Page 5 of Stalked By the Navy Seal

“Okay.” He stretches out his hands and runs his thumb over my cheek, and a bolt of electricity shoots down my spine at his touch. “You had a little smudge there.”

“Thanks.”

“All right, let’s go inside.”

I open the door and he’s already there, helping me get out of the car. He’s so tall that next to him, I feel tiny.

We gradually walk toward the hotel entrance, and once we get close enough to the doors that anyone inside can see us, his hand, which has been wrapped around me to this point, drops off, and I suddenly feel exposed and alone.

He holds the door open for me, and I walk in unaided, flashing the receptionist a slight smile as we walk past her to my room. Inserting the key into the lock, I open the door, and we go inside.

Once inside, his eyes dart around the room like he’s looking for something or someone. He also checks out the closet and the bathroom before heading to the room’s single window.

I watch him look around the parking lot and then close the curtains securely before turning to me. “I wanted to make sure we weren’t followed.”

“Considering my step father was still lying on the sidewalk when we drove off, I doubt he’ll be following anyone anytime soon.”

“That son of a bitch is your step father?” he asks, walking over to me.

I nod. “Unfortunately.”

“You need to remove your blouse so I can see the extent of your injuries. You hit the sidewalk pretty hard.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

He pulls out a gun from the holster outside his waistband and places it on top of the table in the room. “Ex-Navy SEAL, and believe me, I have had to patch up a lot of my team members for way worse, so let’s see what’s going on under there.”

Again, I don’t know him. But something about his eyes and presence makes me so comfortable and eager to trust him, even though he just pulled a gun from the holster outside his waistband. “Okay.”

He closes the short distance between us and slowly raises my blouse, helping me slip out my left hand first, then the right, and always stopping to give me a second whenever I wince in pain.

“So, why would your step father grab you like that and shove you to the ground?” he asks, pulling the blouse over my head.

I’m now wearing only a bra, but he doesn’t even take a peek at my breasts, not one peek. He just keeps his eyes planted on mine as he waits for me to answer his question.

I don’t know why, but I feel disappointed, angry even that he didn’t look at me or at least try to act like it was difficult for him to keep his eyes away. Maybe he’s not attracted to a woman who can’t defend herself against a spineless dickhead like my stepfather, and I don’t blame him.

“Which place hurts the most?”

My heart.“My right rib area.”

He gently lifts my right hand and nods. “From what I can see here, you’re badly bruised, but thankfully, I don’t think you broke anything. So, we just need to get some ice on it, wrap it up with a bandage, and get you some pain relievers.”

“I have some Tylenol in my handbag,” I say, pointing toward the closet.

“And I have some bandages in my car. Hopefully, I can find some ice in this god-damned motel.”

He grabs my handbag from the closet and digs through it ‘til he finds the Tylenol. Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he gives me two pills, which I swallow.

“Stay here and keep the door closed ‘til I get back. Don’t open it unless you’re a hundred percent sure it’s me, okay?”

“Okay.”

All the instructions he gave me before leaving seem pointless because he’s back in the room in less than ten minutes, holding a pack of ice and some bandages.

“Lie down.”

I obey him, and he wraps the ice pack in the blouse I just removed and sits next to me, putting the ice on the bruise.

---