Page 2 of Stalked By the Navy SEAL

I flop down onto the beat-up couch, the familiar scent of his place flooding my senses—part detergent, part something fried. It's like I never left. The room is a time capsule of our high school shenanigans; posters of rock bands and a dartboard with a suspiciously Jake-shaped silhouette drawn on it.

"Man, remember when we tried to set up that backyard wrestling ring?" Jake laughs, cracking open a beer and handing one to me.

"Remember? I still have the scar." I roll up my sleeve to show off a faded line near my elbow. "Courtesy of your 'elbow drop of doom'."

He snorts, taking a swig. "You loved it. Admit it, Tanner. You were the best villain 'The Crusher' could've asked for."

"Villain? Dude, I was the misunderstood antihero," I protest, but I'm grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. We're lost in the past for a second, just two guys reliving their glory days.

"Antihero, my ass. You cheated every chance you got," he accuses, but there's zero heat in it.

"Strategy, bro. All about strategy." I wink at him, and we both crack up.

"Strategy," Molly echoes, stepping into the living room. Her head tilts, curiosity lighting up those big brown eyes. "What kind of strategies does a Navy SEAL have for backyard wrestling?"

"Ah, can't reveal all my secrets," I say, the words tumbling out easier than I expect. "But let's just say they involve a lot of stealth and not getting caught."

"Sounds scandalous," she teases, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and damn if I don't want to be that strand of hair.

"Only the best kind of scandalous," I shoot back. My heart's doing this stupid acrobatic thing because she's looking at me with interest that feels a shade too warm to be just friendly.

"Tell me more about being a SEAL," Molly says, settling down across from us. She's all eagerness and anticipation, like a kid before Christmas, and it knocks the wind right outta me.

"Which part?" I ask, voice rougher than I intend. "The adrenaline, the danger, or the endless push-ups?"

"Start with the adrenaline," she decides, and I dive into a story, leaving out the classified bits and the darkest parts. Instead, I paint her a picture of skydiving into unknown territory, the rush of ocean waves during a midnight swim, and the bond between brothers-in-arms.

She listens, rapt, her lips parted slightly. Every now and then, she throws in a question, and each one shows she's really listening, not just hearing. It's like she's peeling back layers I didn't even know I was wearing.

"Sounds like quite the adventure," she murmurs when I finish.

"Best and hardest years of my life," I admit, feeling exposed under her gaze. But her smile is soft, encouraging, and I find myself wanting to tell her more, to share parts of me I usually keep locked down tight.

"Must be nice to be home, though," she says. And yeah, it is. More than nice. It's necessary, like a deep breath after surfacing from deep underwater.

"Home has its perks," I agree, and for a heartbeat, I let my gaze linger on her, feeling that magnetic pull stronger than ever.

She bites her lower lip, and I feel my cock surge to full mast in my pants. I cough and shift on the couch, praying to God that Tanner won’t see the huge tent I’m pitching for his sister right here in his living room.

Jesus, he’d beat me senseless, and I’d deserve it.

“Why don’t I go grab us a few more?” I ask Jake, desperate for a moment of reprieve so I can readjust myself.

“You’re our guest, man. I can get them.”

“No,” I insist as I hurriedly jump up. “Let me.” I practically sprint into the kitchen like my ass is on fire.

Fuuuck.

I lean against the kitchen counter, popping a cap off another beer as laughter spills from the living room. Jake's got an arsenal of jokes, but it's Molly's laughter that's got me hooked, light and genuine, threading through the air like music.

"Want one?" I offer her as she wanders in, the fridge light casting a glow on her face.

"Sure," she replies, and her fingers brush mine as I hand her a soda. An electric jolt shoots up my arm, and I'm pretty sure it's not static.

“What? No beer for me?” She raises a delicate eyebrow, and I eye her.

“No way, sweetheart. I know you’re not old enough, and Jake would beat my ass if I gave you one.”

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