My Greek SEAL by Sabrina Devonshire Page B

swim, “ says Eros. One of his thick dark brows arcs up.
    What he’s just said is so obvious, it sounds almost silly, but my face flushes and my heart beats faster. “Yep. I guess so.” To disguise my discomfort I cover my eyes with my goggles. “Ready?”
    “I’m always ready.”
    I’ve always hated that phrase, said too often by men who rubbed me the wrong way. “Oh, God, now men say that in Greece?”
    “Do Americans own the language?”
    “Don’t get yourself all in a huff. That just wasn’t something I expected you to say.”
    “I learned many useful American phrases when I was doing my BUD/S Navy SEAL training in San Diego. Now let’s get back to swimming. The boat is ahead of us and Dmitri’s waving his arms like a maniac.”
    “Okay.” I swivel around and bury my head back in the water, stroking through the water and breathing every three strokes. The Ionian Goddess is at least thirty feet ahead of us. Within a few minutes, Dimitri has slowed the boat enough that it’s beside us and shielding us from boats that might not expect to encounter swimmers out here in the middle of nowhere.
    Soon Eros’ lean body is beside me once again, stroking it’s way through the water. The sun shining through the clear water casts shadows and brilliant undulating patterns across his muscular, slightly hairy chest and arms. I could never get enough of looking at Eros’ body. The way his muscles in his shoulders, chest and back move and flex as he swims with smooth, athletic grace is such a turn-on. The way his broad torso tapers in to taut, tight abdominal muscles is the most distracting sight I’ve ever seen. I follow his thigh muscles and calves down to his large feet, which thrust through the water, leaving a trail of turbulent water behind him. Studying his powerful body and the smooth motions of his stroke torment my heart.
    I’ve never even dated a guy who liked to swim. I’ve fantasized about it, though. We’d train in the pool together and sometimes we’d talk at least as much as we’d swim. We’d venture to exotic places for vacations like this or drive to southern Cal to hang out at the beach or catch waves on a boogey board.
    I look at Eros swimming and feel another warm surge inside my chest. I can’t believe this. I’ve barely known him for two days and already I’m falling for him. First the angst and attraction. Then the sex. Now I’m getting all turned on watching him swim at close range. Am I a complete nutcase or do other women get their hearts tied up in knots over such things? No, I have to be the only one. This sudden burst of feelings is completely irrational. But still...This is the most romantic experience I’ve had for years. Swimming just inches away from a handsome man, my body prickling with excitement while the sensual fingers of the seawater tantalize my bare skin.
    Mmm. The sensual water brings back so many delicious flashbacks of last night. That water flowing over my skin could be his hands skimming across my naked flesh. My heart rate races at the thought. I have to have more of him. Swimming along with Eros is not only arousing, it also makes me feel more connected to him. Does he feel what I’m feeling?
    As if he’s answering my thought, a smile raises the corners of his thick, sexy lips before a stream of bubbles flow out from them.
    I laugh out loud and my deep laugh bursts through the water. The attraction, the connection, the sheer joy I’m feeling at this moment; it’s all so amazing. I’m overpowered by the urge to shout I love life, I love the sea and, Oh, my, God, I think I’m even a little in love with Eros.
    Swimming along in the sea, I can forget about bills, my lost job and what I’m going to do next. Out here, I feel free. Like I can do whatever I damn please.
    I’m never going back to the States. Okay, so maybe it’s an absurd idea, but I have no one or nothing tying me down. My old life was empty. I don’t want to go back to it so I