Page 64 of The Christmas Trap

She stares closely at it. “How?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.” She sends me a reproachful look.

“I was on a night op with my team when we got hit by an IED. Something sharp sliced across my ribs. It would’ve gone straight through my heart if I hadn’t been carrying this same watch in my chest pocket.”

I touch the space over my heart to demonstrate.

“I took off the watch because my wrist was hurt. I owe my life to the watch. I got it repaired and wear it all the time.”

“Wow.” Her face pales. “That’s scary.” Her voice is dazed. Distress filters into her eyes. “You almost died.”

“Except, I didn’t.” I half smile. “Others on my team weren’t so lucky.”

I remember the feelings of relief and euphoria, followed by sinking disappointment when I found out I’d lost friends.

"I’m so sorry.” Her voice is soft. Soothing. It calms some of the guilt I’ve carried inside. Typical survivor’s remorse. I’m aware of it. Doesn’t stop me from treading there.

“Do you regret joining the Marines?" she asks softly.

I hesitate. It’s not something I’ve mentioned to anyone else before. But it feels right to share it with her. "Yes. And no."

“How so?”

I complete the final knot on the rope. "It’s not that I wasn’t physically up to the job."

"Clearly." She nods in my direction.

I dip my head in acknowledgement.

“I joined because I wanted to make a difference. But I wasn’t great at taking orders. I hated acting without seeing the bigger picture. And the loss of life… It got to me. I had to keep reminding myself I was protecting my country.”

“Is that where you picked up your love for tying knots?” She nods at the length of rope now tied up in knots.

I run my knuckles down the silken surface, and she shivers.

I survey her from below my eyelashes. Rub my thumb over the knotted surface. This time, she visibly shudders. Then folds her arms across her chest, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing that her nipples are peaked and outlined against the silk of her blouse.

She’s so responsive. My cock twitches. Would she let me tie her up before I fuck her?

Images of her sweet body bound in rope fill my head. I’d wind it around her curves to frame her breasts. Then slip it between her legs to lift the soft flesh there.

Blood drains to my groin.

It’s all I can do to not lean over, pull her to her feet, press her into the desk, and take her from behind. Goddamn. I need to slow down. This is not how I’m going to convince her to marry me, then allow me to fuck her.

I clear my throat, release my hold on the rope and lean back. "Tying knots is a core skill across the Royal Marines. I had a particular aptitude for it. It’s why I became an assault specialist."

Seeing the confusion on her face, I clarify.

"That’s someone trained in construction and explosives. I’m the one who set off controlled explosives to breach obstacles, and who builds defensive positions like trenches, or rope bridges."

"You help the teams survive in the field."

"Exactly." I nod, pleased she caught on so quickly.

"So why did you leave?"