Page 6 of Stalked By the Quartermaster

But hell, she makes it difficult to look away, to shove down whatever's brewing in the pit of my stomach. It’s the kind of thing that can wreck a career, but when she hits the target dead center for the umpteenth time, I can't help but think maybe some things are worth the risk.

She finishes with a sprint, crossing the finish line with time to spare. She's a force to be reckoned with, and though she's panting hard, there's a fire in those blue eyes—a fire that says she's nowhere near done.

I keep watching her, mesmerized, entranced.

Caroline's laughter peals across the field like a clear bell, cutting through the sound of grunts and gunfire. She's just dodged an obstacle that's tripped up half the squad, emerging on the other side with a grin that could light up the darkest barracks. As I watch her, something twists in my chest—a mix of pride and something far more dangerous.

It's downright sinful how she makes me feel.

Tom Barker sidles up beside me, a knowing smirk on his handsome mug. "Caldwell's something else."

"Damn straight." I nod, trying to keep my voice level, pushing back against the tide rising inside me. "Girl's got skills."

"Yep,” Tom agrees, and I feel his gaze heavy on me.

I keep my face impassive. Last thing I need is anyone seeing my obsession with the girl.

Tom finally claps a hand on my shoulder before ambling off.

I still stand stoically, watching her.

Hell, who am I kidding? I’m ogling her. But fuck all if I can help it.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the exercise. Caroline stands from her position, shoulders rolling back, head held high. Her golden hair is slick with sweat against her skin, and there's a triumphant spark in those piercing blue eyes. She’s the sun in human form, burning bright and fierce. For a moment, she closes her eyes, breathing deeply, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"Nice work out there, Caldwell!" someone shouts, and she responds with a quick nod and an easy smile.

I can't help but let out a low whistle, watching as she wipes her brow with the back of her hand.

Before I know what I'm doing, my boots are moving across the gravel, each step closing the distance between us. My heart thumps loud in my ears, like it's trying to break free. "Hey, Caldwell."

She turns, startled for a moment, then smooths her expression into something neutral. "Sergeant Donovan," she says, a cautious note in her voice.

"Your performance today...it was impressive," I start, feeling my throat tighten. "You handle yourself out there better than most seasoned soldiers I've seen."

"Thank you, Sergeant." There's a hint of pride in her voice, but it's tempered by professionalism.

"Please, Frank is fine," I correct her gently. My gaze lingers on her face, taking in the details—the way the sweat has plastered some strands of hair to her forehead, how her breath still comes fast from the exertion.

"Frank, then," she repeats, and the sound of my name on her lips sends an unexpected jolt through me. "Means a lot, coming from you."

And then I just freeze. All I can do is stare at her, my damn cock growing hard in my pants as I do so.

Fuuuuck. What I wouldn’t give to bend her over right here and hump her like a dog in heat right here in front of everyone.

Let everyone see that she’s mine.

My breathing gets heavier. She’s got to see what she’s doing to me.

We stand there for a heartbeat too long, tension building, unsaid words hanging between us like sparks waiting to catch fire.

I finally clear my throat and try to get control of myself.

"Anyway," I add gruffly as I step back, "just wanted to say good job, Private Caldwell."

"Thanks, Sergeant—" She catches herself, a small smile playing on her lips. "Frank."

"Carry on," I manage, turning away before I do something stupid—like reach for her hand, or worse, rip those fucking pants off her and fuck her to kingdom come.

---