He shook his head no but didn’t say anything for the longest time. “No. I’ve never done that before.”
I stared at him, trying to decide whether he was okay with it or not. He was down at the time. His cock had been so fucking hard I could see the veins popping out along the shaft.
Worried he was weirded out about sex with a dude, even though we hadn’t touched—much—and the shit the morning after had been interrupted, I said, “You okay with how shit played out?”
“Yeah, man. I’m cool,” he said.
But Brock Jones and I had been pretty much joined at the hip since the first day of boot camp. His mouth said one thing, but his tone and body language said something different. I was just getting ready to say something when he stood from the chair he was sitting in and walked away, mumbling about getting some sleep.
Over the next week, I pushed gently, trying to get him to open up about whatever was bothering him. He shut me down every time, saying he was fine with it, but I knew there was something he was keeping from me.
Finally, a couple of weeks later, we were again sitting out at the fire pit. We’d been outside the wire more than we’d been on base. We were all tired and just trying to chill. We grabbed showers and chow and then planted our asses here. We’d been here for hours. It was late, and most of the camp was sacked out. My pushing finally shoved him over the edge, and the issue came to a head.
“Damn it! I’m fucking fine. I’ve said it over and over. Why are you harping on it?” he yelled, but kept his voice low, flat, and even.
I didn’t believe a word of it. He’d been twitchy since it happened. The longer time wore on, the worse he got. He was quiet, and that scared me because you couldn’t ever shut thefucker up. Now it was like pulling fucking teeth to get a word out of the jackass.
I sighed. “Because you’re not telling me the truth. You’re not yourself, Rocket.”
He had a right to his privacy, but he’d never kept shit from me before. Sometimes he shared too much.
“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m the same guy you’ve known for four fucking years.”
“Goddammit! Talk to me! If you don’t, I’ll wipe the ground with your motherfucking ass until you get square,” I growled under my breath to keep from cluing anyone around us into our conversation.
“What do you want me to say, Woody? Huh? It’s a little fucking odd sharing a chick with your best fucking friend,” he sighed.
“I want to know that a drunken romp with a chick didn’t fuck shit up with my best fucking friend,” I whispered as I watched someone approach the opening the firepit was in.
Brock sighed, scrubbing his face and head before looking at me seriously. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.”
A few more weeks went by before Brock’s true feelings came out. We were outside the wire—again—sitting back to back. We were watching for a car to show up so we could take out the guy riding in it and hightail it back to base.
“I wouldn’t mind a hot shower, a hot meal, and a decent bed to sleep in,” I said. My ass had gone numb, and the numbness was trickling down the backs of my legs.
“I wouldn’t mind another night in bed with you,” he whispered.
I spun my head around, trying to get a good look at him. Was he thinking…did he mean…? He’d said with me. But did he mean just me? Or did he mean me and Carly?
“What did you say?” I tried to play it off like I hadn’t heard him, but I had.
The zing of interest that pulsed through my body shocked me. It shouldn’t have because that night with Carly, it was Brock’s name, not Carly’s, that had choked me as I came.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Liar!
Brock had an uncanny knack for altering my life with seemingly little effort. That comment would not leave me alone. I thought about it day and fucking night. It was with me inside the wire and out. Every time I saw Brock’s face or heard his voice, it played in my mind like a song stuck on repeat.
What am I supposed to do with that?
Several weeks later, we were returning from a week-long trek outside the wire, searching for intel on an HVT, and I was fucking exhausted. I closed my eyes and dropped off to sleep. I was plagued by dreams all night. The night with Carly replayed itself like a movie, only I wasn’t a participant. I was an observer who knew the inner workings of one participant’s mind. Mine.
I saw it all. Every sneaking glance I took at Brock. The way he stared at me. How he gripped my thigh and not Carly’s or her hair while she sucked him off. Every single vivid fucking detail was right there, and it scared me.
But it also excited me.
CHAPTER 6
