Hot SEALs: SEALed Fate (Kindle Worlds) (Deep Six Security #0) by Becky McGraw Page A

grabbed the handle on the driver’s door. 
    “There’s that growly voice again,” she said with a laugh.  “I think my panties just went up in flames.” Fallon put a finger by her mouth.  “Oh yeah, I’m not wearing any, so I guess that was something else burning.”
    Probably Jax’s fucking underwear, because it looked like Fallon was pulling out the big guns now by flirting with him, and she’d made a direct hit.   This was going to be a long assignment.  The longest of his life, he thought, as he got behind the wheel and waited for her to walk around the van.

 
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    How damned much longer was this going to last  Jax wondered a week and a half later, as he listened to his sister and Fallon in the kitchen debating points as they studied for her FBI exam, which was next week.  Twisting the allen wrench forcefully, Jax also wondered how many times could he clean his damned weapons just to keep himself occupied? 
    They were spotless, beyond that—these weapons were so damned clean they’d even pass Grant’s inspection with a magnifying glass and a white glove. 
    He remembered that surprise inspection well when he’d first made the teams.  That time it hadn’t turned out so good for him, and the whole damned team had to do sand drills, which hadn’t endeared him to his teammates at all.   After that, Jax had used his own magnifying glass and white glove, before Grant had a chance to.
    But Jax was not only bored stiff, he was just about as stiff as he’d ever been in his life. 
    The waiting was killing him.  The not knowing what the FBI was doing was killing him.  He’d talked to the agent in charge five times and got nothing from him.  But what was killing him most was Fallon and her flirting.  Jax stayed in a perpetual state of agitation, stone-hard agitation, around the woman. 
    And she was evidently enjoying it, because last night she’d upped her game with the little finger crook she gave him to invite him to join her in her bedroom.  It took everything Jax had to turn his back, to go into his own bedroom and take matters into hand himself, which helped then to a degree, but now he was right back where he’d been. 
    This morning, her torture device was a pair of the shortest and tightest shorts he’d ever seen.  His guess was they were his sister’s because they would fit his less curvy, more petite younger sister perfectly.  But on the thirty-plus-year-old, much taller and curvier federal judge, they were more underwear than shorts.  The bottom of her ass cheeks hung out past the frayed hem, and Fallon took every opportunity to give him a good view of that too.
    Fallon laughed at something Anna said, and Jax had enough of their chatter.  It was almost as if those two didn’t know he existed, or realize that he was trying to focus on something himself.  The fact that he was mostly trying to keep himself from going in the kitchen and dragging Fallon Sharpe to the bedroom to fuck her brains out was beside the point.
    Jax jerked the remote up from the coffee table, turned on the television and flipped until he found national news then kicked up the volume.  Finally, their voices faded and Jax relaxed against the back of the sofa to pick up the soft cleaning cloth and rod to clean the barrel of his rifle.  He sat the rifle on the floor between his knees, and pushed the cloth in and out with the rod, which further reminded him of the sex he wasn’t having with Fallon Sharpe.  In and out he went time and again, while listening to the anchor on the television drone on about the latest on the war in Iraq, spinning the fault for the latest fuckup there on the politician in the hot seat at the moment.  That was the last thing Jax wanted to hear, so he sat the rod aside to pick up the remote.  His thumb was on the button when a breaking news banner flashed across the screen, and he waited to see what it was. 
    “We have breaking news from Washington about the trial