Page 49 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

He glanced up and saw she was red faced. “I’m almost done.”

She drew in a breath. “Okay.”

He worked it up her arms, making sure the suit was pulled up onto her shoulders enough so it didn’t restrict her motion.

Covering her arms seemed no less invasive or personal than when he’d done her thighs and crotch area. Maybe that was because he was so close to her face. Close enough to hear her breaths. See the individual lashes framing her big blue eyes.

Then there was the breast situation.

He drew in a breath and said, “Bend forward at your waist.”

After a quick surprised glance, she did as told. “This position shows where there is extra fabric that needs to get pulled up your body,” he explained so she wouldn’t think he was a pervert.

He grabbed the folds in the stomach area and started to work it up her chest region, cursing himself for offering to help in the first place. Cursing her for having nails long enough to puncture the suit so she couldn’t do this herself.

“Put your fins on as close to the water’s edge as you can because you’re going to have to walk backwards over the sand once they’re on your feet.” He started to spew facts at her as he worked on the suit. “Once you are in the shallow water, you can turn around and walk. Lift your knees higher than usual until you’re in water deep enough to swim.”

She nodded but looked a bit shellshocked from the information overload. That couldn’t be helped. There was a lot to say and not much time to say it.

Everything he told her, what little advice he could offer at this point with no time left, was critical. Although, if he was honest, he talked as much to distract himself from her body as to inform her of what she needed to know.

“When you’re swimming, the motion is like a flutter kick, which gets tiring the longer you do it so don’t depend just on your legs. The fins will help double your speed, but you’ll still have to use your arms.”

“Okay,” she said, still looking dazed as he tugged on her suit.

Damn, this was taking forever to get her into this thing. Best that he continue his instructions.

“Start out slow. You don’t want to cramp up. That’ll kill you—uh, your time.” He did a verbal dance to cover the truth he’d almost spilled. That a bad cramp out there in the deep water could prove deadly.

There was one more danger he couldn’t ignore.

“If you get caught in a rip tide when trying to get back in,don’tfight it. You won’t win. Swim parallel to shore until you’re out of the current then aim for the beach.”

If she wasn’t developing a tan from all the time they’d been out in the sun, she would have been white as a ghost after his coaching speech. Great.

But at least the hard—and embarrassing—part of getting her into the wetsuit was done. He moved behind her to deal with the still open zipper.

Damn she looked good in the suit. LikeSports Illustratedgood.

He ignored that—mostly—as well as the close proximity of her shapely butt as he leaned close and used both hands to zip the neoprene. Just in time too. No sooner had he finished wrestling Shelly’s disturbingly sexy body into the wet suit did the show hosts arrive.

Clay and Tasha on site were a sure sign that things were about to get moving.

Of course, the cameras never left. Twenty-four/seven they were there. Watching. Listening.

Usually they kept in the background so he almost—almost but not quite—forgot they were there. But sometimes they were right in his face, like now.

They must have brought in extra crew for the race. There seemed to be double the number of cameras.

Stefan had managed to ignore the camera who was circling them as he struggled to dress Shelly.

Now, it was less easy to ignore the lens in his face.

Annoyed by this show—more than he usually was—he stared right into the lens and said, “Do you fucking mind?”

That should ensure the footage ended up on the cutting room floor. Good. That would serve the producers right for putting the contestants in danger.

Risking his life for BUD/S was one thing. Risking Shelly and the other contestants for ratings was inexcusable.

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