Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(26)

“I’m in the bedroom,” he called, and I froze. Straight there, huh? “Gimme a second, I’ll be out!”

Oh.

Okay.

Breathe, Reese.

He was probably doing a quick clean up, since I was an unexpected guest. What I could see of the rest of his home was incredibly tidy, which was surprising to me, for a man. My father had been a messy guy, and so had Gray. I was always on both of their asses about not being slobs, but I knew it was in vain. Those bad habits were ingrained.

Maybe it was a symptom of being a military man though. The kitchen opened into the living room, where a whole wall was dedicated to army paraphernalia. Framed flags and certificates, plaques, shadowboxes holding dog tags and medals. I took off my boots, leaving them beside his at the front door before I crept a little closer, tossing my purse on the couch as I went. My eyes widened over one particular medal.

“Hey Jason!”

“Everybody calls me Jay!”

“Sure Jason,” I responded, grinning when I heard him let out a loud groan. “What’s with the purple heart? Caught a piece of shrapnel to the head? Is that why you are the way you are?”

“Haha! Very funny!”

I giggled. “No, wait! I know! They gave you these to make up for experimenting on you, huh? You were a scrawny kid, and they pumped you full of stuff? Are you the failed test subject before Captain America?”

He full on laughed at that one, though it was muffled by distance. “Oh, I see you’ve got jokes, huh?”

I was still making my way down his wall of memories when I ran across the pictures, and the sight of him in his uniform honestly made my heart skip a beat. So damned handsome, I thought, then moved on to pictures of him and what I assumed to be friends, beside helicopters and other vehicles, pictures of them working. I was no military buff, but I knew a little. Unless I was mistaken, Jason was a sergeant, and in some of the pictures, it was almost like I could see the respect from lower-ranked soldiers as they watch him talk, or demonstrate something.

“Yeah, I’ve got plenty of jokes. Are you a super-soldier? What’s your trigger word?”

“Well, I don’t know about a trigger word,” he said, from somewhere behind me. He was in the room with me, but I didn’t turn around, pretending to be focused on the pictures. “But I damn sure believe you might be a trigger person, princess. Swear you make me crazy.”

“What’s wrong Sgt. Wright? Can’t take a little challenge?”

I closed my eyes, sucking in a breath as Jason wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me tight against his chest. A whimper escaped my throat as he pressed his lips to my bare shoulder, trailing them up to my neck.

“You know,” he said, his lips brushing my ear, “I like how “Sgt. Wright” sounds from you. It’s about damned time you showed some respect and addressed me by my proper title.”

Eyes still closed, I grinned. “Oh, well I’m definitely never saying that shit again.”

“I bet you do,” he said, sweeping my braids over my shoulder.

Reflexively, I tipped my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck, even as I opened my mouth to say, “I bet I don’t.”

Those words never came out.

Jason’s mouth was delectably hot against my neck, sucking and biting and kissing until I involuntarily arched into him, feeling the heaviness of his dick pressed against the small of my back. I tried, in vain, to bite back a moan as he sucked hard enough to leave a mark, but when his tongue darted out to soothe the sting, I damn near melted against him.

He moved up to my earlobe, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth as his hands moved from my waist to underneath my dress. He groaned in my ear as his hands cupped my bare breasts and squeezed. They felt heavy in his hands, sensitive and hot as his thumbs danced over my nipples. Wetness pooled between my legs as they hardened into stiff peaks under his attention.

I arched against him again, purposely this time. He chuckled a little as he dropped one of his hands, gripping my thigh to urge my legs apart. I opened for him, moaning as his calloused hand cupped my sex, and squeezed.

“You’re ready, huh?” he asked, dipping a thick finger into me. My only response was a sharp gasp as he did that again, pushing it deeper, the palm of his hand rasping over my clit as he pumped his finger into me. “I asked you a question, Reese.” He pinched my nipple between his forefinger and thumb, gently tugging and teasing and making me thrust it further into his hand. He moved his hand from my breast, anchoring it around my waist to keep me still as he drove a second finger into me, plunging deep as he ground the heel of his hand against my clit. “Reese…”

“Yes,” I moaned, breathless, as pressure began to mount deep in my core.

“Turn around.”

“No. Do it like this,” I mumbled. That was exactly what I wanted, from behind, with his hand on me while he slammed into me.

“Turn. Around.”

I shook my head, which apparently he didn’t like very much.

He pulled his fingers from me and turned me around, and as soon as we were facing each other, I scowled.

“You asked about the purple heart,” he said. There was the tiniest shred of anxiety in his voice, and that made me stop scowling, to actually listen. “This is why.”

His moments in the bedroom must have been to change clothes, because now he was shirtless, with basketball shorts slung low on his hips. Jason’s body was as gorgeous as he was – beautiful pecan skin spread over a thick, muscular frame, decorated with intricately detailed army tattoos. My eyes searched his arms and torso for a wound, for a scar, something to clue me in to what he meant.