Page 57 of Over the Edge

“It’s just dark in here—“ she started.

He laid a finger on her lips. “As beautiful as Sherri Tate is, I’ve always thought you were the most stunning of the three women SEAL candidates.”

“That’s ridiculous. She was an actual beauty queen.”

“I stand by my statement. She’s the cool, blonde movie star type. You’re more…earthy. I find your warm, vibrant beauty more approachable.”

“Umm, thank you, I think.”

“You’re welcome.” A pause. “Let’s see about freeing you from that dress. Which is magnificent, by the way.”

A brilliant light illuminated behind her, and she looked back. Sure enough, he was holding tactical flashlight in his teeth while he worked on the knot at her waist. She winced as he pulled out a knife, but it felt like he merely used the blade’s tip to pry loose the knot.

The yellow skirt fell with a swish and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of the bright circle and reached back for the hooks holding the crinoline slips snug around her waist.

“Allow me,” he murmured, brushing her fingers aside. One slip fell. Then another, and another. Only the last slip remained. And then, it, too, dropped, leaving her wearing loose harem pants that gathered into elastic at her ankles.

“Oh, cool,” he exclaimed. “Matching pants!”

She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t want any random skin to show would you? Heaven forbid that some man were to glimpse my ankles. I would either have to marry him or be flogged for indecency.”

“Seriously?” he blurted.

“They don’t do that anymore. But they used to.”

“I’ve got your back, babe. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

She lifted her gaze to his, and renewed warmth passed between them. Trevor cupped her face lightly in his hands. Her breath caught as slowly, slowly, he bent down and kissed her.

She relaxed in his light grip, loving how carefully he handled her. She pressed her palms against his chest, relishing the heat and muscle of him. Continuing to kiss her, he reached behind her back and unhooked her blouse. He pushed it down her arms, and she was delighted to be free of it.

“Why, Miss Marlow. Who knew you had on a naughty lace bra under all of that native dress?”

She laughed a little. “Surprise.”

“May I?” Trevor asked, his fingertips resting on back latch of her black bra.

Her gaze snapped up to his. “I’m sure. Are you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. As long as we both understand that I can’t guarantee us a long-term future. I have no idea if I’ll even live through this op.”

And there it was. The six-hundred-pound gorilla in the corner. This had every making of a one-night stand. A glorious night, but a one-off event, nonetheless. “I understand the rules of engagement,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

“Then I’ll ask again, may I?”

She nodded, and his clever fingers quickly unlatched the bra. The lace gapped away from her breasts, and abruptly, sharp hunger leaped in Trevor’s molten gaze.

So. The British gentleman wasn’t nearly as calm, cool, and collected as he acted. He swept her off her feet and carried her over to the double bed piled high with pillows. He laid her in the sinking softness and followed her down, his body hard and hot against hers.

“Umm, excuse me. No shirts allowed,” she declared.

Propping a knee beside her hip, he straightened and pulled his tie from around his neck, then unbuttoned his dress shirt impatiently. Reaching up, she helped push the white, starched linen aside to reveal the dark tan of his chest, sprinkled with black hair. She knew every contour of his torso from months of swimming and diving, but the candlelight painted him with an artist’s brush…and he was about to be hers.

All hers.

For tonight, at least.

She reached up with open arms, and he came to her, skimming his hand down her side, over her hip and down her thigh. Ahh. Clever man. He’d stripped off her harem pants.

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