Stepbrother Soldier: A Forbidden Military Romance Novel (4 page)

I saw only his eyes, those green eyes, as I bucked and came, my
muscles releasing, my hips rocking against the bed as my mouth opened in a
soundless scream. I’d never felt anything so spectacularly pleasurable, so
satisfying, in my life. As I came down, I could still see his eyes looking down
at me…

To make a long story short, it didn’t work. Or, it worked for about
two hours. Then I was back to driving myself crazy thinking about Ashton. That
night, I slept and dreamt of him in my arms, on my bed, in my mouth, all over
me. In my dream, our bodies were one and we were tumbling, naked, through the
darkness. I woke up thirsty and sweaty and no better off than I’d been two days
prior.

That day, I barely left my room. I stayed inside and did the one thing
I knew would actually distract me: worked. I wrote for hours, propelling myself
through mountains of research on sheer willpower. The thing was, I wasn’t in
the mood to write. I wasn’t interested in any of the studies or articles I
read.

Usually, working on my thesis filled me with purpose and I devoured
sources like sugary cereal. But as much as my heart wasn’t in it that day, I
pressed on, determined to give myself a break from thoughts of Ashton. More
than once I was tempted to lie in bed and touch myself again, but it hadn’t
worked the day before so I had no reason to believe it would work now.

Before I knew it, it was 9pm and I’d been working all day. I was
thirsty and hungry and decided to go downstairs for a sandwich. All the lights
were off throughout the house, and the TV was off, so I assumed there wasn’t
anyone around. As I got close to the kitchen, however, I heard the muffled
voices of the Admiral and Ashton speaking in harsh, hushed tones. I knew it was
wrong, but I had to know what they were talking about. I leaned back against
the wall, letting their voices drift towards me from the kitchen.

“I don’t understand, Ashton. You’ve never been like this. You’ve
always been a happy, friendly guy. What happened?”

“What do you think happened, Dad? I got shipped off to the fucking
desert and I got to see my friends get blown up by car bombs and watched
skeletons rotting away to nothing on the side of the road and had to try and
explain to seven-year-old little girls why I was carrying a gun bigger than
them,” Ashton said, his voice cracking.

“Well, I understand all that, but you’re not alone. I went through a
lot of the same things in Vietnam. When I came home, it was like…it wasn’t like
coming home at all. But I put on a brave face. I swallowed my fear, and I got
through it, and I made something of myself without leaving a trail of bodies in
my wake.”

“Well, maybe you’re just stronger than me, Dad. Maybe I’m just not cut
from the same cloth. Maybe I’m not a military man!”

“You are, son. I know you are. You have the same blood I do, and you
know your duty to your country. You just don’t know how strong you can be
because you’re not trying hard enough.”

There was silence for a long while after that. I bit my lip, turning
over their words in my mind. For the first time, I actually felt bad for
Ashton: he was going through something I could never understand, something I
could never even pretend to understand. I’d learned a lot in college, including
the effect of warfare on soldiers, but there are things that you just can’t
learn from books.

“Okay, Dad, okay. I’ll try. I promise.” Ashton finally said, sounding
defeated. The hurt in his voice was so evident that I almost wanted to storm
into the room and slap the Admiral across the face. How could he treat his son
so…callously? No wonder Ashton turned out the way he did…

“That’s good, son. You can overcome this, I
promise.”

“But, Dad, you know, that’s not the only thing. I mean, I live here, I
see what’s going on. And I know you. Better than you think. I know what…”

“You shut your mouth right now,” the Admiral interrupted, and the
change in his tone chilled me to the bone. It was ten times worse than his
military voice. “If you want me to continue to call you my son, you’ll never
start talking like that again.”

Damn,
was
the only thing I could think to myself during the silence that followed the
Admiral’s interruption. It was a long silence. Finally, Ashton spoke again.

“Yes, sir,” he said, short and curt, like a soldier. Taking this as a
cue that the conversation was coming to an end, I slipped away, up the stairs
back to my room. I sat down on my bed, thinking about what I’d overheard.
Ashton wasn’t a jerk. He was
hurting.
Maybe
if I tried to talk to him, actually listened, he might realize that not only
was I not after his dad, I could also be an ally.

And what about that last part? What was Ashton going to say that the
Admiral didn’t want to hear? I thought back to our conversation in the kitchen
a few days prior. He’d said to be careful…of the Admiral? But there was no
way…not after I’d seen him in mourning, not after we’d gotten closer, no way.
But he’d actually threatened to disown Ashton if he brought whatever it was up
again…it must be serious.

I pushed it out of my mind, unable to focus on two things at once. The
immediate issue, in my mind, was Ashton’s mental health. Whatever was going on
with the Admiral would sort itself out. Ashton would only get worse over time.

I decided to address the issue that very night. There wasn’t much
sense in waiting, in my opinion. Things only got worse the longer you let them
stew, and the sooner he knew he had someone he could talk to, the better. I
listened for his steps on the stairs and the creak of his bedroom door, but
didn’t immediately go to talk to him. I wanted to give him an hour or so to
decompress after the heated conversation.

I needed the time, too, to figure out how to approach the situation.
First, I was worried about dealing with my own feelings. I mean, I’d just had
my first-ever orgasm while thinking about Ashton…and now I was going to go talk
to him about serious issues. There was a huge cognitive dissonance there. Could
I keep my feelings in check? I thought so. When I thought about Ashton possibly
suffering, I found myself too overwhelmed by concern and compassion to want to
jump his bones. But I still had to worry about what I was going to say to him
in the first place…

6

After an hour, I decided it was time to act. As I slipped out of my
room and down the hall, I was surprised by the Admiral as he came up the
stairs.

“Hi, Christy,” he said, a somber tone in his voice. I jumped slightly,
not expecting him. The lights were dim on the second floor and I hadn’t heard
him coming up the stairs.

“Oh, shit, Admiral, you scared me,” I said with a
chuckle, holding a hand to my pounding chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he said. We stood like that, me looking down
at him on the stairs, not speaking. For some reason, I felt like I needed to
give him some excuse for why I wasn’t in my room, even though I had as much a
right to wander the house as he did, if not more.

“I was just getting some water,” I said, turning and heading down the
stairs. I brushed past him, nervous. I didn’t want him to know I’d been on my
way to speak with Ashton. He’d made it very clear the other day that he didn’t
want me intruding on Ashton’s privacy.

His eyes followed me down the stairs and hallway. I couldn’t shake the
weird feeling I was getting from him, even when I heard him continue up the
stairs and eventually shut the door to his bedroom. Running the water in the
sink to cover my lie, I suddenly remembered something I’d totally forgotten, or
maybe buried.

We’d been sitting on the couch, watching some sitcom after dinner,
when I felt the Admiral’s eyes on me. That had been about ten days ago. Turning
to him, I’d seen a strange look in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash,
replaced by a benign smile.

“You look tense,” he’d said, and reaching out grabbed my shoulder,
giving it a squeeze. I remember thinking it was weird, since we both generally
avoided being touchy-feely, but not too weird. One squeeze and that was all.
Now, remembering it, I felt a little sick to my stomach.

Oh, stop it,
I told myself.
You’re just
imagining things because of what Ashton said. And Ashton’s not in his right
mind.
The thought didn’t quite chase the feeling away, but it helped. I was
obviously still wound up from the other day, and the tense conversation I’d
overheard hadn’t helped that. Shutting off the tap, I slipped back upstairs and
stood in front of Ashton’s door. Heart beating fast, I knocked. There was the
soft sound of music playing from the other side of the door, and I could smell
cigarette smoke in the air.

Ashton opened the door slowly. He was wearing only gym shorts, and I
felt my palms start sweating as I admired his half-naked body. The muscles that
bulged through his shirts didn’t come close to doing justice to the true
magnificence of his body. He was sculpted like a god. He was also covered in
tattoos that were usually hidden by clothes; military tattoos on his chest and
biceps that stood out brilliantly against his gently tanned skin.

“What?” Ashton said, perturbed. I shook my head, realizing I’d been
just looking at him for way too long. I coughed.

“Um, can we talk?” I said, peering past him into the room, which was
strewn with empty beer bottles and weight-lifting equipment. A cigarette was
burning in an ashtray on his desk. Ashton’s eyes narrowed.

“About what?”

“Listen, I heard you talking to the Admiral
earlier, and I just…can I come in?”

Ashton studied me, as if trying to understand my motives. I didn’t
blame him. After all, last time we’d talked I’d ended up attacking him from
behind. Finally, he let the door swing all the way open and stepped to the
side. I walked into the room, my nose crinkling in response to the heavy odor
of cigarette smoke. Ashton closed the door behind me then brushed past me,
taking a seat on the room’s only chair. I resigned myself to sitting on the
bed, not my first choice by a wide margin, but I didn’t want to have the
conversation while standing over him.

“I just, I wanted you to know I’m here. If you ever wanted to talk. I
mean, I know I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but when I heard you talking
I just thought maybe you could use a friend,” I said. I’d rehearsed it in my
head over the past hour, but now that I’d said the words they sounded flat and
unconvincing. Ashton cocked his head, his face blank.

“Okay,” he said. That was all. We sat in silence
for a long moment.

“Um, I mean, I know I can’t really relate at all, but I’ve read a lot
about the toll war takes on soldiers, and about PTSD and…”

“No, you can’t really relate, can you?” Ashton interrupted, his gaze
growing cold. I almost shivered.

“But I can listen,” I said, the words coming out before I really
thought about them. “I’m a good listener.”

“Good for you,” Ashton said, a sneer coming to
his face.
Maybe this was a bad idea,
I
thought.

“I’m just trying to say that I can be your friend, if you let me be,”
I squeaked, crumpling under his glare. I’d never felt so…small. I was a strong,
independent woman, but here I was barely able to form words in front of my
stepbrother.

He didn’t reply, but he also looked away, freeing
me from his stare.

“A person like you could never understand. You think you’re all high
and mighty with your political shit, your liberal shit, you think you know what
the hell war is, you don’t. I don’t give a damn about Democrats or Republicans.
I couldn’t give two shits about the government. I just want to live in peace,”
Ashton said, surprising me with his honesty. His voice rose as he spoke,
getting more riled up with each word. “I don’t know why people can’t just leave
me the fuck alone. I did my duty, I served my country, now leave me alone!”

“If you feel that way, why are you staying in the military? You can go
anywhere, do anything. You don’t have to…”

“Oh, I don’t? Tell that to my fucking father, Christy. You know my
fate as well as I do. There’s no escaping it. Not for me,” Ashton said, his
eyes full of hate. My heart broke for him.

“You’re your own man. You don’t have to follow your father’s
footsteps,” I said, meekly. I realized that I wasn’t a therapist, or even a
counselor. I had no idea what to say to Ashton to help him.

“What does it matter? I’m miserable here, I’ll be miserable there. I
might as well be making money being miserable. Get a nice fat pension like the
old man,” Ashton said, the fervor leaving his voice as he seemed to resign
himself. That almost worried more than when he’d been almost shouting.

“But you…”

“Shut up, Christy. Just shut up. Your charmed little life…fuck, what
did you possibly think you could help me with? Just go back to your room and
work on your little fucking paper and your big stupid ideas of world peace and
goodwill for this whole fucked species,” Ashton said, turning back to me with
steely eyes.

“My mother just died,” I said, baldly. “I know that’s not the same
but…I mean…my life isn’t so charmed, you know.”

Ashton’s face softened. Not a lot, but enough for
me to notice. I saw my chance, and I took it.

“I’m just saying, I know a little about how hard life can be. And you
can’t be happy just sitting in this room all day. And I’m here. I’m just down
the hall. Whenever you need, whatever need, you can just…just knock.”

I let the offer stand in the silence of the room. Ashton picked up the
cigarette, which had been burning down to its butt, and squashed it out. The
quiet seemed heavy, eternal.

“Did you know your mom used to send me your newspaper articles and
papers sometimes,” Ashton asked listlessly. I hadn’t known that.

“Overseas?” I asked, surprised and curious. He
nodded, eyes on his lap.

“I liked them. I liked…I liked knowing that you were home, safe, and
doing these things. That you could go to school and get educated and write
these…these nice things. Hopeful things. It helped. Knowing that I was there so
people like you could try and make sure no one would ever have to do what I was
doing again. I’d think, ‘Christy Starling is my stepsister, and she is going to
be president one day, and she’ll make the world a better place’. And it got me
through some long nights.”

I was shocked. I hadn’t known that he read my articles, and I
certainly hadn’t known how highly he thought of them. Or me. I couldn’t think
of a single thing to say, even when he looked back up at me, his eyes wide and
soft and clear.

“I should’ve written you more,” I said quietly, regretting all the
missed opportunities. Maybe if I had been a better stepsister, had made an
effort to keep up the friendship we’d started so long ago, we wouldn’t have to
have this conversation.

“No, you were busy. You were busy making the world a better place
while I was just…” Ashton threw his hands up. “I was just fucking around in the
desert.”

“But you…”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter now,” he said, shaking his head.
Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed his hand in mine, feeling the rough
skin, far too worn for someone his age. His hand jumped underneath mine at the
contact, but he didn’t pull it away. It felt warm, strong in mine. Our eyes
met, and it was like a channel was opened up between us. For the first time
since coming home, I felt like I could see the young man I’d known underneath
Ashton’s rough exterior.

“It matters to me,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. And then,
suddenly, Ashton’s lips were on mine, and he was pressing against me, pushing
me down on the bed, his hands on my thighs. My mouth opened in surprise and I
felt the tip of his tongue tickling my own. I moaned as the sensation rocked
me, the slightest contact inciting a fiery rush inside me.

Ashton’s hand flew to my hair, his fingers grasping at the strands,
our mouths now devouring each other, my body reacting while my mind was too
shocked to protest.

Yes, this is what you want,
my body said.
No
what no no what is this,
my mind stuttered. My hips rocked against the
mattress, my thighs inching open on their own, my pussy coming to life. He was
half-leaning on top of me, and I could feel that same hardness through his gym
shorts. This time, there was no mistaking it, and the thought of it only served
to confuse me further.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Ashton leapt off
me, turning his back and raising his hands to his face.

“Just get out, Christy,” he said, his voice
almost like a wail.

“Wait, no, what, I mean,” I sputtered, righting myself and looking
dizzily around the room. My body was telling me to grab him, kiss him again,
let his hands run over my body, but my mind was a steel cage: no thoughts got
in, and no thoughts got out. Just a sense of subdued panic and physical
urgency: my body was calling for him, wanting him.

“Just get the hell out!” He cried out, loudly.
“Fuck!”

“Ashton, please, let’s just…” I was interrupted
by a knock on the door.

“Is everything all right in there?” Came the Admiral’s voice from the
hallway. I leapt off the bed just as Ashton strode to the door and swung it
open. I hopped past him and the Admiral, down the hallway to my own room. I
couldn’t help but notice, however, the intense stare between the Admiral and
Ashton. You could almost see the electricity sparking between them.

“Christy was just leaving,” I heard Ashton say before I shut my own
door and collapsed against it, heart pounding.

Jesus Christ.

I spent the next hour in the exact same position, unable to move. I’d
heard Ashton’s door slam shut again, as well as the Admiral’s. My heart beat
slowly returned to normal, and I felt my body cooling down.

What just happened?
I finally managed to ask myself. The answer was
both obvious and elusive: obviously, Ashton and I had been having a moment that
turned into making out. That wasn’t so strange; things like that happened all
the time. But they also didn’t happen to stepsiblings, and they certainly
didn’t happen to me.

I was basically asexual! I never got turned on by kissing, and the
idea of incest definitely didn’t turn me on. But there was no denying…that kiss
had been
hot.
With a capital ‘h’. It
was definitely the first kiss that had made me yearn for more. I pressed my
fingertips to my lips, feeling them swollen from the ferocity of our embrace.
My eyes closed and I shuddered as I thought of Ashton’s tongue against mine,
his hands in my hair…