Submit (Whiskey Run Heroes 3)

I reach down and cup her chin, lifting her face to look at me. “It's not your fault.” She lifts her shoulders. “I know it's not, but I can't imagine what you went through then and what you came home to.”

There are tears in her eyes, and I'm touched by the emotion on her face. I had worried that I’d regret telling her, and that maybe she would think I’m weak. But obviously she doesn’t.

I lean down. “Can I kiss you, Sam?” I say it almost breathlessly.

She nods and smiles. “I mean, we are supposed to be playing like we're married.”

I stop then, realizing what we're doing and where we're at. For just a second, I had forgotten that this is all fake. That here we are Samantha and Liam, not Sam and Bear. Instead of kissing her lips like I want to so badly, I kiss her on the forehead and release the hold I have on her.

She’s surprised; I can see it in her eyes. I wanted more than just a forehead kiss, but how can I do more, if she thinks it’s all fake and everything I’m feeling is real?

She gets herself together and walks over to her chair, the one next to mine, and takes off her wrap. She’s standing in a white bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. Her breasts are round and full, and her waist and ass have the perfect amount of curviness. My mouth starts to water, and I can’t take my eyes off her. I sit down before I fall down. “Is that the only bathing suit you have?” I ask her through gritted teeth.

She nods, looking down at herself. “Yeah, what's wrong with it?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, if you want every man looking at you. I won’t be able to do my job for fending off crazed men.”

She laughs as if I’m joking, and I’m not. One look at her would cause even the saintliest of men to turn bad.

She sits down on the chair and pulls out lotion to start wiping along her legs. “You can actually be sweet sometimes, Bear.”

I growl at her, and she laughs again. She has no idea what she's playing with. My eyes are glued to her body. She doesn't realize that if some guy gets in his head that he can touch her that I will straight-up kill him. I will end his life and not even think about it.

She leans back and pulls her glasses down over her eyes. I need to get into the pool and cool off, but there's no way I'm going to leave her here alone. So instead, I sit down in the chair next to her, put my glasses down over my eyes, and turn my head toward her. She can say what she wants—hell, I don’t even care if she sees me staring at her because there's nothing else I'd rather be looking at than her.

Sam

He's watched me for the last hour, and my whole body feels as if it’s on fire. There’s no doubt that there’s a wet spot in the panties of my bathing suit. I slide my legs together on the chair, feeling the friction between my thighs. This feeling that Bear ignites inside of me is crazy and confusing. I know it’s a bad idea, but I also know that no man has ever made me senseless like this just from a look. It leaves me with an uncontrollable urge of wanting something and not knowing if I can ever have it.

I sit up in my chair, toss my glasses down, and unsteadily stand on my feet. He jumps up quickly beside me. “Where are you going?”

I laugh. “Relax. I'm getting in to cool off a little.” I have a feeling that's the only option I have. I need to cool down, and sitting next to him while his eyes roam my body, always looking and never touching, is not helping.

He follows behind me and stands waist deep in the pool. Every woman around is looking at him, but I can’t be mad about it. I mean, how can you not look at him? I could spend hours just looking at him, and with his arms crossed over his chest and that look on his face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, he looks even more sexy.

As he stands watching me, I dive into the water and swim a few laps. I try to think of anything but him. Him in those black swim shorts that show off his muscular hairy legs. Him with his big, bulgy muscles. Damn, him with his overprotective attitude. After a few laps, I swim up to him, breathless. I can easily blame my panting on the workout, but in part it’s him also. I stand up out of the water, and his jaw tightens. The possessive look he gives me is like a jolt to my system. “Well, you have the possessive husband look down. There's no way a man is going to come talk to me like this,” I tell him, waving my hand up and down in front of him.