Page 50 of Duty and Desire
He’d terrify small children.
Hell, he’d terrify grown men.
And that had nothing to do with the gun worn openly on his hip.
It had to do with what that compression shirt barely contained, not to mention the carved protrusion of the muscles of his biceps exposed by the short sleeves, the sinewy, richly veined lengths of his forearms and the trunks of his long legs covered in dark gray commando pants.
He shut the door behind him, twisted at the waist and I heard the lock click.
He twisted back to me.
“Hey,” I forced out.
He dipped his chin.
“You’re Mo,” I stated unnecessarily.
“Yup,” he agreed.
“Okay, so…”
I stood there, barefoot, in my tight tank that had ridden up to gather around my middle and as such exposed an inch of flatbelly over my low-slung faded jeans, and I didn’t know what to do.
He was looking me in the eye.
Right in the eye.
Not once did his gaze drift down.
Or up, to my hair.
I had great hair.
And great tits.
And, well, not to be conceited or anything, but considering a lot of folks came to watch me take my clothes off, it wasn’t lost on me I had a good body. But I already knew that because I just did.
I was struggling with dealing with a man who not only looked like this but was also as big as this and was there for the purpose he was there.
But it was worse because I had no clue how to deal with a man who looked me right in the eye and appeared to have no interest in anything beyond that.
Except for the fact I was no longer freaked out, and considering Smithie had phoned to tell me I now had a bodyguard, though he’d shared he’d explain why later, my freakout might have been mild, but I’d still been freaking.
Now, instead, I was battling the urge to climb him like a tree.
I contained the urge and asked, “How freaked out should I be that Smithie put you on me?”
“Hawk’ll get into that.”
Well, there you go.
Freakout returned.
I mean…
Hawk Delgado?
Smithie hadn’t mentioned Hawk Delgado.
