Excerpt from Curves and Cradles

Kevin

I takea swig of my beer and look at the brunette a few stools over.

We've been exchanging glances for the last twenty minutes. She tripped when she first entered the bar, caught me watching, and flashed me an adorably goofy grin that went straight to my dick.

Awkward or not, the girl is hot. Petite and curvy in all the right places, like a pinup girl you find leaning against a muscle car.

Between her occasional gaze and smile, she divides her time between staring at her phone and watching the door. She's clearly waiting for someone.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down.

Cade: Met w/funeral dir. Sucked. See you tomorrow.

Damn. I came to Texas for Lieutenant Cade Wilson from SEAL Team Seven. We've been best friends since I was in BUD/S training. When it came down to it, there was no question about me coming to help my friend bury his mother. No one should do that alone. I might not know what it's like to have a family in the traditional sense of the word, but his team is all the family I need. And this—using my weekend leave to support Cade—is what I'd do for any of my brothers.

I know how to support my team in the field. I know I'm prepared to take a bullet for any and all of them. What I don't know is how to support someone through the loss of a loved one. I've never had anyone, and therefore I've never lost anyone. It keeps my life tidy, at least in the emotional sense.

When I look up from my phone, the cute girl I've been eyeing has disappeared. Evidently, whomever she was waiting for finally arrived. Damn. I was hoping for some company tonight. It's been too long since I got laid, and her heart-shaped ass and nice rack were just what I needed.

I spin on my barstool to face the darkened room behind me. There are no neon signs advertising the variety of beers. Nor are there any pool tables. This isn't the type of bar I usually pick. Hell, I don't even know what kind of music is pumping from the speakers, but it's across the street from the hotel, so it's convenient. I didn't bother to change into nicer clothes, and I'm still wearing the jeans and T-shirt I traveled in. My hand goes to my neck to ensure my dog tags are still tucked inside my shirt.

A new group enters the bar and shuffles up to order drinks. All the guys are wearing skinny jeans and beanies—bunch of damned hipsters.

I should've known this was a hipster bar when it took the bartender fifteen minutes to list all the craft beers. Maybe I should head back to my hotel and order room service. I take another swallow of my Shiner and set the bottle on the bar behind me.

Then sexy-awkward girl steps out of the bathroom, and her eyes move to the new group of customers. Something in her features wilts, and she bites her lip. She's expressive. Yeah, she's definitely working for me.

As if I've called to her, her attention slides to me. Determination sets her features, and she starts toward me. There's nothing inherently sexy in her no-nonsense walk, nor her clothes—basic jeans and a shirt with black Converse tennis shoes—still, there's something about her that I can't tear my eyes from.

Hell, yeah, baby.

Uncertainty flickers across her face once she reaches me.

I wait for her to speak.

She glances at the new group at the bar, positions herself between my legs, and kisses me as if her life depends on it.

Her full tits press into my chest, and I lower my hands to her hips, gripping her tightly, holding her to me. After a moment of shock, I tilt my head and take control of the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers. We taste and tease one another. She moans into my mouth, and my cock hardens behind my zipper. I groan, frustrated that we're in a bar and she's wearing clothes.

She leans back and gives me a shy smile, fingering the chain around my neck. "I'm hoping that your ball chain and buzz cut mean you're not a terrible person." Her voice is lower than I expected, sultry and husky and sexy as fuck. "I mean, people who join the army can't be total creepers, right?" she continues. "Anyway, would you please go along with this, and I'll explain later?"

"Navy," I correct.

Her head tilts. "What?"

"You said army. I'm Navy."

Her mouth opens, but she says nothing.

"Jane? Is that you?"

One of the hipsters sidles up beside us. He pushes his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose. Damn tool is even wearing a plaid shirt, half tucked into his skinny jeans. A tall, thin blonde stands next to him, gripping his arm.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I pull her—Jane—closer so she's between my thighs, leaning against my chest. I wrap an arm around her waist and let the other rest on her incredible breasts.

"Uh, hey, Blake," she says. "I didn't realize you were back in town."

The perky blonde next to him holds up her hand and gives a little jump. "We're engaged!"

Blake grabs his fiancée's hand and holds it close to his side. "You look great, Jane." Then his gaze flickers to me. "So, what's going on with you two?"

Ah, so this must be an ex of hers, and she's using me to make him jealous. Not my preferred scenario, but if it keeps Jane in my arms, I'll take it.

"Kevin," I say to introduce myself, then reach around Jane to grab the tool's hand. "Janie and I are together." I lower my feet from the barstool rungs to the floor and press against her backside.

"Janie?" Blake asks. "I thought you hated being called anything but Jane." He frowns as he pushes up his dark-rimmed glasses again.

"I don't mind so much when Kevin says it."

I lean forward and lower my chin to her shoulder. "Super awesome to meet you."

Jane's stomach clenches beneath my arm as she suppresses a laugh.

Blake frowns and looks back at Jane. "Sure. Well, it was great seeing you, Jane." He emphasizes her name. "Maybe we can catch up sometime."

His fiancée looks annoyed by that thought, but he puts his hand on her lower back and leads her away. The three couples settle into a booth in the back corner.

Jane spins and braces her hands on my thighs to keep herself from falling over. "Thank you."

"Well, it was the least I could do after that kiss." I smile at her. "I take it you and Blake, the hipster, have history?"

"Yes. We dated through high school and on and off through the first part of college." Her eyes search my face. They're blue, but sorta gray, too—an unusual shade. And there's that adorable grin again. "God, you're super hot." Her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen. "I can't believe I just said that. Also can't believe I jumped on you like that. I'm sorry."

"You think I'm super hot?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend to be modest. No one looks like you and doesn't realize he looks like a sex god."

My brows rise. "A sex god, huh?"

She leans forward, bracing her forehead on my chest.

"You smell good," I murmur.

"Thanks." She smiles. "My friend was supposed to meet me here, but a work thing came up, and she couldn't make it."

I'm pleased she was meeting a girlfriend rather than another guy.

"I'm hoping you can do me one more favor...can we walk out of here like we're going home together? Then I promise I'll totally leave you alone."

I shake my head. "That is unacceptable."

"What?"

"I'll walk out with you, but now that I know you think I'm a sex god, I'm not quite ready to let you go. Know anywhere around here we can get a good burger?"

Her face splits into a toothy grin. "I sure do."

I drape an arm over her shoulder. "Then lead the way, babe, because I'm starving."