Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Jake’s brother. “Around ten?” After receiving a nod of approval, he urged Summer out the door, despite the glares from her brothers and the shooting pain from his knee. Summer didn’t need to know that Dare’s goons had done a good job on roughing him up.

  “Good exit.” Humor lurked in her beautiful blue eyes, and Nikolai forgot the jagged pain. “But how are we going to get home? We don’t have a car.”

  His gaze traveled her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with life and humor. Her pink lips curved in a secret smile. A jolt of pure lust laced with possessiveness raced through his body, stirring his cock to life. She didn’t look like a woman who had to get married. Confidence and assurance blazed from her. She looked like a woman with sex on her mind.

  “Wait there, and I’ll grab Louie’s keys. They can call a cab. Then we need to talk.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Summer said when he returned.

  “Don’t you want to marry an old crock like me? You gonna change your mind?”

  She halted beside Louie’s car. “Not only am I not going to change my mind about marrying you, I want to have your children too.” A challenging glint glowed in her blue eyes.

  Nikolai stared, mesmerized by her beauty. His woman. He ran his fingers down her silky cheek, trying to ignore the throbbing bumps and bruises on his ribs, inflicted by the clotheshorse’s thugs. “As long as you agree to marry me, you can have anything you want.”

  “But not straightaway, please. I want to have you to myself for a few years.”

  Nikolai grinned suddenly. “Not finished with your research yet?”

  “That’s right.” She gave an enthusiastic nod. “I found this neat book in the secondhand bookshop. A bit racy for the library,” she added.

  “I love you.”

  “I know,” Summer said in a smug tone. “I finally worked it out. The feeling is mutual.” She paused, her forehead puckering into a cute frown. “Except when you try to boss me around. I don’t like orders. I like—”

  “To be asked,” Nikolai finished.

  Okay. He could learn to live with her independent streak. It looked as though this babysitting assignment was turning into a permanent one. Who’d have thought? But the idea of waking up each morning beside Summer didn’t scare him. He smirked as he pressed a kiss to her mouth. Not too much, anyway.

  “Just remember that I like to be asked for my opinion and our marriage will be a big success.” Summer reinforced the sentiment. As the sound of voices grew louder, she glanced toward the rear of the warehouse and back at him.

  Nikolai moved toward the car in silent accord. “I think we should disappear before they decide to keep us here.”

  “You just want to have your wicked way with me.”

  Nikolai opened the door for her and climbed into the driver’s side. “Damn straight.” He leaned over to kiss her, and cop a feel of her beautiful breasts at the same time.

  A full-time commitment with Summer.

  A wife.

  His wife.

  The thought should have terrified him. Knowing Summer, he’d suffer a few gray hairs in the process, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Nikolai winked at her, a sense of rightness settling in his heart.

  “Let’s go then.” Summer lifted her chin and stared at him in clear challenge.

  “Good idea,” he said, a grin of real anticipation curling across his face. He fired up the car and pulled away from the curb. “I’m ready to go home and get horizontal. We have new positions to try.”

  Shelley Munro

  Shelley lives in New Zealand with her husband and a cheeky Jack Russell/mystery breed puppy.

  Typical New Zealanders, Shelley and her husband left home for their big OE soon after they married (translation of New Zealand speak – big overseas experience). A year long adventure lengthened to six years of roaming the world. Enduring memories include being almost sat on by a mountain gorilla in Rwanda, lazing on white sandy beaches in India, whale watching in Alaska, searching for leprechauns in Ireland, and dealing with ghosts in an English pub.

  While travel is still a big attraction, these days Shelley is most likely found in front of her computer following another love – that of writing stories of romance and adventure. Other interests include watching rugby (strictly for research purposes), cycling, baking bread and curling up with a good book.

  For more information:

  @ShelleyMunro

  ShelleyMunroAuthor

  www.shelleymunro.com

  Flight Risk

  by S.E. Babin

  Just when he thought he’d gotten rid of her, Lennox King shows up as a combat photographer embedded with his unit. Brooks is in the hot zone already, but her presence is guaranteed to make it a scorcher.

  Lennox

  Ten Years Ago

  Approximately fifty girls of varying ages stood uncomfortable and awkward in columns of single file order. We held our bags, our arms beginning to shake, especially those girls unfortunate enough to have disregarded the sparse packing instructions. I dared not blow out a breath of frustration at our lack of activity. My brother, Knox, had warned me about this. Hurry up and wait, he'd said, is the favorite part of the military. Patience would do you well, Lennox.

  Tears gathered in my eyes as I thought about leaving him, but I blinked them away before anyone could catch a hint of suspicious wetness there. Some of the girls began to fidget. We'd been here, lined up and mostly silent, for 45 minutes. It was only a matter of time before the games began.

  "Put them down!" A booming voice rang out and echoed through the beams of the easement we stood under. I knew exactly what the voice was talking about so I gently placed the bag down beside me and stood back up carefully, remembering not to lock my knees in nervousness. Several girls followed behind me, but instead of taking care, they sighed in relief and dropped their bags with a boom.

  I shut my eyes in annoyance.

  "DID I SAY TO DROP THEM? NO I DIDN'T! FOR GOD'S SAKE ALL OF YOU PEOPLE HAVE THE IQ OF A WALNUT. NOW PICK UP YOUR GODDAMNED BAGS!"

  I bent down, retrieved my bag and stood silently; staring forward and hoping the next six weeks went by as swiftly as possible.

  I had arrived at Air Force Basic Military Training.

  It was the only thing standing between me and a college education.

  I was going to own this shit.

  * * *

  Turned out I didn't much own it as crawled and scrabbled my way through barely by the skin of my teeth. Our TI, a ridiculously handsome dude, went by the name of Brooks. I found him completely aggravating, borderline disgusting, and handsome as sin.

  That last part pissed me off. This whole thing would have been much easier if he had the face of a donkey. He had the other parts of a donkey down pat, specifically the jack ass part, but the dude had a face that could make the angels sing and the body of an Olympic swimmer.

  To be honest, I was impressed by that part - not the face, just the body. The other TI's around here walked around with their arms cocked out at a weird angle because they focused on upper body weightlifting. So most of them were broad shouldered, but they walked like Popeye with a corn cob up his ass. And worst of all, most of them had skinny legs.

  It never failed to amuse me.

  Brooks, on the other hand, looked like he came by his muscles honestly and not out of a protein powder jar and a gym. When I knew he wouldn't catch me staring, I openly studied him. Long and lean muscular legs, a narrow waist that broadened into wide shoulders. Yum. I couldn't tell if he had a 6-pack or not because he was always so terribly clothed around us, but in my dreams I always imagined running my fingers over those ridges on his stomach. I woke up disgusted almost every morning because Brooks was seriously a douchewad in combat boots and I had more important things to worry about than how cute my TI was.

  * * *

  I was on my twentieth push up. I had dirt in my mouth, leaves in my hair, and B
rooks leaning down to scream horrible insults in my ear.

  "You have the body of a weak lamb. For crying out loud, why do they always send me the puny ones! You should be typing reports and fetching coffee for some CEO, not here ruining your manicure!"

  Although I had almost perfected the art of insulting him when he was at a far enough distance, I'd let him get to me as I pumped out yet another damned push up. My arms were on fire. My face was furiously red at his sexist comments and a completely different person took over my body when I whispered, "Yeah? At least a CEO would have a bigger dick than you do. So I'd be fucking upwards and not listening to you prattling on trying to make up for your shortcomings. If I fucked you, I wouldn't get anywhere but dissatisfied. And we both know that's no place to be. No upward mobility there."

  A very, very pregnant pause fell over the open field as I continued my push-ups. I thought I heard a shocked snort, but it couldn't have possibly come from Brooks. I bit my lip, prayed to God he hadn't heard me, even though I knew he had and continued on.

  "Thirty. Thirty one. Thirty -" Brooks said in a strangled tone as he ignored my comment and finished counting out my push-ups. I collapsed on the fortieth convinced I was dying. Brooks leaned down, close to my ear where no one else could hear him and whispered, "You are going to pay for that one, Airman."

  He stood, put his boot on my upper back which shoved my face in the dirt even further, and announced that everyone else should eat their Wheaties because I had soundly kicked their ass in the push up round.

  He ground his boot into my back, screamed at us to fall in and marched us back to the dorms. I rolled over, unable to push myself up because my arms had turned to jelly. There was no raucous singing this time, only short clips of cadence to keep us in line.

  When we entered the dorm, I scrambled to get away from him, but he clasped one hand around my arm and abruptly released it as if he were on fire. "King. Step into my office."

  Shit. I squared my shoulders and followed him into the office where nothing good ever happened.

  Brooks took his seat and studied me. I stood at attention and looked at a spot above his head. I dared not move a muscle.

  I saw him steeple his hands and study me. I did nothing.

  "Your first fuck up was a failure to issue a reporting statement."

  I blinked.

  "Your second failure was the use of profanity in the presence of your little Tinkerbell bunkmates."

  My face was on fire.

  "But your third failure was to insult the size of my penis in public."

  I bit my lips and frowned.

  "AIRMAN, DID YOU ASK FOR PERMISSION TO ADJUST?" Brooks leaped up, out of his chair, and came around to stand in my face. Unfortunately for him, all I could see was his ribbon rack because he was close to a foot taller than me.

  "Goddamn it," Brooks muttered. "You need a step stool."

  "Sir, Airman King reports as ordered. Permission to adjust?"

  There was a long and drawn out silence.

  "Adjust."

  I came out of attention, scratched my nose, and slowly craned my head to look into his eyes.

  His eyes were a brilliant green, flecked with gold. He was staring at me like I was a curiosity...like something he'd never seen before. My heart picked up speed. I licked my lips.

  "Sir, the next time I insult your penis size, I'll ensure I use a reporting statement first."

  Shock flickered over his face, quickly followed by amusement. But as soon as I saw it, it was gone.

  Brooks pinched the space between his eyebrows. "Are you finished adjusting?" he asked softly.

  I slowly moved back into the position of attention. "Sir, yes, sir," I said.

  "You will wake up at 4 a.m. tomorrow morning and meet me out at the bottom of the dormitory. You will run two miles and then fall in with your flight to do PT again. For the next five days after that, you will be assigned Kitchen Patrol. You will wake up at 2 am and work until 7 pm inside the chow hall. Once you've finished that, you will report back into my office with a formal apology prepared. Are we clear?"

  I had no intention of apologizing to him.

  "Crystal," I said instead.

  "Get out of my face."

  I about faced and left his office, discombobulated by the exchange. Although the punishment for my indiscretion was going to suck, my brother had told me Kitchen Patrol wasn't so bad. The waking up early sucked and so did the long days, but rumor was we got to eat cake.

  I'd insult someone's penis size all day long if the end result was cake.

  * * *

  The next morning I ran down the stairs dressed in PT gear and silently fuming. I hated to run and I suspected Brooks knew it. I guess I should clarify. I didn't just hate to run, I despised it with the depths of a thousand oceans and felt the only reason people should run was an imminent threat of physical harm. Running just for the sake of running was stupid. But...this was boot camp and I had to get through it.

  Brooks showed up in full ABU's and marched me down to the track. He didn't make me sing which was a small positive thing. When we entered the track, Brooks pulled out a stop watch. "Two miles, Airman. No stopping. If you have to throw up, your ass better not stop. Any questions?"

  I choked down my sigh, snapped to attention. "Sir, Airman King reports as ordered. No questions."

  A smirk played over his mouth. He hit the button on the stop watch. "Good. Run little pony."

  Brooks didn't catch my eye roll as I shot off like a rocket.

  Fifteen minutes later, I rolled in, much to Brook's surprise. He clicked the watch and gave me a look of scrutiny. "Fifteen twenty two." His mouth twisted. "Thought you hated to run."

  I gave my reporting instructions and said with great relish, "I do hate it. Doesn't mean I can't do it."

  Brooks sighed in aggravation. "Fall out to the dorms. Get your gear on and report down with your flight at regular time." He stepped into my personal space. "The next time we run I expect to see these same times, not your slow as molasses Texas times you’ve been throwing out. Got it?"

  I blinked prettily. "Why, whatever do you mean, sir? I just got lucky today."

  Brooks' mouth thinned. "Get the fuck out of my sight."

  I took off at a quick jot. I knew if I hurried I might be able to catch about a half hour of sleep.

  Brooks

  Lennox King was a serious pain in my ass. There was always one. One who tested the limits of my patience. One who, nine times out of ten, I was forced to set back at least a week in training. But Lennox King...she'd insulted me, tested me, made me want to pull my hair out but...she never failed.

  And that was what pissed me off.

  When I first met the scrap of a girl I was convinced she'd be the first to wash out. I'd insult her mother, maybe her daddy (because girls like her always had daddy issues), tell her she'd never get anywhere and watch her wither like a picked daisy.

  But she hadn't. And though I knew she thought she was getting away with her murmured insults, I had the hearing of an eagle, and I had to admit to myself, that girl had the mouth of a sailor and the wit of a bard. In spite of myself, I admired her. I squirmed in the shitty office chair the military had issued and flipped through King's records.

  She'd lost her mom at 16 and was raised by her older brother, a veteran himself, until she graduated high school, took a year off, then enlisted in the Air Force. Her ASVAB scores were through the roof and she'd chosen Audiovisual as a career. She was the Valedictorian at her high school and volunteered to work with at-risk kids in her free time. I skimmed over the rest of the information I shouldn't have and reminded myself I needed to shred the rest of it as soon as I was finished reading it. I was not supposed to take this much interest in the trainees here. Doing so would get me kicked out faster than I could say yes sir. I sighed and continued to read; only stopping when I saw that King had been left with no inheritance as her parents had been deeply in debt when they died.

  The military had bee
n her only option and her older brother had encouraged her to take it.

  I threw my pen down on top of her file.

  Well...shit. Reading this had only made me more curious.

  So far I hadn't been able to throw anything at her she hadn’t caught and lobbed back to me. She'd refused to cave at any of my insults. Refused to tear up at any of my actions, even when I had completely trashed the locker she'd maintained religiously. I'd insulted her choice of boyfriends, friends, clothing, food, the way she tied her shoes. I found her in the chow hall exhausted from working constant Kitchen Patrol and screamed at her for two minutes straight in front of all of the other flights. I'd brought her in front of the snake pit and let six other TI's take their shots.

  She'd stood there stoically, a blank expression on her face. She was unmoved...or at least looked that way. Once she'd been dismissed, my buddy, Rog, had stared at her as she walked away.

  "Goddamn," he'd remarked. "That was some of my best work and she stood there like a salt pillar."

  I'd shrugged. "Imagine having her in your flight."

  A female TI next to me snorted. "She has issues with authority. She's going to be a handful to the unit she gets placed in."

  I knew this to be true. "But she could also be a huge asset," I murmured, then cursed inwardly at my telling remark.

  "Ah," the female sighed in that super annoying way females had when they'd seen deeper than you wanted them to. "Watch yourself, Brooks. You're treading on dangerous waters."

  I nodded once, then rose, refusing to acknowledge Rog's questioning stare.

  I had two more weeks to go with King. Two more weeks and I'd never see her again. I'd do my best to ignore her from now until then.