Page 72 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

She doesn’t miss a beat.Her breath doesn’t hitch, and her shoulders don’t stiffen.I take that as a sign that I should continue—and yet more proof that this is one rock-solid woman.“I joined the Navy absolutely determined to be the best SEAL to ever grace the shores of Coronado.”

“And were you?”

“I was damn good at the start, I’ll say that.On my best days, I figure I was second only to my big brother Cal.”

“What kind of work did you do?”

“I was an intelligence analyst.”

“Is that another way of saying that you were a spy?”

“No.But I knew a few.Want to rinse?”

She slips out from between my legs and dips her head back into the water several times, using her hands to loosen the shampoo.She moves with such grace, so much ease.Her arms are slender but muscular, and I watch the tendons in her neck flex as she pulls her head up.

Her nipples are hard and taut.I forget to breathe.

She tips her head and gives me a half smile, her blue eyes iridescent with the reflected water.“Think you can go again, cowboy?”

I sit up.

“Because I’m usually a wash-and-repeat girl.”

I laugh.“I can always go again, Boots.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

She slips back into her spot between my legs, and I start with the second wash.

“You’re really good at this,” she says.

“I’m good at a lot of things.”

“I’ve noticed that, too.”

We’re quiet for a moment.I think both of us are enjoying the soothing sensation of the steaming water on our muscles.The sex we’ve been having is equal parts pleasure and workout.And all I can think about is getting more.

“Do you want to tell me the rest of the story, Special K?”

“Yeah.”I pause, thinking how strange it is that my own family doesn’t know what I’m about to tell Frankie.Maybe that’s why I feel okay sharing my story with her.I’m a stranger to her, most likely a fling.I don’t even know her last name.

If she doesn’t like what she hears from me, what’s she going to do—leave?Like she already plans to do?

And anyway, what’s the point of being with someone who doesn’t know who you are and what you’ve done?

Not that I am so delusional to think that Frankie would want to “be with” me.I may be a dumbass, but I’m not an idiot.

I begin shampooing again.“It was over three years ago now,” I tell her as my fingers massage her scalp.“I was deployed to a dusty village on the opposite side of the globe to work as the liaison between Navy Special Warfare ops and teams from other special ops forces, you know, Army, Air Force, Marines.It was a new post for me, and I was just getting my bearings, figuring out who was who.And on one of the first nights I was there…”

My hands still in her hair.“Maybe you should rinse again.”

She swims away.I watch her swish her beautiful blond locks in the water, then gather her wet hair over one shoulder and squeeze.She smiles at me as she does this, and the force of it hits me in the gut.

I’m in trouble here.

Because something’s happening with me.I’m letting this woman into my heart.I want to tell her the truth about who I am because I need to be sure she can handle it.

I’ve spoken more words to her in the last few days than I’ve said to my own family in the last few years.