Page 18 of Rescuing Sophia

Footsteps echo down the hall, and I quickly return to my seat, arranging my face into a mask of innocence as Blake re-enters.

His PT gear—a snug T-shirt and shorts—clings to his muscular frame, emphasizing every chiseled feature. His sharp jawline contrasts with his piercing-blue eyes, which seem to see straight through me. Broad shoulders lead to powerful arms, each bicep bulging impressively.

My gaze trails down to his thighs, like sculpted tree trunks, every muscle clearly defined and rippling with each step. I force myself to look away, my pulse quickening despite my best efforts to remain composed.

“Enjoying the view?” Blake smirks, catching my wandering eyes.

“Just appreciating the, uh, scenery.” I laugh, trying to play it cool.

“You know, you don’t have to be so subtle about it.” He chuckles, stepping closer.

“Oh, really?” I arch an eyebrow, feeling a spark of playful defiance. “Obviously, I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

“No, you weren’t. You should wipe the drool from your mouth.”

“I’m not…” I swipe at my chin, which makes Blake laugh.

The man is virility on steroids, a walking, talking embodiment of raw, masculine power.

“Sweetie, you’re more than welcome to check me out anytime you want.” His eyes glint with amusement. “But fair is fair.”

“What does that mean?” I tilt my head, intrigued.

“If you’re checking me out,” he leans in, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “then I get to check you out, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A playful blush creeps up my cheeks, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.

“Good,” he grins, “because I’m definitely keeping an eye on you.

“Ready to join the team?” A hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“Absolutely.” I stand, smoothing my hands over my clothes, suddenly aware of how I must look.

Five men enter the conference room behind Blake, their facesbreaking into welcoming grins that ease some of the tension in my shoulders. The heady power of testosterone clots the air, thick and palpable.

Blake’s raw masculinity is impressive, but the combined presence of his teammates is overwhelming, a symphony of strength and power. Each man radiates a fierce, commanding presence, making Blake’s singular intensity seem almost modest in comparison.

It’s like standing in the eye of a testosterone-infused hurricane. I’m both intimidated and fascinated by the sheer force of their collective presence.

“You might remember the guys, but I’ll do reintroductions. Sophia, this is Charlie team. Guys, this is Sophia.” Blake’s voice carries a note of pride that sends warmth blooming in my chest.

“My name is Ethan.” A tall, rugged man with piercing eyes steps forward first, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “Team leader.”

The others follow suit: Walt, stocky and solid, with laugh lines crinkling his eyes, Hank, tall and lean, with a quiet intensity that reminds me of a coiled spring, Gabe, whose easy smile makes me feel instantly at ease, and finally, Rigel, who practically vibrates with barely contained energy.

“Nice to meet you.” I’m surprised by the steadiness in my voice.

Standing before the men who rescued me off my master’s yacht is overwhelming. Surreal.

These men risked their lives for me.

And how am I going to repay them?

Best not to think about that.

Technically, the rescue was for Jenna. I was just collateral. But still, they didn’t know me, yet they risked so much to save me.

“Alright, ladies.” Ethan claps his hands together, the twinkle in his eye belying his tone. “Today’s focus: hand-to-hand and knife skills. To the gym.” His gaze shifts to me, eyebrow raised. “You coming with us?”

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