Page 10 of Wrong Number Right Grumpy Navy SEAL

He steals a strawberry off my plate and pops it in his mouth, like sharing food is something we’ve done for years. In a flash, I know I want to be with Cole. I want this adoration and respect and fun for as long as I live.

I’m falling hard for Cole.

CHAPTER 5

COLE

She puts the stuffed bear on the couch like it owns the place.

White, ridiculous, roughly the size of a piece of luggage. She arranges it against the armrest, tilts its head, steps back, and nods like she’s hanging a painting. I grab two beers from the fridge and twist the caps off.

“That thing is not staying there.” I hold out her beer.

“His name is Gerald.” She takes it, and her fingers brush mine. The contact hums through my whole hand. “And he lives here now.”

I lean against the counter. She leans against the one across from me, close enough that our knees could touch if either of us shifted forward. “Gerald.”

“You won him.” She tips her bottle toward me. “You should’ve thought about the consequences.”

Dahlia. Hip cocked, beer in one hand. Sunburn across her nose. Powdered sugar on her collar, and I’ve been hard since she licked it off her thumb three hours ago. All I could think at that picnic table was how I wanted to lick the sugar off her lips and keep going, move my mouth down her neck and her collarbone and the swell of her tits above that neckline, down her stomach, between her thighs. I wanted to drop to my knees right there and bury my face in her pussy until she screamed my name.

My body hasn’t come down all day. Her thigh against mine on the Ferris wheel. Her ass grazing me in the ride line. I’m hard right now just from watching her lean against this counter, and I don’t want this day to end. I don’t want to go to the guest room and close that door because what I’m feeling is so far past lust that it scares the shit out of me.

“That booth guy’s face,” she says, grinning behind her beer. “When you hit the twelfth target. I thought he was going to cry.”

“He was overcharging. Five dollars a round for a rigged sight.” I take a pull of my beer.

Dahlia steps closer to bump her shoulder against my arm. “You adjusted for it in two shots.”

“One. And I still hit the target on that shot.”

She shakes her head. “Show off.”

She’s close enough now that I can smell her hair. Sunscreen and fried sugar and the salt on her skin. Heat floods up the back of my neck, and my cock needs to be inside her more than I’ve needed anything in my life.

“You’re the one who picked the biggest prize on the wall.”

“Go big or go home.” Her shoulder is still pressed against my arm. “That’s my motto. It’s also why I screamed on every single ride, and you just sat there like a statue.”

“I wasn’t a statue.” My arm is burning where she’s leaning into it.

“You didn’t flinch. Not once,” she says, though I know she’s teasing me.

“I flinched.”

She tilts her face up at me, and her mouth is right there. “When?”

When your back hit my chest in that line and your ass grazed my cock, and I couldn’t move without exploding in my jeans. When you licked sugar off your finger and looked up at me, and every thought in my head went white because I wanted you licking my cock and looking in my eyes when you do. When you leaned into my hand on the midway, and my whole body lit up so hard that I couldn’t see straight.

“The Gravitron,” I say. “Little bit.”

Dahlia laughs. She’s laughing more than when I picked her up Friday night, and I’m proud to have given her every laugh. Every time I hear it, the desire in my veins burns hotter and hotter, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.

“You know what my favorite part was?” she asks. “Not the rides. Not the bear.” She looks at me over the rim of her bottle. “The Ferris wheel. When we stopped at the top, and you said that thing about my smile.”

“I meant it.” My voice comes out lower than I intended.

“I know you did.” She sets her beer down, and her hand finds my forearm, her thumb pressed lightly against my wrist. “That’s why it matters.”