I take one deep breath, trying to hush that incessant whisper inside my head. Don’t do it, that insidious voice goes, you barely know him!

But he’s so fucking hoooooot, another voice starts, and I let a slight smile creep up on my lips. I’m not too big on cursing, but fucking hot pretty much describes him. And, hell, the way he’s looking at me right now is enough for my thong to melt. Whatever. At least he won’t be sniffing at it then.

“Wanna come upstairs?” I find myself saying, the words slipping out from between my lips before I can stop them. He just looks at me with a blank expression, and I feel embarrassment taking over me. Oh, crap, I must look like a fool right now. “To, uh, make sure I’m safe, I mean,” I add, trying to save some face.

His lips curl upward with a slowness that I never even thought to be possible, and a barely noticeable smile shows up on his face. He really has a problem with smiling, that much is for sure. Serious and sullen, that’s Sanders. But, then again, what else would I expect from a combat-hardened ex-SEAL?

“Alright,” he nods, opening the door to my apartment building and stepping to the side, waiting for me to go in first - like a true gentleman. We step inside the elevator and, by the time the doors close in on us, I realize that I’m breathing hard, my thong damp once more. Seriously, what’s up with him? There’s something out of the ordinary about him… I mean, all it takes is for me to stand a few inches away from him and I start to become a puddle.

Because he’s hooooot, that manic voice inside of me laughs once more, and I bite down on my lower lip as I look at him. The fabric of his dark shirt is stretched thin over the bulging muscles on his arms and shoulders, and I can’t even start to imagine the layer of rock hard abs he probably has covering his stomach.

Before I know it, my eyes have wandered down to his jeans, and I can’t stop myself from imagining exactly what he’s hiding in there. Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m acting like a horny teenager! What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Here we are,” he says politely as the elevator’s door open. We get out at the same time and, after fishing my keys from inside my purse, I walk toward the door to my apartment, slide the key into its lock and turn it. He pushes the door open for me, his fingers brushing against mine, and my heart becomes so tight inside my chest that I feel lightheaded.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers with a nod, and I realize he’s about to bolt on me. I don’t even think, I just react: I reach for his arm and grab him, turning my hand into a claw and digging my fingers into his rock-hard bicep.

“Wait, uh,” I stammer, trying to think of something that won’t make me look like a desperate fool. Something that makes him get inside the apartment. Yup, I’m doing this. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how… All I know is that I’m doing it. My body demands it. “Could you… uhh… Check the apartment, maybe? I’m still a bit frightened. I’d feel safer if you checked it out, please.”

His body responds to the word safer, straightening up as if he’s standing at parade attention, and he just looks at me and nods. He takes one slow but sure step inside my apartment, slowly turning his neck as he scans my living room, and then he starts ambling down the hallway cautiously.

You’re crazy, girl, that rational side of me tells me, and it continues to speak before I can shut it up. You barely know him and, besides, your bedroom is a mess. You left your dirty underwear on the bed, remember?

But I don’t listen to brain. Instead I look at this ex-SEAL’s ass. Brain can think whatever it wants.

I stand in the middle of the living room as he checks room after room, taking much longer than I expected. He really took it to heart when I said I needed him to check my apartment so that I could feel safer.

Hot and protective, what are you waiting for, babe? I hear that devious whisper inside my mind and, reacting unconsciously, I take both my hands to my shoulders and peel off the straps of my dress, the fabric drooping over my breasts and revealing the outer edge of my bra. Swaying my hips from side to side, I hook my thumbs on the dress and push it down, bunching it around my waist; one harsher tug and the fabric slides down my legs easily, pooling around my feet.

Well, I guess that’s a clear cut victory for my wild side.

Standing only in high heels and lingerie, I wait for him to come out of my bedroom, my heart feeling like a hand grenade inside my chest. I’m excited, anxious, afraid, and God knows what else - there’s a cocktail of emotions raging inside of me, and it’s making me wetter than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

“What are you doing?” He asks me as he steps out from the bedroom, his eyes widening as they land on my half-naked body. I notice a hard (and very, very long) shape tenting up his jeans, and I become so wet that I feel my fluids starting to drip down my inner thighs.

“Preparing your reward,” I whisper, taking one sure step toward him. He takes one step back, hitting the wall, and I keep moving toward him defiantly.

“I don’t think --” he starts, but I hush him by placing my index finger over his lips.

“That’s right, don’t think. Just come and take your reward,” I whisper, one mischievous grin dancing on my lips.

I have no idea what I’m doing but, hell, it feels good.