Page 48 of The Playboy SEAL
“That was fast. Did you speed?”
I take a few more steps until I’m standing in the light shining in front of his door. “I never break the law.”
One brow rises in surprise. “I’d like to agree to disagree on that one. I’m pretty sure that body is illegal in every continent.” He runs his gaze up and down my height one more time, but it’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes this time. There’s nothing subtle, and he doesn’t care if I know what he’s doing. With his lip still tucked into his mouth, he motions for me to come in.
I’m still shaking my head at his bad pick-up line as I brush against him and into his house. It’s clean. Immaculately so. There’s no sawdust scent or unfinished pieces of random projects in sight. He must sense me judging the space because he clears his throat from behind me. I’m startled back into reality.
“You cleaned?”
“You noticed,” he says.
A white candle is burning softly in the corner of the room on a polished wooden table. There’s a shaggy rug beneath his coffee table now, and the kitchen is finished.
“Figured if we were making it special, we shouldn’t fuck in a construction site.” There’s laughter in his voice, but I hear the seriousness too.
This means a lot to him. More than he thinks tonight is worth. I’m not even sure the proper level of enthusiasm that should be shown. He stands next to me, and I take his large, hard hand in mine.
“It looks beautiful. You’re right. If it were a construction zone, I’d demand you get out the GoPro and film us for a pay-to-play porn site. Construction babe gets drilled. Think of the possibilities. The tools,” I say, raising one brow.
When I meet his gaze, I can tell I made the right callby using humor. His shoulders relax, and he kisses the top of my head. He calls me some sexual pet name, but I don’t respond in favor of surveying the rest of the space.
“I got most of it finished with Tahoe, but the cleaning was all me,” he explains, puffing out his chest. “Make yourself comfortable. Wine?”
I nod and smile in what I think is a reassuring gesture and take a seat on the couch. Suddenly the bow-chicka-wow-wow phase has arrived, and I’m uncomfortable. Because this is how all my normal dates start out. There’s nothing different. The wine. The effort. Everything. He just wants into my pants.
“Do you know me?” I blurt out frantically. “Truly know me?”
He picks his gaze up from a shining wineglass to meet my eyes. He’s unsurprised by my line of questioning, like maybe he anticipated my crazy, and he’s ready to defuse it.
“Know you in what regard? I’m trying to remedy the only way in which I’m not familiar with you right now.” Macs holds up the wineglass.
“Because I know you’re a SEAL, and now I know your real name and that you don’t do relationships. Sure, there are other things I know about you, but I don’t know what makes you you.”
Now he looks a little stunned. He swallows a sip of wine and brings me my glass. I drink it down in four large gulps and brush a drip off my chin with the sleeve of my sweater.
“What makes me me?” I ask.
He’s looking at me with wide eyes.
“I know. I’m a little nuts. Get over it.”
“That was a nice bottle of wine. What did you think of it?”
I look down at the empty glass and feel mortified.
“Want another glass?” he asks, dimples popping.
“Please.”
He sets his glass down and returns with another glass and hands it to me. His hand shakes a little as he extends the cup, and that ratchets my anxiety to another level. Why is he nervous?
I take a small sip and actually taste the Chardonnay this time. It’s perfect. The finish is fucking perfect. “Oh my god, this is so good. What is it?” I swirl it around in my glass a few times and take another sip. I moan.
He tells me the name, and finally I relax back against the sofa.
“Better?” he asks, sipping his own.
He tells me the blend and year and how he has a few other bottles. He says he loves white wine but feels like he can’t drink it unless he’s with a woman. I tell him white wine isn’t just for chicks, and he tells me it’s akin to a piña colada. Another girly drink he loves to imbibe. I’m laughing in no time. And he’s effectively flipped the mood in the room to something more bearable.
