Ice (Elite Forces #1)(4)

"Listen," I say tentatively. Not because I'm afraid of Harris. I want  him out of here. I need to think. I need to try to catch and hold on to  every thought I can. My Commander, whose name I don't even fucking know,  has single-handedly reeled me into a scandal that could cost both of us  our jobs, if not our lives. And the bad part is, I fucking loved it.  I've never been fucked like that in my life, and I know I'll always want  more of the kind of shit he just did to me. I've always wanted a man  who's not afraid to fuck me. I mean, shit, I'm not a damn weak bitch who  will break. I need fucked, leave the making love to the other bitches.  I've never been in love with a man to know the damn difference anyway.

"He chewed my ass out, basically called me a whore, and told me I was in  jeopardy of a reduction in ranking. He went easy on me, Harris. Why? I  don't know. I'm sure as hell not going to question it, and speaking as  your friend, I highly suggest you let it go." His hand lightly caresses  my face. I lean into him. His hand is warm, rough, and calloused.

"I hope for both our sakes you're not lying to me, Elliott." A chill  runs down my spine, despite the dry desert night heat, when Harris  removes his hand, his silhouette disappearing out of sight.

"I'm lying, Harris, for both of our sakes."



I've been trained by the best to be a light sleeper, to always manage to  be aware of what's happening around me. Sleep didn't come to me at all  last night. Fatigue mixed with exhaustion, anger blending with  anticipation all makes a mean cocktail amongst my weary brain when I  make my way from my tent to the dump, a horrific stench of a wooden box  where we dump our waste. I may spend every waking moment with these men,  demand they treat me like I belong here, but there is no way in hell I  will take a shit or piss in front of them.

I toss my bag onto the pile, hike my backpack onto my shoulders, turn,  and face the desert sun. I close my eyes, letting the intensity of the  giant sphere beat down showers of heat even this early in the morning.  Thank you to the maker of sunglasses. Tipping my head back further, I  soak the scorching temperature into my already bronzed skin.

"Ma'am," Army Specialist JJ McPherson acknowledges me when he  approaches. I tilt my head upright to stare at the twenty-two-year-old  young man who is smarter than anyone I have ever met. He's a true  leader, a sharp shooter like myself, and has been nothing but kind to me  since my arrival. He stands at least two inches shorter than my  five-foot-seven-inch frame. The little man can shoot a bullet straight  through someone's skull from a mile away, I swear to god. I have never  seen a more perfect shot than his, not even mine. That in itself tells  you how much respect I have for this man.

JJ and I are the two snipers recruited for this mission; we've trained  every day since we've been here. We're experts and have the ability to  train other members in our team. Our capabilities are endless when it  comes to every weapon we use along with the weapons of our enemies.

"Specialist." I nod.

"Apparently, our new Commander arrived last night. Came in without  anyone knowing." He speaks as if he's excited to meet the prick. I could  vomit my granola bar I ate while cleaning up this morning. I know all  too well how our Commander "came" last night without anyone else  knowing. The irony of those words have me laughing for the first time in  days.                       
       
           



       

"Captain," nodding in my direction, our Commander makes his presence  known. With a small tilt of his head, he acknowledges Specialist  McPherson in the same professional way he addressed me. I shiver as the  deep thud of his hard voice reverberates throughout my body. Standing  tall, dead center of the doorway leading into the unobstructed tent  where we sit to eat, visit, and hang out, is none other than our new  Commander and the man I thought about fucking all night.

"Sir." We both stand at attention. Assertive posture, chin up, chest  out, shoulders back, and stomach in, not that I have one. Head and eyes  are always to be locked in a forward position. Without a shadow of a  doubt, this is the first time I would love to flip a superior officer  off when I raise my fingers in salute. Fuck me. And fuck him for making  me feel this way.

"At ease," he commands. His demeanor gives nothing away to the fact  we've most definitely met before. "May I have a word, Captain?" I shift  to the at ease position and nod gratefully to Specialist McPherson,  recognizing his dismissal.

"Follow me." He leads and I follow. My vision begins to explore his  gorgeous form and Christ almighty, the wetness forming between my legs  has nothing to do with how hot it is outside. It has everything to do  with how hot this man actually is, and I've barely seen the front of  him. I'm talking about his backside.

His shoulders are extremely wide, and I can see the definition in his  back through the shirt he's wearing. Tattoos align the back of his arms,  and I start to work hard at not staring at his ass while he's leading  me. His t-shirt seems to be struggling to hold him in, and I can  practically daydream an image of him ripping the material from his body  in this scorching desert heat. Images of sweat dripping from toned  muscle and who knows what else he's hiding under there have me  preoccupied.

Quickly and without warning, he suddenly stops. My hands instinctively  fly up, gripping his shoulders firmly. The ache between my legs  increases, and I swear I'm at risk of my pussy exploding with the need  for this man. It constricts, pulses to my very core. The heat radiating  off him magnifies and sears into my hands.

God help me. I don't even know him, and here I stand with my hands  wanting to dig into his muscular shoulders, slide them down the bulge of  his back, and grip powerfully onto his tight ass.

Fucking hell. I've lost it. I need to be insanely medically discharged.  It's not like me to want someone I don't even know. I sure as hell  shouldn't crave him like I've never craved anything before. Then again,  who could blame me after last night?

I step back. I need to clear my head. He can't know he has this kind of  power over me. I will not yield. That's a mantra I've repeated many  times over in my head. Never yielding to the enemy is engrained into our  souls, practically tattooed on our brains. I need to treat him as my  enemy. That's it, he's my personal enemy.

"Did you fuck him after I left you last night?" His voice is low. We're  standing out in the open where people can see us. Is he fucking nuts?

"What the hell are you talking about? And shut your fucking mouth." He  rotates on me. This man far exceeds the word handsome. He's beautiful.  I've never seen anyone look as perfect as he does right now, all  demanding and pissed off. I let his words sink in, and my insides shift  immediately.

This is the last time he'll make me feel like a whore. I'm far from one,  and I don't give two shits if he's my Commander, or not anymore. Not  when it comes to this. He needs to shove those words straight up his  ass.

Curiosity pulls its tight strings, rapidly firing away at my brain to  find out this man's name too. My gaze lowers to his sand-colored  t-shirt. There are no brightly-lit name plates displayed on our uniforms  out here, ones that glisten off the reflection from the sun, making us  an easy target for the enemy. Dog tags are tucked away under the  confines of our shirts. No jewelry. We protect ourselves at any and all  cost.

Therefore, names and ranks are engraved onto our shirts. We leave home  to live in these foreign lands with very few personal items at all. Our  entire life changes. When you cross a boarder into enemy territory, you  live a new life. Some have new identities, while others lose their lives  altogether.

CDR Kaleb Maverick. Interesting name. Mulling it over for a few short  seconds, my head snaps back to the arrogant aroma radiating off of him.

His dark brown beard pulls my attention to his lips. I squeeze my legs  together at the thought of what that would feel like between my thighs.  He runs the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip as I'm staring. Fuck  me.                       
       
           



       

"I asked you a question. Answer me." He smiles, those lips sending mixed  signals. I wonder if he's ever been bitch-slapped. His arrogance speaks  volumes. If he talks to women like this, I'm sure he's been slapped,  but never by a bigger bitch than me. If we were anywhere but standing  here in the middle of this unit, I would knock him clean on his sexy,  tight ass.

"Fuck you," I snarl, my expression mirroring his. I smile. My attitude  gives nothing away about the fact that I want to beat his fucking ass,  except I want him to know one thing. The shit we did last night will  never happen again. Seriously? My little inner devil voice screams at  me. One little-or should I say BIG-taste is all I get?" I roll my eyes  at her and him under my sunglasses.