Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2) by Paris Wynters

Author:Paris Wynters [Wynters, Paris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Western
ISBN: 9781952560279
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2020-08-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Tony

While hammers bang away, I tack on the final layer of sheetrock with the drywall nails and then grab my towel off the floor and swipe at the sweat that’s trickling down my bare chest. Once I’m done drying off my face, I sling the towel around my neck and study my handiwork. Fourth wall I’ve completed at Bennett’s site today. Not too shabby.

“Feeling proud of yourself?”

My gaze jerks over to where Inara’s standing. Her sweat-dampened curls are pulled back into a messy bun and her tank top is so wet, it’s clinging to her curvy form like a second skin. When she lifts her arms over her head to stretch, pulling the material taut over her breasts, I swallow hard. And then she turns to drop something in a toolbox, and it doesn’t help at all. Her ass in those shorts is a work of art, and that damned butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder keeps taunting me. It’s all I can do not to groan out loud. I’ve been kicking myself every time I skip out on speaking to her about our sexual encounter.

After the party a couple of days ago, she definitely appeared to be flirty and possibly open to trying again. But as is the nature of our jobs, the guys and I got the call we were needed, and any hope of either talking or having another shot with my wife went out the window. And after spending time with her, getting to know her more, my balls are constantly aching because she’s sizzling—she’s the whole damn package.

Inara stares at me, complete with a high-arched brow, and I shrug. “It’s hard not to feel a sense of accomplishment when you build something and see the progress, but it’s a team effort. We’ve all been working hard.”

She gasps and presses a hand to her chest. “Will wonders never cease? Is that modesty I hear coming from Tony Martinez? I’d better mark this day on my calendar.”

“Oh, you think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

She glances up at me from beneath her eyelashes and flashes me a sultry smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m funny—I know I am.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that my wife was flirting with me again. To distract myself, I pull a cold bottle of water out of the cooler and flick icy droplets at her. She squeals.

“That’s what you get for being so cocky. Remember, I might be built”—I flex a bicep at her—“but my ego is delicate. When I take the high road and act modest, that’s the signal for you to shower me with accolades.” I finish half the bottle in a few big gulps before offering it to her.

She downs the remaining half just as quickly. “Right. Sorry. I must have forgotten that part of the vows somehow.” She turns to peruse the wall, rubbing her chin and prowling up and down the length like she’s a paid inspector.

When she finally turns back to me, I waggle my eyebrows.

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