Stealthy Seduction (SEAL Team Blackout Charlie Book 5), page 1
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Stealthy Seduction
SEAL Team Blackout Charlie
Book 5
Copyright Em Petrova 2025
eBook Edition
Electronic book publication 2025
Cover Art by Bookin’ It Designs
All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.
SUBSCRIBE to Em Petrova’s Newsletter to keep up to date and for special reader features.
SEAL Team Blackout
SHATTERED TIES Bishop’s Story
RUTHLESS PROTECTION Sparrow’s Story
MERCILESS SURVIVAL Ramsey’s Story
SAVAGE PAWN Gunnison’s Story
REBEL MISSION Frost’s Story
WICKED INSTINCT Lachlan’s Story
FINAL TARGET Mustang’s Story
DIRTY JUSTICE Apollo’s Story
SWEET REFUGE Lena and Overstreet’s Story
SEAL Team Blackout Charlie
OPERATION HEARTBEAT Con’s story
DANGEROUS DEVOTION Henner’s story
HIDDEN ATTRACTION Chase’s story
COVERT TEMPTATION Dante’s story
STEALTHY SEDUCTION Steele’s story
BROKEN TRUST Mason’s story
He lives by the rules. She’s the one he’d break them for.
Hudson Steele lives by the book—because in his world, breaking the rules gets people killed. As the rock of SEAL Team Blackout Charlie, nothing rattles him…until the night Izzy Cruz walks into his life. She’s all curves, camera-ready confidence and fierce drive to dig up the truth—no matter the danger. But Izzy’s latest story has made her a target for someone who would rather see her silenced than be exposed.
Surviving a hostage crisis was supposed to be the hardest thing Izzy would ever endure. She’s spent years reclaiming her life and her career—until one story puts her in the crosshairs again. The threats are real, the danger closer than ever, but she refuses to hide. The problem? Her new shadow is a hard-muscled SEAL with a Southern drawl. He makes her feel safer than she’s ever felt, yet sets her pulse racing in ways that have nothing to do with fear.
When bullets fly and the walls close in, Steele’s ironclad resolve to follow orders shatters—because losing Izzy isn’t an option. Every brush of his hand, every protective growl, chips away at her defenses. And when the enemy strikes, Steele won’t just risk his career to save her…he’ll put the one thing he’s never given anyone on the line—his heart.
If you crave high-octane danger, sizzling romance, and off-the-charts chemistry between a strong-willed heroine and the protector who’d lay down his life for her—and can’t keep his hands off her—STEALTHY SEDUCTION is your next 1-Click! Binge the entire SEAL Team Blackout Charlie series!
STEALTHY SEDUCTION
BY
Em Petrova
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
ONE
Hudson Steele tossed a poker chip into the pot and leaned back in his chair, shooting his teammate a lazy grin that dared him to fold.
The dining room of the SEAL base was thick with the scent of peanuts and the brand of trash talk that only happened in a break between ops.
Beside him, Sinclair gave an elaborate stretch, but Steele knew he was really trying to steal a look at his hand.
“Don’t even try it, Sinner,” Steele drawled in his smoothest Southern accent.
“Just trying to work this kink out of my neck.”
“Won’t work. You’re never going to un-kink yourself,” he jabbed.
Sinner flipped him the finger without looking up from his cards. “Funny coming from the guy who hasn’t blinked in five minutes. You guarding your hand or your reputation, Steele?”
Steele shifted in an attempt to ease the tension across his shoulder blades. Poker was about rules—knowing the odds, reading the man across from you, never letting emotion cloud the game. He was a damn rock. Unshakable. Always had been.
“Man’s a stone wall,” Mason muttered, shaking his head. “No poker face, just a poker soul. Cold, calculated…boring as hell.”
“Boring keeps you alive,” Steele shot back, pushing a neat stack of chips forward. “Without rules, there’s chaos. And chaos gets you killed.”
The table erupted in groans and jeers. It was just another night with his brothers, another hand…another pot to take.
“Steele does everything like a Southerner. Did you see how he leaned back in his chair?” Mason liked to trash talk during poker, but Steele wasn’t rattled. Ever. Besides, they were only trying to shake him because he was on a winning streak.
He didn’t glance away from his cards. “No point in moving fast until you need to. Conserve your energy.”
Mason snorted and slapped down his card with a force that couldn’t shake the heavy, expensive dining room table, one of the few pieces of furniture left over from the mansion’s previous owner after it was seized by the government and handed over to the Blackout Charlie team as their base.
The place was a fortress of tight security and routines like poker games and pizza nights. Steele liked it that way.
So when the adjoining kitchen flooded with women, he tried to forget that poker night coincided with hot tub and margaritas night for the women who lived on base with some of the guys.
Their voices grew louder as they crashed their poker game. All attention shifted to the women.
Sensing that their game was on pause until things settled, Steele glanced up—
At a pair of bare legs. Toned. The color of honey.
Slowly, he lowered his cards and let his gaze linger for a beat too long on those fine legs, before raking over the rest of the newcomer…ending in the black hood over her head.
The hood was protocol and must be worn by all newcomers to the base. But even with her face hidden, Steele knew every line of her as much as he knew the sway of her hips as one of the ladies led her into the room.
Then there was the telltale habit she had of tucking her thumb inside her palm.
“What’s Izzy doing here?”
Silence crashed over the group.
“Take the hood off her,” Con ordered.
Alyssa Vargas, who was living on the base under their protection after being targeted by a terrorist, reached up and pulled the hood off the guest.
Loose, glossy brown curls tumbled over Izzy Cruz’s shoulders. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the sudden light.
And her gaze fell on Steele.
Mason was staring at him too. “How did you know that was Izzy?”
Unruffled, he tore his attention from the stunning woman wearing what could only be a beach cover-up for hot tub night and glanced at his cards. “You guys were all trained the same as I was to profile a person.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. How did you know it was Izzy?” Mason’s lips were quirked as if he suspected Steele was hiding something.
He tipped his jaw toward the woman. “Look at her.”
That body.
“Her height. Five-four. The scar on her left thumb.”
She tucked her thumb inside her fist once more and her amber eyes flashed to him.
For a beat, he soaked in the warmth of Izzy Cruz’s gaze. It was like standing in a patch of late-afternoon sun after weeks of cold, the heat sinking through his skin straight to places he’d sworn were untouchable. It was dangerous, that kind of warmth—tempting him to step closer when he should be holding the line.
“Hi, Izzy.” Steele’s South Carolina drawl sounded somehow thicker in his ear.
She gave him a flat look. “Special Operative Steele.”
A few of the guys said hello to her. He couldn’t help but noticed that she offered them smiles and greetings that were more personal than repeating their name and title.
In the kitchen, the blender started up.
Alyssa touched Izzy’s arm. “Come on, Izzy. Kennedy is making her famous margaritas.”
“Ooh, count me in.” Dante sprang to his feet at the mention of Kennedy, his significant other, but their leader, Constantine aka Con, pointed at the chair.
“You’re not going anywhere. And alcohol is off-limits while we’re on duty.”
Even though they all knew the rules, a grumble rippled around the table. Dante dropped back into his seat.
Steele couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to Izzy’s legs as she followed Alyssa out of the room.
The game resumed, but they had to raise their voices to be heard over the blender and the talk of the women who were all gathered—Sophie, May, Alyssa and Kennedy.
And Izzy.
He’d only seen her once before, when one of the guys on the team tracked her down and brought her back into Alyssa’s life. While he knew the pair spent time together on occasion, he hadn’t crossed paths with her again until today.
The woman even looked good in a damn blackout hood.
She drifted into his view, framed by the doorway, that gauzy white dress that he knew was most likely covering a swimsuit floating around her curvy thighs.
A vision of Izzy in a bikini flashed through his mind. Tiny laces crisscrossing her bare skin, itty bitty triangles over each full breast…and lower.
His gut gripped at the private slideshow scrolling through his head.
May said something to her, and she swung around to answer, which put her in profile and gave Steele the chance to study her without her taking notice.
He wasn’t exaggerating when he told the guys he memorized everyone he saw in passing. The skill had come in handy more than once in his career, but Izzy Cruz’s legs were pretty noteworthy. The last time she’d been on the Blackout Charlie base, she had been wearing shorts, and he recalled every inch of those legs.
“Taking your time to study that scar on Izzy’s thumb some more?” Mason gibed from across the table.
“He’s taking his time, all right.” Dante grinned and then laid a card down.
“Conservin’ energy,” Mason added.
He got his head back in the game and made a good play that wiped the grin off Mason’s face when he was forced to fold.
He shot his buddy a smug glance.
The hand finished with the poker chips stacked in front of Steele. It helped a lot that Izzy moved out of view.
By the time the new hand was dealt, he was just hitting his stride. The ladies went off to soak in the hot tub, which meant they could really get down to business. Steele won two hands, and Mason one.
When the women filed in again, some sporting swimsuits with towels wrapped around them, his stare went straight to the only woman he didn’t want to see—yet couldn’t take his damn eyes off of.
It had been too long since he’d seen any action that didn’t involve a sniper rifle.
Izzy trailed in last, a colorful beach towel swaddling her hips, the end twisted and tucked in at the smallest part of her waist. And that bikini top Steele had envisioned.
It wasn’t exactly the same, but damn close. The bright orange color, almost red, made her skin glow. The cups weren’t triangles but still left little to the imagination.
Kennedy walked straight over to Dante and leaned over his shoulder. Alyssa passed behind Steele and he quickly lowered his cards so she couldn’t see his hand. But the next minute her lover, Julian Chase, won the round.
And Izzy stood on the outside of the group, margarita in hand and one hip cocked outward. He always suspected the woman saw too much, could read undercurrents most people didn’t pick up. She’d once been an investigative journalist. Her job was digging up dirt and spreading it out for the public to see no matter how filthy it was.
He stared at her for a moment too long, and Mason noticed. Of course he did.
“Hey, Izzy. You good at poker?” Mason called out.
“Yes.”
No boasting about her skills. Just yes.
Mason pointed to a vacant seat, which happened to be beside himself. “Deal her in, boys.”
As soon as she’d settled and had cards fanned in her slender fingers, Steele ripped his stare away from her bikini top long enough to catch her eye. “You can’t be good at poker.”
“Why is that?”
“You don’t have a poker face.”
But she did have freckles.
She gave a small toss of her head that sent her loose curls dancing along her sleek shoulders. “Are you kidding me? I paid half of my rent in college from poker winnings.”
“So you do have a poker face.”
She looked straight at him. “No. It’s my boobs.”
The table erupted in laughter, but more than one of the single guys were staring at her breasts.
Laughing, Alyssa returned to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. Kennedy slipped into Dante’s lap. When Kennedy leaned closer to whisper something to Izzy, Steele straightened. “All right, y’all stop cheating. No whispering with the players. Alyssa has walked behind me three times now. She got a good look at my cards and everyone else’s.”
Alyssa chuckled. “What reason would I have for looking at your terrible hand, Hudson?”
At her use of his name, Izzy’s eyes flashed to him.
“No one is cheating, Steele. You’re just on a losing streak.” Mason threw a look at Izzy.
Christ, that enticing plunge of Izzy’s bikini top was driving him to distraction.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with a shirt on?” Steele blurted.
The room went dead silent.
Izzy leaned forward, giving him—and everyone else—a better view of her cleavage. “I don’t know, Steele. Would you be more comfortable if I had a shirt on?”
“You know what this game needs?” May broke the tension. “More snacks.” She took off to the kitchen and returned with bowls overflowing with peanuts and pretzels.
The moment passed, but the throb in Steele’s cock didn’t. He lost another hand, and every last chip he’d won ended up in front of Chase.
“I still say Alyssa’s feeding you information about our cards,” he muttered.
Con tossed down his hand. “I’m out. And I’m turning in for the night.” As he stood, he reached for Sophie, who was never far away from their leader.
Lucky for Steele’s wallet, the game broke up. The ladies drifted off with their men, and a couple of the single guys headed to the home theater to watch sports.
Steele stepped out of the dining room and caught sight of Izzy in the kitchen cleaning up.
He stopped. “You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.”
Her gaze settled on his. Warm amber. Like the sunset over the desert.
She didn’t speak.
He stared at her for a long heartbeat. Before he knew his own intentions, he crossed the room and took her hand.
Her lips popped open in surprise.
“You haven’t seen my room yet.”
Her eyelids drooped over those smoldering eyes and then her stare fixed on his face. “Maybe you could give me a tour.”
* * * * *
Steele’s rough fingers closed around Izzy’s, warm and solid. The dark glitter in his eyes sent her heart racing and heat trickling into her veins.
Neither of them moved a muscle, but his gaze traveled over her face, her hair…down to her breasts.
And she couldn’t help but drink in the span of his broad shoulders just made for a woman to cling to, the sharp angles of his jaw…or the hunger in his eyes.
They were the color of steel, just like his name. Silver, gray, unyielding flint—the kind of eyes that had seen too much war and didn’t flinch when the world burned.
During the poker game, she had cataloged him the way she did a story, making mental notes on the man. Shit-talking Southern drawl, hands steady on the cards, mouth unsmiling even as his teammates laughed around him.
Hudson Steele was a fortress of a man. Solid. Impenetrable. The type you wrote about in clipped sentences, because no amount of adjectives could describe his mere presence.
And yet…when those eyes cut to her again, the air in her lungs stuttered. Heat flickered low in her belly, chasing out the cold that had lived inside her since Syria.
She told herself being alone with him was just research. After all, she was curious about the SEAL team based in a huge, rambling mansion nobody was allowed to visit without wearing a black hood.
But her pen would never put to paper the truth about how her breath hitched when Hudson leaned close—because the story she was telling herself about the man was far too dangerous to print.
She inched closer.
In one quick jerk, he latched on to her waist and yanked her flush against his chiseled body. She brought a palm up to rest on his chest, a gasp lingering on her lips.
“Hudson…”
“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.” His tone was grit and Southern charm rolled into one enticing temptation.
Her breath came out in short puffs as her gaze fixed on his hard mouth surrounded by short brown facial hair sprinkled with threads of blond.
Her toes curled into the marble floor. “I want this,” she whispered.
