5

Have a one-night stand, they said. Get it out of your system, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Vivien wanted to scream. Or hit something.

She was screwed and not in the fun way from the night before.

Corporal Chase Fisk, the Virgo with the perfect penis, was her instructor and CO for the next eleven weeks of explosive ordnance disposal training. He was also the hot-as-hell, built-for-sin man who’d made her come like a freight train less than twenty-four hours ago.

She’d woken in the early hours of dawn cuddled up next to him in the backseat of his truck. Her first instinct had been to run, to get out of there and avoid the awkward morning after, but she’d kissed his sleeping lips gently before she’d gone.

Now she sat in his classroom wondering if he’d felt her kiss, if he’d woken angry, if he’d even cared that she was gone.

He didn’t so much as glance at her when he said her name during roll call.

Apparently the awkward morning after was happening whether she liked it or not, just on a slight delay. And with an audience of twenty-five strangers. Awesome.

She was made to be a soldier—having been raised by a grandfather who was a retired General, she had worked her ass off to get here. She wanted to be taken seriously. But now, since her CO had already seen her naked and had intimate knowledge of nearly every inch of her body, she could probably forget it. He’d be uncomfortable and suggest she get transferred to another specialty before the week was over.

She kept her eyes on him while he completed a basic defusal demonstration for the class. He was just as hot and tempting as the night before—only now it was worse. Now this hot and tempting man—who she knew from experience could make her come harder than she ever had before—was forbidden to her.

While he made them fill out diagrams labeling protective gear and explosive components and made them fill out their personal statements relating to why they were here, Vivien made herself a solemn vow.

What had happened between them would be forgotten. Immediately. She would not acknowledge their previous encounter in any way nor would she behave any differently with Corporal Fisk than she would with any other superior officer.

Oh, she’d bet he was just loving that. Having one up on her. Well, that was fine. She could toe the line and she’d show him.

She sat up straighter in her desk.

“Who can tell me the four main components all explosives typically possess?” Corporal Fisk asked the class.

Vivien’s hand shot up first, and he nodded in her direction. “Power supply, initiator, explosive, and switch, sir.”

He nodded his approval without meeting her eyes. “And the most common type of initiator is a—”

“Blast cap, sir.” She couldn’t help herself. She knew what he thought of her. Random slut in a bar who let him fuck her in his truck. Well, she’d actually fucked him, more or less, but that was beside the point. She was twenty-two years old and she was willing to die for her country. If she wanted to have a one-off with a hot guy for the sake of getting some before enduring eleven weeks of hell, then that was her prerogative, dammit.

He nodded again, meeting her eyes briefly this time. She didn’t look away. He did.

Vivien—1.

Corporal Perfect Cock—0.

Not that she was keeping score or anything.

***

When the morning session of class finally ended, Corporal Fisk cleared his throat loudly. “Private Brooks, may I have a moment?”

Vivien’s spine tingled. I seem to recall it took much more than a moment. The inappropriate response danced on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to succumb to her own juvenile instincts.

“Sir, yes, sir,” she answered before turning to face him once the classroom was empty.

Time stretched out between them as she contemplated the many possible directions this conversation could take. If he opened with “about last night,” she was going to vomit.

“Can I ask you something?”

She steeled herself for whatever was coming. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have previous experience with controlled detonation?”

Her cheeks threatened to turn pink. She’d controlled his denotation the night before. God, why was she suddenly a perved-out fourteen-year-old boy on the inside? She chastised her brain silently.

“Yes, sir. I grew up learning about explosive disarming and spent two years working with my grandfather’s team of specialists in Texas before enlisting. He owns a company that manufactures and tests containment vessels, sir.”

Corporal Fisk studied her carefully. “Using countercharges or predetonators?”

“Both, sir.”

For reasons she couldn’t determine, he frowned at her. “This class . . . in your opinion, do you think it might be a little slow for you? It sounds as if, with your previous experience, you might need to consider testing out and partaking in a more advanced level of training. When I was in training, they pulled me from—”

“With all due respect, sir, the training I received as a civilian may not line up with military protocol. I chose to begin at the bottom to ensure I had the proper foundation.” She bit her lip, hoping like hell he wasn’t just trying to get rid of her because of their transgression the previous evening. “Sir.”

She wasn’t sure, but it looked like approval in his whiskey-colored stare. “Very well, then. You’re dismissed, Private.”

She turned on her heel, thankful to be able to escape the enclosed space. Something akin to shame heated her skin as she exited.

“Hey, Private?”

She turned slowly at his request, certain this would be the part where he made a comment about last night and said something misogynistic that would piss her off.

“Maybe tomorrow, let some of the other kids answer, huh?” He winked at her, and her traitorous knees went weak.

She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

With that, she scurried out of the room before he could utter another syllable.

He hadn’t said a word about the night before. In fact, he’d barely acknowledged her even when she’d answered questions before he had time to ask them.

She’d survived what had to be one of the most humiliating experiences of her life. Surely it would only get easier from here. One day, months or maybe years from now, maybe they’d grab a few beers and joke about that one time they hooked up. Once she was his equal and he wasn’t her Commanding Officer.

She hated calling him sir. She despised having him above her in rank. She loathed answering to a man who’d already controlled her body so expertly it was as if he’d studied a manual beforehand.

Worst of all, what incensed her beyond reason was the fact that she didn’t want to grab a few beers and pretend last night had never happened. What she truly wanted was to march back into his classroom, strip off her ACU, bend over his desk, and beg for more.