Page 47 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

She burrowed herself in his arms.

“Will you let me keep on holding you?”

“Yes,” he heard her whisper.

And to his amazement, she did.

Chapter Five

Bree fell asleep in his arms. She woke up as he placed her on a bed. And it was a sign of how emotionally drained she was that she didn’t even ask where she was as he crept in next to her. If she were honest, she wanted him there.

She went out like a light. And when she woke the next morning, Bree realized that crying in his arms had helped.

She rolled over, Trent’s arms falling from her sides, which was where they’d stayed all night. And as Bree turned to face him, she realized how much she’d missed this—missed a man’s company. And though she never would have thought it was possible, she actually felt relaxed in Trent’s company, likely because he’d proved himself trustworthy in more ways that one.

She reached out a hand, gently wiping a lock of hair off his forehead. He looked both familiar and unfamiliar. The nose was the same, as was the jaw—but there the similarities ended. There were lines around his mouth and eyes, wrinkles that hadn’t been there before. His lashes were still long, especially while he was sleeping, but the mouth had changed. No longer boyishly thin, it had matured, appearing almost sensual now.

Who was this man? she found herself wondering. Who was this stranger who tried to help her even though he hadn’t seen her in years?

She leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes sprang open.

Bree drew back in alarm.

He smiled.

And she reminded herself there was nothing to be afraid of—not from him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she answered.

“Sleep okay?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good.” He sat up. Bree felt that momentary stab of panic, but it faded when he turned away from her, dangling his feet over the edge of the bed. “There’s towels in the bathroom and a robe hanging on the back of the door.” He went over to a huge chest of drawers, opening first one and then another. “Here’s a T-shirt and an old pair of sweats you can change into.” He didn’t turn and hand them to her, just tossed them in an armchair. “I’ll go make us some coffee.”

And then he left, Bree feeling her brows lift at the suddenness of his departure. He hadn’t even asked how she was feeling. And if she was doing better. How odd.

But it wasn’t until after her shower, when Bree was sitting on the edge of his bed admiring his bedroom, that she understood the problem. He still wouldn’t look at her when he said, “My turn to take a shower.” And then, so low that she probably wouldn’t have heard him if his spacious house wasn’t so quiet, he said, “A cold one,” under his breath.

Bree froze.

Stupid, Bree. Of course that’s what the problem is. He is a man after all—not a saint.

Yes, but he’d been so gentle.

And had probably woken up with a woody, which was why he’d left the bed so quickly.

“Thanks for the clothes,” she called out to him.

He didn’t even acknowledge the words, just went into the bathroom without a backward glance. Bree stared at the closed door, certain Trent was trying to hide from her. What would he do if she walked in on him? she wondered. What would she do?

One thing she did know: after today, she doubted she’d ever see him again. She was scheduled to fly out tonight, which meant if she wanted to give it one more try . . .

No, she told herself with a firm shake of her head. She couldn’t ask that of him. He’d done so much already.

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