HOSTILE: A Military Romance Novel (Military Men Book 1) (3 page)

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The bunks were surprisingly quiet at night. I could imagine the base was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, a remote city set up by the US military for the sole purpose of acting as a waiting place between more important posts.

What had been nothing more than sand one day was an oasis the next. It must have been a peculiar sight for the locals – if there were any. They must have felt a terrible invasion by the Westerners.

It was stories like that which had lured me to Afghanistan. I wanted to uncover them all, bring them to the world so we could hear all sides of the story, not just what the leaders of the governments wanted us to know. There were more truths than one side’s opinion.

But it all seemed a world away while I was lying in the dark. The infuriating face of Corporal Watson kept swimming in front of my face. The lights were out so I couldn’t actually see anything, but there wouldn’t be anything in the beige room anyway. Certainly not the hot soldier.

He was probably gloating in his win, triumphant in the fact that he had silenced me in the cafeteria and my suffering would continue on for a few more days yet. He seemed like the kind of man that enjoyed the suffering of others.

Still, he was undeniably hot. I may have felt an incredible loathing for the man, but that didn’t change the fact he was smoking. His body was the kind that would always look better naked than with clothes, and his intense glare could sizzle like a hotplate.

It had been so long since I’d been with a man. I was practically married to my job, which didn’t give me many chances to date. I was rarely home long enough to have a relationship with my washing machine, let alone consider talking with an actual human being.

Casual sex had always been something that sounded great in principle, but there were too many variables involved. I didn’t know the rules that everyone else seemed to be all over, and I didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of breaking one of them (you’re not supposed to stay for breakfast???).

God, though, how overdue I was for a good fuck. It was being around men like Watson that reminded me that I was still very much a red-blooded female that did have sexual organs. They may have been covered in cobwebs, but they did need a good oiling sometimes.

My fingers had inadvertently slid down my body and had cupped my pussy. The pressure on my clit through my underwear was just enough to make me want more. Masturbating had been my only option in a long time, and I rarely bothered. Funneling my efforts into my work seemed more productive.

But I wasn’t quite tired enough to fall asleep, and there was nobody else in the bunks with me. It was dark; nobody was going to find out that I was touching myself.

Plus, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. Nobody liked to talk about it, nobody liked to admit they did it, but everyone did. Bringing pleasure to oneself wasn’t dirty. It was just a natural act of the human body. Like brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails.

Or stroking your hair because it feels good. Or squeezing your boob, tweaking your nipples. It all felt good, and there was nothing wrong with that. Human nature couldn’t be denied; it was just something that happened because we could.

My hips started to undulate under my hand before it slipped under my underpants. My fingers were between my folds and slippery with my juices before I had a chance to spread my legs. I pulled the blanket up to my waist to cover what I was doing, just in case there were hidden security cameras that I hadn’t found in my earlier search.

My legs opened wide as I closed my eyes. The first image that came to mind was of Watson. I couldn’t push him away again. He lingered in front of me, his smirk there in the darkness, just taunting me to come for him.

He would enjoy the fact that I was touching myself while thinking of him, unable to push his image away. I bet he’d get a real kick out it, probably egg me on from the sidelines and give me orders about how I should be touching myself.

The thought of receiving orders from him actually made everything that much more urgent. My hand on my boob squeezed it harder, pushing the nipple between the tips of my fingertips until it almost hurt with my desire.

I wanted him between my legs. The thought hit me rough and hard. I wanted the soldier to be the one thrusting into me, his fingers buried between my folds with my legs wrapped around his taut ass. I wanted to hear his manly grunts as he fought to keep it together, his cock plunging into me roughly while my panting bounced off the walls.

With all the vivid imagery going on in my head, I really didn’t need to do much to reach my climax. My brain did it for me, plunging me into the chasm between sanity and insanity while the orgasm pulsed through me.

My body shuddered while the wave rippled through me, and then it stilled again while I let the euphoria take me over. It was a beautiful release as I imagined Watson holding me. His big, warm, muscled arms gently rubbing my back as we lay there together after sharing such a wild and intimate moment.

I hated having the thought, hated thinking that it would be like that. Because it wouldn’t. He would get up straight afterwards, pull on his pants, and disappear out the door – perhaps with a mumbled “Thanks for the great time, baby.”

My fantasies would always be greater than the real thing. That was why I was a writer. Reality was a disappointment. What was the point in that when I could always just write the way things should be and never have to experience the letdown?

* * *

We were in the military base for four days before being given the clearance required to move out. I spent the days writing, working on the articles I had started while staying in Kabul before being
rescued
by the military.

Nobody could give me any answers about where we were or where we were going. Everything was classified and on a need-to-know basis. Apparently I was cleared for nothing and had no rights. I was to eat and sleep and shouldn’t need anything further.

The word I was a reporter spread quickly, even though I had told nobody except for Corporal Watson. He really was a jerk. And now apparently a gossip too. He must have told anyone who would listen that I wasn’t to be trusted.

Jerk.

I found out on the fourth day that I could have had breakfast later after getting up at six o’clock every morning to make sure I didn’t miss out. I could have killed the bastard for that one too.

They talked about love at first sight and made such a big deal about it.
Hate
at first sight, now that was something far more interesting. If there was something Corporal Watson and I shared, it was definitely that.

We left at the crack of dawn, finally saying goodbye to the base I never wanted to see again. In every single direction there was nothing but sand and mountains in the far distance. You could walk for days and die of sunburn before ever reaching civilization.

Lucky for me, the jerk decided to make himself my personal bodyguard once more. He sat beside me for the entire journey, another day of endless hours spent cooped up in the noisy and bumpy truck.

This time we drove through the night, too. The drivers rotated after a shift, making sure not to get too tired so they could stay alert and vigilant. The soldiers never stopped their surveillance, always watching in all directions out the windows.

It was easy for me to forget we were in a hostile country, but I guessed they couldn’t. For just a few moments, I actually felt sorry for Corporal Jerk. As he stared out the window, his muscled body rigid and held together with his heavy armor, I wondered what he was thinking.

Did he have people at home he was missing? Did he have a family? A girlfriend? A wife? Kids? Which part of the country did he normally call home? Did he miss going to baseball games with his dad? Sunday football games in front of the television with his brothers?

My heart softened for him in those moments. He was a long way from home too, but his distance wasn’t entirely by choice. He was serving his country, dedicating his life to ensure he was protecting those he loved and hoping for a better future for all. It was noble, really.

We were all just trying to do our best. I was trying to help by bringing a voice to those marginalized by the war and their country of birth. Corporal Watson was trying to be the best solider he could and protect his country. We couldn’t judge others without knowing their full story. I needed to give him a break.

“If you’re expecting me to give a running commentary, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not a tour guide,” Watson muttered. And just like that, all the fuzzy feelings inside me hardened into a tight ball and completely evaporated.

“If this was a tour, I’d be demanding my money back,” I replied, quickly averting my eyes and annoyed that I had been caught staring at him.

“So you were just enchanted by my incredible good looks, then?” He grinned and it really bothered me. Mainly because he was right. When he smiled he looked like an underwear model. As if he just stepped out of
GQ
magazine and had been in the hair and makeup chair for hours.

“Get over yourself,” I said and purposefully looked away.

He chuckled, and I could feel him looking at me, but I refused to turn back. There was no way I was going to play his little game. I’d met men like him before. They thought they were God’s gift to women when really all they did was break hearts and fuck anything that moved.

Or maybe I had been right the first time, and he was gay and just enjoyed toying with women. It wouldn’t be the first time I had seen that kind of display either. In my job I got to see the best of humanity, but I also had to see the worst. I couldn’t take one without the other; it didn’t work like that.

A couple of hours after it got dark, I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. Sleeping upright wasn’t the easiest thing on the planet, but I was exhausted. My eyelids closed and I zoned out. Maybe it was the rocking of the truck, but I somehow managed to fall asleep.

I awoke sometime later with my head leaning on something. It was dark, almost pitch black. Which was why it took me a few moments to realize it was Watson’s shoulder I was leaning on. The gentle scent of his soap filled my nostrils, dominated only by the smell of sweat in the truck.

I probably should have jerked away, embarrassed that I had been sleeping against him. For some reason I didn’t. Instead, my eyes closed and I fell back into the deep abyss of slumber.

The next time I awoke it wasn’t voluntary. There was so much shouting that I was instantly jerked awake. Confusion washed over me, quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of fear and terror.

It was still dark, so I couldn’t really see what was going on, but all the soldiers were rushing like crazy to get out of the truck. They yelled at us to get onto the floor and stay there.

“Don’t move under any circumstances unless I tell you to,” Watson told me before he stepped over me and stormed down the aisle.

Across the row I could see one of the other civilians as he crouched down on the floor. His eyes were wide open with sheer terror as his body started shaking with fear. I hoped I didn’t look that scared; surely there wasn’t a reason to be that terrified?

The voices outside were all shouting. Not all of them were in English anymore. They got louder and louder as they argued, screaming and yelling until none of them were listening to each other.

A gunshot pierced the night air.

All the blood in my body stopped circulating, pounding in my ears alone. My heart had completely stopped in the silence outside. It was like someone had hit the pause button when the gun went off and only my imagination could fill in the gaps of what was happening out there.

I didn’t dare get up and peek. Even if I wasn’t scared of someone shooting my head off, I didn’t want to see any carnage outside. I was squeamish at the sight of blood and that was only a drop. To see the kind of damage a gun could do would require a lot more stomach than I had.

The sounds finally started up again outside, except they weren’t yelling this time. It sounded like a fight had broken out. At least they weren’t fighting with their weapons now. Hand-to-hand seemed to be the way to go for the moment.

Even though I had only spent a short amount of time with the soldiers, I didn’t want to see any of them hurt. The thought of them outside the truck and in serious danger was making my insides twist with pain. I couldn’t bear anything happening to them.

Plus, if the Taliban got through them, our chances of survival were exactly zero. The moment they got done killing the soldiers, they would do away with us civilians. Our lives depended on them winning the fight outside.

We were in the middle of the desert, with no backup. The dangers of war just got so exceedingly real I had to fight back tears. But now was not a time to fall to pieces. I needed to stay strong and keep my head. If I didn’t remain calm, I wouldn’t be able to think clearly. All my wits had to be about me.

In my head I counted. It didn’t matter how many times I lost where I was up to, I just started again. As long as I was distracted, it didn’t matter what the numbers were. They were keeping me calm, and that was the main thing.

“Ariana.” My whispered name snapped me out of my counting at about seven thousand and something. My head snapped around to the source – finally finding it at the door. Watson was there, trying to get my attention. He waved at me to come over but stay down.

I followed his direction, moving to my knees and crawling down the aisle to the back of the truck. He had a nasty cut down his cheek that almost made me vomit.

“Get the others. We have to leave. Now. Make sure they stay low and don’t say a thing. Bring nothing with you,” he whispered.

I nodded and returned to the others, conveying the instructions as quietly and concisely as I could. They all followed me. We made more noise as a group but we eventually all made it to the back of the truck where Watson was waiting.

He helped us out one by one, lining us up so we couldn’t be seen from afar. We were joined by Marshall, Rafter, and Simon so the whole platoon was together. It was a relief to know they’d all made it through relatively unscathed. A first aid kit wouldn’t have gone astray. I tried to ignore all the blood from the cuts and grazes gracing their skin.

“We need to get out of here and the truck’s busted,” Watson started quietly. He leaned in toward the group, and we all followed the lead to ensure we could hear everything. “There are people watching the road. If we get caught, that’s it for us. Backup won’t arrive in time, and these people won’t hesitate in killing us. Or worse. I need you to move quickly and silently. If you can’t do that, you need to tell me now.”

His eyes scanned each of our terrified faces. I had never felt fear like this before, but I wasn’t going to let it take over yet. I could break down when we were in a safe place. Until then I was a rock – nothing was going to touch or break me.

Watson nodded and made some hand signals to the other soldiers. They all gestured back and then started moving. Each of the soldiers walked with a civilian at their side, sticking to the buddy system I remembered from elementary school.

My buddy was Watson. The men were teamed up with the other soldiers.

If there was someone I would choose as my personal bodyguard, it would have been him. I wanted his body as close to mine as possible.

Even in a life-or-death situation.