Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,11

away. It was ridiculous. She was too old for this, too jaded. She’d been with men before and never had a man gotten her so hot, from zero to sixty with just a look. Nothing short of a complete and utter wreck.

Everything since she’d slammed her gaze into his had been hot, and wild, and edging on frantic, as if she’d just located something that made her…complete. Losing her mind and sinking down into crazytown with a big ole’ heaping side of meltdown.

She’d gotten so tangled up in him, his big, strong hands, his scent, his body, his skin and his mouth…on her everywhere.

Everywhere.

Her hand slipped off the doorknob, her palm sweaty. She glanced at him again—and got hit hard by the memory of last night one more time, except this impact was closer to her solar plexus, and way lower down. She leaned against the door, overcome by a craving so intense, it took all her willpower to turn and open the door.

About two more minutes and he’d be firmly relegated to memory, the whole thing behind her. She took a breath, calm, easy.

Regret wormed its way through her as she softly closed the door. She headed for the sidewalk and kept walking.

3

Hemingway opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the rumpled sheets of where “The Babe” had slept. He remembered her body beneath his, the feel of her satiny skin, the sounds she made when he was deep inside her.

If his dick hadn’t already been hard, it would be now for sure. Disappointment washed through him as he pushed up in bed, noting that the room was empty. He had no intention of getting involved, especially not now. He needed his full focus to be on BUD/S and the next eighteen months of training. But right at this moment, the thought of having her underneath him again was overtaking all rational thought.

Meeting “The Babe” had been freaking inconvenient.

Regret filled him as he got up and stepped into the shower. He didn’t even know her name or one thing about her. They had done all the talking with their mouths and bodies. It was the single most erotic experience of his life. His body still zinged from her touch.

He enjoyed the hot shower, the feel of the water against his skin. He knew the next six months of his life were going to be about suffering—sore, burning muscles, being pushed to the limits of his endurance, wet, cold, sandy and miserable.

But remembering her wouldn’t be a hardship and enjoying his body and hers would stay with him for a long time.

He shaved, taking special care with his face, inspecting every inch of his upper lip, chin and neck. Inspection was no joke, and he wasn’t going to get dinged for a bad shave. He ran his hands through his hair. Stepping out of the bathroom, he went to the closet where he’d hung his dark uniform and bent down, giving his dress shoes a quick once over. They were still a glossy black.

He donned his white briefs, undershirt, then the jumper or tunic and pants. He adjusted the black neckerchief until satisfied, grabbed up his cover—the Navy’s term for the iconic sailor’s hat—along with his duffel and checked out of the motel. He got into his car and drove to the base, entering through the main gate. He was directed to the Bucklew Naval Special Warfare Center.

Another flash of pleasure snapped through him as he parked. The memory of The Babe kissing his neck, collarbone, the softness of her mouth. Her aggressive biting flashed in his brain. He took a breath. Dammit. Why couldn’t he push her to the back of his mind or forget all about her? He had some serious business to attend to, and he couldn’t have his focus fragmented.

There were no cheat codes in BUD/S. He was in this on his own, voluntarily playing the game and keeping his focus on the ball.

BUD/S would be a tough endurance fight against…himself.

He intended to win.

He got out of the Gladiator and went inside, took care of the admin stuff where he signed a paper listing all the things he couldn’t have at BUD/S including over-the-counter drugs, caffeinated products, multivitamins, pain-killers or anti-inflammatories and headed back to his vehicle. Taking a deep breath, he drove back toward Silver Strand Boulevard and across to the BUD/S training area on Trident Way.

Still in his uniform with his duffel slung over his shoulder he headed to muster at