Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 by Sharon Hamilton Page A

her, protect her, show her how he felt about her, and give her some sense of how she’d made him feel for that stolen afternoon in Savona. It was important he show her with his body that it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to give her more than just his sperm, he wanted to give her the tenderest part of him, whatever that was.
    It didn’t seem right to just go full tilt into each other’s arms without something being said, without something being understood fully. Mark knew his intensity scared away most women. He had the control to hold back if she wasn’t ready for what he could give. But just what did she want? His body? His protection? The safe haven of his arms? Or was it something else?
    And then he started to have those doubts again. Was he good enough? Was she just interested in his body, or something else?
    What the fuck are you doing, Mark?
    Something made him stop. He carefully peeled her arms from his neck, placing his forehead against hers. He kissed her injured wrist again, her palms, and her fingers, and noticed she was not wearing an engagement ring.
    That set off all the bells and whistles, all the questions he knew he had to ask before he’d get nekked with this beautiful woman. She smelled fresh and lemony. Her breathing was intoxicating. Each time her chest heaved, he felt the delicious soft pressure of her breasts against his pecs.
    He was going to let her set the pace. No way was he going to take advantage of her, even if he thought that’s what she wanted.
    “You want to talk?” she whispered.
    He nodded, still pressing his forehead against hers.
    “I’m not even sure what’s going on, Mark.”
    Well then, all the more reason to talk, sweetheart. “So we talk, Sophia, until you can tell me what’s going on,” he said. He tucked errant strands of her curly hair around her ear. He kissed her there, let her hear the hitch in his breathing. “I think I can handle anything you tell me, Sophia.”
    She relaxed a bit at that.
    They heard some scuffling at the end of the deck and saw two white-clad cooks step outside a doorway to have a smoke. They didn’t expect to see anyone else on deck and so hadn’t looked, engrossed in their Italian conversation.
    She urgently found his hands and pulled him toward one of the large, orange lifeboats. She unsnapped the thick plastic covering on the doorway and slipped inside. He followed.
    The boat was big enough for about thirty people, with bench seats, life vests and equipment hanging from secured clamps along the walls. Several large boxes were labeled with various kinds of safety supplies. The seats were covered in orange vinyl cushions.
    Checking to see what was visible from the deck, she brought him to a private corner diagonal from the doorway. When she reached the shadows, she sat and pulled him down next to her.
    She kept hold of his right hand, smoothing fingers over his arm. She stroked the frog print tat that peeked out from under his sleeve.
    Drawing in a deep breath, she held it a bit before releasing it, like she was resigned to revealing something. He wasn’t sure he was going to like what she said, but there was no way he was going to go anywhere with her until he got some answers. He rubbed her fourth finger with his and looked into her eyes. He didn’t have to ask her why she wasn’t wearing the ring. He could see she was thinking about it as he rubbed her there, as she studied him with that liquid gaze that he’d lost himself in that afternoon as the sun was setting. For just a second he felt like he was back there, in her tiny apartment, drinking water and feeling the wonder of her hot and sweaty sheets full of the smells of her body mixed with his own.
    He could see she was struggling.
    “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He put his arm around her shoulders and held her safely, secretly loving the feel of her hair against the underside of his chin, against his neck. He held himself gently against her shaking body. God, how