Weekend Warrior: SEALS N SORORITY SISTERS, #2

Weekend Warrior 2nd Edition © Copyright 2021 Alexandra Isobel

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

Adherence to all applicable laws and regulations, including international, federal, state and local governing professional licensing, business practices, advertising, and all other aspects of doing business in the US, Canada or any other jurisdiction is the sole responsibility of the reader and consumer.

Neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility or liability whatsoever on behalf of the consumer or reader of this material. Any perceived slight of any individual or organization is purely unintentional.

The resources in this book are provided for informational purposes only and should not be used to replace the specialized training and professional judgment of a health care or mental health care professional.

Neither the author nor the publisher can be held responsible for the use of the information provided within this book. Please always consult a trained professional before making any decision regarding treatment of yourself or others.

For more information, email: alexandraisobel@bell.net

Dedication

To my sister.

Who adventured with me on a road trip to Martha's Vineyard for my 50th birthday.

Man, that was fun!

WEEKEND WARRIOR

Chapter ONE

Marble Head, Boston . The Kitchen.

What? You're suing me? Senior Chief Thomas Perkins stared down at his wife Mary Jane, as the noise from their five-year-old twins, Malcolm and Jefferson, and Irish wolfhound, Finn, playing in the backyard, faded into the background of his awareness. For wrongful pregnancy? Are you fucking kidding me? He'd only been home from his latest SEAL mission for five minutes. How did he end up this disillusioned so quickly, in his own kitchen, in the middle of this huge clusterfuck so fast? This had to be a world record.

Mary Jane, his wife of ten plus years, gave him a withering stare. Language, Thomas. Tommy, Fergus, and Maisey are right upstairs, and you know they hear everything. Can you keep your meltdown to a dull roar? She pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the granite middle console.  

Thomas opened his mouth then shut it, trying to mentally gather the pieces of his blown-up mind. His wife was pregnant again? And suing him for it? What the fuck? He widened his stance and clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. Wrongful pregnancy? Is that even a thing? He sounded like a stupid idiot, sputtering out the words as if somehow repeating them would bring comprehension. And... you can't sue me; I'm your husband. He lamely pointed at himself.

This had to be a joke. His mind stalled as he stared at his wife. She was as beautiful as ever. Her straight black hair was pulled off her face, highlighting her long lashes and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose, not to mention the flash in her light brown, cat-shaped eyes. She wore a simple, long-sleeved top, the round neckline showing off the high lift to her chin, the white color a contrast to her coffee with heavy cream-colored skin. She was a paradox personified. Slender but curvy. Reserved but fiery. A proper wife and mother of his children, but a freak between the sheets. There was never a time he didn't love her or lust after her, hence the five children and apparently still counting. He was already growing wildly hard with just the thought of her carrying another one of his babies.

Mary Jane and their kids shared light olive complexions with their features mixed, Irish and black, his and hers respectively, a perfect combination in his mind. They were all a perfect combination.

Just now, as she stood in her simple shirt and a long, fitted skirt that reached her ankles, her back straight with one hip against the counter, her manicured fingernails drumming the shining surface, he had no idea what to do with her. If he made one wrong move or said one wrong thing, everything that simmered within her calm demeanor would literally blow up in his face.

Honey... he spluttered and stared at her.

Breach. Of. Contract. She bent toward the suitcase he didn't even notice on the floor beside her.

Breach of what? Contract? He blinked at her pert, round ass as she grabbed the suitcase. What contact? We don't have any contract.

She straightened and narrowed her eyes. Yes, we did. You said you'd pull out. She hissed the last words so forcefully that they stung.

Thomas blinked. Oh. That. He drew back and cleared his throat.

Ya, that. She pursed her full lips, the unintentional movement making his dick jump.

In his own defense, he had been interrupted by the countdown to mission call in the middle of making love to her before he left, and therefore had been severely distracted from his task: maintain discipline in her body. Knowing he had to leave made him desperate, and he lost control and became overwhelmed with his basic nature to riotously mate with her. What could he say? He was hard-wired to want her. And every time a soldier left, there was an unspoken truth that it could be for the last time. That was a soldiering life fact and the reason why military couples didn't argue or fight before deployment. His and Mary Jane's lovemaking had flamed and ignited that night, and he'd unleashed himself inside of her before he could stop.

He tightened his jaw. Well, you can't sue me for that or for wrongful pregnancy for that matter. Unfuckingbelievable. Are you serious? He sifted through the long-forgotten part of his brain where he kept his equally long-forgotten law degree savvy. Family expectations had made him finish his law degree. His own personal code had driven him to become a SEAL.

Mary Jane narrowed her eyes again, this time to the point where she and gave him the coldest cut eye before she bent down and dragged her suitcase over the Spanish tiles toward their double front doors.

Honey—wait a minute. He stupidly trailed in her wake. Should you be doing that in your condition?

She shook her head and tugged on the curved door handle, remaining frustratingly silent.

"Hold on, wait... where are you