Prymal Lust by Jianne Carlo

smile. “Senior Chief Johnson. We were just looking for our table.”
    “We’re all at table eleven, right at the end over there.” He pointed to the far side of the hall.
    “Your eyesight must be spectacular,” Mishe said, giving the other man a head-to-toe raking.
    “Have to have twenty/twenty vision to get the trident.”
    “Adjustable twenty/twenty,” Mishe corrected.
    Eyebrows climbing in disbelief, Tania asked, “How’d you know that?”
    “Googled the requirements for a SEAL right after Jaz’s little surprise, remember?” Mishe gave her a how-quick-you-forget headshake.
    Tania’s cheeks warmed. “Duh-uh.”
    She smelled Senior Chief Smith before his face appeared above Johnson’s shoulder. His unique blend of powerful and blatant arousal heralded his arrival.
    Smith snorted and punched Johnson’s shoulder. “Don’t let him snow you, Prakov. We scouted the hall before the ceremony.”
    Tania frowned. How on earth had Smith heard their whole conversation? Had he been standing near them all along? And how could such a colossal and heavily muscled man move with such stealth?
    Praying no one noticed her trembling all over, she edged closer to Mishe.
    “Expecting trouble?” Mishe stiffened and shifted so his body half blocked hers.
    “No more than usual. Relax, it’s a built-in function of a SEAL to never trust anyone else’s security. Habit, that’s all. Shall we head to our seats? Anyone want a libation?” Tania’s knees wobbled when Senior Chief Johnson winked at her.
    “I’ll get the drinks. What’s your poison?” Smith addressed the question to Mishe.
    Tania stole a sidelong glance at Smith. His profile and the stubborn set of his jaw alerted her to his tension right away.
    “Vodka, straight up. Belvedere if they have it.” Mishe had spent four summers in Siberia and had developed a definite taste for the Russian originated alcohol.
    “And for you ma’am?” Senior Chief Smith’s sexy rumble had her reaching for a chair back for support. Steel and scorn laced his final word.
    How dare he be contemptuous of her?
    Taunted, she raised her head and met his glare full on. “tequila. Lime and salt.”
    “Coming right up.”
    Had he emphasized the word coming, or was she being totally paranoid?
    Tania followed Smith’s retreating back. She salivated over his wide shoulders and the narrow waist emphasized by the dress jacket he wore.
    Mishe’s cell flashed and the strains of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me echoed in the now rapidly filling cavernous room. He held the phone to his ear and strode to one side leaving her alone with Senior Chief Johnson.
    “Allow me to escort you to your seat, Ms. Prakov.”
    “Please call me Tania, Senior Chief Johnson.” She flinched when he cupped her elbow, but followed his lead.
    “My first name is Lycus.” He pulled out a chair. “I believe you’re right here. As luck would have it, I’m right beside you, Tania.”
    “And Senior Chief Smith? His first name, I mean.” She stumbled a little getting into her seat.
    Damn it.
    She shouldn’t have blurted that question. She’d gone insane. How else to explain this desperate need to know everything about him? To crawl all over him. To taste him. Crap. This was ten times more powerful than it had been in the gym. Or in the shower.
    “Axe.” Senior Chief Smith snuck up on her. Again.
    Tania almost knocked the plate acting as a tray for a filled shot glass, a salt shaker, and a wedge of lime out of the Senior Chief’s hands.
    “I’m sorry?” The shot glass vibrated when Tania accepted the proffered dish and set the solid white plate onto the table.
    “My given name is Axe Richard Smith.” He picked up Breede’s name tag, which was on the other side of hers, and switched it with the one opposite. He showed it to her.
    Axe R. Smith , she read.
    The contrast of his bronzed thumb against the white paper bemused her. He had talented thumbs. Her clit throbbed in memory.
    She grabbed the salt