by Bridget Lang
Chapter 9 JETT
“Would someone please get the fucking door?” I bellow. I’m busy in the kitchen making burgers for my ungrateful brothers, and the doorbell is driving me out of my mind.
“Cade, get off your ass and do something.”
Cade sighs. “Fine, yeah.” He tosses his phone down and saunters out of the kitchen. I hear the door open, followed quickly by Cade’s voice saying, “Aw, shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I call, but I’m met with silence.
For Christ’s sake, that kid can’t do fucking anything right. Even answering the door is some fucking chore for him.
I know I’m being too harsh on Cade, but I can’t seem to control myself anymore. I’ve been in a shitty mood for two months straight. Ever since I woke up to Sexual Harassment Barbie.
Ever since Claire left.
I’d spent most of my time that wasn’t devoted to training and work sitting in my house and brooding. At first, I tried to drink until I felt numb, but I could never get numb enough. I knew better than to frequent clubs, or return to my previous lifestyle, and even if I didn’t, Larry was there to constantly remind me.
I’m aware that I’m in a depressive slump, but I’ve been trying desperately to pull myself out of it. I arranged for my brothers to start coming around once a week for dinner, and even Larry and his kids came by a couple times to break bread.
Not my best idea ever, maybe. They kind of hurt more than they help sometimes. After all, they really liked Claire, everyone did, and even though they don’t say it aloud, no one believes that I woke up naked in bed with a stranger. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t believe myself either.
I flip the final burger patty onto a plate with the rest. Cade hasn’t returned, and I can’t hear a peep from the front foyer. Cade damn well better not be talking to a reporter. At first they were everywhere, and I had to have security monitor the front gate. After a few weeks, when nothing much happened (as in no naked chicks- no chicks at all actually), the media dwindled, and I cut back on security. I know the paparazzi, though and there are those who are nothing if not unethical. They’ll climb fences, twist words, use telephoto lenses.
I growl in frustration, and toss of my apron, the apron I bought to make Clair giggle that says “Rub My Meat” on the front. I storm to the foyer.
“Fuck’s sake, Cade, what’s wrong?” The moment I appear, Cade turns and looks at me with a sheepish grin, then ducks away into the living room, and I find myself face to face with my wife.
“Claire,” I whisper. She smiles coyly and a tingle rushes through my entire body. My limbs suddenly feel like jello.
“Hi, Jett.”
She looks thin, like she’s lost some weight, and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There’s so much I want to say to her right now. I want to tell her that I’ve missed her. Hell, I want to tell her that her leaving feels as though my hearts been hacked out of my chest with a chainsaw. I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that even though nothing happened that night with Bimbo Barbie, I’m sorry for ever being the kind of man that would make her suspect something might have. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt her and everything I’ll ever do in the future, and that if only she’ll let me, I’ll promise to spend every second of my life devoted to her and never, ever give her a reason to doubt me ever again.
“It’s… been a while,” I say dumbly.
“It has,” she agrees. “One might say it’s been too long.”
“Yeah. Yeah, one could say that.”
She takes a step towards me, pushing her hair behind her ear. I want to touch her, to hold her, but I’m afraid to do anything to scare her off or make her leave. A pink tinge creeps up her cheeks.
“One might also say that your wife was unfair to you,” she states, “and that perhaps your wife should have given you the benefit of the doubt and believed in you, or at least heard you out.”
“Do you think one would be right about that?” I ask, my heart is racing in my chest. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
“Yes. One would definitely be correct about that,” she replies. Her eyes fill with tears. “Especially after your wife found out that her ex-boyfriend set up the whole thing just to punish her for leaving him.”
“Wow.” I shake my head. I can’t stop the huge shit-eating grin from spreading over my face. “One could say that my wife’s ex-boyfriend is a real shitstain.”
“Yeah.” Claire is grinning slightly now, too. “Your wife should have known better, she was a real bitch to you.”
“Hey, don’t talk about my wife that way,” I scold her softly.
Claire smiles gently, and a lone tear trails down her cheek. “I miss you, Jett.”
I wipe her tear away with my thumb, “I miss you too. So, so much, Claire.”
“I know. I got the cards.”
We both laugh.
“Think you can forgive me?” she asks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
I pull her towards me and wrap my arms around her. We settle against each other, content in the feeling of our bodies side by side once again. I kiss her forehead and sigh happily.
“There’s nothing to forgive, beautiful. I just want my wife back” I tilt her chin up and press my lips to hers.
How could I hold a grudge against the woman I live and breathe for?
THE END
FREE BONUS BOOKS SECTION - Story Descriptions Included
HONOR
A Navy SEAL Romance
STORY DESCRIPTION
Dean is at war.
But the battle he is waging is internal, and his time just may be running out.
Little does he know that the beautiful, intelligent, sassy woman that he hooks up with at a bar will turn his life upside down in more ways than he could ever have imagined possible.
To Ava, the mysterious Navy SEAL is an enigma.
Something happened out there during his last covert op. Something dark, and Dean is the only man left alive to tell the tale.
Time is running out for him and if Ava doesn’t get to the bottom of things and discover the truth soon, she may lose the man who has stolen her heart.
Chapter One
Fuck, a few shots of whiskey seemed to be the only thing that helped these days.
Whiskey and pussy.
The sun was scorching, sending heat waves shimmering up from the pavement as Dean swung his Harley into a spot by the door. Despite the heat, he was wearing long sleeves—which he quickly shed—along with a helmet. Ironic that the same military that had sent him to risk his life again and again would insist that he not ride a motorcycle without protective gear. He complied though. Most everyone in the military did, truth be told. The navy had a way of making your life hell if you didn’t. If there was one thing Dean was trained to do, it was follow orders.
He tossed the helmet on a handlebar and made his way across the parking lot. The sun seared his shoulders, the west coast heat almost painful in its intensity. Once, he thought with a mirthless smile, he’d found the sun to be a comfort. Now it only kept the nightmares close to the surface. The desert sun had beat down on him during damn near all the worst moments of his life. Not surprising considering his Navy SEAL team had performed more covert ops in Iraq than anywhere else.
Africa, too, had that same harsh, pitiless sun. It was as if the penetrating rays leached the humanity out of a man the way they leached the color out of everything that lay exposed to its relentless abuse. The men in Africa had been monsters too. Some of them, not all. Some had just been good men in a bad situation, doing their damnedest to survive. Dean had been following orders, fighting for his life as well. Lately he’d begun to wonder if he was one of the men or one of the monsters.
He’d done some of the very things that made one more beast than man, but the reasons he’d done them mattered. He had to believe that. Because if he didn’t…
Mayb
e he was a monster. Maybe they were right, he was broken, damaged, crazy.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the dark thoughts that had been plaguing him every hour of every day. He wasn’t going there. He wasn’t. He’d promised himself.
Yet over and over like a damned recording on skip…
He threw open the door to the 6 D’s Lounge harder than he should have. It slammed against the wall before rebounding. But it was sturdy, designed with drunken sailors in mind, and didn’t seem any worse for the wear.
The 6 D’s was the only real bar on post. There was another, used primarily by higher ranking officers to host functions that Dean had no interest in attending. Let some other cocksucker follow their CO around like a lost puppy. He preferred to let his work speak for itself. Hell, he was far more interested in kicking ass and taking names for Uncle Sam than furthering his position in the navy.
The dark atmosphere robbed Dean of his sight momentarily and he found himself reaching for a rifle that wasn’t there. Being unaware of his surroundings unnerved him. Quickly his eyes adjusted and he stalked to the bar taking a seat at the far end, where he could swivel his back to the wall and scan his surroundings.
Dean let the whiskey burn down his throat, the first in a series he hoped would give him a relief from the plaguing memories. The burn felt good going down and his skin cooled, adjusting to the milder temperature in the dimly lit bar. The place didn’t boast much in the way of atmosphere; the same generic cinderblock walls characterized older military buildings across the country. It didn’t need to be pretty though. The navy men—and women—just wanted somewhere close to the barracks where the liquor was cheap. This place fit the bill.
Dean was just throwing back his fourth shot when a woman walked through the door causing him to do a double-take.
Hel-lo, beautiful.
Women loved Dean, and he loved them. He loved the way they smelled, the way they tasted, the way they felt, and mostly he loved the game. With his chiseled jaw, bedroom eyes, and heavily muscled 6’4” frame, he had no trouble finding a honey to hook up with any day- or night of the week.
This woman, though…damn. She was not just any woman. She was the type that made a man’s dick stand up and take notice. He watched her thick, curvy figure approach. Her full breasts bounced slightly with every step she took, and her hips swayed in time with her path across the room. Her body wasn’t the body of some half-starved child model, she was all woman. Just Dean’s type, if he had a type. Her skin looked impossibly smooth and he imagined it would feel soft and silky beneath his fingertips.
Dean’s gaze traveled upward from her legs, to her swaying hips, up her round, ample breasts to her face- bold eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. Yep, a goddess. Da-yum. Just imagining what she could do with lips like those had Dean shifting uncomfortably, his pants growing more constricting by the moment.
Judging by the smirk that now spread across her pretty mouth as she took the stool next to him, she knew exactly what Dean was thinking. Despite the fact that women threw themselves at him so often he could afford to be cocky, arrogant even, he turned back to his drink. Normally, he would have kept steady eye contact, grinned his sexy half-grin, motioned with his eyes to the stool next to him, and offered to buy her a drink. The subtle/not so subtle mating game of the human male.
Yet, the striking goddess next to him threw him off his game in seconds flat. He felt an unusual fluttering in the pit of his stomach that shot straight to his groin. It had him slightly flustered, and he turned away, determined not to act like a lovesick teenager.
“I’ll take a shot of Jack Daniels.” Her voice was sultry and Dean’s mind instantly imagined what it would sound like when it was laden with passion. Hell, she even drank his drink.
Dean spoke before he was even fully aware of what he was saying. “Make it two, Jake,” he said to the bartender, “Her drinks are on me.”
He was back in the game.
Chapter Two
Ava had noticed the man sitting on the corner bar stool the moment she’d walked through the door. Sexy, confident, hot as hell...but she didn’t date military men, and she definitely wasn’t as sensitive to their charms as the average woman. She was a military brat herself, born and raised, therefore somewhat immune to their appeal. Not to say that she found hard-bodied, handsome men in uniform unappealing…it was more that she’d learned to look beyond the exterior to what was underneath.
Oh, she noticed him…it was hard not to when he was sitting there, all brooding and dangerous. She’d still be going home alone tonight, but a little eye candy while she nursed a drink or two couldn’t hurt. It had been a long tiring day of moving and unpacking, and tomorrow was the start of her new job. She’d just have a drink or two with the hot sailor beside her before going home and turning in early.
Two hours later, after more than a few shots of JD, Ava found herself staring into the sexy sailor’s eyes just a little too long, leaning toward him suggestively as they talked about everything and nothing. She hadn’t expected to be so attracted to him, hadn’t expected the conversation to flow so easily or his rough, deep voice to send shivers of awareness up her spine. Ava glanced at her watch. Where had the time gone? She needed to head home. The last thing she wanted was to show up tired and hung over on her first day of work. The way things were going, if she didn’t get out of here soon, she was most certainly going to end up between the sheets with…. What was his name?... Dean. Yeah, pretty sure he said his name was Dean.
“Well Dean, it’s been…interesting, but I’m going to have to get hit the road. Take care of yourself, okay?” She stood. Ava had insisted she pay for her own drinks, but when she reached for her purse, she realized that she must have left it in the saddle bag of her bike. Dean was acutely aware of her motions.
“I got this; the offer still stands.”
“No, no… I’ve got it. I just need to run out and grab my purse.”
“Well at least let me walk you out, I’d hate for you to be harassed by drunken sailors in the parking lot.”
She couldn’t help chuckling. “Not likely.”
“Have you seen yourself? I would say that it’s entirely likely. Besides, I need some fresh air anyway.”
“Suit yourself,” Ava shrugged and followed Dean outside watching as headed towards his bike, a Harley. She wasn’t surprised. He seemed like the type who wanted to feel power beneath him, the thrill of the wind in his hair, the feeling of riding the edge of danger that a Harley could provide. Yes, he seemed like the type. She certainly was.
Dean stopped a moment as he passed her bike on the way. He eyed it with obvious appreciation.
“Damn, that’s nice.”
“Why thank you.” She couldn’t help smiling with pride. Her bike was a beauty. Her pride and joy. She stifled a chuckle as his jaw dropped watching her open the saddle bag.
“No way…that’s yours?”
She nodded with a wink.
“You are my kind of woman.” His eyes raked seductively over her body again making her feel weak-kneed. “I may not be able to let you go after all.”
His gaze was wicked, but his tone was light and teasing, so Ava thought nothing of it. But, she did bend over a little further than necessary, vain enough to assume that he would enjoy the view. She wasn’t expecting him to be standing so close when she turned around though.
“Dean? What are you—”
His lips closed on hers, and she opened for him before she could remember that she was supposed to be on her way home. He tasted of man laced with the sweet tang of whiskey, and she felt her nipples tightening with need.
“Just wanted a taste,” he murmured as he broke the kiss, “just a onetime thing. I don’t do strings. I’m not wired right for a lasting relationship.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Who said anything about a relationship? Just shut up and kiss me.”
Then his mouth clamped over hers in a fiercely passionate
kiss before trailing his lips down her throat, nipping and teasing. She shivered in response and drew instinctively closer. When he lifted her by her hips and placed her on the seat of his bike, she vaguely realized that if she was going to stop this, now would be the time.
Instead she found herself guiding his mouth back to her own. She tentatively reached out to touch him through his jeans, unsure how far he might be willing to go in the darkened parking lot. His cock was big, hard and ready for her. Just touching him through the thick denim was making her wet, sending liquid heat straight to her core.
She pushed him back lightly and dropped fluidly to her knees in front of him.
Surely that must be a stranger kissing the head of his dick through his pants?
She deftly unfastened his belt and pants. What had come over her? She wasn’t a prude, but parking lot quickies weren’t really her style either.
She wasn’t about to stop this, though. Every nerve ending in her body screamed with her need to have him in her mouth. She freed his massive cock and as he watched her, she took him into her mouth, rocked forward and backward, up and down his length with her lips and tongue. Then he raised her again, turning her so she was facing his bike.
“God that felt amazing baby,” he leaned over and whispered into her ear. “but I just might die if I don’t get inside you.”
She let him bend her over, helping him by unfastening her jeans and shoving them down her hips to her knees. His fingers stretched her panties to the side. But, he didn’t enter her as she’d thought he would. Instead his warm, wet tongue found her slit from behind while nimble fingers gently massaged circles against her clit. Ooooh, he was good.
He brought her to the brink, then held back. She writhed with need, her pussy throbbing with desire.
“Don’t…. stop….,” she choked out.
“I want to feel my cock inside your gorgeous pussy,” his voice was raspy and thick. He stood and thrust inside her hard, both hands were on her hips, pulling her back onto his cock again and again as he demanded that she meet him thrust for thrust. When he reached one hand up to pinch her sensitized nipples through her blouse, she felt an electric jolt zing through her from her nipple straight to her pussy. She orgasmed fast and hard unable to stop the needy cries that escaped her throat. He found his release seconds later, his cock pulsing jets of creamy fluid into her still twitching pussy.
