Steel Rain: A Military Romance Collection

by A. Gorman

  I couldn’t believe that this sexy man wanted my baggage and me, but I’m thrilled he did. I sat up, hoping to help him with his pants and he smirked.

  “I’m not rushing this, Eves. I’ve wanted you for way too long to rush through any part of this,” he drawled out. That voice made me shiver with desire.

  “Mmm, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good, lay back down,” he commanded and followed.

  He kneeled down on the floor, taking off my sandals, and placed soft kisses on my married flesh. Causing goose bumps to rise on my sink.

  “Feel that, Evie? I like this part of your body as much I like the rest of you. Do you understand? I don’t care that you’re not perfect…your my kind of perfect.”

  I was taken back…he made me speechless. He’s seen me at my worst and he still wants me. “Thank you, Cain.” Tears leaked from my eyelids.

  “Did I hurt you,” he asked concerned that I changed my mind.

  “No, the opposite, Caine. You make me forget…you make me so happy.”

  “You make me happy too, Evie, so very happy.” He continued kissing every inch of my clothed body. He removed his clothes down to his boxers, and took his time undress me, like I was a package full of surprises.

  “You’re gorgeous, Evie,” he said as he ran his hands down my body and hooked his thumbs in my panties. He slowly pulled them down my legs and off my body. The only thing between him and me was his boxers.

  He stood and pushed the fabric down his body, and stopped before his cock was exposed. My body was quaking was anticipation.

  “Need help?” I smirk.

  “Mmm, maybe.”

  I sat up and rubbed my hand along his cock, my eyes widened when I felt the thickness between the material. Oh my.

  “Keep doing that and we’re going to have a mess.” He laughed.

  “Sorry.” My cheeks flamed with heat.

  I grabbed the waistband of the boxes and tugged them down. His cock stood at attention in front of my face as the material slipped over the head. Fuck, he’s huge. I licked my lips, wanting a taste. He must have read my mind as took his boxers off the rest of the way.

  Cain pushed me back on the bed, caressing my body with his fingers until he reached my sex. His fingers found my opening and teased my clit, pulses of pleasure surged throughout my body. I needed him in me now, so I grabbed his cock and started stroking it with my hand, causing him to stop what he was doing.

  “I think we’re both ready.”

  I nodded in agreement, and he aligned his cock to my entrance, slamming into me. The feeling caused me to moan out from the fullness. Shit. He isn’t wearing a condom.

  “Stop!” Cain froze mid stroke. “You aren’t wearing a condom,” I rushed out.

  “Fuck. Sorry, I got tunnel vision once I undressed you. Don’t go anywhere.” He winked at me as he pulled out and jumped off the bed, going into what I assumed was his bathroom. I instantly missed the fullness and I wanted him back inside of me.

  A few moments passed and he returned with golden packages in his hand. He winked as he laid them on the nightstand, keeping one in his hand. He ripped the package open with his teeth and unrolled the latex on his thick cock.

  “Now where was I? Oh, that’s right…I was here,” he said as he pushes himself back into my sex. “I like being here,” he grunts out as he began steady strokes into my needy pussy.

  With each stroke, desire built in my body, my orgasm quickly reaching its release. His relentless pace slowed and long, languid strokes replace them, driving me crazy with anticipation of my release. Cain bent down, and kissed me deeply, leaving me breathless. He slammed into me, quickening his pace, and my release was on the verge of exploding.

  “Right. There. Cain. Oh. Myyy,” I moaned out. The room started spinning as my orgasm over took my body.

  “Yeah, baby, I’m right behind you. Oh, Evie,” he groaned out as he slammed into me a few more times. Sweat was dripping off his forehead, and he looked so sexy and he was turning me on again.

  My body was still feeling the effects of my orgasm as he pulled out. Cain got up and went back to the bathroom, and returned with a washcloth.

  “Sorry, I got you a little messy.” He grinned.

  “It’s perfectly okay.”

  “Good…spend the night with me,” he said he cleaned me up.

  “Okay.” I gave him a big cheesy grin.

  “I want to hold you, scoot up.”

  I nodded. “I’d like that.” I scooted up where we could pull the covers up around us, and he gets into the bed. Cain pulled me into his chest and I felt his lower half covered by his boxers. Thoughtful guy.

  “Evie, I want to make us official… Will you do me the honor and be my girlfriend,” he whispered in my ear.

  My heart did a double beat as love shot through it and radiated through my body. That is when I knew that this man was put in my life to complete me…and build me up so I could help others. How could I turn him down? I couldn’t.

  “Yes, Cain. Yes, yes, yes.”

  He pulled me into a soul-searing kiss, a kiss that I’d never get used to. This was the start of a new chapter, our chapter. I couldn’t wait fill the pages with our story.

  This wasn’t the end…just the beginning.

  Look out for more of the Gentle Touch series coming soon!

  About the Author

  A. Gorman was born and raised in a small community in Central Indiana. She left the slow moving life of the country for the fast-paced city life. After spending twelve years in the city and becoming a mother to two wild and crazy kids, she chose to move back to the peace and quiet of the country after marrying the man of her dreams and gaining three more children.

  As an avid reader, A. never set out to be an author since she’s a full-time editor for several incredible authors. However, after editing one day, a voice started talking to her and talking and talking. She decided to sit down and write what she had to say, and it turned out she had a lot to say. Then that one voice turned to two, and another story came to life. Not believing that anything she was writing was publishable, she asked a few friends to critique her manuscript…and now she’s the proud author of the Their Sins series, with several more series and standalones planned.

  When she’s not corralling their five kids and two dogs or out in their garden, you can find her at her desk editing or writing her next novel with a cup of coffee and classical music cranked up on her iPad. While she loves reading, A. is addicted to all things British, coffee, and gummy bears—in no particular order.

  Social Media:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorAGorman

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AGormanAuthor

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8185027.A_Gorman

  Website: http://authoragorman.com

  Chapter 1

  Duke

  Three wrong turns aren’t going to get you anywhere. They’re going to bring you right back to where you started.

  Intense, wise brown eyes narrowed at me through clear glasses then back down to the report he was reading. His desk was littered with papers, manila folders, a clunky government phone, and a scuffed Blackberry that looked as if it had been dropped too many times. His entire office was just as dull as he was.

  I didn’t want to admit to being nervous, so I discreetly wiped the palms of my hands on my slacks and waited for my boss to say something – anything.

  “This is the third one, Hawthorne,” he finally said, yanking his reading glasses off and fixing me with his beady stare. He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued, “What am I supposed to do with you?”

  I threw him a cocky smirk. “You could let me off with a couple unpaid days of leave. I could use some beach time.”

  “Not funny,” he growled, letting out a huff. He reached up and hooked a finger into his tie at his throat, loosening it.

  “A guy’s gotta try,” I replied, trying to sound cooler than I felt.


  He shook his head, closed my file, and then folded his hands on top of it. “Three counts of excessive force and you think Headquarters is gonna be satisfied with a few days of unpaid leave? Yeah, nooo. Not gonna fly.”

  “It wasn’t that excessive,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  “Three strikes, Duke. This is serious.”

  “Whatever,” I snarked, waving a dismissive hand.

  Lifting an eyebrow at me, my boss, Jeffery Howard, turned toward his laptop, hit a few buttons, and then turned it around to face me. On the screen was a cleverly constructed montage of my not-so-excessive force infractions, filmed by, of course, bystanders who would rather record cops doing their jobs from their cell phones than actually help people, or, God forbid, support law enforcement.

  My jaw clenched hard. I tried to keep my face impassive while he showed me the first clip of my knee digging into the back of a suspect on the ground. The shitbag was drunk and resisting arrest after rear-ending a school bus full of kids on an Indian reservation. I was just a tad pissed off. So what if I broke his wrist? He shouldn’t have been resisting – or drinking and driving. Screamed like a little bitch, too, that one. I bit back a grin at the memory.

  The second clip was of a guy convulsing from my Taser. I really didn’t understand the issue with this one. We had a warrant to search his house, and the result was about six kilos of cocaine, thirty grand in cash, and a bunch of pipes and other drug paraphernalia. He didn’t want to go to prison, I get it, but he took a swing at me. With a knife. I pulled out the Taser and let him have it. So what if I didn’t exactly pull the Taser prongs out in a timely fashion? The asshole had taken a swing at me! With a knife! He had stopped convulsing eventually. Did he die? No.

  The last clip was the worst. We’d responded to an armed robbery at a local bank. Banks were federally insured, therefore, the cases always belonged to the FBI instead of the local police, and honestly? I really hated those types of calls. But my partner and I had been the first responders, and I had seen the suspect speed away on a motorcycle. Hopping in my government ride, I’d given chase. The dumbass crashed into a guardrail on the freeway during rush hour, and when I stopped the car and got out to arrest his ass, I jumped on him before he could get up from his bike. Except he pulled a gun from the bag where the stolen money had been kept. He had pointed it in my face, and seeing the gun, I’d completely snapped. Snatching it out of his hand, I’d tossed it to the ground and… I may or may not have smashed his face into the pavement more times than maybe was necessary. He sort of needed facial reconstruction on his cheekbones and nose after that.

  I snorted out loud, trying not to smile. I didn’t mean to. Jeffery shot me a warning look. I straightened up, putting my eyes back on the screen, my lips pursed.

  Some shithead had filmed that one from their car while traffic had been stopped on the bridge due to our scuffle. The greedy dick had even tried to sell it to the local news before so kindly turning it in to the local P.D., who then forwarded it to the FBI.

  “That last one was the worst, Duke,” my boss said.

  I shook my head and stroked a hand over my beard, replying, “I don’t care who you are, you pull a gun on a cop, it’s gonna end badly for you.”

  He nodded. “While I agree with that, you and I both know that once you disarmed him, the threat was gone. The face bashing was excessive…”

  I cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just dole out the punishment so I can get the hell out of here.”

  His face got red and he pounded a fist on his desk. “First off, you aren’t running anything here, so just shut up and let me speak!”

  I gave him the briefest of nods while I kept my narrowed eyes on him, my lips clamped in a firm line, my jaw pulsing in annoyance.

  “You’re a good agent, Hawthorne, but you’re a loose fucking cannon. The government is cracking down on excessive force, especially in light of the news lately of police in the funny papers. Ferguson, Baltimore, you get the picture. The FBI needs to maintain its squeaky clean reputation.”

  I snorted at that. He glared at me, but continued. “Because you’ve been a valuable asset to this department for,” he paused, looking at my record, “three years, I am gonna give you two choices. Either this goes to Internal Affairs for a full investigation, which could take up to a year, or you go on witness protection duty.”

  My blue eyes bulged in their sockets and I shot up out of my chair. “A year! How is that even a choice?”

  Fucking bastard! Nobody wants to catch an I.A. case. Nobody. It’s a mixed bag of horrendous questions and incessant visits to the government psych and, I shudder, anger management classes, combined with motherfucking desk duty the whole time. No thanks. But Witness Protection Detail? That’s a glorified babysitting position. You’re stuck watching over people who have cooperated with the government and now have a very hefty price tag on their heads for being a “snitch” and sending people, like big-time drug lords and such, to prison for all sort of hideous crimes ranging from massive drug deals to first-degree murder. Nobody wanted to be stuck on that detail.

  “You’re kidding me with these choices,” I growled.

  He looked at me, disbelief dancing across his face. “Sit down. And you’ve got to be shitting me with that comment. You’re getting off easy. You don’t even want to know what others in your position have been sanctioned with. Some have been fired, Duke.”

  “Others in my position?” I snapped. I pointed at his laptop. “None of that was excessive force. Those pieces of shit deserved every ounce of what they got, and you know it, Jeff!”

  He shook his head. “Calling them ‘pieces of shit’ is your first mistake. You can’t do that. You just can’t, Hawthorne.” He sighed. “Look, when I started with the bureau twenty years ago, this type of stuff happened all the time. But thanks to technology, we’ve become the KGB… the ‘kinder, gentler bureau’ – there’s no way of escaping your sins. They’re being recorded by every cell phone and traffic camera. You’re gonna have to decide which of these sanctions you want, or I’m going to decide for you.”

  I sat back down, huffing as I leaned back in the squeaky chair. I raked a hand through my too-long hair. “So one WPD assignment, and I’m done, is that right? No matter how long – or short – the assignment lasts?”

  He nodded.

  “Then let’s just get on with it,” I groaned.

  He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Good choice.”

  “Fuck me,” I murmured.

  Chapter 2

  Rayanne

  If you run from danger, you’ll just die tired. So what happens when you run toward it?

  I stared at the subpoena in my hand and chewed on my thumbnail. I’d seen a million subpoenas before, being in my line of work, but never had any of them had my name on them.

  What was I going to do? I couldn’t testify against my bosses. I just couldn’t, but it seemed the government was going to force me. My bosses had been good to me, and I loved my job. The paper began to blur behind unshed tears. I set it down and took a sip of my wine. I’d been a paralegal in the Watson Law Firm for five years. They had been the first ones to hire me after I had finished my paralegal schooling, and I truly loved my job. I couldn’t believe the Watson brothers would even be involved in something like this. I read over the subpoena again.

  “The United States of America vs. George Edgar Watson and Elmo Gerald Watson.”

  I shook my head.

  “Two counts of Murder-For-Hire. One count Failure to Pay Corporate Taxes in Excess of One Million Dollars.”

  Murder-for-hire?

  These were old, experienced guys. Like, legit attorneys. Okay, they were in their fifties, but I couldn’t believe George and Elmo would ever do anything like this. Sure, they sometimes took on some shady clients, but I did not peg them to be capable of anything even close to this.

  And why was I being dragged into this?

  I took another sip of my Malbec. Damn, this stuff was b
itter and dry. I rarely drank wine, even though I had a bunch of it in my condo. My sister worked at a winery and was always bringing me bottles to try. I would sample it to appease her, but mostly, wine gave me a headache, and really, who has time for headaches? Tonight, though, I needed something numbing – relaxing. Anything to help me to calm the hell down, and her wine was all I had.

  I sighed and set the legal documents down on top of the envelope which had been delivered by some random stranger. She’d rung my doorbell two hours ago to serve them to me and made me sign for the certified documents. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Murder-for-hire…

  Who did they murder? Not once, in five years, had I seen anything like that. As far as I knew, neither of them had even so much as a speeding ticket. And they certainly weren’t violent. I recall once when one of their criminal gang member clients had come in for a consult, George had secretly hired security to stay in his office with him.

  Freaking weenie…

  I got up from the plush living room chair I’d just purchased last month, along with the rest of the new living room furniture, and walked to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face. I breathed in through my nose, then I exhaled through my mouth. Then I did it again.

  Drying my face on one of my new burgundy towels, I looked at myself in the mirror. Worry lined my forehead and made me look ugly. Never had I loved the way I looked, but this wasn’t helping.

  Huffing, I left the bathroom with a claw-clip in my hand as I twisted my short blonde hair up and off my neck.

  Murder-for-hire…

  I spied my wine glass on the end-table and made my way toward it, swallowing it back in one gulp, and then stalking to the kitchen for more. Opening the fridge, I popped off the temporary cork and poured more.