Page 38 of My Forbidden Commander

I kiss him one more time, slower, softer, before I pull back enough to lift our hands between us. I bring his knuckles to my mouth first, licking a stripe up the side, watching his eyes go molten all over again.

He groans like watching me clean us both off like this is the filthiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

“Round two?” I ask, grinning and feeling optimistic, even though my knees are still unsteady.

Gabriel shakes his head, though I can see he doesn’t want to. “You should go back.”

“Killjoy,” I mutter, but start tucking myself back into my pants anyway.

“Okafor does random counts,” he adds. Practical. The Colonel once more. “If he finds your bunk empty⁠—”

“He won’t,” I reply, though we both know I can’t make that promise.

I straighten my shirt, run a hand through my hair like that’ll actually fix the mess, and head for the door. My fingers are on the handle when his voice stops me cold.

“Reyes.”

I turn. His slacks are still undone, his hair standing up where my hands were a moment ago, and his mouth is still swollen from mine. But there’s something sharp in his gaze again. Colonel-sharp.

“Who said you could use my first name, Specialist?” he asks coldly.

I blink. My pulse kicks up, and not from fear.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Expect a punishment for that tomorrow.”

A slow grin spreads across my face, and I salute him with the same hand I just used to guide his over my cock.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and let myself out into the cold, already counting the hours down to 0700 when I see him again.

19

GABRIEL

I’m woken up by the satellite phone. Callahan’s team is out on patrol, and if he’s calling me instead of sending a runner, whatever they found can’t wait for daylight.

“Sir.” That’s all the pleasantries Callahan bothers with before he continues. “We had eyes on a supply cache two klicks north of Velin, off the ridge trail. Small but fresh. Boot prints, tire tracks from something narrow, maybe a cart or bike. And markings.”

“Wolf’s head,” I mutter, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Wolf’s head.” A pause, static filling the gap. “Wilder put a scope on it before we broke contact. Whatever’s moving through that pass, it’s moving again tonight or tomorrow. My read, sir, they’re using it as a waypoint.”

I’m already sitting up, reaching for my boots with the phone wedged against my shoulder. “Send me the grid.”

“Sending now.”

Okafor’s already at the ops hut when I get there, poring over the grid Callahan’s team relayed, marking distances with a grease pencil.

“You want to hit it tonight,” I say. Not a question.

“If it’s a waypoint, it won’t sit still for too long.” He taps the map. “Small element. In and out before whoever’s running that route comes back through.”

“Same setup as last time.” Okafor knows the terrain better than anyone else on this base, and his team has already proven they move well under fire.

Okafor looks at me for a beat too long. “You joining again, sir?”

“I am.”