Page 48 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

Yes, another voice urged.

Because after waking up in his arms, there was one thing she did know: she wanted to be normal again. She wanted it with a fierceness that made her stiffen in resolve. She didn’t need a woman to turn her on. That had been a mistake. Trent wasn’t a mistake. He was an honest, caring man.

She got up from the bed, her nails digging into her palms.

Now or never.

She could see Trent through the glass of the shower, his head resting against the tile wall, eyes closed.

He was stroking himself.

Bree froze. His butt cheeks clenched as he pushed against his hand, water dripping down his head and onto his fingers.

Let him be, Bree. Obviously he’s busy.

Because of you, she admitted to herself.

He started to move his hand faster now, and for a second she remembered that first night. Remembered the pleasure she’d experienced just from watching him. And though anxiety made her stomach tighten, the sight of him working himself made her warm and swell.

She wanted sex.

“Trent.”

He didn’t hear her at first, just continued to work himself, his knees bending as he pressed himself into his hand.

“Trent,” she said again.

He turned his head, peered out at her from beneath a stream of water.

“Let me do that for you.”

He slowly straightened, his head coming out of the stream of water so that he looked sweaty and flushed. Bree had a moment of hesitation.

I can’t do it. God help her, she knew by now Trent wouldn’t hurt her, but a part of her still didn’t trust.

And then she saw the cord. It hung around a shower curtain that decorated one side of the stall. It was gold, and braided and obviously sturdy enough to tie a man’s hands.

Would it help? Would it make her feel better?

Regain your power, a voice sounded in her head—something she’d read in a self-help book not too long ago. That same book had prompted her to get on a plane and find Trent.

“Turn around,” Bree said, stepping toward the shower.

“Bree—”

“Please,” Bree begged. God help her, she didn’t need him protesting. She needed him to keep quiet. To just let her do this.

He turned around.

She unhooked the cord, then opened the glass door. Hot air made heavy by steam instantly clung to her face. Trent didn’t say a word as she grabbed one arm, pulled it behind him, then grabbed the other, wrapping the cord around him as tight as she dared.

“Oh, man, Bree,” she thought she heard him moan.

She took the robe off quickly, before she could change her mind, though to be honest, knowing his hands were tied helped. She felt more confident, and more important, in control.

“Turn around,” she said.

He faced her, a golden god glistening with moisture, his dick rosy red and fully engorged from his manhandling.

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