by Selena Kitt
Her nervous grin almost made him laugh. “No. Of course not. I’m not sure…”
“Come on in. I’ll make some coffee and we’ll get to work on whatever needs doing.”
He didn’t try to hide the fact that as she came into his apartment he was watching her ass again. He wanted her to know and she did. It amused him to see her try to walk in a way that wasn’t sexy. She couldn’t do it. A lifetime of training and an innate wiggle that he considered naturally feminine combined to defeat her. Just because she’d put on her tailored suit and her executive, big deal consultant face, didn’t mean she could be anything but the woman she was.
Walking wasn’t the only visual attraction she brought to his apartment. When he had her sitting in a chair, her lovely stockinged legs crossed, he made coffee and brought it in. As she sipped hers, he sat across from her, positioning himself where he had a good view of those nice thighs. He approved of those legs and found it easy to imagine them wrapped around him.
She had a briefcase, of course. She opened it and brought out a folder that she consulted. He was sure she had it memorized, but allowed her the prop. “This afternoon you have a meeting with your therapist, and then this evening a dinner with…” Thus began the litany covering the next week of his life. He listened, wondering if any meeting, dinner, or handshaking opportunity was too small or unimportant to be ignored in his agenda. Could there be any bake sale or bingo game that had somehow, inadvertently been left off? He understood that the Army intended to take advantage of his current high profile, but Tina’s recitation of sleep inducing events didn’t sound promising. The only good side of this headlong rush to meet and greet, see and be seen, was having her alongside, tasked with being his minder. The reality was that these were effectively his current marching orders.
“I’m not clear on this,” he told her.
“No?” She looked confused, upset that she might have made a mistake. “What isn’t clear?”
“The intent of the briefing. The schedule itself is probably fine. I wouldn’t know about that, as I wasn’t consulted on it. I understand the Army has a million and one things they want me to attend; clearly you’ve shoehorned every one of them into what waking hours I have to ensure I don’t miss out on any of my minutes in the limelight. That’s all fine—it’s your job.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Why do you want to explain every event in gory detail? Why would I want to know who benefits or what the event is for? Why would I care? Most of it means nothing to me. I’m just the attraction, the lure to get the public and press out in numbers. My role is nothing more than to shower, shave, dress and be available when you show up with the transportation. I am the toy soldier to be displayed, right?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Actually, that’s right.”
“So while I enjoy your company, I can think of better uses of our time together. Briefing me in such detail is a waste of time, energy, and I’m sure it’s destroying brain cells.”
“I thought you’d want to know so you can...”
“Not really.”
“The program is to build on your celebrity and create something. Give it momentum.”
“Tina, I’m a soldier, not a product. I will do this stuff for now because that is my job. The Army gave me that assignment. But soon enough they’d give me another one. So to me it’s like any other assignment and I’ve never found it helpful in anyway to try and pretend to myself or anyone else that any particular assignment excites me. A good soldier does what he’s told. You are trying to make me see the big picture. Why? I’m available to do this job for a limited time and then the Army will decide I should do something else. You might have a master plan, and good for you. In your line of work you probably need one. I don’t.”
“What do you need?”
He resisted the temptation of telling her the idea that popped into his head: to fuck her senseless. “On a day-to-day basis, it’s easier for me to deal with blocks of time. What’s in the blocks is less important that what’s required of me.” He pointed at Monday on the weekly calendar, at the afternoon. “This afternoon is set aside for my shrink time. That tells me I need to show up in uniform, but not a dress uniform. When I get there, I will talk to whomever they tell me to talk to. I make nice for the allotted time and when I’m dismissed I go home. The next thing is dinner. So I know I’m free until I have to get into a dress uniform and be ready when the car picks me up. Wherever I’m dropped off, I will be polite to the good folks, eat what’s put in front of me, tell them how wonderful it is, and look for a chance to escape.” He smiled. “See. All I need to know is what time you’ll pick me up and whether I need a dress uniform or something else. You can print out a nice schedule with generic blocks marked with things like ‘publicity event’ or ‘formal meeting’ and what time I get picked up. That’s it.”
“And the rest?”
“When I don’t see any blocks, I’ll assume the time is mine and I can go swimming in the pool, or get drunk, or do whatever I want.” Her frown made him smile. “Does that work?”
“I suppose.”
“I know you want me to be enthusiastic about this insanity, but I can’t be. You want me to show an interest, but I don’t understand how it all works. That isn’t my world. And no matter how thorough you explain, when we head out to something, I won’t remember the names or causes—if I need to know them, you’ll need to feed me that bullshit in the car on the way. I’m not criticizing your high-intensity list making—it is probably important for you to show your boss, and for him or her to show to the general and to have so you can send multiple copies to accounting. And it’s all crap you need to know. But me? Just save the key details to feed me on the way to each event. I will meekly follow your lead.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because you don’t like to be told what to do.” The idea seemed to please her. If fantasies of being thrown in with a bad boy were what was putting a sparkle in her eyes, then he was pleased too. He would happily spend his free time fulfilling those. He’d take her way out of her depth. She thought she was sophisticated, and maybe she was when it came to dealing with the press, or social shit, or office politics, but he didn’t imagine she’d maintain her composure for a minute once he got her clothes off and spread her legs apart. Just thinking about the prospect got him hot.
Seeing she actually expected a reply, he grinned. “First of all, my only real job is doing what I’m told. I do rebel, but always within boundaries. And I have to behave, at least for a while. I want them to put me back on active duty and they won’t do it if I go manic on them. So, in public, I intend to be a good boy and jump through my assigned hoops. I have a large capacity for making nice and saying the right things to senior staff and the mentally challenged, assuming those are different groups.”
Her body relaxed and she grinned. “Okay, I can believe that you will behave in public and I understand that you aren’t interested in the events I’ve arrange, but they are important to the Army. They could do a lot for you too.”
“I don’t see how they do a damn thing for me, but I’ll let you convince me. Now, relax and drink your coffee.” She fidgeted and he saw the momentary flicker of her gaze down to his crotch and then back up. She’d seen the way his stiff cock tented his sweat pants, creating a prominent rise in the contour of his lap. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”
“In some ways.”
“Why?”
She looked startled. “Why do you make me nervous?”
“Exactly.”
He watched the wheels turning, her eyes rolling up as she considered her answer. “I haven’t had to deal with your type before.”
“My type?”
“An aggressive man who thinks he’s a bad boy, or at least give women that impression. You want to make up your own rules. As you said, you intend to go along with the program because there is a benefit to you. I understand that.”
“Okay, but I think a lot of what you do is equally manipulative and intended to redefine the rules in your favor. I’d call that a difference in style, rather than type. We are both of the type that wants to get their own way, Tina.”
He saw her adam’s apple moved as she swallowed, and he stared at the firm set of her chin. Trevor’s best guess was that she was determined not to let him fluster her, or at least to not show that she was flustered. The idea made him smile. He could work with that. “Maybe so, but you look at me in ways that are unsettling too. You have a disturbing manner about you.”
“Oh that’s because you turn me on. You see that and I think it bothers you. Not that you turn me on; you like that. What bothers you is that it excites you too. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s a primal thing.”
She tried to laugh. “You want to shock me. You like saying things to rattle me.”
“Why would I do that, Tina? No, I said that because it happens to be true that I find you rather yummy. When you met me at the helo pad, came waltzing up to the chopper, of course I noticed that cute ass of yours. By the time you said hello, I was already thinking how nice it would be to run my hands over the contours of that sweet ass thought that tight skirt.”
“You shouldn’t say that.”
“I shouldn’t? Why not? Am I supposed to ignore the truth, lie to us both? There’s no harm in wanting a woman and when I do, well I think letting her know has to be a good thing. It should be flattering to have a man tell you he wants you. Unless you see me as some kind of monster.”
“You aren’t a monster, and yes, it’s flattering, but up to a point.”
“To what point?”
“The point where it gets vulgar.”
“Vulgar? The only point of flattering a woman is to make her feel wanted, let her know you think she’s desirable. A little vulgarity shows it’s real desire, and not the posturing of a fool. My intention in saying I want to fuck you is to make it clear that it is a powerful physical desire, not some spiritual or ethereal feeling. I’m being honest. I can’t say I love you, or even like you. I don’t know you well enough for that, but I can see at a glance that you would be a delightful fuck.”
Her lip trembled. “I’m married.”
He liked the way her determination to stand her ground made her pull her shoulders back, making her breasts stick out. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he liked that too. Best of all, it looked like her nipples were hard. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, Tina, but your tax status doesn’t affect my reaction to you. I’m expressing what I feel.”
“There are things you shouldn’t .”
“Bullshit. We all have obstacles to overcome, especially when it comes to the pursuit of pleasure. Marriage, what that means to you, is one you face. That’s all. It doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.”
“I’m here to work, Captain. We are in a business relationship. Vulgarity, even if you intend it to be flattering isn’t appropriate.”
He laughed. “Being formal is a great defensive move, isn’t it, Tina. You assert yourself and use my title to remind me that this is official shit. Problem is, that turns me on too, your little hissy fit attitude when I proposition you. Your mouth puckers when you frown and it’s very goddamn sexy.”
“I’m married.”
“Now we are into repeating ourselves. At least you are. I can help. Let me address that directly. Being married is just a legal contract about property, Tina, unless it really means something more to you. If it does, that’s good, but the status isn’t a shield to wield. When I hear you repeat that meaningless phrase like some magic talisman, it sounds like you are just going through the motions of protesting, maybe even trying to remind yourself, because you really want me to fuck you. In short, just saying that over and over again comes across as foreplay.”
Her eyes were dilated and the color rose in her stiff, pale neck. It was comical the way she struggled with a desire to answer him, yet a deep fear that any answer would just confuse things more. “We have to work together. Why are you teasing me like this?”
The question was actually a good one. “You see, that’s where our communication is failing. I don’t see this as a business relationship at all. I am simply going to the events you send me to because those are my orders. I don’t work for or with you. You are the one in business. Any relationship between us is whatever we make it. Furthermore, I’m not teasing you. Not at all. I’m just telling you something your instincts and training tell you that you don’t want to hear. I think you love hearing it. You said we are different types. If you see me as this more animalistic man, I think it excites you to hear me say that from our first meeting I’ve wanted nothing more than to spread those lovely legs apart and fuck you—over and over again, until you can’t see straight.”
She stood and turned toward the door. “I need to leave now.”
An unconscious lick of her lips told him he’d made his point. By itself the sight of her sweet tongue wetting those red lips excited him. He stood and walked over to her, reaching out to stroke her hair, it’s silky feel making him want her more. “Pretty, petite Tina.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him and he kissed her, pulling her body against his. He ran a hand down her back, bringing her pelvis against him and at the touch of his lips on hers, that first taste of her lipstick, he felt her body tense, grow rigid. He broke the kiss. Her eyes were open wide, her breasts rising and falling deliciously with her ragged breath, and his hands detected a trembling that matched the tempo of a fluttering heart. He put his hand to her face and stroked it. When he reached the open neck of her blouse his hand slipped inside and over her breast, his fingers capturing her nipple. She gasped. “I thought your nipples had gotten hard,” he told her. “I’m delighted I didn’t misjudge you.” Then he looked deep in her eyes, seeing them sparkle. “I bet you’ve never really been fucked. I want to change that. Let you feel real lust.”
Her mouth formed an “o” and she turned to go out the front door.
Watching her go down the sidewalk he wondered if he’d ever see her again. It was hard to tell if he’d pushed the right buttons or just pushed her away. He hoped she’d come back because once he got her in bed, when he finally fucked her and taught her what it was like to be used for pleasure, he had a hunch she might explode with real passion, letting a hidden wildness out of the closet she kept it in. That promised to be great fun.
As she closed the door to Trevor’s apartment behind her Tina forced herself not to run to her car. She steadied herself and then walked unsteadily down the sidewalk to the curb. Opening the door, sliding into the normally welcoming leather of the driver’s seat, a fierce shaking took over her body. She looked through the windshield, unseeing, her car key in her hand, her hand in her lap, and gave into an uncontrollable trembling. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. Worse, she couldn’t get a grip on exactly what emotions wracked her body. Was it fear, desire, anger? The truth eluded her.
She knew this much—Trevor Foster was a pig. An an arrogant, overbearing, full of himself, pig. Not only did he think was better than everyone else, but clearly he thought that just because she’d briefly thought him admirable, that she respected what he’d done, she’d be willing to let him fuck her. Worse, he seemed to think she’d be desperate for the chance. He didn’t even bother to disguise that he felt nothing more for than the lust you’d expect from a cave man looking for a mate. He wanted to take her, to enjoy meaningless sex with her and the hell with what she might want.
The man was crude, vulgar even, and she hated him. She hated his certainty, the way he seemed to assume she’d give herself to him to satisfy his sexual desires and find it exciting. He presumed to understand her, think that she needed him, wanted him.
As if she didn’t love Bobby … as if she didn’t have a wonderful marriage, where she was an equal partner with a dynamic lawyer who was going places. As if she weren’t a competent professional on a path to become a rising star in public relat
ions in her own right.
She wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to stop the shaking. She wanted to cry but wasn’t able to let the tears come, or maybe she was unwilling to let them come. Her reaction filled her with questions. In a few short minutes, her comfortable had turned upside down. But why? Why did she care what he thought? She had no answer, but deep inside, she did. She feared she did.
She wanted to cry and held back because she was afraid they wouldn’t be tears of rage, but of frustration that Trevor Foster couldn’t see her as a colleague, only as a piece of ass. Why was that a problem? It wasn’t. And how he saw her, that he couldn’t see her as she wanted to be seen, wasn’t even close to the core of her distress. The real problem horrified her.
She’d wanted him as much as he said she did.
Conflicts rend things apart—relationships, countries, even plans. And now she faced an internal conflict that was slowly making it hard to think clearly. She liked her life, her marriage, and her career. They were all the result of hard work and conscious choices she’d made. Foster and his damned passion threatened all of that. Foster, his goddamn conquering barbarian manner, and her own weakness, threatened them all.
