Bodyguard SEAL (SEALs of Coronado Book 8), Paige Tyler [best classic books txt] 📗

as running her hand through her hair—maybe more. “You don’t mind?”

“No, not at all.” He grinned. “What do you want me to do?”

She thought a moment. “In the scene, the hero and the other guy are fighting on the floor, but I can’t figure out how the hero gets the knife away from him. Can you lie on the floor on your back?”

“Sure.”

Noah walked into the center of the room and sat down on the carpet, then leaned back. “Like this?” She nodded. “And where are you?”

Peyton knelt down beside him, then straddled his legs, careful to make sure her dress didn’t ride up too high. “Right here.”

O-kay.

He supposed he should have seen that coming since she’d asked him to get down on the floor with her. But damn, with her on top of him like this, the last thing he was thinking about doing was choreographing a fight scene.

“So, I have the knife and you’re trying to keep me from stabbing you,” she said.

Peyton clasped her hands together and lifted them over her head like she was holding a weapon, then lowered them as if she were going to stab him. Noah automatically lifted both arms to block the downward thrust, then immediately slipped his hands sideways until he could wrap them gently around her wrists. The move was pure instinct, but his next thoughts weren’t. Because all he could suddenly think about was how slender those wrists were, exactly like the rest of her. And her skin was so soft.

“This is as far as I got,” she explained. “Any tips on what the hero should do?”

It was difficult to answer with her warm body practically lying on top of his. His cock stirred in his slacks. He ignored it. As much as any man can ignore a hard-on. “Are these guys experienced fighters? Do they have any special training?”

She shook her head, the ends of her hair brushing his shirt. “Not really. They’re both on the football team, though.”

Noah thought a minute, trying not to let himself get distracted by the way her breasts rose every time she took a breath.

“There are a few things the hero could do.” Noah took his right hand away from her wrists, shifting the left so he could hold both of them in that one. “He could punch the other guy in the jaw or the ribs. Or he could buck up to get the other guy off balance and roll him off.”

Her perfectly arched brows furrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Realizing it was easier to show her, Noah lifted his hips suddenly to throw her off balance, then rolled both of them over until he was the one on top. He felt a slight twinge in his knee at the move, but nothing too bad. So, he focused on the move, reaching out to gently pin her wrists to the floor over her head.

Peyton blinked up at him, her blue eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted. Her lips were the color of strawberries. He bet they’d taste just as sweet. If he leaned over a little bit more, he could kiss her and see if he was right. It’d be so easy.

And stupid.

The cock straining against the front of his pants didn’t agree. Crap. All he needed was for her to realize he was sporting wood.

Noah cleared his throat. “You can have the hero pin down both hands like I’m doing or just the one with the knife. Either way, from this point, it would be easy for him to punch the bad guy in the face a few times, then yank the knife away.”

Peyton nodded, her expression a little confused, leaving Noah unsure as to whether she’d heard anything he said. Instead, she gazed up at him, the heat in her eyes making him think of nothing but kissing her. But he couldn’t do that. It would only make a complicated situation more difficult.

“I should probably let you get back to writing,” he said, trying to ease his weight off her enough to ensure Peyton wouldn’t feel his hard-on rubbing up against her.

Something he thought might be disappointment flickered across her face, but it disappeared too quickly for him to be sure. She licked her lips once, then nodded.

He released her wrists, then reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. The sight of her lying on the floor, one leg bent at the knee, her skirt riding up her thighs was nearly his undoing, and it took everything in him not to get back down there with her and do what his body was begging him to do.

He swallowed hard and held out his hand to help her up. She placed her smaller one in his, allowing him to tug her to her feet. While she was tall, she still only came up to his chin, and she tilted her head back to gaze up at him.

“Thanks for helping me with the fight scene,” she said.

He smiled. “Sure.”

Peyton caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she nodded. Then she hesitated, as if she was thinking about saying something else, but didn’t.

“I…um…I’ll be out in the living room,” he said.

Allowing his gaze to linger once more on those luscious lips of hers, Noah turned and left the room. He walked into the kitchen on autopilot, opening the fridge and staring at the contents as if he’d find something to distract himself from thoughts of Peyton and what nearly happened. Unfortunately, a few bottles of beer and the usual collection of condiments weren’t interesting enough to manage that, so he guessed he was screwed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTER SPENDING THIRTY minutes on the phone assuring a frantic Laurissa that she and Noah were fine and she was staying at his place, Peyton sent a text to Gwen letting her know where she could find her if she wanted to stop by the next day, then stripped off her dress and stepped into Noah’s shower. She turned on the water and waited for