Claimed By The Best Man

“Thank god we’re only getting away to Rhys’s beach house,” she sighs, almost as loudly as I do when I recall Rhys mentioning he has several properties of his own.

The beach house on the west coast is about as far away from here as they could get.

Which is perfect.

Once we’ve both had another cup of motivation, mom moves into the lounge to start making her calls, and if only out of nerves combined with a strange urge to do some landscaping in my own valley, I take my shower first.

Spending more time making sure I look as innocent as I feel around Reeve.

The thought of him actually holding me, kissing me…

The idea I could even see, let alone touch that huge thing I know lives in his pants…

My hands tremble and I nick my thigh shaving. Wondering if I should just take care of business myself to release some of this pent-up desire.

Nope. I wanna be touched, fingered, and fucked by the real man.

Touching myself right now isn’t something that turns me on, even though all I can think about is Reeve, it’s him I want inside me.

And a whole lot more than just his fingers.

Chapter Seven

Saturday

Reeve

The blue-black of the night gives way to the early gray dawn, and I’m still lying in bed.

Still hard as a monument, the space on my bed where Piper should be right now still empty.

I figure I may as well just get up and power through another day. It takes a little bit more than one sleepless night to unglue this Marine.

But even after telling myself I will, it’s my phone buzzing that wakes me from the sleep I obviously fell straight back into once I remembered I don’t actually have to do anything today.

Except for the obvious.

Awaiting Piper’s progress report on her orders.

It takes a second to realize I have the handset upside down.

That coupled with the disappointment it’s not Piper calling, I wonder if maybe my plans are a little too ambitious, even for me?

It’s my new replacement at work, Mitch, giving his progress report.

With a matter of fact precision, he details everything I don’t really need to know in as few words as possible.

Something I would appreciate if I wasn’t already so preoccupied.

“Fine. Fine job, Mitch,” I casually praise him. Figuring he might need some encouragement on his first day.

“No need to report every day though,” I add. “If there’s a major problem, pool your teams. Use your common sense. I’ll call you when I want an update,” I remind him before signing off and hanging up.

Groaning loudly with sheer frustration, I roll onto my back.

I feel even more obsessed with Piper today than I did yesterday if that’s even possible.

And within a few more minutes I resolve to just drive over there.

I’ll think of a reason as to why on the way.

Not having her here, not even being able to just see her or talk to her let alone touch her right now?

It’s the only chink in my armor so far.

I’ve walked through minefields under live fire carrying a wounded Marine. Been trapped in a Blackhawk helicopter fifty feet underwater when it went down, and a hundred other things ten times worse.

But none of them, not a single one of those times made me feel like I do now.

The hollow emptiness of just not having her here with me.

I offer a silent and somber apology to everyone I ever doubted or openly made fun of for missing their girl, partner, whatever.

What starts as a painful longing fast becomes a willful need by the time I shave, telling myself I can’t have been this hard all night.

It’s not good for you after like four hours… right?

But there it is, so hard I can even hang a towel off my cock once I’m done. And all because of the face at the front of my mind.

The voice in my ears and this feeling seems to have replaced my entire nervous system.

Piper.

My usual morning routine of a hundred push-ups, burpees, and a five-mile run on the treadmill has me feeling slightly more normal.

Still determined to see Piper though, I briefly shower and change. Leaving my mind blank as I drive, waiting for my excuse for being there to come to me.

The overly loud ringing of my cell through the car speaker shocks me like ice water and I stab the answer button on the steering wheel, accidentally honking at the guy in front of me at the same time.

“I thought I said not to report in every five minutes,” I bark. Figuring it’s Mitch calling back.

Probably to tell me he can’t cope.

I eyeball the guy in front who digs both his feet into his brakes, almost causing me to rear-end him before he zooms off again, flipping me the bird out his open window.