4

Chase woke up in pain.

His back ached, his legs were cramped, and his neck had a crick in it as his grandmother used to say.

He stretched, surveying his surroundings and trying to recall why in God’s name he’d slept in the backseat of his truck. It wasn’t like he’d overindulged last night, and even if he had, Luke or Aiden could’ve driven him and his truck home.

His hand clamped his neck and massaged, trying to work the kink out. The sun was coming up and an alarm on his phone was going off.

A scrap of black lace fabric on the floorboard caught his eye as he reached to shut off his cell phone alarm.

The night came back in a feverish flood of memories.

The redhead. Vivien. The Gemini.

What they’d done hadn’t been smooth or romantic in the least but it was the hottest fuck of his life.

Where the hell was she?

Wherever she was, she was sans panties as he was holding them in his hand.

Another glimpse at his phone revealed a text from Luke.

You good, man? Alive?

Chase texted back. Yep. Didn’t quite make it home last night.

Not that they were the types to check in on each other, but Chase did have a classful of new recruits coming in this morning, so he wasn’t surprised Luke had messaged.

Fuck.

He groaned out loud. The class. He was in danger of being late to his own damn training class if he didn’t get his ass in gear.

As amazing as the night before had been, he was damn sure going to pay for it today.

***

After breaking nearly every speed limit to get back to the condo right off base he shared with Aiden and Luke, Chase took a shower that could’ve broken world records in both speed and temperature. In a way, it was a shame because he hated to wash Vivien’s enticing scent from his skin. But he didn’t think he could focus on teaching the basics of defusal and disposal if he couldn’t stop picturing how amazingly sexy she’d looked riding his dick like it was her prized pony. He wanted to kick his own ass for not getting her number.

Pull it together, Fisk.

He put his uniform on, black tactical gear because he always started the class with a demonstration, and made his way to the base. He caught up with his CO and checked in a good hour before his class was due to start. After pulling equipment from the locker storage where it was housed, he headed to what would be his classroom for the next eleven weeks.

Thirty minutes before his class was supposed to start, he carried his gear into the room and set it on the front table. Only one student had arrived so far, someone he was pretty certain was female, though it was difficult to tell since she was clad in the standard issue Army Combat Uniform. She sat up straight at the front desk, standing to salute him, but he waved the standard protocol off.

“Might as well wait until everyone else arrives,” he said without really looking at her. “No sense in doing it twice.”

He thought he heard a gasp from the solider but he had equipment to deal with, so he didn’t double check. While he appreciated that someone had taken the initiative and shown up early, he refused to show favoritism.

He finished setting up his demo and laying out the protective gear before looking up to greet the grunts who had trickled in. All chatter stopped as they stood and saluted, waiting for him to say something, but Chase had nothing.

A pair of hazel eyes met his stare. The early bird who’d been watching him steadily for fifteen minutes without uttering a word was the very same redhead who’d fucked him senseless and ditched him in an alley alone in his truck the night before.

Disbelief struck him dumb and mute as he glanced down at his attendance list.

There she was. Right after Allen, T.

Brooks, V.

Son of a motherfucking bitch.

This was not good. This was bad. It was worse than bad. This was level ten, nuclear meltdown, cata-fucking-strophic.

Technically, these new recruits were under his command for the next eleven weeks. He couldn’t cross any lines with them or it would be considered inappropriate conduct, bad enough to get his ass tossed right out of the Army with a dishonorable discharge. If anyone found out what had transpired between him and—he checked the sheet for her rank—Private First Class Brooks, at the very least he could kiss his upcoming promotion from Corporal to Sergeant good-fucking-bye.

He knew that there remained some sensitivity around women in the military. Stigma or not, he and other men had to take care to make sure women were treated as equals, as soldiers, and that they weren’t sexually or otherwise harassed. It was very real concern.

But beneath the oh-shit kneejerk reaction was something else. A feeling he wanted to ignore but couldn’t.

Relief.

Relief at knowing he’d have the opportunity to learn more about her, to see her day in and day out.

To fuck her again. Because one way or another, if his dick got what it was now begging for, last night with Vivien Brooks was not just a onetime thing.

He wanted to groan out loud. From the looks of it, just like the night before, he was the one who was good and truly fucked.