Getting in the party mood for a weekend with his SEAL teammates is no easy deal for "Zeus" Calderon. He's hung up on a woman he saved from terrorists months ago. He should be able to forget a gutsy blonde reporter who showed resilience and humor under fire. Shouldn't he?
Kim Stansfield got the instant hots for the hunky Navy SEAL who led her out of harm's way--and she's got proof Zeus feels the same about her. He's stubborn about declaring how much he cares for her, but she's devised a plan to conquer him.
Rosette (64 pages/13237 words)
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61217-803-5
“Hi, there,” she said, as if he had known all along she was here in Key West.
Too surprised to answer, too smart to say anything until she gave him a clue about what she wanted from him, he let her come to him. Let her stand in front of him, assess him and smile. Let that dimple tempt him and make him yearn to put his lips on hers. Every time he saw her, he wanted that mouth on his. That strong lithe body all over his. Minus the clothes.
Tonight, he wanted her minus the polka dot sundress that dipped low to her navel and cupped ripe breasts he needed to see and suck. Ah, yes. She had a knack, this one, for worming her way further inside his brain. Keep In Mind. Kim.
She waved a hand to indicate his very wet, very naked, very aroused body. Then in an accent that was a mash up of all-American girl with crisp English boarding school, she asked, “Will you invite me into your house so that we can talk or do you just want your dangly bits to freeze and fall off in the night breeze?”
Articulate and precise, her words tickled his funny bone and he was determined to give as well as he got. “As you can well see, my bits are not dangling.”She tipped her head to one side, her moonlit pale hair billowing in the updrafts. “Hmm, do they ever?”
“When you’re around, they’re ready for duty.” His cock got even harder, his balls grew tight and revved for action. He clamped his jaw against the urge to sweep her against him and nail his most prominent bit inside her right there where they stood.
“How would I know?” she whispered, her tone teasing but very serious.
“I thought you shouldn’t.” For all of the visits to his lovely rescued hostage, he had never once kissed her. After their escape to the carrier, he had never touched more than her hand. But the urge to caress every curve had developed from a bad rash to a raging fever—and he had to force himself to stay away.
“Shouldn’t? Is there some SEAL code that says you can’t?”
“Only common sense. Don’t rush the woman who has been starved and terrorized.”
“Kind of Stockholm Syndrome in reverse to fall for your rescuer, huh?” She nodded and her lush mouth spread wide in a grin. “I’m well now. And I have no delusions about the man who saved me.”