Page 28 of Protected By the Billionaire Ex-SEAL
“Sure?”
A growl simmers in my throat at the idea that people will see her like this, but logic counters my overprotective streak when I remember I don’t have neighbors nearby.
“Yes.”
She nods. Then she goes for it, running toward the field in only her underwear and her hair flying behind her. I’m still deep in my state of shock, but the instinct to be near her snaps in and I’m sprinting after her and catching up within seconds.
Raven doesn’t stop. She keeps going into the long grass until we’re hidden from the houses, with only the moonlight and the greenery surrounding us. The wind’s perfect tonight, not too chilly and not too warm, and it gives off such a nostalgic vibe as I recall the number of times I’ve done this—not naked, but also at night when everyone’s asleep.
My nostalgia is nothing compared to the flush on her cheeks, though. Raven finally stops to catch her breath.
“Are you drunk?”
Her flush deepens, and I’m forced to look away from the trail of pink leading down her body. But I see her shake her head.
“No. I’m happy.”
“Happy?”
She giggles. “It’s the I’ve-had-a-few-glasses-of-whiskey type of happy. But I’m not drunk. I just drank enough to feel…bold enough to do this. To be reckless. To stop being afraid of living. I’ve been so careful and so afraid these past few months, so I wasn’t really living. But now I am. And it makes me so happy.”
It’s not just words. The joy’s shining on her face, too, a glow that nothing else but this moment of freedom can give. Comprehension dawns that, again, it stems from her ex-boyfriend and how badly he messed her up, and the thought alone sends violence surging in my system.
But I don’t let it out. I keep calm, wanting her to enjoy this moment. Maybe to give her more.
An idea flits in.
“Do you trust me?”
She studies me. “You’re very arrogant. Sometimes rude. And grumpy. Like you have no choice but to do this assignment.”
“Yes.” And I hate that it’s come to that, but I can’t help it. “But do you trust me?”
There’s a second of silence, but her answer rings loud and clear.
“Yes.”
I hold out my hand. She looks at it, then gingerly takes it, and I try my best to ignore the zap of electricity that travels between us whenever any of our body parts are this close. I tug on her hand and we start walking again.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Then, because I don’t want to sound like a dangerous guy, I add, “It’s a safe space, I promise.”
She doesn’t say a word when I lead her into the forest, where the sound of an owl and other forest animals offer a source of comfort to me. We walk deeper and deeper in until there’s a dirt trail leading downward into bushes and thicker trees. When I sense her growing nervous, I stop.
“Do you want to go back?”
She stares at the semi-darkness and shakes her head, so we keep going into the bushes and trees. The moment we step out into a clearing, I get to witness her nerves turn into astonishment, then an open delight that makes me grin.
“It’s a small pond. Nick and I used to hang out here.”
“Is it safe to swim in?”
“Yeah.”
The water’s dark now, but I know it’s clear as they come in the daylight—and it’s safe. She turns to me and smiles, a raw sincerity that clutches my heart. Then she’s slipping in without another word and dunking her head, then rising like a siren with her hair like a glistening veil behind her.
My mouth’s dry again at the sight, but I keep my voice steady.