Chapter 56

Five days later, Peyton hadn't changed her opinion of him at all. Not even a little. He was hot and cold by turns, sometimes almost friendly, others so distant she wondered if he even knew she was in the same room with him. But there were a few things she knew for sure. He was, without a doubt, the most mouthwatering man she'd ever seen in her life. Top to bottom, hands down.
She had taken to watching for him to return from his run every morning wearing those flimsy shorts, wondering if today he'd be sporting a visible hard-on. As soon as he finished, he went inside, and when he came out, he was wearing swim trunks. Without giving himself more of a break in between than that, he did that clean knife-like shallow dive into the water and swam for at least another hour.
She was smart enough to figure out he was rehabbing from whatever gave him those scars on his thigh. He hadn't bothered to discuss it with her, nor did she ask. She was content, instead, to ogle him and wonder what he was like naked and in bed. A place she'd probably never be with him.
At least, she thought, he was moving forward with his plan. She still hadn't been able to write one word, although she'd sat at her laptop several times, waiting for inspiration. Once, he'd asked her what she was doing, and when she told him she was waiting for inspiration to strike, he frowned and moved on to something else. She would have thought, with such a delectable beefcake in her face every day, she'd have no trouble at all.
Lordy. She'd never thought of herself as hungry for a man's body. Maybe that was her fault, or maybe she'd just been looking at the wrong men. But by the fifth day when he came jogging up to the dock, near where her lawn chair was, she was sure he could see her swollen nipples through the fabric of her swim suit. Did he notice she had to squeeze her thighs together to still the throbbing between them? Or that she kept licking her lips when she looked at him? How embarrassing if he did.
She wondered if she'd have to revert to her handy dandy vibrator. She didn't even know why she'd brought it with her. It wasn't as if she got horny often enough to give it regular use. Her three complex relationships hadn't taught her much about sex. All three men had been cool, selfish lovers, expecting her to satisfy them and shower them with praise. She was beginning to wonder what all the shouting was about. If it was even worth all the trouble.
But as she watched Dix move, even when he was dressed in heavy shorts and a T-shirt, she thought it surely would be worth all the trouble with him.
After the steak dinner, they had fallen into a habit of eating together every night, even talking about themselves. He shared with her how important being a SEAL was to him, although the actual details he gave her were pretty sketchy. She was stunned, however, to learn he would be forty on his next birthday, and he'd been a SEAL since he was twenty-four.
"I've seen a lot of conflicts," he told her. "The past six years, I've been the leader of my team. They get to be like family."
She wanted to ask him if he ever thought about leaving.
In turn, she told him why she'd retreated to Maine for a month. About her unexpected career as a romance novelist and her sudden bad case of writer's block. Deliberately, she had omitted any details of what had brought it on, and he didn't push. It would just be too embarrassing for her to admit she'd chosen relationships neither well nor wisely three times in a row. That she wasn't even sure she believed enough in romance any more to write about it.
They took turns preparing the evening meal. Tonight, she'd made spaghetti, after a quick run to the market since she'd deliberately shopped low carb the first time. Oh, well, what was a few extra pounds if she got to ogle Dixon Amendola's beautiful form, right?
When she cooked, Dix took on the cleanup and vice versa. They'd eaten late, so when she went outside and left him to the kitchen, the sky was evening purple and the crystal stars were just beginning to sparkle against the background. She thought what a great setting it would be for a love scene in one of her stories, if she could just wake up her muse again. She had a habit of creating her characters in her head and playing the What If? game with them before she actually sat down to write. But five days into her forced retreat, nobody was home. You'd think, with such a sexy man around, her brain would be full-tilt busy, but words would just not come.
Damn.
She heaved a sigh.
Warm hands touched her shoulders, and she startled, turning to find Dix standing so close only a sheet of paper could fit between them. His eyes, usually so remote, glittered with heat, and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
"J-just silently bemoaning the fact I can't get my brain busy with a story."
He stared down at her, his hands still on her shoulders. Then, slowly, as if waiting for her to jerk away from him, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Peyton felt as if someone had thrust an electrical wire through her body. Everything quivered, her panties were suddenly very damp, and her breasts ached to be touched.
Well, holy shit! And he'd barely even kissed her.
He lifted his mouth a scant inch or two, so when he spoke, his breath was a soft breeze against her skin. She was frozen in place, her gaze locked with his stormy one.
"I have no business doing this." His voice sounded like it had been dragged over nails. "No business at all. But damn, Peyton, I've kept myself under lock and key for five days, and it's killing me."
"I-it is?" she stammered.
"I hope I don't piss you off, but the first minute I saw you, even all feisty and up in my face, I got so hard it's a wonder I could walk.
"Y-you did?" Well, damn, Peyton, don't you just sound like a fainting female?
"Uh-huh. And I've been that way a good part of every day since then." He moved one hand to stroke her cheekbone with his thumb. "I'm a lousy bet, Peyton. I'm war weary, I'm carrying a pound of guilt about things that would scorch your brain, and I don't think I have anything left to give to a relationship. Nada. There can't be anything more than this. But, damn it all, I want to take you to bed in the worst way." He put his lips close to her ear. "I want to fuck you until neither of us can breathe."
If Dix had not been holding her in some fashion, Peyton would have melted to the ground in a moment. Shock zapped through her along with such a simmering heat that made her throbbing pussy liquid with need. Oh god! She clung to his hard-as-concrete biceps to steady herself. For most of the week, she'd been ruthlessly suppressing the fire he ignited in her, telling herself that not only would jumping into the sack with him be the dumbest thing she could do, but, also, she suspected she was as far from his usual type of woman as she could get.
But here he was, offering her the thing she had to admit she really wanted. And that kiss, as light as it had been, had aroused her more than the touch of any other man she'd ever been with.