Gorgeous: A Commander in Briefs Novel

by Kristy Marie

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing and Proofing: Great Imaginations Editing

  Cover Design: RBA Designs

  Front Cover Photography: Lauryn Alvarez Photography

  Cover Model: Joshua Butler

  Formatting by: Champagne Book Design

  All song titles and lyrics mentioned in Gorgeous are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  This adult contemporary romance novel is not recommended for readers 18 years and younger due to mature content.

  Copyright © 2018 Kristy Marie

  All rights reserved.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAPH

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  EPILOGUE

  COMMANDER IN BRIEFS SAMPLE

  OTHER BOOKS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For Jessica

  You thought you hid it amongst the shadows, but I’ve always been able to see your light.

  Brilliant and beautiful, you shine above all the rest.

  My past has a face.

  It’s not bloody and riddled with scars.

  It’s not filled with pain and regret.

  Instead, it’s the light among the dark.

  Beauty among the ugly.

  Laughter among the cries.

  Freedom from the chains.

  The key to forgiveness.

  My truth.

  My demise.

  “Brannon, is your family religious? Because your sister is the answer to my prayers.”

  “Shut up before she hears you.”

  “I’m serious, Brannon. Is your dad a terrorist? Cause your sister is the bomb.”

  “Captain Jameson, sir. She will hear you.”

  “Hey, Brannon’s sister that’s looking hot as fuck in the Spiderman tank top. Are we in a museum? Because you’re a work of art.”

  “Drew! Stop it with the lame pick-up lines before your brother kicks your ass for hitting on Brannon’s sister.”

  “Lewis, Cade is too busy entertaining himself elsewhere to worry about what I’m doing. Shut up and go annoy someone else. Brannon and I need to chat with his sister.”

  The video on my laptop is blurry and slow to load, but the pick-up lines come through loud and clear, and I turn the volume down so I don’t wake up Jess in the next room. She’s a night owl and considers the sun a devil. I don’t know how we’re best friends despite being total opposites. The only thing we have in common is our love of movies; superhero movies to be specific.

  “Really? He’s not here? Move so I can look. I can’t see over the enormous beaver you call a head.”

  “Suck my nuts, Lewis. My head is not shaped like a pussy.”

  With all the shit talking and pick-up lines on the other end of my laptop, my small bedroom feels much like a bar right before closing.

  I’m ready to fire back at the obviously bored Marines when my brother’s big brown eyes and his even bigger smile fill my laptop screen. Lopsided and curious, Bennett’s grin reminds me why I look forward to every Tuesday. At nineteen years old, Bennett Brannon has become my tribe. My slaymate. My weirdo. My bubba. My annoying big brother. He’s the only good that has come out of the Brannon family besides yours truly, of course.

  Best friends seems cliché for what Bennett and I have, but that’s exactly what we are. Only a year and a half apart, we complement each other in the strangest of ways. He’s lied for me. He’s fought for me. And he won’t ever admit it, but he’s cried with me, too. The goofball is all the family I have, and the throb in my chest proves how much I’ve missed him these past six months while he’s been deployed.

  “B!” His bottom lip pulls to one side, showcasing the subtle chip in his front tooth —a teenage injury from when he hoped to be a pro skateboarder (insert extreme laughter here). The slight flaw is all that limits his smile from being labeled as perfect. I’m grinning back like a total weirdo when said smile drops into a frown, his eyes narrowing at the camera. “You’ve been working too much,” he accuses me from the other side of the world; pushing back at a fatigue-clad leg whose face I can’t see. “You’re in college. Aren’t college freshmen supposed to be partying? Have fun, B. You deserve it.” He hesitates, staring behind him at something I can’t see before he whispers, “Have you been getting the money I’ve been sending?”

  I swallow hard and sell him a feigned smile that will convince him everything is peachy. I don’t need him worrying about me when his company demands his focus. The military doesn’t allow him to reveal where he is or what missions he goes on every day but I recognize the misery in his eyes when he struggles to crack a joke about how badass he and the other Marines are and that I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about him.

  “I’m—”

  “Hook me up, dude,” someone whines behind him.

  My eyes widen before I’m full-on grinning.

  These idiots make me laugh so hard.

  “Who is that?” I ask Bennett, my head tilted to the side like it will help me see around his enormous head which practically covers the whole screen.

  “Captain Drew Jameson, the major’s brother,” he explains, gathering up the cords to the laptop he’s using to Skype me. “It’s been a long few weeks, and he’s getting out of hand.”

  Light flashes on the screen and it goes quiet. “Ben? You still there?”

  His once pale face fills the screen looking tanner than I’ve ever seen it. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I only have so much room with the cords.” A door closes behind him and he turns the screen, leaning his back against something hard, giving me a view of his face and something like an alley between their military tents. “Okay, sorry. Is that better? Can you hear me better out here?”

  I take in his tired, worn face and give him a smile. Damn I’ve missed him.

  “I can hear you much better,” I confirm softly. “How’ve you been? Are you guys still playing softball in your downtime?”

  Bennett has always had a ton of friends, unlike me, who prefers to keep to herself. I have one friend from school I’ve hung on to for the past several years named Jess. Then I have Milos, an online friend. And that’s it for my limited social circle. It’s not that I can’t make friends. I’m just overly selective. I’m not a person who can handle fake bitches.

  Bennett, however, could make friends with a rock. A social person just like our mother, he makes friends wherever he goes which, if I’m being honest here, makes me a little jealous. Joining the military was a dream Bennett had as a child. He was determined not to inherit a position in our father’s corrupt business. Once he turned
eighteen, he gave my father the proverbial finger and enlisted against his wishes. The Jacob Brannon worked so hard to raise ruthless heirs to his poisonous throne, and we let him down by being decent humans. After Bennett made it through basic training and my father realized he was never coming home, he cut off every accommodation —including care packages —while Ben was overseas.

  He’s a royal asshole.

  Bennett was a hero in my mind. He pursued his dream and let no one or nothing stop him. I admired the hell out of him and I wanted to be just like him. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I moved out of my parents’ house, too. I wasn’t going to college for business when I had my heart set on culinary arts. And I needed to give my father a colossal fuck you for abandoning Bennett when he joined the military.

  I haven’t seen or spoken to them in a year. Bennett continues to send me money every month to use for student loans and housing, but I don’t. Instead, I’ve been saving it for when he returns home, if he ever does. I spend five days a week working at a coffee shop, paying my own way. Bennett has sacrificed enough for me. I wanna be sure he fulfills his dreams, too. It’s the least I can do for him.

  “Hell yeah, we’ve been playing softball,” he tells me excitedly. “I hit a homer the other day.” He swings his arms in front of the camera, making this “ahhhhh” sound like fans shouting for him. It makes me laugh.

  “You’re such a dork.”

  He frowns but isn’t upset. If one of us didn’t insult each other every call, then he would think something was up. It’s how we show affection.

  “You’re a dork,” he argues. “How is Jess? Has she asked about me?”

  Ugh. My brother and my best friend; not going to happen. Can you say awkward?

  “She asked if you were still lame and …” Something moves behind Ben, catching my attention. Is that…

  “And? You were saying? Come on, B. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  Farther down the alley, a guy in fatigues is leaning back against a tent. His pants… Oh God. His pants are caught around his boots, his massive thighs straining and flexing while he holds a head of hair in his fist, slamming a woman’s face in between his legs. She’s … she’s blowing the shit out of him and my dumbass brother hasn’t even noticed.

  “I mean seriously, B. Has she asked about me? She writes to me and we flirt, but do you—”

  “Ben, shut up. There’s—”

  “I feel like I should Skype her one day. Would that be weird? I mean, she’s your best friend and all.”

  Bennett rambles on, insecure about his and Jess’ feelings for one another as I stare at the spot behind him. The giant of a man seems like he’s staring at me as he crushes the poor girl’s face onto his shaft. There’s no way he can see me from that far away, right? It has to be like ten or twelve feet. Maybe he can see the laptop but not me. Because if he can, he would see the flush creeping up my neck, my eyes wide at watching him take what he needs from this girl who clearly is doing what many women wish they could do.

  He’s gorgeous.

  All tall and built like a tank. I bet he has zero fat on his body. I can’t see his hair since it’s hidden by a military-issued hat. But his eyes … deep and soulful as they watch me, watching him, seem so haunted.

  “B? Yoo-hoo.” Ben lets out whistle and I refocus on my brother and not on the fine piece of ass behind him.

  “Just call her, dweeb. She’ll talk to you. Unless you’re being weird like you are now.”

  He makes a face and flips me off. “I’m not being weird. I just …” The guy behind him reaches behind his head, grabbing the back of his shirt, and removes it, draping it over the girl’s head as if he’s trying to keep her from view. His … let’s count them. One … two … four … six … eight packs of abs! Holy alien babies, the dude is shredded. Each block of muscle flexes and clenches as his companion works him into a euphoric state.

  I’m watching this free porn with the same intensity that Jess and I had when we staked out her ex-boyfriend. He, too, was caught with some cheap floosy with his pants down around his ankles. Not that this girl is a floosy. She could be his girlfriend for all I know.

  All I know is he’s hot as hell and I’m replacing the woman in my mind with a vision of me. The guy whose arms look like he spends more time in the gym than I would in a lifetime lets his head fall back against the tent. Holy shit! Is he coming? The woman’s hands grip his hips, sticking out from beneath his shirt while his dog tags bounce against his sweaty chest as he watches … me. Not her.

  I’m going to hell.

  Seriously, why can’t I stop watching him? Why can’t I focus on my dumb brother who is still going on about Jess?

  “So you think I should? Call her, I mean?” The sexy guy behind Ben pulls the girl up to her feet, and she dusts off her knees, handing him his shirt. She trails a nail down his bare chest before grabbing his dog tags and pulling him in for a kiss. He pulls his pants up, smacks her ass, and sends her off in the opposite direction. When she’s gone, he strides forward, heading toward Ben.

  Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

  Be cool, B. No way he knew you were watching him.

  He was too far away. But yet, I saw him.

  Ugh. This is not good.

  “Who do you have here, Brannon?”

  Bennett jumps at the hottie’s raspy voice behind him. He turns the camera, finally seeing we were not alone in the alley. The webcam refocuses as Bennett shuffles around awkwardly, and holy mother of all that is holy … the dark stubble blanketing the stranger’s face … the sharp cut jawline … the square chin … and his emeralds eyes have me …

  Bam! I’m pregnant.

  The man is freaking angelic. He doesn’t look human as he bends down in the focus of the camera. Bennett smiles awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were out here, sir.” The guy shrugs in response as if those bulky shoulders are saying, it happens. “This is my sister B. B; this is my commanding officer, Major Jameson.”

  The Major Jameson.

  Bennett raves about his commanding officer. When he first enlisted, he was a wee bit of a pussy. Bennett was a privileged kid and had zero common sense. He claims he was hazed like a mofo, and things turned around for him after he was assigned to Jameson’s unit. He became confident and more knowledgeable in all things adult-like. Bennett claimed major took him under his wing and molded him into the man he is today. My brother respects the hell out of Cade. This fall, he will have served under Major Jameson for a year.

  I try for a smile and pull it together. “Hi—”

  Major Jameson cuts off my reciprocating greeting, nudging Bennett in the side. “Sister, huh? Might want to Skype her somewhere else so the guys don’t see.” He shakes his head, catching my eyes before looking away. “They won’t hesitate to get off on the sound of her voice.”

  Kind of like he just did.

  My mouth drops open. Was that supposed to be a compliment? I’m not sure, but I catch the slight twitch of Cade’s lip, flashing me a playful wink as he disappears out of camera range, taking his phenomenal ass with him.

  Bennett glances behind him at Cade’s departure and mutters out, “Yes, sir,” before turning back to me.

  “Did you know he was out here?”

  I will spare my brother the awkward and go with, “No. I had no idea.”

  Bennett and I speak a little longer before he has to go. I tell him that I miss him and that I love him even if he is weirder than the lady with twenty cats down the road. We share a smile and then a laugh. He promises to call me next week but he never does.

  That call was the last time I saw either of them.

  Bennett died two days later.

  Major Jameson was never heard from again.

  Dear B,

  I have to make this email short. I’m in desperate need of some shut-eye. I’ve been waking earlier than the platoon to condition with Major Jameson. I’ve been falling behind in our physical fitness assessments. Some days I thi
nk I’ve made a huge mistake enlisting in the Marines. What was I thinking, B?

  By the way, I saw your review of Kick-Ass. Perfectly written. #yourestillaloserthough

  Private Bennett Brannon

  “Are you sure you want to do this, B? I mean, I doubt he’ll even recognize you. It’s been four years since you’ve last seen him.”

  I pause, dropping the yellow sundress into my suitcase. Actually, it’s been three years and eleven months, but I don’t want to argue with Jess and defend my actions, yet again, that moving from New York City to Georgia without a job, to check up on a man who may or may not remember me, is a good idea.

  I will admit, it sounded better in my head a few days ago.

  “What happened to all that nonsense about living like we’re twenty-two?” I smirk at Jess until I realize my mistake. “Wait, no,” I blurt out but Jess is already smiling like she’s got me exactly where she wants me. “T-Swift sings dancing like she’s twenty-two, not living, goober. Besides, you act like you’re in your fifties and did not just turn twenty-two, so technically that phrase doesn’t apply to you.”

  “Oh, well. What’s done is done,” I admit with a shrug, wadding up my discarded dress and shoving it into my suitcase. The fact is, I made my decision and I’m sticking with it. Even if it is a terrible one. A stubborn bitch to a fault, I will fall on my sword before I admit to Jess that I might be questioning this decision a bit. She’ll “I told you so,” me for days.

  With an exaggerated and highly dramatic sigh, I meet Jess’ pinched expression. “I need to do this,” I say with an air of confidence, my voice not nearly as shaky as when I chanted it last night into the bathroom mirror like I was doing some kind of Bloody Mary ritual. “He needs help, Jess. I can’t leave him out there all alone.” I shrug my shoulders like this is all the explanation she needs to understand my rationale. I may not be a psychologist or anything, but I think I can find this man—a hero in my eyes—a place to stay, even if I might not have one myself.

  Jess doesn’t agree, and like gum underneath the disgusting desks at our old high school, she’s hardened and not letting go of the subject until I see her point. And right now, her point is simple: She thinks I’m being an idiot.