Breaking Brenna (Darkwater SEALs Book 2) by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Winterswept
Published: 2021-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

16

“I don’t get it,” Bruiser said over the sound of the surf. He squinted at her, his face glistening with beads of saltwater. “Do you?”

He was waist deep in the shallows, the waves swirling around him like living things. But the powerful water couldn’t budge Bruiser’s hard, muscled, heavy body as he lazily walked towards where Brenna reclined on a white-painted wooden beach-chair.

Brenna adjusted her sunglasses and tried to pretend like she wasn’t looking at the bumps of ridiculous muscle lining his rock-hard abdomen. His chest was huge, like two slabs of bronzed marble.

The tattoos were perfectly placed, tantalizingly dark. Brenna wanted to get a closer look at them. Maybe trace her fingers along the dark lines. Touch those scars all over his brutally powerful body. Ask him where each came from. Laugh when he said it was classified. Need to know basis. I’ll tell ya, then I’ll kill ya.

Brenna pressed her thighs together as Bruiser moved up the beach. The waterline was down to his knees now, and his black surf-shorts were plastered against his thighs. His quadriceps were massive, like tree-trunks, straight and thick and pure muscle. The waistband of his shorts was low on his stomach, and Brenna’s breath quickened as her gaze followed his deadly V down along those muscle-framed hips that shone in the sun.

She desperately tried to keep her eyes from the center of his trunks, right above the waistband, but it didn’t work. She gulped when she saw how big his bulge was, and her toes curled when she felt a tingle beneath the towel she’d laid across her hips.

“Toss me a towel, will ya?” he said as he strode up the beach.

Brenna blinked behind her sunglasses and glanced over at the second beach chair. No towel. Bruiser had been in such a hurry to get to the ocean, he must have forgotten to bring one down to the beach. He’d already been body-surfing the waves when she finally dared to emerge from her cabana.

Brenna was a Jersey girl at heart, and she liked the beach, had enjoyed trips to the Shore all the way through high school and college. She’d never given a damn about showing off her curves, and she was just fine with bikinis. Today, however. she’d picked out a one-piece suit that was dirt-brown with an ugly pink neon trim all around the edges. She’d put it on and was frowning at the clashing colors when Patty Duprey popped up in the mirror behind her.

“Absolutely not,” said Patty firmly. “If I had boobs like that, I’d be on my knees thanking the heavens every Sunday. And I sure as hell wouldn’t hide them behind a hideous sack of a suit. It was left behind by the previous tenants. I don’t even think it’s been washed.”

“Ew.” Brenna pulled the shoulder straps down and sniffed at them. They smelled clean enough. She looked at Patty, who was in a white bikini and high-heeled sandals. She wasn’t skinny, but she was a slight woman with narrow hips and not a lot of curves.

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