaches for her ass.

That sweet, plump, grabbable, fuckable ass!

She gasps when I squeeze her cheeks for what feels like the thousandth time without seeing it bare. And I'm still not fucking sick of it yet.

“You wanna play truth or dare? Is that what this crap's all about?”

She has to work hard to wiggle my hand off her rear. But she doesn't bolt up and run like before, settling against me, resting her head on my shoulder. I hear her breathe deep, pushing those gorgeous ripe tits flush against my hard muscle, exploding a primal spark inside me.

“Maybe I do, big brother. Like I said – I just want to know you. I don't care who you're running around killing or what you're blowing up over there. Do you like your job?”

I think seriously before answering. The little tease has got her thigh settled around my dick. There's no fucking way she can't feel how hard I am, how bad it hurts not to pull her legs apart and sink down into her, slamming her sweet cunt 'til I explode.

“I wouldn't be there if I didn't like it, babe. Somebody's gotta protect this country. It took me years to find structure, and the Navy's given me that. I don't give a shit what Evie thinks. There's nothing I'd rather be doing than drilling hard and hauling myself onto base whenever duty calls.”

“Hmmm,” she purrs, nuzzling her face on my shoulder before she looks up. “That's really noble. I've always respected military men.”

I roll my eyes. “We're not all prima donnas looking for constant praise. I don't need it from you. The free drinks down by the base are plenty thanks for me. I don't do this shit because I want my ego stroked.”

“Then why?” She lifts her head up and her cheeks are rose red. Thinking about all the blood hissing through her makes my dick harder, knowing how bad she wants me. “Isn't there anything else you'd rather do?”

“Playing warrior suits me. It's just like anything else – it's a role, a calling, and I've found mine. You don't walk away from that when it's pulled you in.” I'm tired of these questions, and I lift up my hand from her lower back, bringing it down on her ass.

She jumps at the short, searing spank, and then punches me playfully. “Hey! I didn't ask you to run your hands all over my body and treat me like another one of your beach sluts. Jesus, is that what you thought I was the other night?”

I don't answer her. She hasn't told me a damned thing yet, and there's no way I'm letting her know she's the hottest chick I've seen for several tours. I'm not giving her that power. I'm the one in control, all the time, no exceptions.

“It's my turn, Delia. You wanna play truth or dare? Fine.” I reach for her face and dig my fingers into her chin, just hard enough to tell her I'm not playing around. “How long has it been since you last fucked? Was he good?”

I need to know. I've got a feeling she's going through one helluva dry spell, and if I find out what truly makes her tick, I'll have her panties in my fist by sundown.

She laughs and starts shaking her head like mad, slapping my arm. I don't let go. Don't let up.

I stroke her jaw softly with my thumb, reminding her of all the things I can do to her clit. Hell, her whole body, if only she'd stop talking, stuff the bullshit head games, and get me naked.

“Come on. Who's asking who classified information now?”

She twists her face away from me. The girl's gone a whole new shade of red, blushing like a sunburn, just like a –

No fucking way. She can't be.

I run my hand along her cheek, pushing her gently, forcing her to look at me before I ask. “Are you telling me you're a virgin? You've never been with a guy before?”

She opens her mouth, and her words catch in her throat. Shit.

I push her off me. I need to get room, get oxygen, before my dick or my heart give out. I'm not sure which one it'll be first – guilt and crazy lust start storming in my system, so hard it rattles my bones.

“Fuck, Delia, what're you doing here? You want to fuck me, don't you?” She's bunched up on the cabana chair, staring at me while I'm pacing in front of her, trying to process this ludicrous shit.

“I'm just...having a little fun. That's all. Really, Chris, I don't see what the big deal is. I do want to know you, and I don't mind flirting around.”

“Flirting?” I snort, shaking my head. “Flirting doesn't include having your stepbrother's hand on your ass, ready to tear your panties off. You know, I started thinking maybe it was possible, as fucked up as it is. Now, I know I can't fuck you. No way in hell.”

I start to walk toward the edge of the pool, wondering if I'm too drunk to drive out of this sideshow. Yeah, I sure as shit am – sis and me sucked down most of the bottle. It's amazing how fast booze flows when words are gushing too.

“Jesus, Chris! It's just a little drunken fun. Can't you see I'm trying to fucking open up? And maybe find out if we can at least be friends?”

“I don't need more friends,” I snap. “Not friends I grab ass with. Not friends I want to lock lips with, leaving my marks on their skin. I don't need any friends who aren't going to turn into fuck buddies – and we don't have a chance. There's no way I'm gonna be your first fuck. I'm not screwing up your head and leaving you with the lifelong knowledge that the first man you spread your legs for was your own fucking stepbrother.”

“Screwing up? Screwing up?!” She's got fire on her lips when she runs after me, digging her nails into my shoulder. “What do you think happened the other night? We were so close, Chris. You can't deny it. You're the first man who ever got his hands down there. Do I look screwed up to you? Well?”

Crazy confirmed.

Fucking shit. I don't know how to answer that without breaking her heart.

“We didn't know. It was a mistake, nothing more. Now, you'll agree this truth and dare shit's a bad idea, and I need to get the hell out of here before we piss ourselves off more. Sorry it's gotta be like this, Delia. There's somebody in this town for you out there. Good luck.”

I get about ten steps away when I hear her scream.

“I'm not the one who needs it! Just go ahead and run, you fucking coward. You're right – this was a mistake.” Tears are streaming down her hot red cheeks now, and her arm flaps erratically, hurling her empty wine glass at me.

It shatters on the pool deck with a loud echo.

Coward, huh? If she were a dude, I'd already have her on the ground, one hand on her throat and the other in a fist, knocking teeth out.

She's upset, I remind myself. She's just my stupid, naïve stepsister. One more spitfire who caused my cock to ache, even if she's a little better at it than most.

Nothing more.

I walk away, and this time I don't stop. I'm sober enough to run up the long staircase without breaking my damned neck, and that's all I do before I slam the door to my room.

I need to sleep this bullshit off. In the morning, before she's up, I'll be gone, taking my last look at this insufferable mansion forever. This time, there's nothing that'll bring me back.

I can fuck chicks with a little crazy. I can fuck my own stepsister too, especially when she's hot and willing and wanting.

But I can't fuck my virgin stepsis, no matter how bad every dark, primal urge inside me wants to mount her like no other man ever will. Even I have limits.

I can't leave poison and serious heartbreak in her head the minute after I'm spent. And I can't let her greedy little nails dig me deeper, trying to pull me into some fucked up, impossible relationship, the kind I know she'll want after I've burned the feel of my dick into her brain for life.