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He’s wearing standard camouflage uniform. Even lawyers in JAG wear that on a regular work day. He looks commanding now, completely different from last night when he and my dad were drinking beer, barbecuing in our backyard. Then his jeans sculpted the parts I should not have been sneaking glances at. Not with Daddy standing right beside him. Ethan’s black tee stretched to its fullest around his biceps. While the men talked army shit, I tried to count the delineated ridges of his ab muscles.
I’m still flustered and confused by what happened. When not on the job they’re just two regular friends, Frank and Ethan. Rank and privilege don’t come between them. But I wonder what would happen if my father realized how close I came last night. And how Ethan inspires my all late night lust-filled fantasies.
Which one of us would he kill first?
Christ I should not be thinking about last night. Not when Ethan’s standing right here in front of me.
“This could initiate a possible crisis in The White House,” he’s saying to Dad.
How is he managing to remain so calm and strictly business? Talking to my father like I’m not even here? I’m sure Ethan must think I’m immature.
My crush would seem so silly to him.
I need to ignore the butterfly garden party in my tummy, the sweaty pits, dry mouth. And the way my nipples harden when he looks at me. He’s my dad’s best friend, and I’m way to young to be on his radar.
Just forget it Rye. He can never be anything more than a family friend.
No more thoughts of him taking me into his arms and showing me what it feels like to be a woman desired and pursued by a strong alpha male.
I’m sure when he glances over at me while my father drones on, he doesn’t notice how I melt.
He can’t possibly realize what he does to me.
“And the Russians won’t know what we’re planning?”
After another pussy-tingling gaze, Ethan goes back to lawyer talk with my father without noticing I’m here. It’s not as though I’m not used to being invisible around the men on the base. The officers won’t break the code that puts me off-limits. The code laid down and etched in stone by my father. Non-com’s won’t even innocently flirt with me. I wouldn’t care about being ignored by soldiers, if only Ethan noticed that I’m a woman with an advanced degree and not a child.
“Rylie… Rylie!” My dad’s voice breaks me out of my self, er, absorption.
“Sir,” I say reflexively.
“Your clearance level doesn’t cover this and it seems it never will,” he says. Gotcha.
“Please wait outside for a moment.”
I stand to leave like an automaton. Ethan leaps up to get to the door ahead of me and holds it open. Slivers of light ride down my spine as I pass close by him. Am I imagining the heat pouring off his solid chest? The urge to run my fingers down his pecs and check whether they are really as rock hard as they seem under the green and gray camo almost overwhelms me.
He’s at least six inches taller than me, and I have to look up to delve into his deep blue eyes. Do I detect a smidgen of a smile? The way his eyes sparkle, I momentarily forget that I just promised myself again, that I’d forget about him. He’s out-of-range, off-limits, strictly forbidden. We have that much in common. A taboo I can only hope to forget about just as soon as I get away from the base and find a real job.
“It’s nice to see you, Rylie,” he says politely—almost coldly.
“Sir,” I say, returning his chill and then some. I sail past him into the outer hall, determined he won’t notice my discombobulation. Without a glance he shuts the door on me and I plop myself down like a defeated baseball player who’s struck out yet again. I hate this so much. I haven’t even had a coffee date, much less something more enthralling, in over a year.
I immediately regret my ice queen attitude to Ethan. What am I trying to prove? Well, aside from covering up the fact that all I want to do is grab him. Reel him in by his dog tags and pull his mouth to mine so I can taste his masculine flavor. I long to be commanded wordlessly by Ethan’s lips and tongue.
“Can I get you something to drink, ma’am?” a pimply-faced private busts into my dirty thoughts, smirking like he read them off a page.
He's manning a reception desk outside my dad's office, and I barely noticed him before. I hate being called ‘ma’am.’ I’m twenty-four, not sixty-four. I give him a dismissive wave and mumble, “No. Thank you.” I just want to get back to imagining Ethan’s body lining mine.
“Yes, ma’am.” He returns to his computer and stares at me, thinking I can’t tell he’s doing it.
An hour later I’ve exhausted every scenario of Ethan bending me over the desk and am starting to fume. I get the military has its own standard of time and is the last bastion of hope for the free world, but honestly, I didn’t sign up for this kind of shit. I never said an oath or pledged my honor to the Military Code of Justice.
I begin to wonder what my life would have been like if I’d left with my mom when she divorced my father. Instead of being stuck here like I’m in basic training, I’d be in Boston hanging out with my mother’s socialite friends and brunching at Michelin Five-Star restaurants.
But back then I didn’t want to leave my friends or my school. I still thought having an Army Dad was the coolest thing in the world. Despite the fact that in his macho-dominated military arena all the men cheat, stray, or otherwise manage to destroy their relationships.
Then I think of Ethan again, behind the closed door, and wonder if I’m being too harsh. Maybe I’m uptight around guys because I’m afraid they’re all going to behave the same way. But they can’t all be assholes, can they?
