Page 2 of Loving a Warrior

Holy. Shit.

With his close-cropped blond hair, vivid blue eyes and chiseled jaw, the dude could’ve walked straight out of a California surfing magazine. His thick brows were dusted with sand and currently drawn together in a worried point. His lips were parted from exertion, the lower one plump and full, the upper one dotted with beads of sweat that Matt had a sudden, insane urge to lick off…

Dragging his eyes away, Matt struggled to sit up. His temples throbbed, the little boy’s wails piercing straight into his skull.

He groaned.

“I am so sorry.” The man put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and squeezed. “I just didn’t see you.”

A bolt of awareness skittered down Matt’s spine at the touch.

“No harm done,” he rasped. “I’m okay.” Wanting nothing more than to get away from the crying kid and the man fucking with all his senses, Matt lurched to standing.

The ground gave a sickening tilt. With a grunt of alarm, the man leapt to wrap one strong arm around his waist. Helplessly, Matt leaned against his bare chest, biting back another groan at the arousing scent of his warm, damp skin. As Matt stared, sweat droplets slowly, lovingly, slid down ridged, hair-dusted abs to disappear beneath the waistband of some brief running shorts.

Very thin shorts that were clinging to…

Damn.

“Sure you’re okay? I landed on you really hard.” The man’s voice was filled with concern. “Are you dizzy?” He tightened his arm around Matt’s waist, jolting him back to reality.

Matt wrenched away as a hot tide of embarrassment washed over him. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly. “Just knocked the breath out of me for a sec, but I’m good.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

Please go away. Please.

After receiving the same assurance from the kid’s mom that her son was fine, the man cast one last glance over at Matt before waving at everyone and resuming his run. Matt didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself, sighing inwardly at the perfect V of his shoulders and back, the round buttocks that flexed with every stride of those long legs.

Yeah, that’s it. Run right on out of my life there, pal.

As the man disappeared into the distance, Matt busied himself getting the kid’s bike upright again. He made sure nothing was bent or damaged before presenting it back to him with a flourish.

“Thanks, Mister Soldier.” The boy scuffed his toe. “Sorry I hurt you.”

“Aww, buddy.” Matt crouched down to his level. “I’m not hurt at all. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He offered his hand to shake and the boy touched it shyly with his fingers.

Standing, Matt smiled reassuringly at the ladies, then took off at a slow jog, the sand in his crotch now itching like a motherfucker. By the time he finally reached the main gate of the base, he was chafed, sore and exhausted, thoughts of the gorgeous man all but purged from his mind.

Thank God.

* * *

The Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado, California, was located on a beautiful stretch of beach only three hundred yards from high-rise condos that cost more than Matt would ever see in a lifetime. In several lifetimes.

He stood at his barracks room window, gazing out at his own million-dollar view. For the next six months, he’d get to enjoy one of the most desirable pieces of real estate in the country, all on the government’s dime. Well, as long as he didn’t fuck it up.

He had no intention of fucking it up.

“A bunch of us are gonna go hang out in the commons, maybe do a little workin’ out. Wanna come?”

Matt glanced at his roommate, Jerrold, a short, extremely muscular man with tattoo sleeves decorating both arms. “Sure.”

After changing into PT gear, he and Jerrold made their way out of the barracks and down to the large courtyard in front, which boasted a cabana with a couple of picnic tables, and a nearby sandpit with some pull-up bars. A concrete pad was next to that, where knots of guys were currently doing sit-ups and push-ups, or simply sprawled out doing nothing at all.

Those were the guys talking shit.