Serving the Soldier - Part 4 (An Alpha Military Romance) (2 page)

I sat back on my heels, stunned. Consorting with the enemy? What did that mean? Well, of course I knew what it meant, but how did it apply to Jax? Stunned, and now a bit shaken, I quickly put that stack of papers back in the cupboard and then covered them with the other stack that I had placed on the floor. I dusted everything off, just to make it look consistent, and then quickly closed the cupboard and stood in the middle of the room, staring out the window toward the driveway. It was still empty, thank God.

Now I was really confused. What was going on? I couldn't imagine Jax consorting with an enemy. What exactly did it mean? The charges had been vague and no details had been provided, although that could be explained. Perhaps the specific charges hadn't been determined yet.

Still, I couldn't understand it. Jax had nearly died during his last combat tour and he was itching to get back to his unit. That implied that he wasn't very concerned with the charges. However, any official charge could be extremely detrimental to his future career in the military. In fact, if found guilty as charged, he could end up going to Leavenworth!

Then again, maybe I was just over thinking things. I didn't know the history of this disciplinary charge or anything about it. Maybe everyone in Jax’s squadron had been given one. And what did ‘consorting with the enemy’ mean anyway? In my book, it could mean anything from giving a candy bar to a kid to openly or subversively colluding with the enemy that brought risk to one’s unit or other Allied forces, and that was ridiculous.

Grrr… I had to stop thinking about him. He was driving me crazy in more ways than one.

I wished I could ask Jax what this was all about, but I couldn't. He’d know I'd been snooping again. I put the feather duster and the furniture polish back underneath the kitchen sink in exactly the same place I had found them, or close enough, I hoped.

If Jax was going to lose this house, it stood to reason that he was going to be packing soon, so there was a good chance that he would realize that, once again, I had been sticking my nose into his business. Then again, if he didn't want someone to snoop in his private affairs, maybe he just should keep the drawers locked!

I headed upstairs, thinking that when he returned home I just might admit my latest sin and come right out and fess up to snooping. That would probably be the best way to find out what the disciplinary charge was all about, but did I want to take the risk of him telling me to my face that it was none of my business?

No. That would hurt. I don't know how Jax felt about me, or if he felt anything at all, but the fact that I had fallen for him changed everything.

I went upstairs and headed for my room, not even pausing in the office doorway. If he so much as got a hint of my "smell" in his office, he would assume that I’d been snooping again.

Yes, my guilty conscious was alive and well.

Then again, I could always claim that I wanted to look at the security camera images. When he got home, I would mention that to him. I’d have him show me how to look at the monitor so I’d know how to toggle between camera views if I was here alone. After all, until and if he moved out, or until I was fired or discharged of my duties here, I had a right to feel secure, didn't I?

That thought brought me back to the events of the other evening. Were those men still out there? Were they still stalking Jax, watching the house, watching his comings and goings? If they were, they would know that I was alone right now? My heart skipped a beat. Come to think of it, I had nothing with which to defend myself. Not that I wanted a gun or anything, but what would I do if someone came onto the property? I'm sure that if I called 911 that a police car would be out here in a matter of minutes, but even a matter of minutes might be too long.

Something else to ask Jax about. What was I supposed to do when I was home alone? With Stephanie here, and I had no idea how long she planned on staying, chances were they’d be going out frequently, taking care of business or finalizing details in their divorce, dealing with the transfer of the house, and so forth. What was I supposed to do when I was at the house alone? Bringing up the subject with Jax alone would be challenging, as she stuck to his side like… like, well, a possessive bitch.

I wandered around the upstairs hallway for several minutes, thinking that I could take my car and go somewhere and do something, but that wasn't ideal either. What if they were watching
me
? I entered my room with a heavy sigh. All this thinking and worrying was making me tired. It was a warm day and I could've gone swimming, but I didn't want to mess with the house alarm or swim in the pool alone. Thoughts of Jax’s attackers out there somewhere scared me and I wasn't afraid to admit it. So here I was, living in a gorgeous mansion, and yet feeling more trapped than I ever had before.

I sat down on my bed, staring at the wall for several moments, thinking about Jax, Stephanie, the guys in his squadron, and the dangers they faced on a daily basis. I shook my head. What the hell had happened to me? How had I allowed myself to care so much? I felt a great weariness come over me, and decided that I might as well just take a nap while I could. Maybe an hour or two, and then I would get up and start fixing something for dinner.

I laid down and tried to still my racing thoughts, but images of Jax kept cropping up. Medals. Camouflage. Combat fatigues. His naked body sliding into the swimming pool. The sex. It didn't take long for me to start feeling aroused and I groaned. It seemed the least little thing could get me horny. Just imagining his well-formed pecs, his narrow waist, and of course, that thick cock of his got my nipples tingling and my pussy throbbing.

Before long, I was pleasuring myself again, imagining him on top of me, sucking on my nipples, his tongue sliding slowly down my bare stomach towards my pussy. Gently, he pushed my legs apart and then lowered his face between my legs. My fingers kept busy as I imagined his tongue swirling around my clitoris, and then plunging into my depths before emerging again to suck and lick at that most sensitive part of me.

My pulse accelerated, along with my breath, and once again I climaxed at thoughts of Jax and the lovely things his tongue could do. Then, once the waves had passed, I lay staring up at the ceiling, shaking my head slowly back and forth on the pillow. What the hell was happening to me?

I must've fallen asleep. Something startled me awake, a noise. Then I realized it was the sound of the front door closing. An evening glare cast a dull glow into my room and I quickly sat up, smoothing my hair. I heard Jax’s familiar, slow tread ascending the stairs and listened for Stephanie's clomping heels. I didn't hear anything; no talking, no laughing, no nothing. I quickly scrambled off the bed and opened my bedroom door.

I nearly bumped into Jax as he headed for his bedroom and only missed crashing into his side by pivoting on my foot. "Oops, so sorry about that, Jax," I said. I glanced behind him toward the stairs. "Where Stephanie?"

"She's gone."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by ‘gone’. Gone for the evening? Gone into town? Gone back to Seattle? I wanted to ask so many questions, but once again told myself that his life was none of my business. It shouldn't matter to me whatsoever what he did with anyone else, let alone his ex-wife.

"Would you object to my changing that bandage tonight before you go to sleep?" I asked, half expecting him to refuse.

He shook his head. "No, I don’t mind. You want to do it now or later?"

His acquiescent attitude surprised me. I took advantage. "Now is fine. You go lie down on your bed and I'll get the supplies from my bathroom."

He said nothing, but moved off toward his bedroom. I frowned. Was he actually upset or even depressed that Stephanie had left? It seemed as if they had spent much of their time together arguing, or at the very least, disagreeing. I certainly didn't like the way she had treated me, but then again, it wasn't about me, was it? It was all about Jax.

He disappeared into his bedroom and I reentered mine, quickly moving to the bathroom. I stooped down and opened the bathroom cabinet under the sink and retrieved the supplies I would need. Could he seriously be depressed that she was gone? Then again, maybe they had experienced a decent relationship in the beginning. Who wouldn't? Why would anyone get married if they didn’t get along at the time? I had never gotten engaged—no one had ever bothered to ask me, but I knew what it was like to invest my emotions into a relationship. At first it was easy; sharing thoughts, memories, everything fun, exciting, and vibrant.

Unfortunately, at least in my case, the more I got to know some of the guys I had dated, the worse their behavior had become. It was as if the more they got to know you, the less they tried to please you. I know that for a lot of guys, it was the chase that stimulated them. Once the spider was caught, they tended to lose interest, or at least quit trying to make you feel special, desired, or even wanted. I shook my head. There was no point in impressing my past relationship experiences onto his. That wasn't fair.

Just because a lot of my relationships hadn’t ended nicely didn't mean that Jax had not been happy with Stephanie—at first. Maybe it wasn't she who had instigated the divorce in the first place. I really hadn’t looked. I had assumed that she was just a difficult person, but what if it was Jax who'd done something to cause her to file for divorce? The image of the paper I had seen down stairs—
consorting with the enemy
—once again surged into my thoughts. Had Stephanie been aware of it?

What would it have entailed for Jax to be charged with a consorting with the enemy accusation? An affair with a local? Is that what happened? Had Jax developed a sexual relationship with one of the local women in Afghanistan? No, highly doubtful. I didn't know much about their culture, but one thing I did know; women in Afghanistan had less rights than dogs over here in the US. Any inkling that they were behaving improperly could result in her death through a so-called honor killing. Jax would never put a woman in that kind of danger, no matter how much he was attracted to her.

With a sigh, I decided that I could either allow my imagination to run wild or I could do my job and take care of Jax’s wound. I took a deep breath and approached his bedroom door, knocking softly on the threshold.

"Come on in, Angie.”

He already lay face down on the middle of his bed. He had taken off his shirt and shoved his cargo shorts down past his hips. I saw only the beginning of the crack in his buttocks and the two dimples just above that. The sight of those little dimples maybe want to stroke my tongue along them. My heart skipped a beat. Crapola! Was this my punishment? To be taunted with Jax’s nakedness and my own body's betrayal against my better judgment and best intentions every time I saw a little bit of skin?

Jax lay quietly, his head turned toward the window where I couldn't see his face. Something was certainly bugging him. Did I dare ask? I shook my head and clamped my lips shut. For now, I decided to keep my concerns to myself. I arranged my supplies on his bedside table and then sat down gently beside him, my right hip nearly touching the bottom of his left buttocks. Quickly and deftly, I carefully removed the surgical tape from the edges of the gauze and slowly peeled it off. I nodded with satisfaction when I saw that the edges of the incision were pulling together nicely. Another few days and he probably wouldn't have to worry about tearing any more stitches.

"I'm going to remove the butterfly strip that I put on and replace it with another one, okay?" I asked. I didn't want the butterfly strip to abrade to his skin, which I knew might happen if I left it on too long.

"Do whatever you need to do."

His voice was muffled and once again I frowned. I pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and proceeded. "Jax, are you okay?" I finally asked, working on fashioning another butterfly strip with a piece of surgical tape and my scissors. He said nothing and I glanced down at him. "Jax?" I saw his shoulders briefly shrug.

"Look, Jax, I know it's none of my business but—"

"You're right, Angie, it isn't."

For a moment I felt the sting of rejection, but then realized that he was only speaking the truth. Nothing, and I mean nothing, that Jax did was any of my business. I had to remind myself for the umpteenth time that I was here to do a job and nothing more.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Angie, I didn't mean that."

After several moments, he turned his head so that he faced in my direction.

"Stephanie just has a way of getting under my skin," he said.

I said nothing, allowing silence to fill the space as I gently placed the new butterfly strip where the ripped out stitch had been. I then applied disinfectant and ointment to the incision. I carefully covered the wound with another square piece of gauze and then taped it into place. As I peeled the surgical gloves off my hands and began to gather my trash, he rolled gently onto his side, still facing me.

“Want to hear something funny?"

"Sure," I shrugged, avoiding his eyes.

"We had a rocky marriage from the get-go. In fact, there were times when I asked myself why I married her. But the funny thing is, when she's around, I still have feelings for her."

I glanced at him. "I guess love is like that, isn't it?"

"I don't think it’s love," he said. "I think it's just more a matter of familiarity."

He said nothing for several more minutes and I sat frozen on the side of the bed, staring down at the trash in my hands.

"Have you ever been in love, Angie?"

After several moments of thought, I offered a slight shrug. "I thought so, once or twice, but looking back at things now, I realized it wasn't really love, but maybe more of a desire to want to love."

He nodded. "Maybe that's it." He laughed, but it didn't ring with amusement. "To be honest, I've had my fair share of lovers, but that's certainly not the same thing as loving someone, is it?"

I began to stand. "I wouldn't know, Jax. I've never been that close to knowing what the real thing was like." I moved to throw the trash and my discarded gloves into his bathroom trashcan. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, he had rolled over onto his back, assuming that typical position of his—arms crossed behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles. The only difference this time was that he was wearing cargo shorts. Without even realizing it, my gaze traveled from the top of his head down to his toes. He watched me watching him, then smiled.

I should have just left the room, but I didn't. I continued to watch as he reached his right hand toward his bedside table, opened the drawer, and fumbled around. A moment later, he lifted his hand with his fingers clutching a foil packet. He lifted an eyebrow. "You busy?"

I tilted my head. "What are you looking for, Jax? Sympathy sex?"

He frowned. "To be honest, Angie, I have no idea. But I do know one thing."

The silence stretched and I couldn’t help myself. I asked. "Yeah, and what's that?"

"When I'm with you, I feel calm… no pressure… no expectations." He grinned. "Not to mention that you have a kick ass body and I enjoy having sex with you."

While I certainly felt a tingle of pleasure run through me at his words, I also knew, way back in the recesses of my mind, the difference between the words ‘having sex’ and ‘making love’. What had I expected? I continued to stand in the doorway while Jax stared at me, his eyebrow lifted.

"I know you want me, Angie, and the minute you unzip my pants, you'll know how much I want you."

Of course, his comment made my gaze immediately travel to his groin. Sure enough, a tent had formed against his zipper. Just the sight of his desire—for me—caused my pulse to accelerate. How could I have become so enamored of his interest and obvious sexual attraction to me? Perhaps it was because I had never been the object of such sexual attraction before. Certainly not from someone as good-looking and powerful as him. I should resist, really I should, but I found myself slowly walking back to his bed.

"Unzip me," he grinned, placing the condom on the bedside table and once again crossing his arms behind his head.

I don't know what possessed me, but I did. I slowly unbuttoned the cargo pants, trying to hide the trembling in my fingers, and then slowly lowered the zipper. His cock sprang out, freed of any constraint. He wasn’t wearing any shorts. I stared at his dick a moment, thick, engorged, its head glistening with wetness. Just the sight of it sent a thrill through me.

"Take off your top," he directed quietly. I had never purposely undressed in front of a man before and felt a little self-conscious. Then again, it wasn't as if he hadn’t seen me naked before. Feigning indifference, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and then unhooked my bra, allowing both to fall to the floor at my feet. He stared at my breasts, first one and then the other. Just feeling his eyes on me made my nipples tighten and tingle. In seconds, they had hardened into little nubs, begging for his attention.

"Now your pants," he said, his voice hoarse.

I unbuttoned and unzipped my linen pants and slowly peeled them down past my hips, taking my panties with them. When I bent over to step out of them, my breasts drooped forward. I heard him make a hissing sound. Then, I straightened, staring down at him lying on the bed nearly naked as he stared at me, divested of every stitch of my clothing. I resisted the urge to cover myself. On the contrary, I straightened my back. My breasts automatically thrust themselves in his direction. I glanced at the condom package on the bedside table.

"Straddle me," he directed.

I started to climb onto the bed from the base, my knees on either side of his, but he stopped me.

"The other way around," he said.

Oh my God,
I thought, but shifted my position, now facing his feet, my butt exposed to his view. The next moment, I felt his hands on either side of my hips, slowly compelling me to shift my weight until I was positioned with my pussy over his face and my mouth over his erect and silky cock.

This was the way he had done it with the Swede. Before I could say anything, I felt one of his hands stroking my buttocks, and then a finger threaded its way down along my crack until the warmth of his fingers played with my pussy, gently tugging at my lips. My hips automatically reacted, thrusting themselves closer to his face. He obliged. The next second, I felt the length of his warm tongue stroking those throbbing lips. I shifted again and then his tongue was circling my clitoris, sucking and nibbling on it gently.

Of my own accord, I repositioned my hands, and without touching his cock at all, took him into my mouth. He groaned, the sound rippling through me because his lips were firmly wrapped around that most center part of my being.

I had never done anything quite as naughty as this, but oh, the sensations that raced through me nearly rocked me to my core. I could barely concentrate on my own efforts to pleasure his huge, magnificent cock as his tongue worked its magic once again on my clit. When his tongue searched inside me, hot, wet, and firm, I nearly lost it.

I tightened my lips around his cock. Bobbing my head slowly, I took as much of him into my mouth as I could without gagging. My tongue swirled around his shaft, and then as I lifted my head, gave his head special attention.

I heard him groan, which once again sent a shiver of pleasure through me. I responded in kind. He began to rock his hips slightly, but I shifted my weight and placed one of my hands on his thigh, indicating that he was to remain absolutely still. I had already gotten pissed off at Stephanie for making him work at it, and I certainly wasn't going to be a hypocrite.