Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  "You're tired."

  "I didn't sleep well."

  "You don't like me."

  She blinks at me, caught off guard. "I don't know you enough to dislike you," she says, being honest with me. "You make me nervous."

  "Why?"

  "You're…different than anyone I know." Her cheeks heat, her gaze slipping away from mine before it comes right back like she can't help herself.

  "Different how?"

  She shrugs, looking away again. Interesting. She can't face me when she's lying. I file that information away for later.

  "Different how?"

  "The way you look at me," she says, taking a breath and meeting my gaze again. She holds it, refusing to look away this time. "No one ever looks at me like you do."

  "That's because I see you." I hesitate for a brief moment, and then decide to go for broke. I want her to know where this thing between us is headed. She wants me too. Even if she never admits it, I know she wouldn't be here right now if she wasn't interested. "You had my dick hard before you ever opened your mouth."

  A pretty blush blooms on her cheeks. She doesn't tell me to go to hell or slap me, so I take that as a good sign.

  "You're not so bad yourself," she finally says, looking at me from beneath those long, sooty lashes. "You look like a warrior." She laughs a little. "I guess that's fitting, huh?"

  "You like looking at me?"

  She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure women are always hitting on you."

  "You'd be wrong," I mutter.

  She blinks at me, clearly surprised. Which is just fucking cute. The fact that she's attracted to me makes me feel ten feet tall and bullet proof.

  "I haven't dated in years."

  "Oh." She frowns, her brow crinkling. "Why not?"

  "Until six months ago, I was in the desert. Since then? No one has caught my attention." I meet her gaze, holding it. "Not until yesterday."

  She blushes again, making my cock leak.

  "What about you?"

  "I don't date either."

  "Not yet you don't," I mutter, releasing her before I do something she'll regret and kiss her. "That'll be changing."

  She opens her mouth and then snaps it closed again. I don't miss the little glimmer of hope in her eyes. Nor do I miss the fact that her nipples are hard little points in her pretty blouse.

  Jesus, I can't wait to ruin this girl.

  Chapter Three

  Liberty

  I stare at Killian, not sure what to say to him. My head is spinning. I expected him to be gruff and a little hostile like he was yesterday. Instead he's being…sweet. It obviously doesn't come natural to him, but that makes it somehow even better. The fact that he bought me flowers and a blanket is honestly adorable. No one has ever done anything like that just to make me comfortable.

  He looks incredible in his black BDUs and tight white t-shirt. Somehow, he's even more gorgeous than he was yesterday. Or maybe I just convinced myself last night that he wasn't as hot as I remembered. I barely slept all night. I tossed and turned, worried about how today was going to go. So far, it's nothing like I expected.

  "I started working on some ideas yesterday," I blurt out.

  "Yeah?"

  I nod.

  He tugs me toward my desk, urging me to sit. "Get comfortable. We have a few minutes before debriefing. You want coffee?"

  "Debriefing?"

  "Staff meeting," he explains, already headed toward the door. "Coffee?"

  "With sugar, please."

  He ducks out, leaving me alone in the office. I stare after him, shaking my head. He's intense, someone who clearly prefers to act rather than talk. It's charming in a weird way. He doesn't second guess himself. He just makes a decision and rolls with it.

  I pull my phone out and send a quick text to Summer to let her know I made it.

  Bestie: Don't kill him. Dominic won't let me visit you in jail. :)

  Me: Funny. I'm not going to kill him. He's sweet.

  Bestie: We like him now? I thought we didn't like him. When did this change?

  Me: He bought me flowers.

  Bestie: WHAT?!

  Me: Long story. Call you later?

  Bestie: You better! Love you. Have fun with your hot Marine. #oohrahoroohlala

  I smile like a crazy person when I read her hashtag. God, I love her.

  I set my phone to the side and hop up to look around. His office—our office, I guess—is large and freakishly neat. Even the stack of files on the corner of his desk are perfectly aligned. Save for the books on the shelf behind his desk and several awards hanging on the wall, there aren't a lot of personal touches. Except for the little vase of wildflowers sitting on my desk. There's also a pink footstool underneath my desk.

  His awards catch my eye, so I move behind his desk to get a better look at them. I only recognize one or two of the fifteen hanging in frames on the walls, but I'm not really surprised to see so many of them. He's kind of a badass. It's sexy…though I'm quickly coming to learn that just about everything he does is sexy to me.

  I internet stalked him yesterday. Actually, Summer and I internet stalked him yesterday. He's a decorated war hero. He's been in the military since he was eighteen. He got the scar on his cheek saving a family and a group of soldiers from an IED in Afghanistan seven years ago. He could have taken an honorable discharge then, but he didn't. He reenlisted after he healed and then went into IRR status six months ago.

  In addition to his twin brother, he also has two younger sisters, Kennedy and Caroline. Aside from that tidbit, there was nothing about his personal life to be found. I guess because he hasn't had much of one for so long. I kind of like knowing that there isn't a long string of women in his past though. I also like knowing he's attracted to me, though I have no idea what to do about that.

  Being around him is different. I like the way he looks at me and the way my stomach clenches every time he does it. He's gruff and abrupt, but I don't think he means to be rude. That's just the way he is…I'm guessing because he's been in the military for most of his life.

  "You like him," I mutter, refusing to lie to myself about it. I move from his awards to his books. They're all neatly arranged, but in a way that makes my head hurt. Every book is arranged by height, then color, then genre and title. My books are crammed on my shelves based on how often I reread them. He's methodical, precise. And the books he reads are way above my head. He's got everything from books on psychiatry to weaponry. The handful of fiction titles are all classics like Dante's Inferno with a couple of science fiction titles thrown in.

  I browse through them for another minute or two before looking at his desk. There's a photo on his desk of him and Sebastian, and two younger girls…Caroline and Kennedy, maybe. His sisters are a lot younger than him and Sebastian. Kennedy is tiny, with an innocent face and trusting green eyes. Caroline has red hair and a mischievous smile with dark eyes like Sebastian's. They all share the same sharp cheekbones, full lips, and nose.

  "Coffee," Killian says, appearing in the doorway with two paper cups in his hands.

  "Are these your sisters?" I ask, nodding at the picture on his desk.

  "Yeah," he grunts, stalking toward me.

  "Thank you." I take my cup from him and take a sip. It's perfect. "They're a lot younger than you and Sebastian."

  "Yeah. Eighteen and twenty-one."

  I can tell by the gentleness in his eyes that he has a soft spot for his little sisters. He probably dotes on them. I bet he's overprotective too. I think it's sweet. "They're beautiful."

  "I know." He scowls like that fact pisses him off. He's definitely overprotective. I bet he puts their boyfriends through hell. He looks at the picture and then at me again, not speaking.

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  He nods.

  "Did you really receive a Purple Heart for saving a family from an IED?"

  "Yes." His gaze shifts across my face. "You looked into me."

  "I did," I admit, not trying to lie abo
ut it. I'm not a very good liar. "It seemed like the smart thing to do since I'll be working with you for a while."

  His lips lift into a tiny smile.

  Lord, he's handsome when he smiles.

  I take a sip of coffee like that's going to make him less gorgeous.

  "You said you started working on some ideas for me," he says.

  "Yeah…um, yes." I have to stop to clear my throat. "I already have a basic application we can build on and tweak to fit your needs. It'll collect necessary data on your men in the form of a questionnaire and then compile it into a profile and make suggestions for services based on their responses. Your staff will be able to add their own assessments and update their records through the app as well, sort of like online services and digital charting at a doctor's office."

  "Can we keep it secure?"

  I nod. "We've used the software before to code a program for a group that provides free medical care to low income families and for a few other data sensitive projects, so it's already AES compliant. Since AES encryption is the standard for classified information, it should pass any required security tests by military officials."

  "How long will it take to get it up and running?"

  "I need at least a week. And then another to test it out and make any changes."

  He arches a brow, clearly surprised. "Two weeks?"

  "I work fast, but I don't work miracles," I mumble.

  "That's faster than I expected."

  "Oh." I take another drink of my coffee. It's surprisingly good. "Like I said, the foundation is already there. It's just a matter of plugging in the specifics and getting all the moving parts working together. I'd also like to add a few features for the men you serve."

  "Such as?"

  "Even though your program will provide any necessary services, I'd like to add a feature that allows participants to communicate with one another with some level of anonymity. People tend to recover faster when they have the ability to form their own support networks. It'll be like a chat room, accessible only to those in your program."

  "They'll be anonymous?"

  "If they want to be," I say. "The choice should be theirs to make."

  "Agreed."

  "You can use it for group sessions as well."

  "You're good at this."

  I smile at him, proud of myself. I've worked hard to get where I am in life. It's nice to have that recognized without someone attaching a "for a girl" to the end of it. Women in this field still don't get a lot of respect. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's different though.

  We lapse into silence, both sipping our coffee and pretending like we aren't both staring at each other. I can't help but look at him though. His presence is hard to ignore. He commands attention and respect. The way he carries himself is confident and sexy as hell.

  "Where'd you learn to do all this?" he asks eventually.

  "I taught myself mostly." Computers and programs always fascinated me, so I taught myself how they work. I coded my first program when I was fourteen.

  "You went to school for this shit?"

  "Sort of."

  "Sort of?"

  "I haven't finished my degree," I confess, hoping that's not a dealbreaker for him. I could use the money he's offering me for this project to finish paying for school. And even if I don't have a degree yet, I can do this for him. "I'm still working on it."

  "How old are you?"

  "Twenty-two."

  He processes that for a moment, a little furrow between his brows. "Why haven't you finished?"

  "I can't afford to go full time," I mumble, glancing down at my cup to avoid seeing the pity in his eyes. His family is the kind of rich you read about in magazines. Literally. There were tons of stories about his family when Summer and I Googled him yesterday, just not much on him specifically. "I'll be finished later this year."

  "Not many can work full time and put themselves through school."

  "Sometimes, we don't have a choice." Dom pays me well, but I couldn't afford school if I didn't work. Despite having the grades in high school, I wasn't offered much in the way of scholarships. I couldn't afford the application fees and extra testing like a lot of the other girls could and I didn't have anyone to advocate for me.

  He doesn't say anything, but I can feel the weight of his gaze. He's always watching me.

  "So…um…what should I call you?" I ask, feeling awkward again. I'm used to people staring at me because of my weight, but this is different. He doesn't just see a smart, overweight girl. He sees me. No one ever sees me.

  "Killian."

  "Colonel or sir seems more appropriate given that you're a decorated war hero," I say, nodding toward the awards displayed on the wall.

  He cocks a brow. "Should I call you baby girl then? It seems more appropriate given how sweet you are."

  I blink at him.

  "Shit," he says before I can find a response. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to look at it. "We're late for debriefing." He steps toward me, putting a hand on my lower back. I jump, not used to being touched, but he doesn't move away. "Come on."

  I let him lead me from the office, my head spinning all over again.

  "You're hovering," I mutter, glancing up from my computer screen to look at Killian. He's standing right behind me again, watching over my shoulder. He's been doing it all morning. After he introduced me to everyone at the staff meeting, he showed me around. His operation here is honestly impressive.

  The fact that he's funding it almost entirely by himself is even more impressive. I found that little tidbit out from Kathy, the receptionist who looks like she'd be more comfortable jumping out of an airplane than manning a desk. Killian may be rough around the edges, but he has a big heart and genuinely seems to care about the men he's trying to help here. It's also pretty clear that he runs a tight ship. Everyone was polite and friendly, but they deferred to him. They all seemed to like and respect him.

  He stayed glued to my side all morning, barely letting me out of his sight. He really didn't like when one of the therapists tried to talk to me. He growled at the man, who immediately found somewhere else to be. Killian decided we were going on a solo tour right after that.

  Now that we're back in the office, I think he's spent as much time watching me work as he has actually working himself. It's making me nervous. I don't work well under pressure. I need to concentrate, but it's impossible to do that when I feel him standing behind me, watching me. All I can think about is how much I want to lean against him and close my eyes. He smells like the outdoors.

  "You know what all that shit says?" he asks.

  "Yes."

  "It looks like a foreign language."

  "It is a foreign language. There are rules and structure to computer languages, just like with any language we speak. This language just doesn't mean a whole lot without the technology behind it," I explain. "If you write it on paper, it does nothing. But if you type it in here, magic happens."

  He grunts and then jabs a finger toward the screen. "What does this do?"

  I glance at the line of code he's pointing at and smile. "That one autosaves your work so you don't lose it." I've been down that road before. Nothing is quite as devastating as losing several hours' worth of work because you forgot to save it. If the people in his program get frustrated if the app crashes, they might not be willing to expend as much effort into answering the questionnaire the second time around. Autosaving eliminates as much of that risk as possible.

  "What about this one?"

  "That one determines whether or not I get any work done today," I mutter before I can stop myself. He's covering the line of code with his finger so I don't actually know what it says since I can't see it.

  He grunts again and then seems to catch on. "Funny," he says. His gravelly voice says something else. "You like challenging me."

  "You're very demanding."

  One big hand comes down on my shoulder. "You haven't seen demanding yet, baby girl. I
can be a mean son of a bitch when I have to be."

  I turn my head and crane my neck to look up at him. His jaw is set, his eyes dark. I think he's trying to warn me, but all he manages to do is turn me on. I think…Lord, help me. I think I like that there's a little bit of the devil in him. It appeals to me on levels I didn't even know existed.

  "You aren't mean to me."

  "No." He meets my gaze, studying me again. "Doesn't mean I won't be rough when I'm buried nine deep in that cunt, breeding you."

  My cheeks heat. So does my body.

  "You'd love it."

  He might be right about that.

  "I wouldn't know," I mumble.

  Realization flares in his eyes, followed by satisfaction. "You're a virgin."

  I nod, not ashamed of it. I've had more important things to focus on in my life. I haven't held onto my virginity out of some sense of obligation to my future husband or anything like that. I just haven't found anyone who interested me enough to make me want to give it up.

  "I'll take it easy on you the first time," he says like the two of us are a done deal. His rough palm cups my cheek, his thumb brushing beneath my eye. "You're beautiful all the time, but I know you're going to be a revelation when you're coming for me."

  "Killian," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm objecting to the way he's speaking to me or if I'm encouraging him to keep going. He's blunt, but his words don't sound crude. Just honest. Yesterday, I thought he was hiding entire volumes behind his eyes, but I was wrong about that. At least partially. What you see is what you get with him. There is no guessing where you stand. He just tells you outright. But there is still something lurking deep within those eyes, something I recognize. Loneliness. I think this man is as starved for affection as I have been.

  "You're so goddamn pretty when you're feeling shy," he says, speaking so softly I'm not sure if he's talking to me or just to himself. But then his lips lift into another tiny smile. "Get your magic code done, baby girl. I'll go find us some lunch."