Page 58 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

He cuts me off with a kiss. Short and fast, but searing enough to silence me.

“Hey, Butterscotch, let me talk for a minute, okay?”

I nod silently.

“This was my mistake. When you learn how to dive—and this is all divers, not just SEALs—the first thing they teach you is to plan your dive. You plan your dive and you dive your plan.” He gives me another quick kiss. “All diving is dangerous. Even recreational diving. You dive to a hundred feet and you’ve got four times the atmospheric pressure on your body. The human body can’t sustain that without a lot of planning. We’re not meant to take in oxygen at that rate. It’s dangerous. And at that depth, if something catastrophic happens, you literally can’t get to the surface fast enough without your blood releasing that oxygen so quickly it boils.”

My breath quickens at his words, because—yeah, I know who he is. He’s made to do dangerous things. He’s trained. He’s educated, and he’s tough as hell—but still, the idea of the danger he puts himself in to protect this country, to protect the other members of his team, it’s terrifying.

As if he can feel the panic rising in my chest, he chuckles—dismissing that danger like it’s nothing.

Then he kisses me again, a slow, gentle kiss. A kiss like butter melting on warm toast.

“Hey, calm down. I didn’t tell you that to freak you out.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have told me that!”

He chuckles again. “There was a point, okay? Just stick with me.”

I nod, but the grumbling noise I make sounds more doubtful than encouraging.

“As dangerous as diving can be, I’ve never been hurt diving. I’ve never even been close to being in danger diving. Because I’m careful. I plan out everything. And then I dive the plan. Even if shit goes side-wise, I have a backup plan, and I dive that plan instead.”

“You really like those plans, huh?”

“Yeah. I do. And they never fail me.” His lips quirk. “Here’s the thing, though. Life isn’t a dive. You can’t plan everything out, no matter how hard you try. I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. When I did, I kept trying to move to a backup plan. I kept trying to get ahead of it, to come up with a new plan.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going.” I narrow my gaze. “Did this new plan involve making yourself fall out of love with me?”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Never.”

“Sleeping with other women?”

His laughter dies, and he looks me dead in the eye. “I would never.”

“Good.” I give a quick, decisive nod.

“I already knew I loved you. I knew there would never be anyone else for me, but I also knew you weren’t there yet. When you needed someone to come with you on this trip, I elbowed my way in. I didn’t plan to fuck you on this trip. That’s not how this was supposed to go down. My plan was just to convince you we’d be good together. That we’d be right together. I was going to play the long game. Break down all your defenses before we slept together.”

He kisses me again. This time it’s a soul-searing, panty-melting kiss. And he doesn’t stop with just a kiss. With one hand still in my hair, holding me still, his other slips down my body, to cup my breast and thumb my nipple.

“I didn’t plan on how much I wanted you.”

His hand moves down to my thigh, pulling up the fabric of my dress, exposing my legs to the sluggish breeze drifting off the lagoon. Then his hand slips into my panties, finding me wet and needy.

“I didn’t plan on how much you’d want me.”

He flicks my clit, then slides a finger inside me.

“God,” he mutters against my lips. “You’re so wet. I could make you come right now, couldn’t I?”

I nod and gasp. Because that’s what I want.

An hour ago, I thought he’d never touch me again. Now that he is, I’m greedy and I want it all. I want to come on his fingers. On his cock.

“Yes. Please.”

“No. Sorry, Butterscotch.”

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