Gorgeous: A Commander in Briefs Novel

by Kristy Marie

  He starts with just breathing against me, and then his nose buries into my wetness and I nearly come from the action alone.

  “Oh, God. Please take off my panties.”

  Cade grunts, his hold on my open thighs, his grip tightening almost uncomfortably. I shift, trying to find a better position without being a whiny bitch but Cade holds me still, his mouth leaving my center.

  “Cade?”

  I lean up on an elbow and rub down his back. His muscles are rigid and tense underneath my fingertips. I move to his face and lift his chin with my finger, noticing that his eyes are dilated, his stare bordering on vacant. “Cade? Are you okay?” He doesn’t answer me. The only response is squeezing my thigh harder in a punishing hold. Vaguely, I think of his PTSD but since I’ve never seen it happen, I’m not sure if he’s just being aggressive in bed or what.

  I try again, my tone calm, hoping he’ll speak to me. “Cade. You’re hurting me. Look at me.” He doesn’t. All he does is squeeze the nonexistent muscles in my leg, and I nearly cry out from the pain. “Cade, please,” I beg, as tears prick at my eyes. I don’t want it to be this way. I’ve never been hurt or had rough sex, but this—this vacant stare—as he pins me down with the weight of his body, silent like the soldier he is, has me fucking scared.

  “Cade, please let me up. I don’t want to do this anymore.” A sob builds in my throat, and I try pushing at his bare chest. “Cade!” I scream as the first tear falls. “Get off of me!” The first tear is followed by about fifty more before instinct kicks in and I scream for help. Someone will see me in my underwear, but I can’t deal with whatever is going on in Cade’s head. Obviously he is somewhere far away from here, and to be honest, the look in his eyes and the power of his body bearing down on me has me fearful for my safety.

  “Help me!” I scream to anyone who can hear me. Surely someone will hear unless they’re all outside.

  Oh, God.

  What if they left?

  Panicked, I kick and scratch at Cade, pleading for him to let me go, but he holds me steady, only grunting in response to my hits.

  “Please.” Tears drop onto my chest. “Please stop, Cade.”

  But he doesn’t. His gaze remains far away before he starts to rock, squeezing me so hard that I scream out from more than fear. “Help me! Someone, please!”

  The door flies open seconds later, and I have never been happier to see Theo’s scowling face.

  “Something is wrong,” I cry out to him, sucking back the tears and God knows what else on my face. “Something is wrong with Cade.”

  Theo’s brows lower, and then it seems to dawn on him what’s happening. He hollers for Anniston and then rushes to us, trying to pry Cade’s hands from my legs.

  “Jameson,” he whispers softly, his voice smooth and confident like he’s done this a million times before. “Listen to my voice, Jameson.” Theo tugs on his hand again, but it doesn’t loosen. I try not to cry anymore, pushing through the pain. Cade is suffering from something I will never understand, and I … a hiccup escapes me. I caused this. I pushed him when he wasn’t ready. I never thought the reason he hasn’t slept with anyone in years is because it’s a trigger for him.

  My chest feels like I’ve swallowed fire. It hurts. This beautiful and kind man, who was doing great here with Anniston … all his progress … I’ve set him back. Shame overrides my embarrassment as Anniston and Hayes run into Cade’s bedroom, Anniston with a syringe in her hand.

  “What happened?” she asks, rushing to Cade’s side. Immediately, she starts talking to him like Theo is, low and calm. She doesn’t even bother waiting for an explanation from me. She knows what’s going on and what needs to be done.

  “Gorgeous,” she soothes, stroking her hand along his cheek, “I need you to look at me.” She turns his chin, and he lets her. “Good job,” she praises, handing Theo the syringe and placing both hands on his cheeks, forcing him to see only her. “Where are you, Cade?”

  Cade breathes harshly into her face but she holds him still as Hayes comes over and joins me on the bed, reaching for my hand, interlacing our fingers and putting his index finger of his other hand to his lips, telling me to stay quiet.

  I want to scream. I want to break down in front of all these people because Cade still has me pinned and my leg is throbbing. I’m just fucking ashamed and embarrassed at the whole situation.

  I want to go home.

  But then I hear Cade grunt before loosening his grip and rasping out to Anniston, “Make it stop. Make it go away.” His voice is pained like whatever he’s reliving in his head is the equivalent to torture.

  I stay quiet, letting the hot tears trail down my face as Anniston motions for Theo to hand her the syringe. “I’ll make it go away,” Anniston promises. I barely make out his nod when Anniston says, “I need you to let go of Breck, okay?”

  For a moment everything is just dead silent and then Cade jumps back like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Get her out of here!” he roars, trying to push up from the bed, but Theo holds him there, whispering calmly into his ear. I reach out, wanting to comfort Cade but Hayes scoops me up and shakes his head.

  “Let’s get you out of here, darlin.” Hayes carries me to the door, allowing me one more glance at the mess I made. Theo squeezes Cade’s shoulders and holds him steady while Anniston injects him with what I guess to be a sedative. The last thing I see before Hayes carries me out the door is Anniston touching Cade’s face and asking, “You still with me?”

  And when he answers, “I’m always with you, Commander,” a part of me dies inside.

  He doesn’t need me.

  I’m crazy for thinking he needed saving. I’m no hero. Everything he needs he has right here. As Hayes carries me across the hall to his room, I finally let go and just fucking cry.

  I cry big, fat, ugly tears into his olive-green t-shirt. I cry because I’ve left everyone and everything behind for a cause I thought I was meant for. I cry because I wasn’t there for Bennett when he passed from this world. I cry because I freaked out and couldn’t bring his mentor back from a horrific flashback today. A flashback I caused.

  And then I cry for me again because now I love this family like my own but I don’t belong here.

  Hayes rocks me back and forth on his bed, quietly shushing me to his solid chest. “Let me get you some clothes, darlin.”

  Oh God.

  He’s so fucking sweet that I sob louder. Hayes squeezes me tight and kisses the top of my head before sliding me off his lap. Immediately, I roll over on my stomach so he doesn’t see my face. His pillow smells like him, all clean and earthy, and goddammit, the tears keep coming.

  After a few minutes the door clicks closed and Hayes sits alongside me, stroking my back calmly. “I grabbed you something from Anniston’s closet. Y’all look to be about the same size.”

  I mumble a thank you into his pillow, refusing to look at him. He only chuckles and smacks my ass hard, startling a gasp out of me. Which coincidentally stops my crying.

  “Come on, darlin. I need a drink, and from the look of it, so do you. Get up and get dressed. I’ll get us a bottled water before we go.”

  Does his offer make me cry more? You betcha. Do I really want to go? Not really, but I nod my consent. I’m not going to let my partner in crime down, so I sit up to face him. There’s no point in worrying about what he thinks about me at this point. He’s seen me in my underwear, pinned down by his commanding officer, and carried me to his room while letting me snot and cry into his shirt which looks like he’s been in a wet t-shirt contest.

  “I’m sorry about your shirt,” I say distractedly.

  Hayes laughs and claps me on the shoulder, standing up. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Girls cry on me all the time.” And then he rips off his t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. Suddenly my tears are all dried up. Why does he have to be so damn fine? Why are they all so good looking? I mean, I have a hard time finding dates that look even half as good as Hayes, and here i
s Anniston, living with six hot-as-sin men.

  She’s my hero.

  And unfortunately, she’s Cade’s, too.

  The bar Hayes pulls into reminds me of a horror movie Ben and I used to watch when our parents left us with the nanny while they hobnobbed with the elite of NYC. Tara, the struggling law student by day and nanny by night, never cared what we were doing as long as we didn’t interrupt her study time. Bennett loved horror films. Me, I loved superhero movies. Spiderman. Fantastic Four. Comics. Anything other than a fairytale. Disney movies made me nauseous. Never once, in my ten years did my animals sing or help me clean my room. Nope, when I cried, I cried alone until my big brother could wrap his arms around me and lull me to sleep with his terrible knock-knock jokes. So, as I take Hayes’ hand and let him pull me through the doors of the bar that should be named Titty Twister from that Tarantino film instead of the simple and unassuming name, Patty’s, I feel a bit nostalgic. I miss Ben. He would have loved this place.

  “Patty’s has the best beer,” Hayes says, walking backwards, pulling me with one arm. “You like beer? Or do you prefer those girly drinks?”

  I’m about to tell him that over a year ago I was a college student, doing keg stands—okay, so that’s an exaggeration—but I can drink beer, even the cheap stuff. But Hayes never lets me get a word in, though, as he continues to weave through the crowd. “I mean, I’m not judging. A drink is a drink. I’m just saying that the beer here is good.”

  Finally, he takes a breath and stops at the bar. And smiles at me. Stark white teeth gleam in the dingy overhead lighting, confirming that Hayes never misses a whitening schedule. I stare at the hair sticking to his forehead in the crowded bar. In this light it almost looks brown. His cheekbones aren’t as defined as Cade’s, but they’re prominent enough for you to drag your finger across them and end at the treasure that is his pouty lips. Not that I would do it. But someone could. It’s a shame those lips belong to a man. I would kill for lips like his. Kylie could suck a bottle for hours and not achieve that kind of pout. His bottom lip significantly fuller than the top one, would be so easy to suck—

  “You know, if you keep looking at my mouth like that, darlin, we might end up making some bad decisions tonight.”

  Heat scalds my cheeks, but instead of denying that I was staring, I go with honesty. “I’ve made enough bad decisions for one night.”

  The towheaded hottie dips his chin in acknowledgement before lifting his sapphire eyes to meet mine. They sparkle with something I can’t quite put my finger on. “If it weren’t for bad decisions, Breck, no one would be certain of anything.” I must look confused because he laughs and nudges me toward the bar. “I’ll take a boilermaker,” he yells to the bartender who lifts one finger in acknowledgement. “What’ll it be, darlin?” I glance around at the other women, eyeing their confidence.

  I did not come to Madison thinking helping Cade would be an easy feat.

  I came here with the intention of helping Cade, but I don’t seem to have much of an impact other than making matters worse. I want to honor my brother and fulfill his duty to the brotherhood, but I think it may be time to move on.

  Cade is doing well with Anniston and the guys. He doesn’t need me. It’s time I go home.

  Pulling my shoulders back, I look at Hayes with new resolve. If I’m leaving, I’m going to go out with a bang.

  “I’ll have what you’re having.” Those pouty lips tip just slightly at the corners. “Ooh-rah,” he whispers, mischief dancing in his eyes. I’m not sure what I just agreed to, but I have a feeling my one bad decision tonight will soon have company.

  “Seriously?” Spittle flies out of my mouth in a very unladylike way. “Poison Ivy?” Another fit of laughter doubles me over as Hayes continues to give me a play-by-play of how he screwed this girl in a bed of poison ivy, suffering its wrath on his nether regions. We’ve been at Patty’s for well over two hours and I’ve lost count of how many boilermakers I’ve had. Drunk is not the word I would use for the state we are in right now. Shitfaced would be the more accurate term.

  “Hell yeah. In the beginning, commander discouraged us from having” —he waggles his eyebrows—“relations with anyone until we sorted out our lives.” He shrugs, taking another swig of beer.

  “And you didn’t agree?”

  He scoffs. “Hell no. Just because I was homeless doesn’t mean I didn’t have needs.” I wait, hoping he’ll say more. I’m more than curious about their unconventional relationship with Anniston. “I may not have known where my next meal was coming from or what I wanted to do for a living, but I knew my balls still felt blue at the end of the day. And after so many years of using sex as an outlet, I couldn’t give it up. Not even after Ans took us in.”

  The greasy fry I shove in my mouth tastes like cardboard, or maybe that’s because my tongue is numb. Regardless, it doesn’t have a chance in hell of absorbing all the alcohol churning around in my stomach. At least it’s kept my mouth from asking too many prying questions, like the one that escapes me now. “And, Cade? Is that why he doesn’t date? Because of Anniston and the rules?”

  Like I’ve asked the most ridiculous question on the planet, Hayes belts out a laugh, sliding down in the booth so he can put his feet on my bench. “You could say that,” he starts, taking another swig of his beer. He gives me a serious look. “We all have demons, Breck. We’re all fucked up, but Cade …” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. It almost looks as though he’s in pain. His forehead is creased and his mouth is turned down in a frown. And then he blows out a breath and crushes me with one sentence. “Cade will never be capable of a relationship, darlin.”

  Who would have thought I could feel anything with all the whiskey and beer coursing through my veins, but here I am, in a bar slamming shots with a fine piece of man candy, and all I can do is feel. My heart aches and a feverish sensation spreads through my body like I’m coming down with something. I want to cry. Hard, ugly tears that can only end with Tylenol and Rocky Road ice cream.

  “Look at me, darlin.”

  I don’t. I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. I should have never come here. I should have listened to Jess. She’s right, Cade doesn’t know me. He will never need me. This past year of working for minimum wage, barely getting by, has all been for nothing. Absolutely, nothing. What a loser I am, chasing a man that doesn’t want to be found.

  “Breck.” Before I can answer, Hayes slides into the booth next to me and takes my hand, massaging it with slow, methodic circles. “I want you to understand something.” A tear drips onto our hands and he squeezes tighter. “We’re not the picket fence kind of guys. We’ve watched life drain from the eyes of our enemy by our own bare hands. We’ve killed women and children with one order. We are Marines, Breck. We don’t know how to be anything else. We don’t know how to love. We’re a mess, and I think it’s better if you see this for what it is. I’m not saying Cade doesn’t like you or could love you, eventually. I think he could. But he won’t allow himself. The only reason he sticks around is because he feels like he’s indebted to Anniston. She saved his life. Does that mean he’s healed and ready to settle down and pop out two-point-five kids? No. Guys like us don’t deserve a girl like you or a happy ending. Someone has to pay for what we’ve done. And well …” He trails off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

  Atonement.

  They feel like this is what they deserve, but I don’t understand why. Other Marines live happy and healthy lives. Why does this group feel differently? I can understand some of why Cade feels responsible, but Hayes … I realize that I know nothing. What was I thinking coming here? I’m an idiot. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Sue and Jess. It’s time I move on and start thinking about Breck. This is not my home.

  Hayes squeezes my hand again before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I let him pull me into his hard body, wrapping my arms around his chest. I’m essentially hugging this man who believes he’s not worth the ground I walk on after sacrificing hi
s life for my freedom.

  It’s fucked up.

  Would this be Bennett? If he had lived through the explosion, would he have shunned me? Taken to the streets and believed he was serving his penance for killing an eight-year-old who was seconds from blowing up his team’s Humvee? The thought has tears stinging my eyes. “Is that how you feel, too?” I ask, because I have a feeling his speech is not all about Cade. “Do you think you deserve to be punished for the things you’ve done?”

  Hayes grunts, making a soft noise. His breath smells of whiskey and beer when he forces out an answer I wasn’t expecting. “Don’t go mistaking me for a good guy, darlin.” He unfolds out of the tiny booth, pulling me out after him. “You’re killing my buzz, Breck. I think it’s only proper you make up for it with a dance.” His pupils are dilated from all the liquor, and by the way he sways his hips in a silly motion, I know those bad decisions have come to fruition.

  But fuck it. I have nothing to lose. Hayes said so himself. Cade won’t ever love me.

  I’ve been a fool, but not anymore. I’m going home.

  I’m so sorry, Ben.

  With tears in my eyes, I let Hayes pull me to the middle of the dance floor, where we drink.

  And dance.

  And drink some more until we feel nothing at all.

  The first thing that occurs to me is that my eyelids feel like someone sewed weights into them while I was knocked out. My blinks are painful and heavy when I finally manage to open my eyes long enough to see the light coming in from the window. Clearly, I slept through the night, and by the sounds of the nuisance woodpecker outside, well into mid-morning.

  Last night seems like a dream. A bad fucking dream.