Ripped SEAL. Filthy mouth. Big… gun. What else does a woman need?
I’ve been shot at by armed Militias. I’ve taken over fallen cities. I’ve protected the country I love and I’ve lost more friends than I can count. In a nutshell: I’ve seen it all. So you think some journalist can use me for my war stories?
But when she bends over at the bar, I can’t help but stare at that lush, hour glass frame. One taste is all I need and I’ll do anything for it.
If it’s a story she wants, a story is what she’ll get. After all, she said she’d do anything for this.
I’m not an idiot. Men like Colt Sterling are bad news, even if he is a Navy SEAL war hero. Tall, brooding, and waiting for the world to burn, this guy is bad. His ripped body and cocky attitude tell me to stay away. But as a journalist, I need my story.
One story for one night. That’s the deal.
But now he’s not letting go. And I’m begging for more.