Page 4 of Navy Daddy

My next question isn’t going to help his darkened mood, I bet. But I have to know the kind of man I’m dealing with. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Instead of slipping into a deeper brood, Arthur chuckles. Just like that, he’s back to lighthearted charm. “Sure, I’ve killed folks before. But no one who didn’t deserve it. Do you understand the rules of engagement? Those being with a gun or in a fight?”

Maybe one-for-one isn’t the best way to approach this. I want to sit on that point, talk about it, and find out what makes him tick. Instead, it’s my turn to come up with another way to say no.

To avoid the word, I shake my head.

“Well, that’s a simple one. There are no rules. If someone’s gearing up for a fight, you better believe it’s life or death. Feel that pang of adrenaline coursing through your veins, make the first move, and make sure they don’t get up from it. Your life or theirs. Do you understand?” he asks.

I nod but feel the naughty smile creeping across my face. “That’s not fair,. You got two questions.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” He winks, and it makes my heart melt into a puddle between my legs.

Dear God, I’m in trouble.

4

ARTHUR

It feels like I’m dancing on a tightrope. Half of me wants to drop down and worship at Eva’s feet, while the other understands the obligation I’m under. This is a job. My second after getting out of the military. I have to set my interests aside, show this girl how to defend herself, and start building a reputation for myself.

But she isn’t making it any easier. I’m losing my focus on Eva’s doe-eyed beauty. Every question, every answer, makes her prickle her nose and drop her jaw in astonishment. Doesn’t help that one look at her tongue makes my cock throb fiercely, while I’m left imagining all the places it could run to send me over the fucking moon.

There it is again. I give my thoughts a moment to roam, and they rush straight to the filthiest places. If I can’t even make it through this chat, how the hell am I going to survive the next few weeks?

“Take this.” I drop the notepad back into my bag and lift my Glock off the tree stump.

“What?” Eva rests her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes like it’s a crazy order.

“It’s unloaded, and the safety’s on. Just take it and point it at the trees over there.” I gesture toward a dense pocket of saplings beyond the lake.

“What good’s that going to do? I already told you I’ve never used one before.” Eva protests with words, but her hands reach for the cold steel hanging from my fingers.

She takes it by the handle and stares it down with those big blue eyes, the same way someone might stare down a feral animal in the woods.

“You don’t have to be scared of it. It can’t hurt you unless you do something silly.” I try to ease her, but her heavy gulp says my efforts are in vain.

“Why do I need to learn how to shoot anyway? Gun control is insane in the United Kingdom. I doubt I’ll ever see one of these.” She lifts the gun in her palm as if weighing it.

“It’s better to know and not need than not know when you might.” Words of wisdom aren’t my strong suit, but that one seems mighty fine.

She pointsthe gun toward the trees. A loose grip around the handle is one thing, but her thumb over the slide is what scares me most. “How’s this?”

“Bad,” I answer plainly. I step behind her and get my first whiff of her intoxicating scent. A light, vanilla smell tickles my brain and sends my head spinning like I just smoked a funky cigarette.

“That isn’t helpful, you know?” Eva scoffs.

“I know.” Another step closer and another inhale. It fills my lungs and instantly sends tingles down to my loins.

Trying to steady myself, I reach under her arm for the Glock. I take her thumb off the slide and rest it in the groove below the safety. “Never have your thumb that high. You’d shatter it when you pull the trigger.” I wrap my hand around hers, helping with stability around the handle. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Try as I might to stay professional, my body has other plans. My heart’s beating unsteadily against my rib cage. My manhood aches at the sensation of her soft skin against my calloused fingers.

How is it that such a tiny little thing has sent me off the deep end? I’ve seen the worst of military life. Sat in the same place for days on end with my sniper scope trained on insurgents. Gunned down militants trying to burn down villages. Been beaten, tortured, and left for dead, but it’s Eva Collins who finally breaks me.

Ain’t it funny how life works out sometimes?

“Not in the slightest. It feels exactly the same,” she grumbles, frustrated.

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