Zone of Action: A Career Soldier Military Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Right. And we have chemistry, we know what works between us, and we know neither of us is a serial killer.”

  “Well, we’re pretty sure. Did you ever think this was a way for me to lure you into believing I’m safe?” I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Maybe the first time was just to whet your appetite. This time was to reel you in. When I get you back home, that’s when the damage starts.”

  “Let me tell you something, sugar. If you have a sex dungeon somewhere in your apartment, where you’re going to tie me up and torture me in weird and wonderful ways, then I’m your willing slave.”

  I grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I hesitated for a beat. “Are we really going to do this?”

  Jake shrugged. “I’m not asking you to sign a contract. We could try it and see if it works for us. If it does, great. If either of us decides we’re not comfortable, then we stop. What could be easier?”

  I knew there had to be a problem with this plan, but right at this moment, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. “So we’re talking sex, with no strings attached, no feelings involved, no expectations, whenever either of us wants it and it’s convenient for the other.”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “And if the other says the timing isn’t right or she isn’t in the mood, no questions asked and no hard feelings.”

  Frowning, I rested one hand on my hip. “You mean if he or she isn’t in the mood, right?”

  Jake chuckled. “Oh, sugar, I can’t even begin to imagine a scenario where you make the bootie call and I’m not ready to rock and roll. If I’m not working and I’m still breathing, you can pretty much bank on me to be at your beck and call.”

  “But you think it’s different with me?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Chicks have moods. Everyone knows that. You have a bad hair day, or it’s getting to be that time of the month, or the cute guy at work flirted with your friend instead of you, and suddenly you’re not interested in sexy times.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that’s not sexist at all. For your information, bud, I don’t have bad hair days, and I could care less if some cute guy flirts with anyone, because when I’m at work, I don’t have time for fucking around like that. Oh, and one more thing.” I smirked, dropping my voice. “When it’s getting to be that time of the month, I’m horny as hell.”

  Jake’s eyes went wide. “Oooookay. Wow.” He swallowed. “Message received.”

  “Good.” I pushed away from the wall. “Just one more thing, and then I have to get back inside before Samantha misses me and starts asking more questions.” I fiddled with the charm on my necklace. “Um . . . at the risk of sounding presumptuous, is this arrangement exclusive?” When he didn’t answer right away, I rushed to continue. “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, but I think it’s important to know. I’m not asking for a commitment or anything like that, but I never . . .” I trailed off. “I was going to say that I don’t make it a practice to screw around, but I guess that’s not entirely accurate. For the purposes of whatever this is between us, though, I don’t plan to have sex with anyone else, as long as you’re meeting my needs. And I’d like to know what your thoughts are, because I think having realistic expectations is important.”

  “I agree.” Jake rocked back on his heels. “I can say the same. As long as we’re both in the same place and we’re both satisfying each other’s needs, I don’t see the point in looking for anything outside that. Unless you meet the man of your dreams and fall head over heels in love, of course. In that case, all you have to do is tell me. No hard feelings.”

  “And what about you?” I narrowed my eyes. “What if you fall in love?”

  He shook his head. “Not going to happen. As long as I’m getting regular squeeze sessions from you, this kind of deal could last forever. Or at least until I PCS out of Fort Lee.”

  “All righty then.” I wasn’t sure how to seal a deal like the one we’d just made. “I guess I’ll go inside and do the social thing so Samantha doesn’t get suspicious. More suspicious, that is.” I pointed a finger at him. “Because we need to be on the same page here, too. This arrangement stays between us. No kiss and tell with your soldier buddies, got it? And I definitely don’t plan on saying anything to Samantha.”

  “None of their business,” Jake agreed. “Oh, but wait a minute. You need to give me your number. Then I’ll text you, so you’ll have mine.” He dug into his back pocket, producing his phone, then unlocked the screen and handed it to me. “Here.”

  I grinned a little as I tapped in the information. “Done. Now don’t text me until later tonight, though. I don’t want to have to explain to anyone why I’m getting messages from someone I just met.”

  He nodded. “Got it. You go ahead in, and then I’ll circle around and go in the front door in a few minutes.”

  I began to turn away, but Jake snagged my arm. “One more thing.” Before I could say anything, he slanted his mouth over mine and kissed me, one fast, open-mouthed branding on my lips.

  “This didn’t seem like a situation that called for a handshake,” he murmured against me. “I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

  Chapter Five

  Jake

  Jake: Hey, this is me, texting so that you have my number. By the way, nice job on how you entered your info in my contacts. I kept scrolling through searching for Harper. Took me three times before I saw Fuck Friend and realized that had to be you.

  Harper: Ha! I wondered if you’d figure it out. Call it the first test. ;)

  Jake: There are tests? Didn’t I already pass with flying colors—multiple times?

  Harper: You definitely made a decent showing, that’s for sure. So . . . the restaurant closes early on Sundays. I should be home by 8.

  Jake: Should that mean something to me?

  Harper: Nah . . . not unless you want to peek in my window and watch me get myself off. I just got new batteries for my vibrator and I’m sure I’ll give it a good session tonight. You could come play, too, if you want. But only if you want.

  Jake: I’ll be sitting on your doorstep when you get home.

  * * *

  Jake: Are you around tonight? Wasn’t sure if you were working late or what. FYI, I’m calling for your bootie.

  Harper: I think that goes without saying, buddy. Working but get off at 11 if that’s not too late for you.

  Jake: Not too late for me. Btw, you might finish work at 11, but I’m the one who says when you get off.

  Jake: Rimshot

  Jake: Hello?? Harper? That was a joke.

  Harper: Sorry, things got busy. Ha ha ha, yeah, I got it. Funny. If I’m back home by 1130, I better be getting off before midnight.

  Jake: That’ll be for the first time. Want to know what I plan to do to you tonight?

  Harper: I don’t know. Do I?

  Jake: First, I’m going to tie your hands to the posts of your incredible bed, and then I’m going to lie down between your legs and use my tongue on your sweet pussy until you beg me for mercy. Then I’m going to untie you, bend you face down on the mattress and fuck you from behind while I pull your hair. If you’re not screaming so loud the neighbors complain, I haven’t done my job right.

  Harper: I might be able to leave work early.

  Jake: Text me when you’re on your way home. Meet you there.

  * * *

  “Harper, can I ask you something?” I was pulling on my pants, as she lay unmoving on the bed behind me.

  “You just made me come so hard, I think I saw the sun explode. You can ask me for anything right now.”

  I grinned. It was always good to hear I’d satisfied her as much as she rocked my world. “At the risk of being thrown out again . . . but now that we know each other a little better . . . you don’t really think that you’re less talented than your brother and sister, do you?”

  She rolled over, and I saw the flash of hurt on her face. But she didn’t yell, and she didn’t get mad.

  “I know that I’m excellent in
my field. I know that I was meant to be a chef, and I don’t have any doubts about being where I am.” She paused. “But I’m also smart enough and aware enough to know that my parents see it differently. They see Jordan and Lila’s work as permanent and lasting. Mine is fleeting and temporary. Plus, they think I’m destined to be the help at their friends’ parties, even though I’ve never worked catering a day in my life.”

  “That sucks.” I leaned against the bed and stroked her hair, winding a strand around my finger. “But what they say and think isn’t valid or true. I think you’re fucking amazing, and so talented . . . you’re a star, sugar. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

  She stared up at me, blinking. “Thank you.”

  I dropped a quick kiss on her nose. “No thanks necessary for the truth. And this is not at all related to what I just said. But do you know how to make chocolate syrup? Like the real kind, from scratch?”

  She wrinkled her forehead, looking up at me curiously. “Yeah, of course I do. Why do you ask?”

  I waggled my eyebrows at her. “I was thinking that it might be a fun addition to our kitchen repertoire. You know . . .” I trailed a finger down her chest and pinched one stiff nipple. “I could draw on you with it and then lick it off, a little at a time.” I leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Now that, baby, is artistry.”

  She began laughing, but at the same time, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard, upside down.

  “Jake Robinson, you’re crazy. But you’re my kind of crazy.”

  * * *

  Harper: I’m running late tonight, so won’t be at my house until after midnight. Hell of a night here. If you want to cancel or postpone, I understand.

  Jake: Nope, I’m good. But there might be a reward for me being patient, right?

  Harper: There might be. What kind of reward would be most acceptable, do you think?

  Jake: Can I have time to think about it and tell you when you get here? I think I want to use my imagination.

  Harper: Don’t you always? I could tie YOU up on the bed this time and lick you all over and let you come all over my tits.

  Jake: That’s way up there on the list of possibilities. Like WAY up there. Shit, I’m so hard now.

  Harper: Don’t you dare touch yourself. I want it all. Don’t you waste one second of that hard-on.

  Jake: How am I going to walk into your house with this massive erection?

  Harper: Very carefully? Oh God, crisis here, got to go. Will text when leaving.

  Jake: You. Are. Killing. Me.

  * * *

  “Hey, you busy?” Owen knocked on the open door of my office. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure. One second.” I finished typing the last line of the report I’d been writing, attached it to an email and hit send. “Okay. What’s up?”

  He’d dropped into the chair across from my desk. “A bunch of the guys from the 59th Ordnance are going up to Richmond tonight, getting some hotel rooms and checking out the clubs. You in?”

  I felt a tic jump in my cheek. “Uhhh . . . no, I don’t think so. Not tonight. I’m swamped, man. I need a little downtime.”

  Owen frowned at me. “What’s up with you, Jake? You haven’t hit a bar with me in like . . .” His forehead wrinkled. “Two months. Maybe longer.”

  “Nah, hasn’t been that long.” It had been, though, and I knew it. We hadn’t gone out since the night I’d met Harper, because damn and double damn, she kept me so satisfied that I didn’t have any desire to meet other chicks. I’d realized the other day that I wasn’t even looking at other women. When I wasn’t at work, I was thinking about the next time I could see her or remembering the last time we’d been together—or both.

  We’d gotten adventurous, too. Well . . . more adventurous. She’d finally broken down one night and told me the name of the restaurant where she worked, and a few days later, on a Saturday, I’d gone in during the day, when I knew she was working a lunch shift. I’d enjoyed the food, which was fresh and delicious, and I’d been interested in the way it was presented, with the sourcing of the ingredients explained.

  After I’d eaten, I’d asked my server to pass on my compliments to the chef. The girl had smiled. “Would you like to see the kitchen? It’s our policy that we have an open door to any diner who might want to see how the food is prepared.”

  Of course, I wanted to see the kitchen—or more particularly, the chef. But I wasn’t stupid either. Harper would be flustered by me being there, and if she was slammed at the moment, I didn’t want to throw her off.

  But before I could answer, the server added, “This is a great time to visit. The lunch rush is over, and she’s pretty chill right now.”

  When I’d walked into the kitchen, I’d known immediately that this was Harper’s domain. It was totally her, from the organization to the pristine white tile. She’d stood with her back against a butchers block chopping board, chatting with another server, and my heart had about pounded out of my chest.

  She was covered from head to toe, but there was something so sexy about her here, in her own environment, where she was so clearly in charge. Her eyes had flickered across the room, going wide when she recognized me. She’d schooled her expression, however, and come forward to greet me with all of her professionalism in place.

  We’d both played along, me complimenting her on the food and the preparation, Harper pretending to be courteous and welcoming. The two servers had drifted off to the other side of the room, and that’s when I began to torment her.

  “Does the kitchen get hot?” I’d rubbed one hand over my pectoral muscle, smirking as her eyes tracked my movements. “Like . . . have you ever been tempted to cook . . . naked?”

  I’d dropped my voice on that last word, but Harper’s cheeks went pink as she glanced over my shoulder to make sure the others couldn’t hear us.

  “No, we’re well-ventilated here, and I always maintain the proper uniform.” She’d smiled a little, and I’d known then that she wasn’t really mad. “Of course, at home, in the privacy of my own kitchen, things might be different.”

  “Ah ha.” I’d nodded. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. What’s your favorite thing to do in the kitchen?”

  She’d tilted her head, considering. “At home, I enjoy chopping garlic. There’s one particular part of my countertop where I especially enjoy doing that, because it holds some very, um, intense memories. Pleasurable memories.”

  I’d had a sudden image of her sitting on that spot in her kitchen, her hands on her boobs, my mouth licking her wet pussy as she screamed out my name over and over. Just like that, I’d gone painfully hard.

  “Well, this has been very illuminating.” I’d nodded. “I should let you get back to work.” Before I haul you into a closet somewhere and dry hump you.

  “Actually, I’m about to go on a break. I’d be happy to walk you out.” She’d called to the wait staff, telling them she’d be back in thirty minutes. They’d nodded without much interest.

  And then we’d spent the next twenty minutes in the backseat of my car, parked down an alley, fucking like teenagers, fast and dirty. Later that night, we’d played a very hot, very erotic game of Diner Visits Chef in Kitchen—Harper’s home version.

  “Jake. Earth to Jake. Hey, are you having a stroke or a seizure or something? You just got a weird look on your face, and I think you were starting to drool.”

  “No.” I wiped my hand over my chin, and Owen chuckled. “I was thinking of all the shit I have to do this weekend.”

  “Really? What’s going on this weekend?” Max had rounded the corner and come into my office, too. Great. Now I was running Grand Central Station here.

  “Apparently, lots of shit, because Jake here can’t seem to break away and join me and the boom-boom guys up in Richmond for some partying and fun.” Owen shrugged. “I think he’s got a side piece he isn’t telling us about, Max. He hasn’t hit the bars with me in a long time.”

  “Nah.” Max s
hook his head, and I wanted to kiss him for having my back. Well, maybe not kiss—dude really wasn’t my type at all—but a manly hug, maybe.

  “A sidepiece is only if you’re married or engaged,” he went on. “So if Jake had a sidepiece, it would have to mean he also has a secret wife or girlfriend he hasn’t told us about.” He arched his eyebrows at me, and I mentally took back my manly hug of appreciation.

  “Fuck off,” I muttered.

  “You know, after our engagement party, Samantha kept trying to tell me there was something going between you and her friend, Harper. She swore she’d seen something there, and that the two of you vanished for a while in the middle of the party. I told her there was no way you’d be banging one of my fiancée’s best friends without telling me. And Harper said she was crazy, too.” He paused. “Anything you want to share, Jake?”

  My face was burning, but I only shrugged. “Sam wants to see what she wants to see, I guess. I met her, yeah, but—”

  “Harper?” Owen had an odd tone in his voice, and suddenly dread swept over me. Shit. He’d met her that first night, and I’d introduced them. It wasn’t like her name was Sue or Mary or Jane. Harper was unusual enough that there wouldn’t be that many running around.

  “Yeah, you know Samantha’s friend. Her former roommate.” Max sounded neutral, but I had a feeling he was just waiting to pounce.

  “That chick you picked up back at the new bar . . . the one who made me take a picture of her license before she left with you? Wasn’t she named Harper?” Owen dug his phone out of his pocket. “I think I still have the photo on my phone. Hold on.”

  Fuck. Oh, holy fuck. Harper was going to kill me. I dropped my head to the desk and hoped maybe they’d all just go away.

  “I think we have our answer, Owen.” There was no end to the amusement in Max’s voice. “So you met her at a bar? And . . . what? You’ve been dating her ever since? Why the hell wouldn’t you tell us?”