Hero - The Assignment: A Military Romance (9 page)

I could feel her body starting to tighten around mine and knew she was close. I slid one hand around to the front of her and started to rub my thumb across her clit. My own body was starting to feel that pressure inside, and I wanted her to go first. Suddenly, she squeezed her thighs, letting out a small cry of pleasure as she came, and the feel of her pulsing around me made me grab her, thrust up deep inside her. I squeezed my eyes closed as I pressed my face against her chest, but it wasn't her I saw as I came, but rather those challenging blue eyes. I hated myself in that moment, but let myself have it.

A minute or two later, I raised my head and leaned back against the couch. Tara smiled down at me as she climbed off. She straightened her clothes as I pulled off the condom, grimacing.

“Trash can's in the kitchen,” she said, gesturing. “I'm going to get cleaned up.”

I nodded and watched her go as I tucked my cock back into my pants. I stood carefully, hearing the bathroom door close. I quickly went into the kitchen, disposed of the condom and washed my hands.I felt bad for not sticking around until she at least came out of the bathroom, but I didn't want to talk. Hell, I didn't know what to say. Thanks? Hope to see you soon, even though that would be a lie. That night with Leighton had been the only time I'd ever slipped out after having sex without even a note.

Until now.

The physical release had done nothing to stop the pounding in my head as I hurried down the outside stairs, but it wasn't the vertigo threatening to make an appearance, but the memory of those blue eyes that sent me home to recover.

Chapter 7

Leighton

My
ears rang and I could still feel the bass pumping in my chest as Paris and I pushed through the crowd to the corner of the street. The break between sets was short, just enough time to grab some fresh air, but more importantly, a quick smoke. The sickly sweet smoke from the joint made me laugh before Paris even passed it over. A tight knot of young guys next to us had the same idea and the distinctive smell of marijuana drifted out into the street.

“They weren't this popular last month,” Paris observed as she looked around at the throng who'd come out to hear the band.

“You must be their good-luck charm,” I said before taking a drag on the joint.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself enjoy the way the world around me smoothed out. When I opened my eyes, Paris was looking at the band's poster plastered on the alley wall.

“Yeah, the drummer wasn't bad, but now I'm thinking the front man might be more fun.”

“They always look like that, playing it up for the crowd,” I said, handing her back the joint.

The guys next to us let their comments about our dresses, shoes, and shapes get louder, clearly hoping that we'd take the compliments and want to thank them. I rolled my eyes and Paris turned her back to them, intentionally giving them a good look at her firm behind while ignoring them at the same time.

“We could go backstage, if you want. You know, get away from the general admission tickets.” She pitched her voice loud enough for the guys to hear.

“I'm not up for hearing all about chord progressions and talks with big record labels. Too boring. At least this band's got a beat I can dance to. Remember your fling with that guy in the jazz band?”

“Experimental jazz.” Paris sighed on a smoky exhale. “Yeah, he was sexy, but that noise was awful. And he was poor as shit.”

A couple of the guys behind her had either gotten brave or stupid – I was guessing the latter – and started to step between us. Paris flicked her ash at their feet and grabbed my elbow, spinning me back through the crowd. The bouncer opened the velvet rope without a second glance, and we strolled back up to the VIP lounge.Ricky sat in our horseshoe booth with both arms hooked over the strapless shoulders of a pair of bleach blondes. One was in vivid green, and the other in a blinding orange, but everything else matched from the style of their dresses, to their overdone eyeliner, and rhinestone hair clips.

Seriously? Rhinestone?

“Identical twins,” Ricky said with a triumphant grin.

“Look again.” I shook my head. “And you might want to lay off the shots.”

Ricky peered at both the bleach blondes in turn, seeing that aside from their identical hair and boobs, they actually looked different. He grinned at me, then spoke to them, “Sorry, ladies, but my real diamonds are back. Red and real's what does it for me.”

I repressed the desire to roll my eyes at his statement, watching as he shooed them out of the booth. They scowled at me as the waiter Ricky signaled escorted them from the lounge. When Paris and I sat down, a bottle of chilled champagne appeared, and Ricky sat up to pour for us like nothing had happened.

“So who's ready to dance?” he asked, his eyes sliding over to me.

“I think I'm going to have to call it,” I said, my words slow and sticky from the marijuana. “Grandfather's been calling.”

I pulled out my phone to try and sell the lie. When I looked at the screen, it took a few minutes for me to realize it was actually true. A line of four missed calls and Grandfather wasn't a man who was used to waiting.

Shit.

I immediately called him back. “Grandfather?” I asked as the crowd cheered the return of the band.

“Leighton? Where are you?” I could hear the disappointment. “Never mind, just come to my office when you get home. I've got a late overseas conference call so I'll be up. We have something to discuss.”

He hung up without waiting for me to respond, and I glared at the phone. From behind me, I heard the familiar giggle of a high Paris. I turned in time to see her collapse against the back of the booth. I stared at her for a moment, then started giggling as well.

“Let's dance!” she said suddenly. She jumped up and grabbed my hand.

“No, wait, I've got to go.” I frowned. “Where am I going?”

Ricky was right behind me, and his arms slid around my waist, fingers brushing against the undersides of my breasts. “You're going up to the roof with me. I paid the bouncer to let us go up there.”

He pressed his lips against the space below my ear. One hand slid up to cup my breast.

I frowned despite the buzz I still had going on. He knew I hated it when he did that in public. I shifted so that his hand dropped back down. “No, I really have to go somewhere...home. I have to go home,” I said.

“Come on, babe, I gotta have you.” He licked my earlobe. “On the roof. Imagine doing it with all of LA spread out below us.” He put his hand back on my breast and squeezed.

I spun around and shoved him back. “I've told you before that's too far.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. My buzz was gone, and I was just pissed now.

“I've been summoned.” I suddenly didn't want to party anymore. I didn't want to see my grandfather, but he was as good an excuse as any. “Don't want to keep him waiting.”

Ricky stared at me for a moment, then deliberately turned toward the blonde in a green dress hovering nearby. “Can't pass up the view, babe. I already paid the bouncer.”

I watched as he staggered off in the direction of the green dress. My stomach churned as he leaned toward her, knowing exactly what he was whispering in her ear. I knew I could stop him. One little wave and I could have him following me up to the roof.

Ricky caught my eyes as he hooked an arm over the blonde's shoulder. I waved, letting him know exactly how I felt.

“Have fun with your drummer,” I said to Paris as I stepped past her.

“Front man,” she said, dancing against the railing of the VIP lounge. Her dark brown waves brushed against her bare shoulders. “I think I'm going front man tonight.”

“Well, have fun,” I said as I walked down the stairs to the side door, shooting off a text to my driver as I went. He appeared at the end of the alley before I reached it, and I took a small nap in the back of the town car as he drove me to my grandfather's house.

I
woke up when my driver paused for the large wrought-iron gates to open. I popped a strong mint in my mouth and shook out my curls, grimacing at the smell. The distinctive smoke clung to me. I supposed I could always tell my grandfather it was from the crowd. I doubted he'd believe me, but I didn't have much of a choice. The driver opened the car door, and then trotted up the steps to open the front door for me. I went inside and headed to the kitchen for a soda. I needed a moment to collect myself.

“Leighton? Let's do this now before my call comes through,” Grandfather called from his office.

I choked on the fizzy soda and trudged down the hallway to my grandfather's study, still coughing. He stood in the hallway holding the door open for me. I stepped past him, stiffening as he gave me a disapproving look. I stood in front of his desk and clung to my caffeinated soda, needing it to hold more than drink it.

“Isn't it almost two in the morning?” I asked.

“And Japan will be calling any minute,” he said, striding around his desk to face me. He was still dressed in his suit and tie, buttons done all the way up. Despite knowing that he'd been up since five this morning, he looked more awake than I felt.

“Is everything okay? Is it Ian?” I asked. It hadn't even occurred to me that it could be my brother. An icy hand gripped my heart.

“Ian is fine.” Grandfather gave me a steady look for a moment, and then continued, “In fact, I haven't been able to tell him yet, but his honorable discharge will be going through soon. He'll be able to come home by the end of the month.”

I sipped my soda and thought about how I was supposed to react to the news. Ian was pretty much fully recovered from his injuries, and definitely happy to be back on base. I hadn't talked to him for a few weeks, but I knew he was ready to get back to his life in the army. He'd hate Grandfather pulling strings and getting him out of somewhere he really wanted to be.

“When are you telling him?” I figured the question was a safe one.

“Well, I would have told him tonight at a dinner I wanted to have, except I thought it should be a family celebration. Not hearing from you in days and not being able to track you down forced me to change my plans.”

Shit.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I've been busy.”

My grandfather's face darkened. “That might be true for all you tell me, but my sources have been telling me otherwise.”

“Sources? Are you having me followed?” I asked. I knew my tone was bordering on disrespectful, but I was pissed, and I really felt like it was justified.

“No, you're not subtle enough for me to need that,” Grandfather said. He crossed his arms, and I knew he was annoyed. He never crossed his arms otherwise. It ruined the line of the suit. “I simply paid a few of your favorite places to let me know when you come and go.”

My mind raced over the last few days. Paris and I had accepted every invitation that had come our way and it was all a blur of parties, concerts, lavish dinners, and drinking. There were hotel rooms, restaurants, bars, and clubs that knew us by our first names, so keeping track wouldn't have been difficult. And I knew how people who worked at places like that viewed the people like me who didn't have to work for a living. Hell, I knew how my own grandfather looked at me.

“Suffice it to say, I've not been happy with the reports I've received,” he said. “Since I can't seem to stop your bad decisions, I've decided to do something else.”

Shit. Grandfather was the executor of my inheritance, and I was sure he could cut me off with one phone call.

“I'll stay here tonight,” I said, hoping to placate him. “Let's invite Ian over for breakfast. He and I can make pancakes, just like we used to. Then you can tell him the great news about his honorable discharge.”

Grandfather blinked at my rapid change of subject, and then his eyes narrowed for a moment before his expression softened. “You don't have to pretend I don't know how Ian feels. Despite what you think, I don't want you or your brother to be unhappy. I just want to do what's best for you.”

I sighed. He always used that line. “Ian loves the army. He always talks about how proud our parents would've been of him. He's not going to want to leave.” It was pointless to try to argue. “Besides, what's he going to do instead?”

“Ian is going to go to college.”

Well, that was predictable. Which meant I knew what was coming next.