Ice (Elite Forces #1)(6)
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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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 * 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 f*ck 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 f*cking nuts?
“What the hell are you talking about? And shut your f*cking 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.