Page 3 of Ex-SEAL Bad Boy

I’m humiliated.

Of all the people ....

It only made it worse that some of my friends couldn’t keep their eyes off Ethan.

He was good-looking, to be sure. I’d never deny that. As much as I hate to admit it, there were times when I kinda liked to check him out. But then, I’d remember how sketchy he was and how sometimes my brother would speak admiringly about how much of a ladies’ man Ethan was with his “use ’em and lose ‘em” philosophy.

It’s disgusting.

I guess I should appreciate the fact that he didn’t let me drown. I was terrified. At least his heart isn’t a total black hole. Sometimes I wondered.

That’s the most maddening thing about him. Seems like he does everything in his power to come off as a disgusting human being, then he goes off and does something noble.

When he announced he was going to join the Navy, I could hardly believe it. Ethan doing something that didn’t have some kind of personal benefit seemed almost incomprehensible. I’d heard his parents were pissed, which wasn’t really a surprise. He’s their golden child, and now he was running off to be a sailor.

I always thought they’d push him to be a senator or something. Although a lot of politicians like to talk about their military service to polish their image, maybe that was the self-serving goal here.

Liam told me he had gotten a medical discharge from some accident he had, even though he didn’t seem too injured when he pulled my sorry ass out of the water. Maybe that was another one of his scams.

As painful as it is to admit, at the time, I didn’t mind being rescued. Some strong, good-looking guy with his powerful arm wrapped across my chest, there had to be worse ways to be pulled out of a riptide. Just my luck, it had to be him.

I gather my things to head back to my car and say goodbye to my friends. I’ve had enough fun for one day. Besides, I have to get to my job.

I had graduated with my degree in marketing back in May, and although I had a few interviews lined up, I hadn’t snagged a job in my field just yet. My folks aren’t putting any pressure on me. I mean, they did OK, they make a good living – not as well as Ethan’s family, of course – but they aren’t hurting.

Still, I kind of feel like I have to at least pay my way, car payment, gas, insurance, that kind of thing. So, I’m working retail part time at a boutique owned by one of my mom’s friends. It’s an easy job, and it pays my bills.

I feel a momentary flash of anger that Ethan has never had to work for anything in his life. That’s why I was so stunned when Liam informed me that he had become a SEAL. I’m no expert, but I know they don’t just hand those things out. He did unquestionably work for that.

I try to imagine Ethan in muddy camo fatigues, slogging around in the rain and muck, like I’d seen SEALs doing in so many movies, but I just can’t do it. It is so out of character for him.

I wonder for a moment if maybe I was being too hard on him. Growing up in a family like that has got to have an effect on you, and maybe deep down, there is a redeeming quality or two that someone could bring out in him.

Whatever, that would be someone else’s problem.

I wince slightly as the loop in the expensive Hermès silk necktie bites into the pale skin of my wrist, shifting my position to get more comfortable. I don’t know how I ever agreed to this. I lay naked and exposed, vulnerable, my ankles and wrists bound to the posts of Ethan’s four-poster bed.

I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I have only myself to blame. I did give him permission. I do remember that much.

It’s equal parts romance and danger, and for some reason, I feel incredibly turned on.

It was rumored that Ethan had some kinks, but I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. So far, it was nothing hardcore, but this is definitely a far cry from the few vanilla experiences I’d had with other guys.

The room is dimly lit and has a definite masculine smell about it. It’s not like some teenage boy’s room with the lingering scent of too much Axe body spray, this is aman’sroom.

He’s moving leisurely around the room, seemingly not in any hurry, clad only in a pair of red silk boxers. He moves like a big cat, his muscles moving sinuously beneath his bronzed skin. He oozes supreme confidence.

I can’t decipher the smirk plastered on his face. Is it triumph, satisfaction, or maybe contempt?

Reaching out, he grabs something from the top of his dresser, returning to the foot of the bed. As I squint, trying to focus on the object, I suddenly realize it’s aknife!And not some small pocket knife, but a military-style combat knife.

Holy shit, I didn’t sign up for this,I think, as panic rises into my throat.

Seeing my obvious fear, he raises his finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he whispers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I’m sure my eyes betray the fact that I’m not believing him, but what can I do? I’m helpless.

---