Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  Martin offered a curt nod in his direction before rounding the BMW and climbing into the driver’s seat.

  Nikolai scanned the registration plate and committed the number to memory. He wanted to tell Summer not to be late home, but dumped the thought before he uttered the damning words. That might be taking his duties a little too seriously. The blue sedan he’d seen driving up and down the road might belong to one of the neighbors or a visitor. Probably nothing worthy of worry.

  Summer grinned at the clotheshorse, and Nikolai felt the instantaneous tightening of his gut. The man returned her friendliness, but his eyes didn’t smile with genuine emotion, and his expression didn’t quite match his curving mouth.

  Instinct kicked in, making Nikolai tense. Something wasn’t right. He wrenched his gaze from the man’s hand pawing Summer and concentrated on Martin. A growl built in his throat.

  Hell, who was he trying to fool?

  It was good, old-fashioned jealousy at its most simplistic. Ever since he’d seen her in that silky nightgown, his thoughts had veered into dangerous territory. No matter how many cold showers he took, the memory stubbornly remained. Perhaps he needed a night on the town with Jake and Louie—along with some feminine company.

  He needed to get laid.

  The low rumble of the motor jerked him from his reverie. Forcing a grin, he lifted his right hand in farewell. The clotheshorse reversed his car and took off in a spray of gravel. Summer never looked back.

  Nikolai’s smile faded the second the BMW disappeared. He shoved away from the Mazda and limped up the path to his house. Time for a few phone calls—a little private investigation. He didn’t have to take action, but at least the edgy sensation that kept the hairs on the back of his neck rising to attention would subside.

  He’d promised to look after Summer, and he’d be failing if he did anything less.

  Nikolai paced the length of his moonlit kitchen and peered out the window for what seemed like the hundredth time. He checked his watch. The hands glowed in the dark and told him the bloody thing was still working as five minutes had elapsed since the last time he’d checked.

  Summer wasn’t home.

  It was after midnight, closer to one. What the hell kind of time was this for a date to go to? Surely, she’d arrive home soon?

  He hobbled another circuit of his kitchen before freezing like a leopard scenting prey. What if she wasn’t coming home? What if she intended to spend the night with the clotheshorse?

  He cursed low with feeling. He’d told Henry this babysitting lark was a mistake. Maybe he’d have to start searching for her. As he grabbed his keys, a car pulled up outside.

  About bloody time.

  He strode to the window to peer between the slats of the blinds. The BMW idled in Henry’s driveway. From his vantage point, he watched two silhouettes merge into one. Instant fury had his fists balling, and he took two steps toward his front door before he realized confrontation was a mistake.

  Look at her earlier reaction when the clotheshorse had come to pick her up. She’d kissed Martin because of his behavior.

  Nope, he needed to approach this situation with stealth. He glared at the single silhouette. God, how long could one kiss take? His hands gripped the windowsill. They’d need to come up for air soon.

  He snapped his eyes shut, blocking the sight. If he played the voyeur much longer, he might rush out there and drag her from the car. He counted to ten, dredging for control and deeper again for patience.

  Catch-22. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

  His eyes opened again. Ah, that was better. He loosened his grip on the windowsill and flexed his fingers.

  The passenger door opened, and she slipped from the car. Nikolai’s heart thudded anxiously. Was Martin going to stay at Henry’s tonight?

  The car started, and Nikolai released the breath. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her, but he didn’t.

  She was safe.

  Best he keep his distance, or else they’d really be in trouble.

  Chapter Five

  Summer hummed softly as she padded around the kitchen. She plugged in the coffeemaker and poured a spoon of batter into a hot frying pan. The melted butter sizzled as the pancake mix hit the pan, and the scent of freshly ground beans filled the air along with the audible drip, drip, drip of the coffee into the carafe.

  A thump on the front door brought a frown.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Once the small air bubbles in the batter started to pop, she deftly flipped the pancake to cook the other side.

  “The front door wasn’t locked.”

  She grimaced. Nikolai, of course. “And a good morning to you too.”

  “The front door wasn’t locked.” His voice rose to a dull roar.

  She sighed, removed the pan from the heat and turned to face his wrath. “I heard you the first time.”

  “This isn’t Eketahuna.”

  Summer glanced out the kitchen window at the gulls flying lazily over the estuary. “It’s not crime central either.”

  “You had a break-in the other night. God.” He dragged a hand through his hair, negating his prior use of a comb.

  He looked…sexy and very jumpable with that just-out-of-bed look and the dark stubble shading his jaw.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Oops. He was starting to sound like her brothers. Best she pay attention. “Sure, I’m listening. The door wasn’t unlocked all night. I’ve been out for a walk this morning.” She picked up a plate and slid the pancake from the pan. “It’s a lovely day. Want breakfast?”

  “Stop changing the subject.”

  Okay, so he was a bit smarter than her brothers, but that didn’t mean he could boss her around. “I realize you’re watching out for me, but you don’t have to guard me 24/7. I’m not stupid. The door was locked while I was out last night. The door was locked overnight. Subject closed. Would you like some breakfast?”

  He scowled. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Sure is. Help yourself while I finish cooking the pancakes. Do you know where the cups are?”

  “Yeah.”

  She turned back to the stove. Funny, since his arrival, edgy awareness replaced her prior cheery satisfaction. Her heart raced, her mouth felt as dry as unconditioned hair and her nerves twitched. The sensation was quite different to what she experienced when she was with Dare. Interesting. She peeked over her shoulder, took a second to admire his jean-encased butt then flipped her pancake. What was it about this man that made her thoughts turn to sex?

  She knew without even thinking that becoming more involved with Nikolai was a mistake. He was bossy, and she’d trade one prison for another.

  “Do you want coffee too?”

  He spoke from right behind her and she started. The man prowled, creeping up on a woman without warning. She sucked in a deep breath to resettle. “Please. White, no sugar.”

  Summer turned her attention back to cooking. Pour, cook, flip. Simple, except if your hands shook. The bubbles popped, and she flipped too vigorously. The pancake landed half in the pan and half on the element.

  “Damn.” She tried to retrieve the pancake without mangling it too much.

  “Can I help?”

  Summer whirled to nail him with a glare. “Quit sneaking up on me. You’re not on maneuvers now.” She used her spatula to point at a wooden chair. “Sit.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Stop that. What are you doing here anyway? I thought all you needed was a visual.”

  The man squirmed—he actually stirred uneasily and refused to meet her gaze. Her antenna shot to high alert.

  “What?” Summer tapped her right foot on the lino floor. Slap, slap, slap.

  A trace of red appeared high on his cheekbones. She would’ve bet his ears had turned red as well, but since his hair covered them, she couldn’t confirm. He rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. His attempt at casual didn’t fool her.
/>   She advanced on him, waving her spatula like a weapon. “What have you done?”

  His broad chest lifted as he dragged in air and momentarily distracted her. She mined her imagination for ideas on what he’d look like without the body-fitting T-shirt, but when she felt the lick of heat through her body, she called up something cold. Icy cold to cool the latent heat that shot to her pussy.

  She needed to check out some toys since she refused to jump into bed with just anyone to soothe a healthy sex drive. Well, at least, she thought she was normal. With two guard-dog brothers, a sex life was downright difficult.

  “I called in a few favors to get the clothes—ah, Martin investigated.”

  “You did what?” The end of her sentence came out as a shriek, but she was too incensed to care. “Why?” She waved the spatula in front of his nose and missed by a whisker.

  He erupted from his chair, grabbed her upper arms and wrestled the implement from her grip. Incensed, she kicked him in the shin. Hard.

  The next minute, she was plastered against his chest with both of them breathing harshly. Her breasts squashed against the planes of his chest, and the slumbering inferno inside her roared to life again. Her nipples peaked against her silky shirt. The physical reaction brought irritation at herself. She fought to escape, squirming and wriggling.

  “Let go.” The brute. How dare he manhandle her? How dare he interfere in her private life? Her love life was none of his business.

  He settled the dispute by yanking her even closer so she felt every muscle in his body, all the way down. She froze and mortified color heated her cheeks. She would not look down. She would not look down.

  Summer looked down.

  His cock bulged in his jeans, showing she wasn’t the only one with a sexual appetite. A gasp escaped, and the fiery heat in her face escalated.

  He chuckled—a smug masculine sound. “Yeah. Now, if I let you go, are you going to behave yourself?”

  She gave a clipped nod, and he loosened his hold. She promptly balled her hand into a fist and plowed it into his stomach. The air exploded from his lungs with a satisfying hiss.

  “That’s for being nosy,” she snapped.

  An instant later, she was plastered against his muscular frame. His lips moved and she realized he was speaking. She tried to hold on to her righteous anger, tried to concentrate, but she had trouble ripping her gaze from his beautiful lips. Heck, who’d have thought she’d find his mouth so interesting, since it mostly growled at her.

  “Are you listening?”

  Her head wobbled with the force of his shake. “It’s a little difficult if I can’t breathe. I’m starting to feel light-headed.” It was his proximity. His cock dug into her belly. Gave a woman all sorts of interesting ideas. She traced his lips with her gaze. Would they feel soft? Hard? Or somewhere in between? Did she dare kiss him? All in the name of research, of course.

  Summer stretched up on tiptoe even as she formulated the thought and pressed her lips to his. He froze, and she laughed inside, delighting in his reaction.

  Flummoxed.

  A surprised big, bad SAS man.

  Her arms crept behind his head, her fingers running through the silky strands of his hair. He groaned and took over the kiss. Which was a good thing since she’d reached the upper limits of her experience.

  She felt the steady thud-thud-thud of his heart. His hands smoothed their way from her upper arms to cup her face, and she realized she was no longer held captive, that she remained plastered against him of her own volition.

  His tongue flicked across the seam of her lips, traced her bottom lip, her top. Corny though it was, fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes. Bright flashes of orange and blue, electric yellow and fiery red burst inside her mind.

  “Open your mouth,” he murmured, low and husky.

  Oh, yeah. That’s what Miranda magazine had recommended. She surrendered to the suggestion and tasted the vanilla spice of her favorite coffee along with the heady taste of him. His tongue delved into her mouth, thrusting and parrying then retreating.

  Summer trembled. Lordy. Miranda knew their stuff. This was absolutely the best part…so far. She tried to recall the next step, but it was too difficult to concentrate. Going with the flow seemed easier.

  * * *

  Nikolai froze when she moaned. Hell, he had his tongue down her throat. How the hell had that happened? He eased back, but wasn’t able to stop himself having another quick sample of her top lip. Hell, she tasted good. She felt good too—soft in all the right places. No bony hips on this woman. Just lots of luscious curves…

  He dived in for one last kiss before he eased away with regret. His gaze lingered on her lips. They were red and glistened from his kisses. For a moment, he was tempted to shove away good sense and kiss her again, then guilt let rip with a swift kick to his conscience.

  Get a visual, Henry had said. So what did he do? He went one better and copped a feel.

  Fuck.

  Age wasn’t just slowing down his body. It was doing something nasty to his brain.

  He plastered his hands firmly to his sides. “I…ah…”

  Summer sauntered over to the stove. As he studied the sway of her hips, he tried to untangle the knots in his tongue.

  Apologize.

  Promise her it wouldn’t happen again.

  She turned to beam at him. The knots in his tongue turned on themselves, creating double knots. In the end, he gave up, and watched her instead. He’d never been one for talking anyhow. He was the action type.

  “You ready for the pancakes?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Had she forgiven his nosing around in the clotheshorse’s background? He studied her carefully. Her mouth wore a soft, sexy smile but when their gazes collided, he noted a steely hardness in her blue eyes.

  The same expression he witnessed in his own mirror when about to embark on a mission—determination and the grit necessary to get the job done. Nikolai broke the connection. He wasn’t going to bring up Martin first. He’d wait for her to raise the subject.

  He hobbled to the sturdy wooden table at the far end of the kitchen and sat on the closest chair, glad to take the weight off his knee. He picked up his coffee mug. The table bore a cloth these days. One of Veronica’s little touches, along with pots of herbs on the windowsills. Henry’s life was in for more changes, but somehow Nikolai didn’t think he’d worry. He’d never seen a man so smitten.

  Summer pulled a heaped plate of pancakes from the oven.

  “Do you want me to set the table?”

  “No, stay there.”

  She was pure feline grace as she strolled toward him. A groan built in his throat. Fuck, he was toast if Henry discovered he’d stuck his tongue down her throat. And perish the thought if he ever learned of his latest fantasies.

  The plate of pancakes dropped lightly to the table, then another platter of crispy bacon. She turned away and headed for the pantry. Her hips swayed in a pert wiggle that made him desperate to explore those curves in greater detail. She returned with a jar of maple syrup and caught him in the act. Instead of acting flustered, or shy or embarrassed, she winked.

  Winked, by God.

  His brain changed from park to drive in two seconds flat, and he half rose from his chair. A second later, he hit reverse with a loud shriek of brakes. He dropped back to the padded cushion with a soft thud. Something akin to shock ricocheted through the rational part of his mind.

  Summer was years younger than him—still a babe in terms of experience. He had no business kissing her, no business lusting after her. Every relationship in his life so far, from the parental one to Laura had failed. Hell, even his latest mission. It was best if he didn’t leave the starting gates this time. In the future, the visuals he’d promised Henry would suffice. He’d treat Summer Williams like a no-fire zone and keep his hands off.

  But even as he made the decision, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the sway of her hips under the black denim skirt, and before he even ga
ve it a second thought, his gaze moved on to her rounded breasts. Whoa—no bra.

  Someone ought to give that girl a good talking to. He swallowed, opened his mouth and shut it again so quickly his teeth clunked. He averted his gaze. He was not going there. He’d eat breakfast, say his piece about Martin and leave her to do what she would with the intel.

  After Summer brought up the subject.

  She slid an empty white plate in front of him and handed over a knife and fork. She dropped into the chair opposite and stretched out her legs under the table.

  Nikolai jolted at the brush of her limbs and thanked God he hadn’t gone with a pair of shorts. He resettled his legs and exhaled.

  “Bacon?”

  He nodded. Instead of handing him the plate, she speared a piece of bacon with a fork and leaned toward him to place it on his plate. Her flimsy blouse gaped at the neck, exposing creamy curves. Spectacular, mature curves with dusky nipples. His gaze fixed with superglue intensity. A whoosh of heat suffused his body, muscles tightened all over, in places that had no business reacting. His cock ached as blood pooled low, priming him for action.

  “Ah, that…that’s enough bacon.”

  She beamed, an innocent siren’s smile that wound his insides so tight he thought he might shatter.

  “How many pancakes?”

  Nikolai nodded.

  The siren’s smile brightened, beckoning him closer, luring him and creating havoc of his earlier resolutions. Damn, he wanted to play so much his hands shook.

  She laughed softly. “I’ll give you two to start with.”

  This time she picked up a pair of tongs and deftly transferred the pancakes to his plate. He caught another glimpse of her breasts, and his dick tightened with painful intensity.

  He grasped the wrist holding the tongs. “Stop it.”

  “What?” The smile that bloomed was innocent, but the glint in her blue eyes didn’t come close.