Page 33 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

His, “Let’s go,” was the reaction she’d hoped for. What she didn’t expect was the way hearing those words would make her feel.

Oh God, Bree thought, her palms going sweaty. She started to panic. Her heart pounded against her chest.

He took her hand, Bree sliding off her bar stool. Trent, she reminded herself, it’s just Trent. But the reassurance didn’t help.

“What floor?” he asked.

Bree realized they’d crossed the lobby and she hadn’t even known. She blinked, trying to realign her mind. Floor? What floor?

“Fourth,” she said.

A minute later the elevator closed. Trent pressed a button, then turned her toward him, his head moving to her lips before she could stop him.

“Trent—,” she managed to say before those lips covered hers. Familiar lips. Lips that had kissed her intimately . . . once upon a time.

But he’d changed. He wasn’t the soft-mouthed teenager she remembered. Oh, no. This man was hard. He nipped at her mouth, his tongue caressing the sensitive swell of her bottom lip in a way that should have had her moaning in pleasure.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered.

The elevator doors opened. They pulled apart.

“What’s your room number?” he asked, tugging her out the door.

“489,” she said, letting him pull her along even as her ears began to ring.

“Key?” he asked.

Bree fumbled in her purse, handed him the white card. He inserted it in the card-lock, and with a loud click and a snick, the door opened, light flowing in from the row of windows directly opposite. The moment she stepped inside, he pulled her to him.

This was it then, a voice inside her said. This was what she wanted him to do. Amazing how easy it had been—

He kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips before she could form another word, and the shock of that hot, masculine invasion made her gasp. But she didn’t panic because he tasted . . . familiar. Safe. Sweet.

Yes, she silently hissed. Yessss. This was what she’d hoped for. What she’d prayed for. He might have changed on the outside, but she knew this man. He’d been her first lover. Her first boyfriend. Her first friend. She needed that gentle man back.

And for a moment or two it worked. Her body sank into his. Ripples of excitement moved down her body. She felt herself swell and moisten as hope sent her spirits soaring.

And then he picked her up.

Bree went stiff, reality returning like the bracing slap of subzero breeze.

Oh God

He set her down on the bed, slipped his shoes off, his hands moving to the fly of his jeans.

She couldn’t move.

He unzipped himself, slipping down his jeans and his boxers in one, smooth motion.

His penis sprang free, the head of it fully engorged. His top came off next. And when he stood over her naked, his eyes were as hot as a swallow of whiskey. “Get undressed.”

She couldn’t breathe.

No, that wasn’t true. She panted. Fear gave everything a crystal clarity. His erection, the veins swollen and engorged. The goose bumps just above his blond pubic hair. The fitness of his body, every muscle pumped and at the ready.

“Bree?” he asked again.

She looked up, her vision having narrowed so that all she saw was his blue eyes. “I can’t,” she said.

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