Page 53 of The Playboy SEAL
He does this often. Has the perfect formulated response to stupid things most people don’t even register. Mosttimes he keeps them to himself. He probably would have kept this whole comparison locked away in his twisted brain had I not asked for an explanation. He continues smiling.
“How long?” I ask again.
“Since the moment you opened stream in my presence,” he admits.
I shake my head, keeping my gaze locked on his guilty-looking face. He peeks up at me through his envy-worthy lashes, eyes slanted with happiness. He gives me a look that says,Hey, you wanted to know.
I nod, wiping the amusement from my face. “I suppose you wish I had a dick then? I’d be able to pee in a nice straight line. We could sword fight next time.”
Macs is holding his stomach, bent over, roaring with laughter.
“Better yet, we could pee at the same time and make it a game. Who can pee the farthest with the most accuracy?”
With happy tears streaming down his face, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his warm, bare chest. “No. No. I like your zoo display. I do. I’ve never seen something so…wild before. That’s all.”
I’ll admit. I was peeing before I even realized what I was doing because it’s a habit.
I keep my arms pinned by my sides, still refusing to reciprocate his hug, but it gets harder and harder as every second passes. His skin is so hot and tinged with the musky-scented body wash it makes my mouth water. My cheek is pressed against his hard chest muscle, right on top of his solitary tattoo. It’s a dark blue inked portraitof a skeleton frog. It spans an entire pectoral muscle. He told me most SEALs have the tattoo, and it means a lot to him. I bring up one hand to trace the outline with my finger.
“You hurt my feelings,” I say, smiling because he can’t see it. Inside I’m wildly happy to see how happy he is right now. It’s a carefree nature I’ve never seen before. “Are you this nice every time you have sex?”
His body stiffens under my fingertips. I feel his chin come down to rest on the top of my head. “No,” he says, grudgingly.
“Was that a hard question or something?” I ask, confused.
He shakes his head on top of mine and clears his throat. “A simple question. A hard answer,” he replies.
I try to pull away to glimpse his face. My heart is thumping at a rapid pace. I try to bury the excitement at his confession because I’m not sure exactly what it means. “Explain,” I reply, knowing I could avoid this messy conversation by simply moving my hand lower and releasing the white, damp towel around his waist. I could make him forget everything in a matter of seconds. I could use all my skills, everything I’ve learned about pleasing a man, and he would be as good as putty in my hands, but selfishly, I want him to tell me what’s going through his mind right now.
“How was sex for you?” he asks.
“Amazing,” I reply. Perhaps it’s the way I’m going about asking. I’ll take his lead. “How was it for you?”
“Worth the wait,” he says. Finally, he leans away from me. “Fucking amazing. I want to fuck you again. Andagain. And I’m thinking about it right now even though you violated my shower.”
I huff. “You violated it first,” I say. “So we’re clear, I like your cock very much too. And the fact you know what you’re doing. I want to fuck you multiple times as well.”And I’m falling in love with you.
I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his towel. His dimples pop. Just one side, though. “Why was answering that question hard, Macs?” I use his name in hopes of getting his attention.
He sighs. “I thought I could fuck you out of my system.”
“I’m in your system?” I ask, grinning.
He shrugs. “And it looks like you’re staying there for the foreseeable future.” He shifts uncomfortably. I see the cost it takes to admit this to me. “If you want to be there.” There’s a question in his gaze. He’s asking, even though he stated it as fact.
I put him out of his misery right away. “I want to be in your system. In fact, wait here,” I say, holding up one finger. I retrieve my cell phone from my bag, open the camera, and hand it to him. “Take a photo of me,” I command.
Macs quirks a brow and looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Just do it. Take a photo of me right now.”
He raises the phone up and focuses with a tap of the screen. I try to look innocent while topless but sexy because I am wearing a black fucking thong. I smile softly, no teeth. He smiles at the screen as he watches me fidget to find a proper pose. He clicks the button a few times.
“Send the photo to yourself,” I say.
He doesn’t reply, but I can tell he’s going through the motions to send the photos, plural, to himself because his grin doesn’t fade a smidge. He hands me the phone back. I snap a quick photo of him, and he makes a move to duck out of the frame but ends up smiling wider than he was before. I click the drool-worthy photo and toss my phone in my bag.
“What was that about?” he asks, stroking my nipples in between his large fingers.
