Page 33 of Stealthy Seduction (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie #5)

T he hot shower had been absolutely necessary.

Three hours of cleaning bathrooms had left Steele smelling like a toxic combination of bleach and things he preferred not to identify. Dante hadn’t been exaggerating—those bathrooms were disasters that belonged in a hazmat containment facility, not a mansion masquerading as a military base.

After scrubbing himself raw with soap that could probably strip paint, he strode down the hallway toward his room.

Their room, he corrected himself, remembering how Izzy had claimed the space with those two simple words earlier.

The door was cracked open, spilling warm light into the corridor.

He expected to see her seated at the desk with the laptop in front of her.

To his surprise, he could see her silhouette against the window, her arms wrapped around herself in that protective posture he was learning meant she was processing something difficult.

His chest tightened with the familiar urge to shield her from whatever thoughts were putting that stiffness in her shoulders.

“Hey,” he said softly, pushing the door open wider.

She turned, and the smile that crossed her face was like sunrise after the longest night of his life. “Hey yourself. You showered.”

“You don’t even wanna know what I’ve been doing,” he drawled, crossing the room to her, drawn by the same gravitational pull that had been operating between them since that first poker game.

He raked his gaze over her beautiful face. She looked like Izzy. His Izzy.

“How are you holding up, honey?”

“I’m okay.” She studied his face with those keen amber eyes that missed nothing. “Do I have to go?”

The unexpected question hit him like a physical blow. “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to break the rules, Hudson. I know that much about military protocol.” Her voice was steady, but he could hear the brittleness underneath. “So do I have to leave? Is that your punishment?”

Steele felt something cold settle in his stomach. Of course she’d assume that. Of course she’d think his decision to save her would result in her being removed from his life entirely.

“Izzy, you’re still in danger.” He curled his fingers around her wrist and tugged her toward the bed.

He sank to the edge and pulled her down beside him.

“If anything, you’re in more danger now because you’re the first person to actually talk to Cipher face-to-face.

Con’s going to want to debrief you extensively about that conversation. ”

Understanding flickered in her eyes. “So I’m stuck here until he’s caught.”

The way she said it—like she was accepting a prison sentence—made his chest constrict. “You’re safe here until he’s caught.”

“Right.” She nodded, her expression carefully neutral. “I’ll keep that in mind. Try not to get too attached to the place.”

“What are you talking about?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended. “You’re going nowhere, Izzy. Not now, not when this is over, not ever if I have anything to say about it.”

“But the rules,” she said quietly, lifting a trembling hand to her brow. “You broke them. For me. And now you’re facing consequences, and I’m the reason—”

“Stop.” He caught her hands in his, forcing her to meet his eyes. “The rules say we can’t get involved with civilians. The rules say we maintain a professional distance and don’t let personal feelings compromise mission objectives.”

She was quiet, waiting.

“But you’re not just any civilian, Izzy.

You’re the exception to every rule I’ve ever followed.

” He brought her hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“You said it yourself on one of our first nights together—how can someone have a life with a person who’s supposed to be dead?

The answer is that you can’t, unless that person is the perfect person for you and you’ll do anything to be with her. ”

Her breath caught, and he could see the war happening behind her eyes—hope battling with self-preservation, love fighting logic.

“Izzy…Christ, honey. You make me want to break all the rules. You’re worth risking my career, my standing with the team, everything.”

“Hudson…” His name came out as barely a whisper.

Suddenly, he stood, pulling her up with him. Taking her in his arms, he brushed his lips across hers once…twice…a third time, until they were both shaking with the desire for more.

When he drew back, her eyes were fogged with need. He squeezed her tight against him and buried his nose in her hair. “I want to continue this so damn bad, but Con is waiting to talk to you.”

She drew in a quick breath. Then a moment later, she nodded, cheek against his chest. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth, from a journalist’s perspective.”

She blinked as if what he said surprised her.

“Tell him everything about your conversation with Cipher—every detail, everything that seemed important or strange or off.”

She nodded slowly. “And after I talk to Con?”

A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that had probably gotten him in trouble many times. “After you talk to Con, we celebrate the successful completion of my first unsanctioned mission.”

“How exactly does one celebrate an unsanctioned mission?”

“Very carefully.” He chuckled. “And very thoroughly,” he drawled.

The space between them seemed to crackle with electricity. Izzy’s eyes went wide, her lips parting slightly as she processed the promise in his words.

“Hudson…”

“Izzy…” He cupped her beautiful face and searched her gleaming eyes. “Life is short and dangerous and unpredictable. And I don’t want to waste another damn second pretending that what I feel for you is anything less than completely life-changing.”

She was quiet for a long moment, as if analyzing the reasons why this was complicated and risky and potentially catastrophic.

Then she smiled—that brilliant, take-no-prisoners smile that first caught his attention across a poker table—and looped her arms around his neck, leaning into him.

Izzy melted against him, her body fitting perfectly against his, as if they’d been designed specifically for each other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly in a way that sent electricity straight down his spine.

Their lips met in a seeking kiss of new beginnings and more promise than he ever believed could happen to him.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I should go talk to Con,” she said, though she made no move to step away.

“You should.” He traced lazy patterns on her back. “Once we’re alone again”—his voice came out rough with promise—“I’m going to show you just how thoroughly I intend to celebrate.”

She shivered, and he felt her pulse jump against his throat where she’d pressed closer.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered.

“I’m counting on it.”

One more kiss—quick and sweet and full of anticipation—and then she was stepping back, smoothing her hair and straightening her clothes with the efficiency of someone preparing for battle.

“Con’s probably in the war room?” she asked.

“Most likely. And Izzy?”

She paused at the door.

“I love you.”

He watched her face transform, watched hope and joy and something deeper than both settle in her amber eyes.

“I love you too,” she rasped. “So much it scares me.”

“Good scared or bad scared?”

“Good scared. The kind that makes you want to be braver than you think you can be.”

He crossed the room to kiss her again with a lingering tenderness. “That’s how I feel about you.”

After she left to see Con, Steele stood in the empty room for a moment, processing the enormity of everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours.

He’d changed since the moment he first saw Izzy’s face on that security monitor. The woman he loved was still in danger from a terrorist with global reach and a network of contingency plans that could level cities.

But one truth cut through all the uncertainty and fear.

Their love would carry them through whatever came next.

* * * * *

The war room felt different during Izzy’s debriefing with Con. Less intimidating, somehow.

Maybe it was because she’d finally contributed something valuable—her detailed recounting of every word Cipher had spoken, every shift of his expression she’d memorized during their twisted interview.

Con listened with focused intensity, and for the first time since arriving at the base, Izzy felt like more than just a burden to be protected.

“You’ll need to speak with the FBI soon,” Con warned as she prepared to leave. “The agents will come to us. We can’t risk exposing you until Cipher’s neutralized.”

“So now what?” She slowly untucked her thumb from her fist, her reaction to anxiety and nerves, the thing that Hudson had picked up about her first thing.

Con actually smiled—a rare occurrence that transformed his usually stern expression and left Izzy with a better understanding of how Sophie felt about her SEAL.

“Now we follow tradition. Pizza on the patio after any successful op. Even ops involving one rogue operative and his backup.”

Walking toward the patio now, Izzy marveled at how her perspective had shifted.

She wasn’t just Hudson’s girlfriend hiding out at a military base anymore.

She was someone who’d looked a terrorist in the eye and lived to provide intelligence that might prevent global catastrophe.

She was part of this strange, dangerous family in her own small but significant way.

The familiar sounds of the team’s post-mission ritual filled the air—Hudson’s laugh mixing with Dante’s good-natured complaining about extended bathroom cleaning duty, the sizzle of dough hitting the hot pizza stone.

Izzy headed toward where Sinner stood manning his pizza station with the intention to pitch in.

“What can I do?”

Sinner looked up from where he was stretching pizza dough with the same methodical precision he probably applied to ops. He shook his head.

“What?” Izzy blinked in confusion.

“You’re wanted elsewhere.”

“What could possibly be more important than pizza?”

Sinner’s expression held the faintest hint of amusement. “Trust me.”

Before she could ask what he meant, a loud beeping sound filled the air. The distinctive warning tone of a large vehicle backing up. At that moment, everyone on the patio froze—then took off for the front of the building.

Hudson caught her by the hand. “C’mon.”

“What’s going on?” Izzy was forced to rush along in his wake.

What she saw made her jaw drop.

Alyssa, Kennedy, Sophie and May stood near the gate wearing matching yoga outfits, their faces bright with barely contained excitement. Behind them, a livestock transport truck was maneuvering into position, and Chase was driving it, carefully backing toward the grassy side yard.

The truck’s gate lowered with a metallic clang, and suddenly the most adorable chaos Izzy had ever witnessed emerged from the back of the truck.

Baby goats.

A dozen at least, in every color from pure white to spotted brown, tumbling out of the truck like furry, four-legged confetti.

They immediately began exploring their new temporary playground with the enthusiasm that only baby animals possessed, bouncing off each other, investigating the yoga mats already set up on the grass.

“Oh my god!” Izzy squealed. “Baby goat yoga!”

She turned to race back toward the house, needing to change into something more appropriate for what was clearly going to be a much-needed therapeutic activity.

This was definitely going in her book—the chapter about how black ops celebrated successful missions with pizza and baby farm animals would probably be her editor’s favorite.

She was halfway to the patio doors when strong arms caught her around the waist, spinning her around until she was facing Hudson’s grinning face.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” His eyes bright with the kind of joy she was learning to associate with moments when their dangerous world felt almost normal.

“To change! I can’t do goat yoga in jeans.” She laughed, gesturing toward the adorable chaos unfolding behind them. “Did you know about this?”

“Kennedy may have mentioned something about therapeutic animals being good for stress relief,” he admitted. “Con wasn’t hard to convince once she explained the mental health benefits.”

“You realize this is completely insane, right?”

“Completely.” He settled his hands on her waist in that possessive way that still made her pulse quicken. When his thumbs stroked the dips of her hip bones, her insides flooded with heat. “But I love seeing you this happy.”

The simple statement hit her with unexpected force. Happy. When was the last time she’d felt genuinely, bubbling-over-with-joy happy? Before Syria, certainly. Maybe not since college, when life had been simpler and the worst thing she’d had to worry about was deadline pressure and student loans.

But looking at Hudson’s face, hearing the sounds of her chosen family laughing as baby goats wandered around the yard…she realized she was more than happy.

She was home.

“I’m happy with you.” She framed his face with her hands and went on tiptoe to meet his lips with her own.

“I love you, Hudson Steele. I love your ridiculous team and their ridiculous traditions and the fact that you somehow convinced your commanding officer to rent baby goats for therapeutic purposes.”

“I love you too. Even if you’re about to abandon me for a bunch of farm animals.”

“Only temporarily. Save me some pizza. This is going to be the best chapter in my book yet.” She gave him another quick kiss that melted into a much, much longer one.

Some stories, she reflected, were worth all the danger in the world.

Especially the ones that ended with a happily ever after.