Her Forbidden Marine (Hearts Ablaze: Men in Uniform Book 2) by Makenna Jameison Page B
Authors: Makenna Jameison
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Norfolk, and Matt knew he’d be putting in long hours over the next couple of days. He wished he’d been making this trip to the coast during the warmer months. Taking a detour to the beach wouldn’t have been something he’d be able to turn down. He could’ve spent the weekend enjoying the surf and sand and been good as new for the briefings slated to start at 1000 Monday morning. The water would be too cold for anything in January though. Even if he had a wetsuit, the Atlantic Ocean was much too frigid this far north in the middle of winter.
He’d gotten up before dawn this morning, tossing his duffle bag into the back of his Charger. A couple of hours on the road, and he’d arrive in Norfolk in plenty of time for meeting with the brass on base and briefing the men there. And hell, making small trips like this in the comfort of his car to Norfolk or up to the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, was sure as hell better than driving through the desert in a Humvee to forward operating bases in Afghanistan. His fists tightened on the steering wheel as he again recalled his last ride in the convoy he’d been traveling in. The exact moment when they realized they were caught in the middle of an ambush. Fuck. Would he ever get those memories off the forefront of his mind?
Furthermore, the idea of waiting around for Becky to call him left an uneasiness in his gut. He liked being in control at all times, and he felt on edge waiting to hear her voice over the phone. Would she want to see him again? He didn’t know why he’d originally suggested Friday night. That sure as hell sounded more like a date than two people casually getting together. But memories of seeing her last Friday flashed through his mind—those sexy-as-hell tight jeans she had on, the little top that hugged her full breasts beneath the cardigan she wore. The sweater had done little to conceal her killer curves, and he knew she’d drawn the attention of more than a few men in the crowd. Was he just trying to keep her from going out with her friend again next weekend? What right did he have to keep her from dating other men?
He flipped through the radio stations, finally finding a classic rock one and leaving it on that. It began to rain, and he turned on his windshield wipers, the soggy weather matching his mood. He’d barely been living at all during the past year, the monotonous days and nights blending together as one week led into another. He’d been recovering from his injuries briefly at Walter Reed but knew he should’ve considered himself one of the luckiest guys in the world by walking away with only a few scars. Hell, Bryan was still learning how to walk, read, and write again. Eric was learning to live with one leg. He had no right to feel sorry for himself.
Once Matt had returned to active duty, only work and his daily runs had kept him sane. He could pound out his anger while he ran, the frustration he felt dissipating. The longer he ran, the harder he pushed himself, the easier sleep came every night. The dull ache he’d felt ever since losing his best friend had finally subsided to a more bearable memory. I mean, hell, he’d finally gone out with the guys on base for the first time on Friday night, determined to gain control of his life once again. And who had he run into? The woman that had invaded his thoughts while he lay on the road in the desert, watching his buddy die. Her smiling face had flashed through his mind. Then he’d felt guilty as sin for imagining her while he lay there injured. She was Brody’s to love and cherish, not his. Never his.
But damn, if he hadn’t felt alive for the first time all year when he’d seen Becky this weekend. Walking her to her car Friday night and talking to her over coffee yesterday had him dreaming of things he had no business wanting. Not with her. And now he was nervous as a teenager wondering when she’d
He’d gotten up before dawn this morning, tossing his duffle bag into the back of his Charger. A couple of hours on the road, and he’d arrive in Norfolk in plenty of time for meeting with the brass on base and briefing the men there. And hell, making small trips like this in the comfort of his car to Norfolk or up to the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, was sure as hell better than driving through the desert in a Humvee to forward operating bases in Afghanistan. His fists tightened on the steering wheel as he again recalled his last ride in the convoy he’d been traveling in. The exact moment when they realized they were caught in the middle of an ambush. Fuck. Would he ever get those memories off the forefront of his mind?
Furthermore, the idea of waiting around for Becky to call him left an uneasiness in his gut. He liked being in control at all times, and he felt on edge waiting to hear her voice over the phone. Would she want to see him again? He didn’t know why he’d originally suggested Friday night. That sure as hell sounded more like a date than two people casually getting together. But memories of seeing her last Friday flashed through his mind—those sexy-as-hell tight jeans she had on, the little top that hugged her full breasts beneath the cardigan she wore. The sweater had done little to conceal her killer curves, and he knew she’d drawn the attention of more than a few men in the crowd. Was he just trying to keep her from going out with her friend again next weekend? What right did he have to keep her from dating other men?
He flipped through the radio stations, finally finding a classic rock one and leaving it on that. It began to rain, and he turned on his windshield wipers, the soggy weather matching his mood. He’d barely been living at all during the past year, the monotonous days and nights blending together as one week led into another. He’d been recovering from his injuries briefly at Walter Reed but knew he should’ve considered himself one of the luckiest guys in the world by walking away with only a few scars. Hell, Bryan was still learning how to walk, read, and write again. Eric was learning to live with one leg. He had no right to feel sorry for himself.
Once Matt had returned to active duty, only work and his daily runs had kept him sane. He could pound out his anger while he ran, the frustration he felt dissipating. The longer he ran, the harder he pushed himself, the easier sleep came every night. The dull ache he’d felt ever since losing his best friend had finally subsided to a more bearable memory. I mean, hell, he’d finally gone out with the guys on base for the first time on Friday night, determined to gain control of his life once again. And who had he run into? The woman that had invaded his thoughts while he lay on the road in the desert, watching his buddy die. Her smiling face had flashed through his mind. Then he’d felt guilty as sin for imagining her while he lay there injured. She was Brody’s to love and cherish, not his. Never his.
But damn, if he hadn’t felt alive for the first time all year when he’d seen Becky this weekend. Walking her to her car Friday night and talking to her over coffee yesterday had him dreaming of things he had no business wanting. Not with her. And now he was nervous as a teenager wondering when she’d
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