Read Online Scorch: A Soldiers of Fortune Romance (Military Bad Boy Romance) by Aubrey Irons - Free Book Online
Authors: Aubrey Irons
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pouty lips; "Excuse me?"
"In Africa, when he first met those boy-toys of yours." I can feel the familiar grip of malcontent inside just thinking about that particular past; "I was there, in the camp with them when he came in and- oh now what was it? He 'saw promise in them'? Isn't that the fuck-all rhetoric I used to hear Logan moaning about?"
She chews slowly, her eyes locked on mine.
"Yeah, well, apparently I didn't pass muster with the great William Archer; no 'promise' here."
The briefest smirk passes over her face, as if to say yeah, no shit ; ”So is that why you blackmailed Logan and kidnapped him and my sister?"
I want to snort, and roll my eyes, and laugh and call her delusional. It was all a business transaction; that whole thing. Logan spilled his guts to me back in the jungles when we were mercenaries together, and when William stuck him in charge of his company and made him richer than God while I rotted in the jungle, I saw an opportunity, and I took it.
Business ; that’s all. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years.
“You’re so clever, mijo,” My mother used to say with a sad, drawn smile when I’d come home with a pocket full of change from selling stolen candy at school. That was before I graduated to stolen beer and cigarettes. Clever , right; because if I’m “clever”, I’m not a “criminal” like my father. “Clever” is the makings of a businessman instead of a narco-trafficker, in her mind at least.
I frown suddenly, thinking about that train of logic, and an uncomfortable feeling washes over me. I've been telling myself that the terrible shit I've done is all "nothing personal" or "all business" for years. I'm just an entrepreneur . But bullshit aside, I’ve had to fight for and steal everything I've ever had to get in life, and the shit with Logan and her sister was no different.
Business; that’s all. You gotta be clever in this world to survive, and I’m a survivor if nothing else.
Except for some fucked up reason, sitting here in this room trying to explain that to her right now makes me feel like the biggest phony jerk-off in the world. Who the fuck do I think I am, Robin Hood? I’m pretty sure Robin Hood never put someone through the shit I put Logan Dempsey through just to make some cash. I'm also pretty sure señor Hood didn't keep the money he lifted.
"It's complicated," I mumble with a frown on my face, looking away as I sip my beer; "Life is full of complications."
Complications like the increasingly distracting blonde-haired one sitting across from me in this motel room.
She chews her sandwich slowly, her eyes focused on something on the floor as the wheels inside that pretty little head of hers whirl. My eyes, meanwhile, are focused on the slow rise and fall of the swell of her breasts, the fact that it’s cool enough inside the room for me to see a teasing glimpse of an outline of nipple through her white suit, and the extremely distracting amount of bare skin of hers on display right across from me.
I feel like running, because it’s all I ever feel like doing. Well, no, I feel like I want a taste to see if those perfect little pouty lips on Agent Archer are as sweet as they look from over here. I want to palm those pillowy tits of hers and see if the hard nubs of her nipples are as responsible to my touch as I think they’d be.
And I want to bury every single inch of my cock into that uptight pussy of hers and see if she’s as sinfully tight as I bet she is.
Jesus, get your shit together, Toro.
“Come outside, princess.” I stand quickly and nod towards the balcony off the side of our room.
“Why?”
Because I can’t be cooped up in this room for another second with you and still be held responsible for my actions .
“Because we’re in Aruba , and we’re not outside watching sunsets, and that’s fucking stupid.”
She glares at me, but there’s just a hint of a smile in the corners
"In Africa, when he first met those boy-toys of yours." I can feel the familiar grip of malcontent inside just thinking about that particular past; "I was there, in the camp with them when he came in and- oh now what was it? He 'saw promise in them'? Isn't that the fuck-all rhetoric I used to hear Logan moaning about?"
She chews slowly, her eyes locked on mine.
"Yeah, well, apparently I didn't pass muster with the great William Archer; no 'promise' here."
The briefest smirk passes over her face, as if to say yeah, no shit ; ”So is that why you blackmailed Logan and kidnapped him and my sister?"
I want to snort, and roll my eyes, and laugh and call her delusional. It was all a business transaction; that whole thing. Logan spilled his guts to me back in the jungles when we were mercenaries together, and when William stuck him in charge of his company and made him richer than God while I rotted in the jungle, I saw an opportunity, and I took it.
Business ; that’s all. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years.
“You’re so clever, mijo,” My mother used to say with a sad, drawn smile when I’d come home with a pocket full of change from selling stolen candy at school. That was before I graduated to stolen beer and cigarettes. Clever , right; because if I’m “clever”, I’m not a “criminal” like my father. “Clever” is the makings of a businessman instead of a narco-trafficker, in her mind at least.
I frown suddenly, thinking about that train of logic, and an uncomfortable feeling washes over me. I've been telling myself that the terrible shit I've done is all "nothing personal" or "all business" for years. I'm just an entrepreneur . But bullshit aside, I’ve had to fight for and steal everything I've ever had to get in life, and the shit with Logan and her sister was no different.
Business; that’s all. You gotta be clever in this world to survive, and I’m a survivor if nothing else.
Except for some fucked up reason, sitting here in this room trying to explain that to her right now makes me feel like the biggest phony jerk-off in the world. Who the fuck do I think I am, Robin Hood? I’m pretty sure Robin Hood never put someone through the shit I put Logan Dempsey through just to make some cash. I'm also pretty sure señor Hood didn't keep the money he lifted.
"It's complicated," I mumble with a frown on my face, looking away as I sip my beer; "Life is full of complications."
Complications like the increasingly distracting blonde-haired one sitting across from me in this motel room.
She chews her sandwich slowly, her eyes focused on something on the floor as the wheels inside that pretty little head of hers whirl. My eyes, meanwhile, are focused on the slow rise and fall of the swell of her breasts, the fact that it’s cool enough inside the room for me to see a teasing glimpse of an outline of nipple through her white suit, and the extremely distracting amount of bare skin of hers on display right across from me.
I feel like running, because it’s all I ever feel like doing. Well, no, I feel like I want a taste to see if those perfect little pouty lips on Agent Archer are as sweet as they look from over here. I want to palm those pillowy tits of hers and see if the hard nubs of her nipples are as responsible to my touch as I think they’d be.
And I want to bury every single inch of my cock into that uptight pussy of hers and see if she’s as sinfully tight as I bet she is.
Jesus, get your shit together, Toro.
“Come outside, princess.” I stand quickly and nod towards the balcony off the side of our room.
“Why?”
Because I can’t be cooped up in this room for another second with you and still be held responsible for my actions .
“Because we’re in Aruba , and we’re not outside watching sunsets, and that’s fucking stupid.”
She glares at me, but there’s just a hint of a smile in the corners
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