He places a hand between my breasts and applies gentle pressure. “Lay back, baby.”
I do as he says, laying my hands above my head as my back makes contact with the table. Gunner adjusts my hips so I fit to his body like a glove. He holds onto one hip, keeping me firmly planted to him, while sending a finger down to my clit. His thrusts are torturously slow, making me moan and twist. I buck my hips, urging him to speed up, but he just gives me a wicked grin.
Gunner is vocal as he rocks his hips against me, every stroke eliciting groans from his parted lips. Sweat breaks out over his chest, and his eyes drift from my pussy, up my body, and lock onto mine.
I’ve never looked a man in the eye so steadfastly before, but I can’t look away. An incredible heat rushes through me, but it isn’t just the heat of an impending orgasm. I’m overcome at the intimacy between us, the desire and vulnerability in his eyes. It calls out to a corresponding feeling in my own chest. My stomach tightens as I identify its name, but I close my eyes, a nervous lump in my throat, and I fight back a sudden urge to cry.
As this gorgeous man moves inside me, I blink back the sting of tears and take a shaky breath, pushing the feeling down, trying to focus on just the physical feeling of our bodies together. Just the sensations of pleasure. Nothing more.
23
Daniel
At least she took the aloe plant.
But there’s so much else that was left behind. Some of it by necessity — there’s no way all the kitchen equipment we bought her could fit into the apartment Gunner is helping to move her into.
But some of it was by choice. Standing here in her recently vacated apartment, I can’t help but feel the uncomfortable decisions she must have faced when deciding what to pack. I can tell she’s used every single appliance, pot, and pan I bought. But she’s left them all. She doesn’t feel they’re hers.
She doesn’t want these things handed to her. I get it. I used to be there. But hell, I wish she knew what it means to me to be able to provide for people I… care for.
I close a drawer left open during the move. Yeah, if I’m being honest with myself, I have to admit that my feelings for her are almost too much to bear. And that means I want to take care of her, more than anything. I haven’t always had the ability to lavish the special people in my life with gifts, but I can now.
“Oh, honey!”
“You like?”
Mom clings to my arm as we approach her new house. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from the housing project I grew up in, but it may as well be a world away. The house isn’t massive or luxurious. It’s just the right size for my mom, my big sister, and my nephew. And it’s not so nice that it would make her uncomfortable. Maybe, in a few years, she’ll get used to having a yard and three bedrooms, and I can move her into a bigger place in the suburbs. But for now, this is just right.
Behind us, the guys step out of the moving truck, Gunner helping Trigg and his full-leg cast down from the high cab.
“It’s too much,” she says, awe in her voice.
“Nothing’s too much for you.” I pat her hand, and I know how to put an end to any further refusals. “Besides, it isn’t just for you. Annie needs a place to stay, and Josh loves his grandmother. Maybe he won’t have to go to a warzone like I did to make his living.”
Mom squeezes my arm. “Your father would be so proud.”
A bittersweet laugh lifts from my chest, despite the sadness that seizes me. “Perhaps, but he wouldn’t let me take care of you like this. Annie and Josh, maybe, but he’d insist on living in that little apartment on his pension till the last, wouldn’t he?”
A warm smile comes to her lips. “Yes, your father was very… self-sufficient.”
“You mean stubborn?” I ask.
Mom smacks my arm. “You have more of him in you than you realize. Not many men your age open car doors for women these days, you know?”
Dad was old-fashioned in all the best ways. Worked until his back gave out on him. Took his hat off when the anthem played. Even after forty years of marriage, he greeted Mom down at the street so he could carry the groceries in. I’d never call theirs a model marriage, but they sure did put in the effort, and I hope one day to have the kind of affection my mother offered him.
Gunner walks away from the moving truck — we’re not unloading it here, anyway, not if Mom accepts the next gift waiting for her inside — and goes for the big van parked behind it, where all my family’s clothes and personal possessions are loaded.
Jude exits the driver’s side of the van, and his twin exits the passenger’s. Jax cradles a travel mug of tea Mom insisted on making for him. I know the recipe. Pretty much a hot toddy, made with chamomile and heavy on the honey. It was her hangover fix for Dad, and upon setting eye on Jax, she knew he was halfway up shit-creek. Jude had nearly protested when Mom had tipped a bottle of whisky into the mixture, but he’s a good man and knows when to not contradict a friend’s mother. Besides, Jax has been having a hell of a detox and could use a break.
Jax makes his way down the sidewalk, and Mom extends an arm to him, coaxing him to come closer. “You’re looking like you have a little more color, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kent.”
“You should shave this.” Mom pulls at Jax’s beard. “You would look so much younger.” She pauses, inspecting his face closer. “What have you been doing to give yourself this many scars?”
Seeing the guarded look in Jax’s eye, I step forward. “Story for another time, Mom. Want to see your new place?”
Mom always got excited on Christmas morning — just as excited as any of her kids, I think — and that same anticipation is showing through now. I present her with the keys as we move onto the porch, and Mom unlocks her new front door. She lets the door swing open in front of her, and the gasp which escapes makes me smile. I already know she loves it. But, I also know what’s coming next.
“Oh my... Daniel, what have you done?” She puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes watering.
I step over the threshold, and Mom follows. Her eyes roam through the fully furnished space. During my downtime when I was deployed in the Middle East, I’d spent countless hours searching for furnishings that would perfectly compliment Mom’s eclectic taste. From that plaid pattern sofa — which she would call a davenport — to the teal floor lamp and the floral area rug over the wood floors.
Knowing how to get my self-deprecating mother to accept a gift, I counter with, “Are you saying you wouldn’t have done this for Grandma if you had the means?”
Mom runs her fingers over the wooden quarter paneling. “Oh, that’s different, honey.”
“Not in the least,” I counter. “You’re my mother. Please, Mom. Being able to do this for you and Annie has made all the hard work worth it. You wouldn’t take that from me, would you?”
Mom narrows her eyes at me, but the corners of her lips curl up in a smile she can’t fully suppress. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, young man.”
I shrug, caught red-handed in my emotional manipulation but not in the least ashamed. It’s all for a good cause.
Gunner enters the foyer with boxes piled up past the top of his head. “Hey, Momma Kent, which bedroom’s yours?”
Mom fixes onto me, and that solid stubbornness of hers melts. She replaces her hand on my arm, a sweet smile of gratitude on her face that really does make it all worth it. “I guess we should go upstairs and have a look, shouldn’t we?”
Moving Emma into the apartment building with us had been a start, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted to do more. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the protests and exacerbated expressions on her face as I placed order after order to give her the kitchen of her dreams, without really considering that perhaps she wasn’t just being modest and humble. I’d thought it would be like Mom. That we would share this look, and Emma would understand. But, I’d jumped ahead of myself. And this empty kitchen is the price I’m paying for my mistake.
&n
bsp; Mom never would have accepted extravagant gifts from a man she had known for a matter of weeks, either. She would have rejected such an offer out of hand and regarded the person suspiciously afterward. The reason she accepts my gifts is because she knows I don’t want something from her. We’re family, and we have a lifetime of trust and mutual devotion.
I didn’t take the time to establish any of those things with Emma before smothering her in gifts. I want all of those things with her and so much more. But they take time to build, and I got caught up and tried to rush it.
No wonder it all seemed too much to her.
I’d let myself get carried away with how good it felt. It was selfish, but I couldn’t stop the way I was consumed with joy and pride when she opened that first box and gasped at the stainless-steel juicer inside. Making Emma happy is addictive.
I should have let things take a slower, more natural course. I see now how it put her into a position of feeling like she owed me — like she was being bought.
Wandering through her empty apartment, I end up in what used to be her office.
Not a wire was left behind.
She’d even vacuumed before she left. I’m not sure if that was her being courteous, or if she wanted to erase all vestige of her existence here. I had envied Jax as he helped her set up her office that first week. But I don’t envy either of us if Emma ever finds out just how tangled things have become, how far back this goes.
“God, I can’t wait to get out of this hell-hole.” Jeremy Brandt removes his Oakley’s sunglasses and mops his face with a wet handkerchief.
I place my case on the Humvee hood and look the man up and down, from his sneakers and blue jeans to the dark t-shirt. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it and actually dress for the climate. Didn’t they tell you what kind of clothes to bring?”
“I don’t want to get used to it,” Jeremey scowls. “I’m not planning to stay in this god-forsaken place a second longer than I have to. The only reason I’m here is because the DoD is paying me serious mint to see this through.”
Asshole. He takes every possibility to rub his paycheck in everyone’s nose. I’m being paid well, but for just a few months of work, he’s making many times the yearly salary of the guys in the camps we’re testing at — and his life isn’t even on the line. If he doesn’t stop bragging about money while simultaneously complaining about the conditions to all the Marines here, he may just be leaving with a few broken bones. Which would be fine with me, now that I think about it.
Today we’re at the the Doghouse — despite the barren, rough conditions, it’s my favorite outpost. I have the greatest admiration and respect for the guys here. If Brandt keeps running his mouth about this place, I may be breaking his nose, myself.
I power up the government issue drone and flip on the controller. “You may want to keep your voice down when the jarheads are around, man. They won’t be rolling home with a big paycheck. Some of them will be lucky to return home at all.”
He snorts. “Not my fault these rejects could barely graduate high school.”
My grip on the drone controller tightens. “That’s an ignorant stereotype, Jeremy. I’ve worked with plenty of servicemen and women who are well educated.”
He snorts in reply, a smirk of disbelief on his face.
I nod toward the command tent a dozen yards away. “Major Turner has an MBA, and even Gunner is a few credits away from his Bachelor’s degree. He’s been working on it ever since he enlisted.”
Another snort sounds. “Sure. A Bachelors from one of those distance-learning places. How hard can it be?”
Brandt has a hell of a way of making a man want to punch him in his smug face. But, the military takes assault pretty seriously, so I take a deep breath and let the moment pass. “Let’s just get this thing in the air to see if the program drains the battery in these conditions.”
“Oh, it’ll perform as described,” Jeremy says. “We designed it to fix all those issues.”
It isn’t the first time he’s referred to this mysterious ‘we.’ His is the only name on the government contract. If there’s a ‘we,’ he’s the only one profiting from this technology. It’s the kind of thing that’s none of my business, and I sure as hell don’t want to give this guy another excuse to run his mouth. The past two weeks have been grating on my patience, and it’s going to take a supreme effort of self-control to work with the guy for another two months. The less conversation, the better.
I get the drone into the air and watch it rise until it’s just a small dot, and then it disappears into the blueness of the clear sky altogether. I engage the auto-pilot and switch over to the remote programing module, giving the drone a long series of surveillance commands that will keep it cruising for hours while making sure that it runs through every one of its protocols. It really is a genius piece of programming. No one’s been able to deliver a program like this, making such a small piece of equipment so efficient and autonomous.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I bite back my lack of desire to speak with him in order to ask, “What’s the other guy up to these days?”
“Who?”
“You keep saying ‘we’ when you talk about the program.”
He gives another of his smug snorts. “Oh, that. Don’t know, don’t care. Too bad they weren’t a little smarter, or they’d be here right now instead of me. But that’s not my problem. They had the same opportunity, they just didn’t take it. Eat or be eaten, know what I mean?”
By that cocky smile on his face, I know exactly what he means. It’s the look assholes like him get when they’ve screwed someone over… bastard’s proud of it. There were signs before he’d even let the first ‘we’ slip that he wasn’t the only contributing party to this new program. He’s not familiar with certain aspects of the software, though he hid it from our superiors well enough. I’m the idiot who assumed that, of course, there was a decent explanation for it. The awareness that things may not be as clear-cut as I’d hoped makes my gut stir in disgust.
Unfortunately, people like Brandt know how to work things to their advantage, and no one sees it coming. His partner probably didn’t protect himself like he should have when it came to working with this kind of intellectual property. It’s too late now. The contract has been signed, and the DoD sure as hell won’t be entertaining anyone challenging IP rights on the technology. That doesn’t keep me from wanting to take Brandt down a peg or two. An investigation might delay deployment of this technology, but the more he flashes that conceited grin, the more I’m feeling it might be worth letting my superiors know of my suspicions.
Major Jude Turner interrupts my thoughts. “How are we doing, Daniel?”
His warm, deep tone is a relief after Jeremy’s snide overconfidence. I smirk, because the asshole’s found something to do around the other side of the humvee. Smug as Brandt is, I know Major Turner intimidates the hell out of him. Not me; not after I got to know the guy.”Afternoon, Major. It’s only been up for a few minutes, but systems are all green. I’m sending it out to the mountains and back.”
He raises his eyebrows. “It’ll stay up that long?”
“If the battery keeps its juice, yes.”
“It’ll keep,” Jeremy says from the other side of the truck, confident as usual.
I’m not as sure. “By the time it makes it back to us, the temperature will have shifted over sixty degrees.”
Jude bends to look at the stream of data coming into the attached laptop, going over the numbers himself. “Not to mention the winds and shifting sands. It’s hell on electronics.”
“If the drone fails, it won’t be because of the program,” Jeremy says, leaning over the hood. “It’s solid.”
“I hope so,” Jude agrees. “Being able to have these things running accurately — that’s going to be invaluable to the guys on the ground.”
My pocket lets out a long vibration, and I pull the drone’s handheld display from my cargo pants. I check the alert,
and a video feed from one of its eight onboard cameras pops up. It’s caught the movement of a truck and has adjusted course slightly to keep track of the movement of the vehicle.
The Major looks over my shoulder. “That’s Amir. He takes the same route every day.”
I nod and dismiss the tracking protocol, allowing the drone to commence on its original route to the mountains. Goddamn. Jude’s right. This tech is going to be a godsend to the men and women putting it all on the line.
The value of this program is truly priceless. I grow somber, thinking of the lives it will save. If Brandt got this program through unethical means, I hope he gets his due. But I’m grateful we have it; however it came to us.
I add Brandt to the list of sketchy assholes I hope God is keeping track of.
24
Emma
Trying to balance both paper grocery bags on my hips, I fumble for my keys, almost dropping them. I’m looking forward to a quiet evening in with Zoey. I can cook her dinner, even on my shoestring budget, and then help her unpack the last of her things. I’m feeling pretty horrible about putting her through all this moving around.
I cock my head to the side as I slide my key into my new door. Granted, this is a much nicer neighborhood than the one Zoey and I originally lived in, but she’s never failed to lock the door. Without having to throw the lock, I turn the handle and push the door open wide in front of me.
Making a beeline for the kitchen, I call for Zoey to come out of her room and help me decide between a new bottle of wine that was on sale or the chocolate stout Gunner left in the fridge.
There’s no answer forthcoming, so I turn and call for her again. Silence. Not even a shower running or the rustle of a box being unpacked.
That’s weird, we were texting while I was in the grocery store, and she was most definitely home without any plans to go out. I walk down the hall to her room, calling her name once more, this time with an edge to my voice.
Hidden Agenda: A Reverse Harem Romance (The Code Book 2) Page 20
