AllFreeNovel
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Said the alcoholic, fantasizing about “just a sip” of booze.
He’d already had “just a sip” of Tracy Rhodes.
And wanted more. So much more.
A more he craved like a goddamn vampire and blood. A more he’d keep seeking…returning for, again and again, no matter how damn unhealthy it was.
Abbie. I’m so sorry.
The words were useless. He made his mind say them anyway—as he stared into his designer water bottle and saw the woman’s big eyes in the green glow of the glass. Abbie’s stare had possessed a strange sheen as he hugged her for the last time, his apologies dueling with hers. She’d thought herself the “stud submissive” in refusing to safe word; he begged forgiveness for—
Everything else.
Letting the scene go as far as it did. Letting himself spiral out of control. Bleeding his impatience with the world into the chemistry of their dynamic—using her open surrender as his permission for unhinged anger.
It was fucked-up on an entirely new level.
He could not afford to be fucked-up with Tracy Rhodes.
No matter how stunning the silver of her eyes, as the word “please” whispered off her lips. No matter how mesmerizing those actual lips were, inspiring a thousand fantasies of how they’d feel around his cock. No matter how perfect her luscious little body, down to the tips of her damn fingers…knowing exactly how to grip his pulsing dick…
He gritted back a groan as laughter ripped him back to the present.
Two baritones, joining in sarcastic reverie. Z and Runway, to his rescue once again.
“Fine,” Zeke declared, smacking his hand on the counter. “No making out with my CO tonight.”
Franz emulated the action, adding a grunt. “Not your CO anymore, big guy.”
And on that note, it was really time for beer. He turned, closing in on the fridge, securing a stout for himself.
“Yeah,” Zeke grumbled. “Fine. Whatever.”
“I mean it,” he snapped. “I’m just Franz, okay? Not your CO. Not the head of your team. Not the guy riding your ass about everything. I’m just the buddy with a few friends in higher places on this one—”
“Ya think?” Archer inserted.
“—who’s damn grateful for how you’ve both dropped your lives to do this for me.”
“Awwww, honey.” Z pushed out a pout. “You sure you don’t want to make out?”
Before Franz could spin up a comeback, Archer countered with, “You want to talk gratitude, man? Okay, I can go there. Wasn’t too long ago you guys all dropped your shit to save my bacon from a full-board lunatic intent on nuking this coast down to San Diego.”
“Outstanding point.” Zeke fist-bumped him. “And six months before that, how ’bout the crazy times with the other nut job who implanted me with a neurotoxin?”
“Then there was Shay and his Dr. Moreau mad scientist.”
Z snorted. “We had to go after that fucker twice…”
Archer chuckled. “Damn. If I saw all this shit in a movie script, I’d wonder about the sanity of the writer.”
Franz and Z joined gruff laughs to that—though as they all took new pulls on their stouts, Franz sobered again. Fuck. He needed to tell them more, words better fitting a Rodgers and Hammerstein score than what they normally jawed over, but these two were worth it. All his guys were. They weren’t just the best of the best by the Army’s standards. They were good men, period. Someone would be lucky to call even one of them his friend. Fate had given him that gift eleven times over.
“Movie deal or not, I appreciate the hell out of you guys.” He abandoned his beer to give them simultaneous shoulder claps. “You’re ohana to me. Family. Always.”
At once, Ethan returned the gesture. “Ditto, brother.”
Z did the same, only ensuring they both saw his addition of a broad smirk. “Just remember that ohana shit when I want to borrow your place for family vacations.”
