All Tommy has ever cared about is being a SEAL and the best captain for his team, but on a run along the glistening coast of San Diego an odd beauty needs his help, and Tommy finds himself locking lips with the woman who would change his life foreve...
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Tommy stops wiping my face and I tilt my head in confusion, not knowing if it's safe to open my eyes or not. I hear the rag he was using drop on the concrete and feel his strong calloused fingers push some of my hair back.
"How exactly do I make you feel?" His voice smoothly resonates all the way into my bones as his spicy hot fingers leave my skin.
My eyes shoot open, and my face burns as the reality of what I said hits me by a thousand forces. The heat of my embarrassment is so consummating that it's like a person could cook an egg on my face. I'm frozen and traumatized. There is no doubt that I will be hitting my forehead repeatedly with the heels of my palm when I'm home, calling myself stupid and an idiot.
But it only gets worse.
How?
Well....
My eyes glance down in an effort to hide my horror and am met with a shirtless Tommy. I look down at the rag only to see that it was his sleeveless hoodie. My heart's pace is alarming and the blood in my veins thrum along with it.
When I first met Tommy, I didn't give myself the long preview to check him out. I latched onto him hoping I could be saved from the situation I was in. I do remember feeling his pectoral flex when my hand lightly tapped it. It was like I was touching something hot and had to quickly put my hand down and rub my fingers to try to soothe the imaginary burn.
At this moment, I am face to face with his bare beauty.
And dear sweet Lord.
Did God know what he was doing.
Tommy is all rolling muscles, reminding me of mountains with valleys and peaks. He's got a light tuff of hair along his chest that only adds to his insane masculinity. His corded, biceps are flexed as his hands hold both sides of my chair, locking me in place.
No room for escape.
Despite my humiliation, I can't help but swallow every detail of him. My eyes take a life of their own and trace from his hand, along his thickly interwoven biceps to his brawny shoulders and down his valleys and peaks. I see a ripple, and the way his distinct tendons and skin interact with each other, it reminds me of the ocean's waves. My fingers twitch with that burning need to slide along his ridges.
I want to hit myself for taking such long agonizing, but oh so delicious moments of engulfing him. My breath hitches in my throat when my eyes finally meet his. I see an equally as hungry look in him as I am feeling inside. His eyes darken and he leans in.
I'm mortified and snap my head to the side, but Tommy doesn't stop. His head touches mine and his hand cups my face.
"Tell me, Peyton..." His whispers at the corner of my lips, making me turn my head back to him as our breaths mingle. His hand goes from cupping my face to sliding down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, exposing the results of exactly how he makes me feel. My skin even reacts to him, blooming from his touch.
