Page 13 of SEAL by Fate

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HIS EYES CAME open and before Stormy could take a step back, he had her wrist clutched between his strong fingers. In a flash and with a small scream, she was on her back pressed into the mattress, still warm from his body, with her hands held above her head. His much larger body, the one she’d been shamelessly admiring, covered hers. Her five-foot-four, one-hundred-ten pounds was no match for his strapping, sexy one.

He stared down at her, blinking as if he was having a hard time coming out of sleep.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whimpered, feeling her stomach roll and her knees quiver, but she wasn’t sure if she was responding to his sudden attack or that his erection poked her inner thighs.

“What the hell are you doing?” His husky voice tickled her senses.

Now she’d gone and done it. She’d crossed a line and there was no going back. His voice was as nice and deep as she’d remembered, and the husky tone vibrated her nipples. Although she should be concentrating on getting away from him, she was more interested in figuring how he could look this good first thing in the morning. His dark hair was trimmed short, but she could see some grey at his temples so he wasn’t as young as she first thought.

Putting on a brave face, she jutted her chin and held his sleepy blue gaze. “I-I was checking to see if you were sleeping. Why do you have a gun?”

“To use if needed. You shouldn’t be sneaking around.”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“It sure seemed that way.” He loosened his grip on her hands some. “Are you okay?” His voice softened.

“I could throw up.” There was no reason to lie.

He let go of her wrists, slid off her and stood, grabbing the gun from under the pillow and placing it on the dresser. “That’s because you have a concussion.” He rubbed his forehead, then turned, walking across the space of the bedroom. His obvious limp only added to his toughness. He was a tall man, at least six three and weighed in at two hundred without an ounce of fat. He was nothing but hard muscles and sinewy skin, and he didn’t seem to care one bit that he was wearing only boxers and an erection.

Stormy watched him reach for the jeans slung over the back of the chair and drag them on. When he was buttoned and zipped, he turned and asked her, “Headache?”

“Yes.”

“Body aches?”

“Like I’ve been run over.”

“Thankfully that didn’t happen,” he grumbled.

She sat up and swallowed against the cotton-ball sensation in her throat. “You didn’t answer my question about the gun.” She glanced at the handgun sitting on the dresser that drew her attention.

“If you’re wondering if I’m a creep who brought you here to do unthinkable things, you can rest your pretty head. The gun is for safety.”

“What happened exactly?” She could put the pieces together enough to realize they didn’t get here by vehicle, but then how?

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember the car lights coming at me and I jumped, and then much later, while I was asleep on the couch, but anything right after the accident is fuzzy.” She touched her head. “You did put the bandage on, right?”

He nodded. “I carried you here. You were out and cold.”

“You carried me here?” Could she believe him? In her calculations, the distance from the wreck and the cabin was at least a half mile, which probably wouldn’t be anything in nice weather, but in a blizzard, it was tremendous. “How is that possible?”

“I’m used to carrying much heavier things.” His gaze swept down her, making her toes curl. He stepped toward her and she slid back onto the bed until her back pressed the headboard.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I want to examine the cut on your head.”

With only a second of hesitation, she took the bandage off and spotted the dried blood. “How much did I bleed?”

“Enough to soak three bandages, but not enough that it required stitches. Good thing because I’m a little rusty at stitching.”

At first thinking she thought he was joking and she smiled, but at his serious expression she realized he was being point blank honest. “You would have stitched me if needed?”

“To save your life, hell yeah.” He took another step, leaning in to look at the cut closer while she busily stared at his broad, smooth chest and toned abs. She’d never seen a nicer stomach. “Thankfully, I was able to swerve and miss you. Not so thankful for the damage to my Jeep.”

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