Screw the unpacking, it can wait another hour…or two.
Ford
I leave the chick, what the fuck was her name?—in the shower to clean off, which may take a while considering all the dirty shit I did to her. I should really at least try to remember the names of the women I sleep with. It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just used to calling people by their last names. I know it started with a P. Patience. Paisley. Petra.
Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to see her again.
My jeans take a few minutes to find and I curse myself the entire time I hunt for them for staying the night. Not because I’m worried this girl will get the wrong message, I get the feeling she’s already forgotten me, but because it means I’m going to catch so much shit for it when I get home.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket as I pull on my shirt and I answer, not needing to look at the caller I.D. “Ten minutes, Beth” I say. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.”
“You promised you wouldn’t be late.”
I double check my pockets for my wallet and keys and slip out of the bedroom and down the hall, hoping the beat of water from the shower will cover my conversation. Now that we’re dick deep in the morning after, the last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome. Thankfully, she’s about as interested in making this thing more than it is as I am.
Remembering the reason why, I say, “I’m not going to be late.”
“Unless your booty call is next door, you’re going to be late,” comes the sassy reply.
Unfortunately, she got the sass from me. If there’s such a thing as male sass. Pretty sure they just call that being a dick.
“I said I would be there and I will be.”
“If you’re not here in ten minutes, I will never forgive you.”
Even the click from the line going dead sounds full of sass and I sigh. It is way too early to decode female behavior, so I stuff my phone in my pocket and try to remember where the front door is.
I find the living room on the second try and am crossing to the door when I notice the gun cabinet on my way out. Since the whole place is covered in boxes and it’s one of the only pieces of furniture it sticks out. Not only that, but for a second I think her old man is gonna pop out of a closet somewhere and beat the shit out of me. I’m not sexist, but I’m no stranger to the one-nighters and I have to say a gun cabinet at a chick’s place is a first.
Curiosity has me pausing by the glass case as I slip into my shoes and find myself admiring it. She has the newest Glock I’d been coveting for weeks. What the hell is this chick doing with so much firepower?
To be honest, her collection almost makes a man want to get on his knees and beg.
My phone vibrates and I curse underneath my breath. I’m walking out the door when a photo on top of a box catches my eye. I wouldn’t have paid the damn thing any mind, but I recognize the people in the photo.
Or rather, the uniform they’re wearing—because it’s the same one I wear to work every day.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
But there’s no denying the Marine uniform or the woman standing front and center. The same woman I just left naked and sated in the shower. The woman I had wrapped around my cock and screaming my name.
I look back at the shower, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I made it a rule to never fuck someone I could even remotely be connected to on the job years ago. There are some lessons you have to learn the hard way. Unfortunately, I must have been more wasted than I thought last night if I didn’t pick up on any military vibes from her. Normally it’s not hard to spot a Marine in a crowd. Her tits and ass must have distracted me.
If I were my niece and I had to give myself a lecture it would be that I shouldn’t sleep around. Scratch that. If I were my niece and I had to give a lecture even remotely related to the topic of sex, I’d put that Glock to my head and pull the trigger.
With her innocent face in mind, I decide to forget it. It’s a big base. The likelihood we’ll run into each other is slim to none.
My phone vibrates with another irate text from Beth and I leave as quietly as I can, already forgetting the issue.
Besides, I doubt I’ll ever see her again.
Did you enjoy the sneak peek of Traitor? Get your copy here.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Nicole Blanchard lives in Mississippi with her family and their menagerie of animals. She chooses each day to chase her own fairy tale even if they contain their fair share of dragons. She is married to her best friend and owns her own business.
Nicole survives on a diet of too many books and substantial amounts of root beer and slim jims. When not reading, she’s lavishing attention on her family or inhaling every episode of The Walking Dead and The Big Bang Theory.
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Also by Nicole Blanchard
First to Fight Series
Anchor
Warrior
Survivor
Savior
Traitor
Immortals Ever After Series
Deal with a Dragon
Vow to a Vampire
Fated to a Fae King
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Friend Zone
Dark Romance
Toxic
Standalone Novellas
Bear with Me
Darkest Desires
Mechanical Hearts
First to Fight Box Set
Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Blanchard
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Cover Design: Octopi Covers
First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 84